#i can only imagin e what was she trying to say

[maimura]

My sweetsweet girl dedicating another fic to me guys…. my heart is swelling because of how full it is.

Guys… I suggest listening to Mitski…. First Love/Late Spring… Like it actually hits. Okay guys once again, this reblog will be LONG! SO SPOILERS AHEAD!!! READ THIS GIRLS WORK FIRST 😚!!

also no pictures this time because i know im going to pick out too many favorite parts and tweak out if i dont put them all… so yes… you’re getting explanations from me…

THIS FIC IS ABSOLUTELY SOUL CRUSHING BECAUSE ITS REMINDING ME SO MUCH OF THE NETFLIX FILM “IRREPLACEABLE YOU” I WATCHED NOT TOO LONG AGO. and if you heard from me… i cried (bawled) my eyes out 8. EIGHT. E I G H T TIMES. so can you imagine what happened to me while reading this????

the fic starts off with reader and leehan just casually sharing another morning together 😖 and then she has to go to a check up after discussing about it with leehan ☹️ why does that already show they tell everything to each other ☹️.

I KNOW THIS WAS EXPECTED BUT SEEING READER GET HER DIAGNOSIS WAS STILL SO SAD. because you know she’s going to start giving up years she spent with leehan, because she loves him and doesn’t want to hurt him with her illness/death….

LIKE THE TEXTS HE SENT JUST LIKE SOLIDIFIED THE IDEA THAT SHE WANTS TO MAKE HIM FALL OUT OF LOVE . nothing would change her mind and you know that because she instantly starts thinking about leehan and what he has already accomplished ☹️ and she doesnt want to ruin that ☹️ so now shes going to be hiding that… about her Pain For Him . Like . Oh okay So im already going to face heartbreak Thanks .

WHEN THE DAYS STARTED OOOHHHH MY HEART ALREADY CRUMBLED AT THE SIGHT OF “DAY 1” LIKE OKAY. like its so frustrating/sad because reader is bottling all this up while leehan is just simply clueless and wants to know why she’s acting like this… like okay i feel sad for both of them.

by day 13 we really get to see leehans perspective and GOSHHH he just misses her so bad. the way everything he missed was written down… it was like a dagger stabbed through my chest . Again . and the flashback to reader mentioning sanghyeok… yeah i can’t blame her sanghyeok FINEFINEEEEEE 😛 But this is not about him right now (i still love him 🤫)

And the dying being italicized when we are talking about his wedding suit…. Okay Lili. OKAYOKAYOKAYOKAYA.

AND LEEHAN REMINISCING ABOUT THE PASTTTT . HES ENJOYING IT THINKING ABOUT THEM WHILE READER CAN ONLY FEEL GUILT/SADNESS ☹️☹️☹️ why did it have to be them. Why.

got a scare when i saw reader say “i don’t think i love you anymore” Girlllllll GIRLLLLLLLLL I ALMOST JUMPED???? Please stop my heart already couldnt take it previously AND NOW??? U WANNA ADD THAT??? but leehan clutched up and told her about the ring… BUT GOSH THE INTENSITY??

YOU CAN JUST FEEL HER HESITATING WHILE LEEHAN IS JUST TRYING TO MAKE SENSE OF THE SITUATION… and his mini outburst?? but reader is just… saying theres nothing and hes back to being even quieter than before… Yeah that killed me.

And leehan just being there no matter what reader says or does, he IS and WILL be staying with her… like okay I think I think I think I just fell again .

AND WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE DAY 27 HE FINALLY FIGURED OUT 😂😂😂😢😢😢😖😢😢😂😢😢😖 you can honestly feel all his emotions once he found out… like pain, grief, sadness, anger… but ultimately like simply why did this have to happen? why did it have to be you and why did it have to be him…. AND FAWKKYPUUUU FOR GIVING HIM THAT FLASHBACK TO THE PROPOSAL LIKE OHHH THAT HURTTTT.

and still even finding out… he wants to still be with her no matter what… like Brah this is what love does to a person and its so sweet just seeing that …. but now its just so sad ☹️

AND WHEN DAY 28 ARRIVED NOOOOO Gosh the vulnerability was spilling through. like lili is actually so descriptive with her writing it really engulfs you to FEEL how its like to BE THERE . LIKE GOSH???? IM CLUTCHING ONTO MY CHEST???? i felt her pain when she was trying to hold everything back like usual but couldn’t :(

AND SHE FINALLY TOLD HIM… though she didn’t realize but leehan already knows :( and they finally got into an embrace like i know both of them were just missing being with each other like that.

AND LIKE WHAT READER SAID IN THE BEGINNING, LEEHAN TRULY WAS WILLING AND READY TO DROP EVERYTHING FOR HER ☹️☹️☹️ and finally she accepts it because she knows he wouldnt take no for an answer… #determinedfianceleehan #cravethat

IM SO GLAD WE GOT SOME FLUFF like their moment together painting was sososo cute. I NEEDED THAT SOOOO BAD. and the star talk yuuuupyyuuuupyyuuuuuup Sophia Deceased.

AND THE WAY READER JUST PROGRSSIVELY GETS WEAKER AND WEAKER ☹️☹️☹️☹️ like leehan is just still besides her after all of that and its just ahaidudkdjisjdjs “im the luckiest person in the world” ARE YOU REALLY THOUGH ☹️ (yes, with being with leehan, but no again because, she’s really sick and is getting worse) like its the right person just along with a twisted fate </3

and like they still try to have moments together where they can hopefully temporarily take her mind off the pain she’s experiencing but its so obvious that she’s getting worse…. it’s actually heartbreaking because you know they are just two lovers but they are about to face something they don’t want to.

AND LEEHAN KNOWS ☹️ hes been so attentive throughout this whole fic so just reading this breaks my heart. he doesn’t want to believe it, but with reader’s condition, it’s hard NOT to fear that she will be leaving, you know? AND HE JUST DOESNT WANT TO LET HER GOOOOO

Day 62. My nemesis. THE DAY FINALLY EVERYTHING CHANGES ☹️ leehan wants her to stay but they both know deep down, she’s starting to slip away (even if they don’t want to believe that). LIKE HER LAST WORDS BEING I LOVE YOU OH GOSH IM GOING TO CRASH OUTTTTT. saying that in your dying moments is just ten times more impactful because you know those words are going to stick with the other person forever…

AND THE LETTER???????????? THEEEE LETTERRRR??? Goodbyeogheyeofhdyee this is reminding me of the freaking film now im goigny to cry Lili did yoy do this on purpsoeo. see now i dant even tyep proeprly . “I’ll be the star that shines the most for you.” IM GOING TO CRYYYYY KNOWING THEYW ERE TALKINF ABOUT STARS EARLIER AND ALL FHAT STUFF. THIS HURTSSSSSSSS trust i was crying along with leehan.

AND TEN YEARS?????? He literally still loves her so much what if i died. HIM TALKING TO HER AND THE SUNSET BEING THERE ARGHHHHHH. i hateithereihateithereihateithere

and we are back at the countryhouse ☹️ the house he wanted to get for her ☹️ for THEM ☹️ AND HES STILL TENDING HER FAVORITE FLOWERS BYE IS THIS WHY YOU ASKED . WHAT MY FAVES WERE. TO HURT ME EVEN MORE .

“I’ll see you again, Y/N.” STOPSTOPSTOPPPPPP like its been so sad and that added onto it, but it almost felt comforting???? like its just a sad but nice closing because its like no matter what, he loves her ☹️

LILI, to dedicate such a beautiful fic to me is EVIL (because 1) its angst .. i love it but guys This is the outcome of me reading it 2) ANGST WITH LEEHAN???? KIM. DONGHYUN. HELLOO??? i got spoilers and me finding it here… Yeah gut wrenching.) BUT ALSO SUCH AN HONOR BECAUSE WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOURE DEDICATING THIS TO MEEEE. guys when i say i LOVE her works, i mean it with every bone and fiber in my body. this was absolutely amazing and i can just reread this over and over again :’) thank you for posting this within my timezone, like who would sacrifice their sleep to TELL YOU they will be posting and making sure that they did???? Gosh i love her so much 😢😢😢😢❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 i yapped so much im so sorry my sweet girl 😖😖

　ᅠ 🀦　ᅠ THIRTY DAYS OF LOVE　　────　ᅠ ( kim leehan )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀donghyun’s world shatters when he learns that the love of his life, you, is running out of time. but when the unexpected happens𑁋and you begin pushing him away, he makes a choice he’ll never fail to make over and over again. to love you through all the sunsets, quietly, fiercely and eternally.

　　　ᅠ 김동현 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 12k ⠀ genre angst fluff established relationship non idol au fiancé au ⠀ contains mentions of food blood death terminal sickness drugs (as medicine) crying skinship pet names ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net , @onedoornet

　　　ᅠ note ᅠ from ᅠ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈 ! ᅠ this is it guys my debut leehan fic is angst! and since this is my first time doing such a long angst fic i dedicate this to my lovely @miumura <3 i hope this is good enough for you babes! and my biggest thanks to rhin and sru for proofreading this for me ~ mwah ^3^

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

“SEE you tonight, angel,” Donghyun kisses your hair, pulling you into a hug. He doesn’t let go for a while, comfortable at how you’re perfectly snuggling against his chest. 

Still in his hug, you look up at him. “Why are you still hugging me? You’re going to be late for the meeting,” you say, knowing that his office takes a longer time to reach than yours. 

Donghyun smiles, placing his chin on your head. He pulls you into his embrace tighter, savouring every bit of the moment. “I don’t know, I just want to hug you a little longer.”

“Okay, you can hug me when you come home tonight,” you say, gently pushing him away. It’d be such an outrageous lie if you said you didn’t love your fiancé’s hugs, but you also know that if you didn’t push him out the door, he wouldn’t get to work on time. 

You push Donghyun to the door, then go on the tip of your toes, kissing his cheek. “I’ll see you tonight, dear.”

Donghyun pouts, yet he opens the door. “I’m sorry I can’t come with you for your doctor’s appointment,” he says, pressing his lips together. 

You’re going to work a bit later today, as you have your monthly check-up in the morning. It’s nothing serious, just a habit that you’ve gotten used to since a child—as your parents would always bring you in for a monthly check-up at the clinic. Better safe than sorry, they said. 

Plus, you have been feeling quite distorted lately—swamped with fatigue and sleep disturbances. You thought it’s related to stress, but after talking to Donghyun about it, you’re a bit relieved that you’re getting it checked out, in case of anything serious. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” you say, giving him a smile. You feel a pang in your heart—it’s no lie that you’re a bit nervous, as this is the first time in years that you’d be going to the doctor’s without Donghyun by your side. 

“You’ll be fine?”

You nod, chuckling. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay then,” Donghyun says, sighing. He adjusts the man bun you’ve helped him tie, before stepping out of the apartment. “I’ll see you tonight—text me!”

You laugh, adoring how cute your handsome fiancé is. “I will, sweetheart. Get to work safely.”

“I will!” you hear him exclaim, waving before he takes a turn down the hallway. You take a deep breath before going back into your apartment to get ready for the day. 

After getting ready, you take a cab over to the clinic, prepping yourself by saying that it’s nothing to be worried about—the fact that you’ve been feeling extra tired and coughing more often are caused by stress and that it’s nothing serious.

The worried look on your doctor’s face and the way that she orders additional scans and tests makes you think otherwise. Though, still, you brave yourself. 

That is until the nurse comes back with your tests, a grim look on her face, and you can’t help but feel extremely scared. 

“I’m sorry, Miss, but it looks like you have advanced lung cancer, and… the prognosis isn’t good.”

The world stops spinning, and everything goes silent. The weight of the world crashes down on you. Everything feels distant, like you’re underwater.

“From my observations, and the tests that we ran for you just now, the cancer looks like it’s beyond treatable. All we can do is give you some medications to help with the pain–”

“How much longer do I have?” you suddenly ask, your voice throaty. Tears begin to collect at the corners of your eyes, and all you can think of is Donghyun. 

Your doctor widens her eyes in surprise, not expecting such a calm reaction. “I… estimate it to be around two months, at best.”

You nod absentmindedly, barely hearing the doctor explaining further help with medication, lifestyle and life expectancy. Your head is spinning, and all you’re able to think about is Donghyun. The happy life the two of you are planning. 

“Would… you like to call someone?” the doctor asks, pulling you back to reality. 

You blink back tears, immediately shaking your head. You force a smile. “No. I’ll be fine.”

You clutch the test results in your hand tightly as you leave the clinic in a daze. You glance at the people around you—some are happily calling or texting someone through their phones, some are enjoying their food with their partners, some are even rushing to work. You watch everyone go with their life, tears in your eyes. Suddenly, all the little things mean so much more to you. 

You glance at the time on your phone—if you catch the train now, you’d be able to reach work and catch up on some pending tasks. You plod through the path, slowly making your way down the subway. When you reach down the stairs, your phone vibrates with messages from none other than your beloved, Kim Donghyun. 

Swallowing thickly, you read the texts from your notifications. 

hi angel! i hope everything’s going well

this meeting is boring

i’d rather bring u to the aquarium for a date ^_^

anyways text me back when u can, ok? 

i love u sm!

Once again, your eyes overfill with tears, causing them to fall down your cheeks. You place a hand on your chest. Your hand forms a fist, crumpling the test results. A part of you is aching to call him and cry your heart out about this new calamity that hit you—yet, another bigger part of you knows that you shouldn’t. 

Donghyun had recently got promoted at his workplace, getting a higher pay raise. He’s also collecting money to open his own fish shop. He’s been talking to you about it for ages, and he even has a pinterest board saved. His dreams are slowly coming true, and you’re not ruining that for him—you know that he’ll instantly drop everything once you break the truth to him. 

You force yourself to look up, swatting your tears away with the edge of your sleeve. You blink back the remaining tears, reaching a resolute decision in your mind. 

Instead of telling Donghyun, you’re going to make him fall out of love with you. 

You smile sadly. 

It’s for the best. You love him too much to want him to give up on his dreams just to take care of you. You love him too dearly to see him heartbroken over your state. You love him so much that you’re willing to die alone. 

You love him, more than you ever could describe, that you’re willing to pull away to prevent him from sacrificing his future for you. 

You switch your phone off, taking a deep breath. As you step into the train, heading for work, you decide that you’re going to give yourself thirty days to accomplish your mission. 

Thirty final days with him, then that’s it.

THAT night, you can’t sleep. The reality that you’re living in seems so real yet so distant, and it keeps you awake. You’re in Donghyun’s arms, staring at the ceiling blankly. The gentle rhythm of his chest heaving up and down, the warmth of his breath against your forehead comforts you—yet it washes you through a wave of realisation—that this will be one of your final nights with him. 

Enjoy it while it lasts.

You snuggle closer to him, blinking to force tears back in. You brave yourself, shifting your gaze upon your fiancé’s face—his peaceful sleeping face that looks so cute and adorable. You’ve cried too much today, yet you can’t stop the tears from dripping down your face again. 

It’s so unfair. You were finally happy–why did it have to be robbed right from you when you were just getting comfortable?

The urge to wake him up and tell him everything is overwhelming, but you clench your fists and swallow the words. You take a deep breath, repeating to yourself the mission that you’re putting yourself to. 

Thirty days to make Donghyun leave me. 

You shift your gaze back towards the ceiling, mentally making a list of what you have to do for the next four weeks. 

DAY 1.

In the morning, you’re up earlier than Donghyun is—that’s usually how it is, but this time, you had to make sure you’re awake before he is, to avoid any slip-ups from you.

You’ve already showered—you’re now in your bathrobes, and done your whole morning routine. You walk over to your shared bed, smiling softly at finding Donghyun still soundly sleeping. You kneel on the bed, forcing yourself to maintain a stoic face as you shake him awake. 

“Good morning, love,” he mumbles, stretching his arms wide before pulling you in for a hug. You bite the bottom of your lip, holding back a smile. Usually, you’d giggle and kiss him good morning, but this time, you don’t. You stay silent, not reciprocating both his greeting and his hug. It pains you, but the pain that’s in your lungs every time you take a deep breath reminds you of the harsh future you’re facing.

After a few minutes, Donghyun notices the change in your behaviour. He opens his eyes, pulling away slightly so he can look you straight in the eye. “Are you okay?”

You press your lips into a thin line. “I’m fine,” you reply, giving him a half-hearted smile. 

Donghyun holds the gaze longer than you wish he did, pursing his lips as he analyses any emotion that you might be displaying on your face. 

Before he could say anything that will definitely make you break character, you push yourself out of his embrace, walking to the vanity. The weight of your lie begins to sink in your chest, marking the beginning of your plan. 

You know that Donghyun, as dense as he can be sometimes (read as most of the time), is quick to pick up on things—especially if it’s about things and people he loves. You notice him lingering around you, standing behind you, longer than he usually does, with a puzzled look on his face as you go through your usual morning routine. 

Except that you don’t pack a lunch for him, pretending that you’re occupied with some other house chore. Except that you don’t smile sweetly, saying that you love him while you give him a kiss on the cheek as the two of you part ways for the day. 

Donghyun notices, and you know that as soon as you receive a text message from him right after you’ve arrived at your office. 

angel

you okay?

did i do smth wrong? i don’t have lunch today :< 

You open the message and give him a simple and dry response: “no”. You grit your teeth, already hating the weight that’s pushing you down every single time you lie to him. 

The rest of the week goes by the same way—you try your absolute best to create distance between you and Donghyun: talking to him in an uninterested tone, not hugging back whenever he does, pretending to not remember to kiss him goodnight and goodmorning, not updating him about your day to let him smile as he listen to you like how it usually is. 

You’ve, too, lost count the amount of times Donghyun has come up to you and asked if you were okay. 

“I’m fine,” you grunt, scooting away. You adjust your posture before forcing yourself to focus on the show you’re watching. It’s not even that interesting, but you need to do everything humanly possible to ignore the handsome ball of fluff sitting next to you, begging you to tell him what’s wrong with those super cute boba eyes of his.

You hear Donghyun quietly sighing before walking away to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge to find some snacks to offer you. 

“Here,” he says after a while. You glance at him, gulping at the sight of the honey butter chips Donghyun is stretching out to you. 

“I’m not… hungry,” you force yourself to say, in a plain tone.

Donghyun tilts his head. “But you like honey butter chips,” he says, already slightly pouting. 

“Kim Donghyun, I’m not hungry,” you hiss, eyes glued to the television.  

“Okay…” you hear him murmur, shoving the chip that he originally wanted to feed you into his own mouth. From the corner of your eyes, you see Donghyun folding the bottom of the bag so that it can stand by itself, carefully so that the chips won’t spill, before placing it next to you. He then gets up and walks away to the kitchen to cook some food, intending to give you space. 

Actually, Donghyun can’t exactly cook, but he’s just standing there, at the sink, washing some fruits that he wants to cut up for you. The past few days, he’s noticed a very drastic change in your behaviour. You’re no longer smiling at him, you’re no longer talking to him about anything that comes to your mind, you’re no longer reciprocating the hugs and cuddles he’s giving. You’ve brushed off every single attempt he’s made to ask you if anything was wrong, or if he did anything that upset you. 

Donghyun sighs, tying his hair up before beginning to peel some oranges. 

DAY 6.

The next step of your plan begins: picking fights at the most irrelevant things, hoping that Donghyun would lose his patience.

“Can you not hug me like that?” you snark, swatting his hands away from your waist. 

Donghyun widens his eyes, shocked at your sudden outburst. Normally, you wouldn’t ever decline his hugs—preferring to let him snake his arms around you as you get ready for the day, or cooking something up. 

You glare at your fiancé, fiercely dabbing your makeup onto your face. It pains you to see the confused and shocked look on his face, but you have to continue. “It’s so annoying, your breaths are so sticky and it makes my neck feel hot.”

Donghyun puts his arms to his side, taking a deep breath. “Okay, angel, I’m sorry,” he says, his voice gentle. He extends his hand, patting your hair. “I’ll be showering,” he informs you before disappearing to the bathroom. 

You watch him with widened eyes, taken aback by his reply. 

That wasn’t supposed to happen. Donghyun was supposed to be offended by your actions, not be completely calm and okay about it. 

You turn around, eager to find another opportunity to piss him off. 

A few moments after that, you find yourself in the kitchen with Donghyun, who’s watching you prepare breakfast. You glance at him, who’s peacefully trying to sip his morning coffee. 

This is perfect timing.

Ignoring the heavy guilt weighing down on you, you slam the kitchen drawer a little harder than necessary, the sharp sound cutting through the tranquil morning. 

Donghyun’s head shoots up, and his eyes immediately find you. He sets his coffee down, fingers lingering around the mug. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you mutter, shoving the dirty spoon in your hands into the sink with a loud clatter. 

He frowns, taking one step closer. “You seem upset.”

“I said I’m fine,” you snap, sharply turning around to face Donghyun. Pushing down the remorse you feel upon seeing his expression—a mixture of shock and worry—you continue. “Can’t I be in a bad mood without you questioning me?”

Silence.

You expect him to bite back, finally telling you that you’re being unreasonable. You know Donghyun isn’t the type to be confrontational, but considering the amount of discourtesy you’ve done to him this past week, you even expect him to get angry. 

That would make it easier.

Instead, much to your surprise, Donghyun simply sighs. “Of course you can, my love,” he says softly, eyes not budging away from you. 

You inhale sharply, turning your back to him before he can see the tremble in your hands. 

As the week goes by with a blur of similar attempts, you begin to grow a little frustrated. A part of you just wants to tell Donghyun everything—where it hurts, how sad you feel, how you feel so worthless and in pain all the time. 

Every time you glance at him, you just feel like jumping into his embrace. Every time you see a notification from him, your fingers itch to press call, to release the tension in your shoulders and the heavy guilt in your chest, to whisper the truth to him. I���m sick. I’m dying.

You’re taking the bus back home, Donghyun’s message opened but left unreplied. You stare at the message: “get home safely, my love” with a vision that blurs more and more with tears every time you blink. 

The message bubble pops up again. 

Donghyun’s typing. 

are you okay?

you’re leaving me on read

You shut your eyes, clicking the off button on your phone. You can’t do this right now. If you let yourself answer his texts, your whole plan will crumble along with his future. 

Donghyun doesn’t deserve this. 

You clench your fists, fingernails digging into your palms. You force yourself to stay quiet, to freeze and not do anything. 

A tear escapes down your cheek, and you let it fall. 

It hurts. 

But you don’t know what else to do. 

DAY 13.

“I’m home,” Donghyun calls out as he closes the door behind him. The apartment is quiet, and he can only hear the air purifier working in the background. 

It feels weird. 

He glances at the shoe rack, spotting the pair of shoes that you chose to wear to work today already there. He bites the bottom of his lips, bending down to fix the position of your shoes. Then, quietly, he opens his own and sets them neatly next to yours. 

As he makes his way to the bedroom, a million thoughts race through his head. What did he do wrong? Where did he mess up—for you to be acting so differently? He knows he isn’t the best at confrontational communication, but you’ve shrugged off all of his attempts to try. 

Donghyun walks silently to your shared bedroom, and he sees you bundled up on the bed, soundly sleeping. There’s something about you, so ethereal and beautiful, even when you’re deep in slumber. Donghyun takes quiet steps towards you, coming into a halt when he’s standing right in front of you. 

He exhales heavily, absorbing the view of you. 

Donghyun misses you. 

He misses spending hours giggling with you, talking about all the things that the two of you found interesting in this world. He misses holding you in his arms. He misses kissing you, smothering you in his affection. He misses letting you braid and play with his hair whenever you want to. He misses having you drag him around doing errands—shopping for groceries and household items, occasionally distracted by the cute blind boxes at the cash register. He misses enjoying aquarium dates with you—seeing you look at him with lovesick eyes, even though you have been to the same aquarium so many times. 

He misses you, and he wonders what he’s done wrong for you to obviously avoid him like this. 

Donghyun pauses, wondering if he should do it. He sighs, then leans down to give you a peck on the forehead. It’s gentle, barely there—but it’s enough for him to sustain himself through another week. 

As he straightened his posture, he recalls the events that happened recently. Just this morning, when Donghyun was watching you get ready for the day, you suddenly mentioned Sanghyeok—a man who you used to be interested in, back in high school.

“I wonder what Sanghyeok is doing now,” you said. Your voice is loud—waiting for Donghyun to respond. 

Donghyun buttoned his shirt, staring right at you. He remained silent, not knowing exactly what to expect out of this.

“I bet he looks even more handsome now,” you tried again, emphasizing the ‘handsome’ in your tone. You sneaked a glance at your fiancé through the vanity mirror, disappointed to see him remaining unfazed. 

“Obviously,” he replied after a while. He approached you and grabbed the hair comb next to you. He continued, in a matter-of-factly tone. “Everyone gets more handsome or beautiful as they mature.”

Donghyun smiled quietly as he watched your face morph into an annoyed expression, huffily turning away. 

This must be some kind of way for her to get back at me, he thought. Maybe I should try harder to get her heart back, for whatever reason she pulled away. 

You stir, fingers instinctively reaching for the pillow next to you—bringing Donghyun back into the present. 

Donghyun sighs, massaging his temples. He looks at you, taking in your beauty for a while, before walking away to get unready for the day—already thinking of what to order for dinner. 

DAY 17. 

Tomorrow is the day where you’ll accompany Donghyun to find his wedding suit, and you know he’s been aching to ask you why you’re not excitedly talking to him about it yet. He’s been hovering around you—not quite standing or sitting next to you, but rather, he’s around you—the corner of his mouth twitching as he bites back his words. 

You’ve been quite excited, actually. You’ve been saving a lot of photos, trying to get an idea of what would make your fiancé look flattering on your wedding day. You were dying to talk to him about, endlessly rambling to him about the countless designs out there—but you’re reminded of your condition, the fact that you’re sick and dying, every time you glance at him and imagine him in a wedding suit. 

That’s the only reason that’s keeping you together, holding you back from unleashing your true feelings.

Donghyun found his courage to ask you when the two of you are sitting at the dining table, eating some take-out ramen that he ordered for dinner. 

“About tomorrow…” Donghyun begins, slowly chewing the contents of his mouth. “We’ll be going… right? Together?”

You take a deep breath, putting on your act. You look up from your food, eyes bored. “Do you not want to?”

“No– no, it’s not like that, angel,” Donghyun stammers, almost choking on his food. “I’m just wondering… because you haven’t talked about it all week. You…”

He pauses, and he holds his gaze for a few moments. 

“You usually get excited about these things,” he continues softly.

“About what?” you ask sharply, heart sinking at the way you’re treating him. 

Donghyun shrugs. The look in his eyes is cracking your heart into pieces, but you brave yourself to keep the glare on. “You know, about doing things together. With me.”

“Whatever,” you grumble, breaking the gaze Donghyun is holding. You turn to your food, holding back your tears by aggressively poking holes in your fishcakes. 

“Angel,” he calls, and you hate how you instantly perk up at the nickname. Your eyes slightly widen at how he’s smiling so adorably, his boba eyes sparkling against the reflection of the lamps. “Do you remember? Our first date.”

The memory of one of the happiest days of your life, dated seven years ago, tugs hard against your chest, some kind of heavy feeling going up to your throat. “Yes,” you croak, avoiding his gaze. 

“I still remember how nervous I was, waiting for you in front of your parents’ house with flowers in my hands. It was really awesome—the feeling of waiting for you outside, knowing that I’ll be spending the entire day with you,” Donghyun pauses as he laughs, the corner of his eyes crinkling with happiness. 

You swallow thickly, forcing yourself to stay stoic. 

“I was eighteen—we were eighteen—still young and dumb, but I knew, the moment you stepped out the door looking so beautiful in your light pink dress, that you’re the person I want to be with for the rest of my life.”

You shut your eyes, lowering down your head. As tears begin to collect at the edges of your eyes and Donghyun’s voice begins to blur in the background, you curse yourself and your fate.

Why did it have to be like this?

What did you ever do wrong to be given such a cruel future?

Why did it have to be you?

DAY 21.

You’re sure that you heard the doctor right the last time—that you had around three months to live. But now, with every single day that passes, you feel like your body is physically getting ripped away from you, little by little. Your appetite decreases with every passing day, your energy and mood swings vary by a significant manner. 

Every time you notice this, the more adamant you are in your plan. You have to make Donghyun leave, even if it breaks you in the process. 

You have 9 days left of your plan. 

You’ve been more consistent and put more effort into your scheme, despite Donghyun being calm and still loving through it all. 

You sigh deeply, standing at the sink as you wash out your mug after drinking honey lemon water. You’re coughing very often now, and you often find yourself out of breath yet in pain multiple times. You feel Donghyun’s presence behind you, and it’s feeling heavier than usual. You’re done washing your mug, but you rinse it a couple more times to pretend that everything’s fine. 

As soon as you close the water tap, Donghyun opens his mouth.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” 

His voice is calm—way too calm.

You glance at him, setting your mug down, your body still turned away from him. It’s a bit weird that Donghyun is confronting you now, but given the duration that your plan has been going on, you figure that he’s reached the peak of his patience. 

“I’ve been busy, that’s all.”

A quick moment of silence goes by. Then, “You’re lying.” 

You inhale sharply, momentarily shutting your eyes close. But you don’t turn to face him. 

The sharp sound of a chair scraping against the tiled floor startles you. You quickly turn around and it’s Donghyun, pulling a chair out—but he doesn’t sit. Instead, he rests against it, his hand gripping tightly on its backrest. 

“What is it?” he asks, his voice quieter. “What are you not telling me?”

You avert your gaze, swallowing densely. Say it. Make him hate you once and for all.

“I…” you clear your throat, trying your best to sound indifferent. “I’m done, Donghyun. I don’t think I love you anymore.”

Silence. 

For a moment, you’re hoping—silently praying, even—that he would just walk away. That he would accept your words and take his leave. 

Then, in a voice so quiet it’s almost a whisper, Donghyun says, “say it again.”

You widen your eyes, turning to him. Startled, you blurt out, “what?”

The guilt that’s pushing down your chest doubles even more as Donghyun is staring at you. His jaw clenched, and his eyes dark with something that you’ve never seen in him before—hurt, anger, and utter disbelief. 

“Say it again.”

Your lips part, but you can’t force anything out. 

“You’re lying,” Donghyun says, with no softness in his voice this time. “But let’s pretend you’re not.”

He takes a step forward, and suddenly you’re trapped between him and the kitchen counters. “Say it again, Y/N,” he whispers, almost begging, “look at me this time.”

Shakily, you force yourself with all your might to meet his gaze, tears beginning to form. 

Say it, Y/N. Make him hate you. 

Make him leave.

“I–” your voice cracks.

Donghyun stands in front of you, still like a stone. He doesn’t blink, nor does he say anything. He stands there, waiting, patient like he always is. 

Your hands begin to tremble at your side, and with one deep breath, you let it out before you can’t anymore. 

“I don’t love you anymore,” you whisper, forcing your shaky gaze to connect to Donghyun. The fact that it’s a lie pains you ten times more than it should have—you exhale, biting your lips to cover how terribly you’re trembling. 

Donghyun exhales deeply. For a moment, you think he’s about to laugh. But instead, he looks away, shaking his head. 

“Okay, fine,” he nods, his voice too steady. “Then tell me, why are you still wearing the ring?”

Your blood turns to ice. 

“If you don’t love me anymore,” Donghyun repeats, and one by one, his words sting your heart. “Tell me why you’re still wearing the ring.”

Your hand flies to the hand with the engagement ring, trying to hide it, but you’re too slow. He’s already seen it. 

Donghyun laughs, short and humourless. “You can’t even take it off, can you?”

Feeling harshly attacked, you look away. 

Donghyun runs a hand over his face, slowly sighing. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he says, his voice lower now, and it’s clear that he’s exhausted. “But if what you’re doing is to protect me from whatever, it’s not working.”

His words cause a pang to your heart. 

“It’s not like that—” You grit your teeth, starting to internally panic. “You don’t understand–”

“Then make me understand!” 

Your breath hitches. 

Donghyun didn’t yell—not really—but for a man who never raises his voice, and would try his best to solve things calmly without conflict— his outburst might as well be a scream. 

The rawness in his voice makes your heart ache even more. 

But the sharp pain in your lungs reminds you of everything—you can’t let him in. 

You turn quickly, to hide the sudden stream of tears flowing down your cheeks. “There’s nothing to understand,” you quietly say, biting your quivering lips. 

A long silence, accompanied by palpable tension, stretches between the two of you. 

When Donghyun finally speaks, his voice is quieter than before. “Okay.”

You force your eyes shut, biting back sobs as you hear him walk away, the sound of the door closing echoing in the apartment. 

And when the sound of his footsteps disappeared, you let yourself sink to the floor in heavy sobs, your body trembling like crazy. 

THE next few days go by like usual—Donghyun acts like nothing happened—but the only difference is you can clearly see the hurt in his eyes. He’s still loving: he brings back home your favourite food, opens the door for you, and makes sure you’re always comfortable. 

You’re still trying your best to carry out your plan.

“Stop, Donghyun,” you say, albeit your voice is shaky. Donghyun, who’s silently peeling out shrimp skin from its flesh for you, pauses. He looks up—though he doesn’t say anything.

“We’re too different. You shouldn’t be with me.”

Donghyun takes a deep breath, and a few seconds later, he replies. “What’s so different about us, angel?”

Angel. 

The nickname stings like lemon juice on a fresh paper cut. 

“I…” you force a laugh, but it cracks at the edges. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re too different, Donghyun. We have always been—you like quiet nights in, I like going out,” 

Lie. You never really minded the difference: you and Donghyun completed each other like you’re each other’s missing piece.

“You like stability, but I’m too restless for you. We… we’re just too different,” you gesture vaguely, trying not to let Donghyun hear the tremble in your voice. “Maybe we just… got carried away with the idea of us.”

Donghyun puts aside the shrimp he’s deskinning, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. His voice maddeningly tranquil, he says, “you don’t mean that.”

Your throat burns with the trace of your words. 

He’s making this hard. Too hard than what it’s supposed to be. 

“I do,” you lie. 

Donghyun closes his mouth, studying you with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he exhales slowly. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.”

Your breath catches.

“No–” 

“You can push me all you want, as hard as you want,” Donghyun continues, his voice softer than before, “but I’m staying, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere.”

The walls you carefully constructed around your heart begin to crack and crumble. Desperation claws frantically against your chest. 

Why can’t he just let go?

You repeatedly shake your head, turning away, blinking rapidly as your vision begins to blur with tears. “You should,” you whisper, though it’s more to yourself. “You really should.”

Donghyun stays silent for quite some time, before leaning forward to gently caress your hair. You pull away, knowing that he isn’t leaving. Not now. Not ever. 

DAY 27. 

Donghyun stirs, blinking rapidly as the surroundings become clearer to him. He stretches his arms, tensing as he comes into contact with your sleeping figure. He sits up, and shifts his gaze towards you, your form accentuated by the dim glow of the bedside lamp. 

There’s something wrong. 

Donghyun knows—he just doesn’t exactly get what it is. 

You’ve been so off—too distant—this past month, and knowing you for almost a decade, Donghyun realises that whatever is causing your behaviour change is serious. 

He knows that it’s either him or something else.

But what did he do?

Donghyun quietly jumps off the bed, tiptoeing out of the room to get some water to drink. His mind is clouded with worry for you these days, he can barely sleep at night—with no one to share his warmth with, no one to talk to until one of you snoozes off, no one to braid his hair until one of you falls asleep. 

He walks to the kitchen, his attempt at being quiet largely failing due to him yelping after stubbing his toes into the dining table. He switches a few of the lights on, still quiet, then he walks over to the kitchen to grab himself some water. 

Everything was ordinary, except a few things laid out messily on the kitchen island.

Packets of medicine he’s never seen before, and a thin stack of papers scattered around the top of the island. 

Curious, Donghyun peeks at the words printed on the label of the plastic packets, bringing the glass of water he’s holding to his lips. 

Y/N L/N. 

Aspirin. 

Antidepressants. 

Anti-seizure. 

Steroids. 

Morphine tablets.

His heart begins to beat loudly against his chest, blood rushing to his head. He quickly turns to the stack of papers, after checking through the packets of medicine. 

Y/N L/N. Lung Cancer. Stage 4 (Severe).

Donghyun freezes, and the glass cup he’s holding slips through his fingers without notice. 

His mind swirls with a million different emotions—he’s confused, in shock and fear, as well as a touch of deep betrayal. 

His eyes read through the words on the papers again. A storm of emotions rain on him—he can’t believe it. It can’t be. 

All of the memories he shared with you—both happy and sad—replays in his mind. From the moment he first laid his eyes on you, donkey years ago; your numerous dates together, hours spent with love and giggles; him proposing to you, and moving in together—planning and envisioning your life together. Then, a sudden flood of memories flush through, replaying the moments and  conversations from the past month where you tried to push him away.

Now, everything clicks together in the right place. 

Now, Donghyun understands why. 

You were trying to make him leave for the future he deserved, for a better future without the burden of loving someone who was dying.

Donghyun feels his shoulders trembling ever so slightly, his vision beginning to blur with tears. He notices the broken glass cup on the floor, but his head is spinning too fast for him to comprehend it all. 

Donghyun feels his heart pounding in his chest, creating a heavy rhythm that drowned out everything else around him. You’d tried to push him away—tried to make him fall out of love with you, to untangle him from a future with you, all in an anguished attempt to protect him from the unavoidable pain that is now coming for them. Donghyun feels like him not seeing this coming should have relieved him in some twisted way.

However, the reality coming from the document in front of him hits like a tidal wave. Anger begins to flare within him—he’s mad at you for trying to shield him from this, irritated for the way you drown him in doubt, distance, and wondering whether he was truly losing you even before he knew the reason behind it all, for the past month. 

Yet, the anger and hurt begins to wash away as his eyes, still blurred from his tears that couldn’t yet fall, lands on a framed picture of the two of you on the wall. 

You were glowing—the sparkle of the starry night sky glittering in your eyes, a loving smile on your face. Next to you was Donghyun, kissing the top of your hair, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. 

It was the night of his proposal. The night you said yes. 

Yes to a future together. Yes to loving each other through all the highs and lows.

A tear drops down Donghyun’s face, tracing the curve of his features in a silent surrender. 

He understands. 

How could he not? 

Somehow, he knows that fear must have gotten the best of you, driving you to make such a selfish decision. He knows that you’re terrified—terrified to watch him suffer, to drag him into a future filled with nothing but grief and pain that no one should ever have to endure. 

Donghyun knows that you’re trying to protect him—making the hardest decision to leave him with the hollow ache of your absence, hoping that he’d move on long before you had to physically leave this world. 

His chest tightens with the realisation and the weight of his beloved’s sacrifice. 

Donghyun glances, again, at the document stating your diagnosis on the kitchen counter. 

It’s hard to come to terms with this new reality, shoved to his face like a rejection he doesn’t even have time to process. 

It’s hard, but Donghyun’s love is undeniable. He feels it burning through the tangles of hurt, confusion and anger in his heart, leaving him with one overwhelming truth: he won’t leave. Not now. Not ever. 

The vision of you smiling brightly appears in front of his eyes, the melody of your laughter ringing in his ears. 

His heart begins to beat in a steady manner, and he’s never felt as sure before—the only other time being the moment, after taking you out for the first time, that he’s sure of a future with you. 

I’m not going anywhere. I choose you, Y/N.

I’ll always choose you. 

I choose us, even in this.

A wave of urgency suddenly washes through him—and it’s almost a frantic need to reassure you. Donghyun clutches his chest. He can’t let you believe, even for a second longer, that you’ll watch him walk away, leaving you to face this battle alone. He’s not going to abandon you—not when you need him the most. 

The slightest, faintest shiver moves through him, betraying the calm he’s trying to maintain for so long. No sound escapes his lips, just a quiet sob. 

And so, as the reality of his fiancée’s diagnosis begins to settle into the deepest marrows of his bones, he realises that the future that the two of you had once planned is no longer a guarantee. It’s fragile now, but a future with you is still one. The future still belongs to you and Donghyun, hand in hand. And he would fight to hold on to it, even if it meant facing the darkness together.

DAY 28. 

“Y/N, I’m home,” Donghyun calls out, mentally preparing himself for another ‘mood swing�� of yours. However, when he swings the door to your shared apartment open, he finds himself in shock at the way it’s dark. 

Panic begins to kick in. Donghyun looks around—your shoes are here, your coat is hanging, still damp from the year’s first snow. 

“Angel?” Donghyun calls again, the tremble in his voice beginning to rise. 

He kicks his shoes off and scrambles to every corner of the house, trying to find you. He looks for you in every nook and cranny—sharply turning when he spots light coming from the bottom of the bathroom door. He rushes there, but comes into a halt when he hears a sob. 

You press your forehead against the bathroom mirror, your hot breath creating a cloud of fog on its surface. Gripping the edge of the sink as tight as you possibly could, you try to push in the panic that’s resurfacing, after keeping on a facade for the entire day. 

At first, it was just a tiny tremor, a quiver barely noticeable in your chest as you try to keep your breathing calm amidst all the physical pain. Your eyes are glassy and distant, staring at nothing in particular. The tears are heavy, clinging to your eyelashes, refusing to fall. But with every blink, with every pained heave, a new wave erupts through you, and the tears threaten to fall. You press your lips tightly together, your fingers tightening their grip on the edge of the sink, trying to fiercely silence the sobs that will likely escape, but the quiet, desperate hitch in your breath betrays you.

The tears flow down your cheeks like a river carving its way through thick solid rock, free, warm and unwelcome. You press your forehead harder against the stinging cold mirror, as though you’re trying to push the tears back in. Your throat tightens, a soft sob jerking at the bottom of your chest. You bite the bottom of your lip so hard it might rip apart, your entire body stiffening in an attempt to halt a flood that’s quickly becoming too impossible to stop.

But it slips out of you anyway—a quiet, pained sob that escaped before you could even stop it, followed by another, and another, and then a louder, desperate gasp for air. Your shoulders begin to rise up and down in an effort to stifle the sound, but each aching breath makes it harder. Your chest begins to heave, your hands trembling against the freezing surface of the sink, unable to stop the heavy storm of tears raining from your eyes. 

Your attempts to remain composed are long gone now, swallowed up by the weight of it all. And though you still tried to suppress it, your anguish cries fills the apartment with a rawness that she can’t deny, can’t conceal, no matter how hard you fight it.

“Angel?”

No.

You shake your head, tears mercilessly streaming down your cheeks. 

I need to stop crying. 

You harshly wipe the tears on your cheeks with the back of your hand, exhaling shakily. 

A soft knock comes from the door. 

“Y/N?”

You close your eyes shut. Not now. Please. 

You hear the doorknob turn, and tears begin to well up again. 

“I’m coming in.”

Before you could turn and stop in, Donghyun is already inside the bathroom, standing in front of you. His eyes immediately find you, locking to the sight of your tear-streaked face and trembling hands. 

His expression softens. “Hey,” he says, “talk to me.”

You shake your head. “Donghyun, please,” you say, your voice croaky. “Just go.”

Donghyun steps closer, determination masking the hurt in his eyes. His warmth begins to blanket around you. 

“No.”

You suck in a sharp breath, wincing at the pain. “You have to.”

“Why?” 

Donghyun frowns, his hand already halfway there, his first instinct is to hold you as soon as he sees you in pain. 

You turn to face him, the walls of your plan that you’ve constructed crumbling down the moment your eyes meet his. For the first time, you let him see it all—the overwhelming pain. The fear. The exhaustion. The unbearable weight of what’s to come. 

“Y/N–” he says, his own voice cracking. 

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head slowly. You want to give up. You want to run into his arms. You want to tell him everything. You want to cry your heart out to someone you love so dearly with your heart, someone who you know will never judge you for anything at all.

But a part of you still refuses to force upon him a painful future. 

“You deserve someone who has a future.”

“Love, what are you talking about–?”

“I’m dying, Donghyun,” you exclaim, choking on your tears. You can’t hold it in any longer, the truth slipping out without realisation. “I’m dying.”

Your words hang in the air, heavy and sharp like shattered glass. 

Donghyun stands there, not saying anything.

For a long time, neither of you moves. Neither of you says anything. Just holding each other’s gaze, a storm of emotions swirling behind each of your eyes. 

Then, quietly, Donghyun reaches out, pulling you into his embrace. You could feel his body trembling as he hugs you tight, his touch gentle, but at the same time, it feels desperate. It’s like you’d disappear if he let go. 

He pulls away slightly after, cupping your face tenderly. “You’re not in this alone,” he says, his voice steady, contrasting the evident quiver of his hands. 

Again, tears slip down your cheeks. “You should hate me.”

Your mind flips through the book of everything that you’ve done to him this month. It broke your heart, over and over again, doing each and every detail of your plan, but you know that it broke your fiancé even more. 

“I love you,” Donghyun murmurs. “And I’m staying. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your shoulders tremble as your hands find their grip on Donghyun’s arms, burying your face in his chest. His arms immediately find their way around you, pulling you closer. His heartbeat steady against yours, you let yourself cry in his arms for the first since the diagnosis. 

DAY 30.

You spent the entire day, after confessing the partial truth to Donghyun, sleeping and resting. You feel so fatigued, not even having the mood to text your boss that you’d be taking an off day. You opened your eyes only to shut your alarm off, and woke up around midday, finding out that your lovely fiancé emailed your boss for you, applying for two days off. He took two days off, too, claiming that he wants to spend all his hours with you. 

It’s the next day, and you wake up to Donghyun scrolling through something in his laptop, a serious frown on his face. It’s still partially dark in the apartment, the only source of light being your bedside lamp and Donghyun’s laptop. 

“Donghyun,” you say, immediately clearing your throat after that, feeling dry. 

Donghyun perks up, turning to you. He smiles, softly pressing his lips against your forehead. He adjusts the position of his bluelight glasses on his nose. “Good morning, angel. Why are you up so early? It’s only 6 in the morning.”

You glare at him. “Why are you up so early?”

Donghyun giggles, and it makes your stomach erupt in butterflies despite you trying to maintain the glare on your face. He puts an arm around your shoulder, letting you scoot closer to him, resting your head on his chest. 

“Look, I’ve been researching… and I think we should move to the countryside. I saw a really good house in Boseong-gun,” he says, and his words drop like a bomb. 

Your eyes bulge almost immediately. “What? Kim Donghyun,” you gasp. “What are you thinking? Where do we get the money?”

Donghyun continues, his eyes to the screen. “I’m thinking of selling this apartment,” he says with a serious expression, telling you that he’s not joking at all. 

Your heart almost jumps out of your chest. You gasp, hitting his arm. “Kim Donghyun! What the hell—what were you thinking? Why?”

Donghyun purses his lips. “I… think it’s for the best. You need fresh air—you need something way better than,” he gestures with his hands, “all this city garbage. It’s quiet there, and I think we’ll both like it.”

You’re too shocked to reply. You adjust your position to be sitting properly, locking eyes with your fiancé. He looks at you, his gaze strong and unwavering, and that is enough for you to know that he’s already made up his mind. He’s not playing around. 

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “Is it okay, though? You work here, and Boseong-gun is almost four hours away.”

“I have my resignation letter ready to be sent in,” Donghyun replies like it’s the easiest thing in the world for him. 

You look away, not knowing what to say. His suggestion hangs in the air, and you’re swamped in confusion and disbelief. It seems too sudden and out of place—like a happy ending Donghyun is trying to harshly paint over your doomed future. 

The silence between you and Donghyun stretches long and thick as you process the weight of the words he just uttered. 

Four hours. 

Four hours away from everything you’ve known—the life you’ve built together with Donghyun, for so many years, in the city.

You throw your gaze out the window, the colourful glistening of the city lights suddenly seeming so wistful. The sweeping view of the city skyline reminds you of the dreams you’ve conceived together, the shared moments of heartfelt laughter and quiet mornings—it was once a symbol of your guaranteed future, happy and secure with Donghyun, of success, ambition and togetherness. 

The thought of suddenly leaving all this behind makes your stomach turn. 

You turn back to him, and the look on his face is hopeful, almost eager. You feel like moving to the countryside is like an escape—a way to try and shield yourself from your illness and the misfortune that comes with it. You hope you could run away from it, you wish you could outrun it—but the entire idea feels like a paradox that’s laughing at your face: a desperate, unwise attempt to outrun your cruel fate. 

Life in the countryside sounds ideally peaceful, but would you even find peace there?

You widen your eyes, realising. 

You wait for him to say something following that, but he stays silent, waiting for your reply. 

Does he know?

The words hang in the air, slowly settling down between the two of you. 

You bite the bottom of your lips to hide the slight tremble in them. 

You want to fight back. Want to push him away again, knowing that he’s undeserving of such short-lived happiness just to be with you. 

But you’re exhausted, and you know Donghyun won’t take no for an answer, no matter how gentle he’d be with it.

“Okay,” you nod, and the look of silent gratitude on Donghyun’s face tells you the truth. 

He probably knows. 

EVERYTHING felt like a blur, and it’s comfortingly quick. Donghyun made sure to arrange everything well, and fortunately, nothing went wrong. The two of you had around two weeks to pack all of your things, say goodbye to family and friends, and send in your resignation letters to your respective workplaces. On the last day the two of you were in Seoul, Donghyun had brought you around to all your favourite places in the city—the cat cafe you frequented whenever you had the chance, the Seoul Forest, the river, and parks that you and Donghyun often went on picnics at. 

You laughed a lot—reminiscing on the memories made at each place. You’re with Donghyun now, just like you were in the memories you cherish, but the two of you have grown along with your feelings. Your love for each other has grown bigger and bigger each day, and you’d do anything for Donghyun. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see the cherry blossoms,” Donghyun says, his voice soft. You buckle your seatbelt, perking an eyebrow at him. 

“What are you talking about?”

Donghyun starts the car, sighing. “You love seeing the cherry blossoms at Seokchon Lake,” he says. “But you won’t be able to see them this year…”

The reality that you’re moving away from the city you’ve known as your home for the longest time hits you. The reality that you’re never coming back in the future hits you, too. 

Nevertheless, you smile. 

“It’s okay,” you reply, surprised by your own positivity. “Maybe we’ll get to see the ones at our new place? They must be beautiful.”

Donghyun kisses your temples, smiling softly. 

“Let’s go?”

You look at him for a while before nodding, feeling a rush of goosebumps as you’re turning to a new leaf in your life. 

The days at your new house, overlooking a beautiful meadow of green tea fields and an orchard, are more delightful than you thought it’d be. You spent your first few days decorating your newly bought house. Despite feeling a little out of place, the change of scenery and air makes you feel weirdly healthier and happier. 

You decide that you’re going to be painting the house to your liking. You brought up the idea to Donghyun two days ago, and he had happily agreed—bringing you to the town’s paintshop to hunt for some paint that you’d like. 

Today, you decide that you’re going to be painting your shared bedroom walls with a personal touch—a baby blue base shade filled with little paintings of stars, flowers, and significant objects from memories you shared with Donghyun, capturing details in cute colours. 

Donghyun helps you with everything and anything that he can help with. After bringing up the set of paintbrushes you ask for, he quietly reaches for a paint brush for himself and starts painting, even though it’s quite evident that he’s not too good at it. 

Being the ever silent observer, Donghyun didn’t tell you that he was going to help painting, and you too don’t notice him until you turn around and see him painting what you think might be a gummy bear. Though, you’re not too sure if it’s a gummy bear or a group of red blobs that kind of look like mushy tomatoes. 

“Donghyun,” you say, already snorting. “What’s that supposed to be, sweetheart?”

He turns, seriously explaining his work of art to you. “It’s a gummy bear! Remember the first time we sat together at lunch, during our sophomore year of high school? You looked like you were about to cry from that Biology test, so I gave you one–” he pauses, narrowing his eyes as laughter begins to crack your demeanor. “Why are you laughing?”

“It looks like tomatoes,” you giggle, and Donghyun’s eyes widen. 

“It’s not!” he huffs. “It’s clearly a gummy bear, Y/N–look, here’s the ears.”

You just can’t stop giggling—he’s too cute and his ‘paintings’ are too hilarious for you to hold yourself back, despite the stinging pain in your lungs. 

Swiftly, Donghyun dabs a streak of baby blue paint across your nose. 

“What the–hey!”

“Oops.”

You look around, immediately retaliating by smearing a yellow streak of paint across his cheek, and soon, the two of you are deep in laughter, tickling and smearing paint on each other, covered in messy colours. 

For a moment, you’re not thinking of the looming future.

For a moment, you’re laughing to your heart’s content, happy in Donghyun’s presence. 

ONE night, Donghyun suddenly suggests that the two of you should have supper on the rooftop while watching the stars. Winter is about to reach its peak, and you know how cold it’d be—but you know you can’t resist spending time with your beloved fiancé. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says to you after handing you a basket filled with midnight snacks, running back into the house. 

Donghyun then reappears, carrying a few thick blankets and pillows. After setting everything up, he pulls you into his arms, and you’re immediately bundled up in the warmth of your coat, the blankets, and your fiancé’s embrace. 

He wraps you in his arms as the two of you lie together underneath the breathtaking night sky.

“It’s really pretty here!” you say, smiling excitedly. “You can see the stars even more clearly compared to the city.”

“Yeah,” Donghyun nods, his breath tickling warmly against your skin. 

You smile fondly, your heart blossoming with the most pleasant feelings as you gaze at the vast sky, a canvas filled with shimmering stars, each with their own story. And the two of you are sharing a moment, quiet with no rush—just the two of you, enjoying snacks and each other’s presence. 

The quiet hum of the world fades around the two of you, and it’s just you and Donghyun and the occasional crunch of a snack.

Your eyes lay upon the sparkling constellations, quietly recalling some of their names that you still remembered from high school.

“Remember when we used to talk about space?” you murmur, shifting to make yourself more comfortable in Donghyun’s arms. 

“Is this when we were both obsessed with stars, back when we learnt about them in high school?” Donghyun chuckles. 

You nod. 

“You really wanted to become an astronaut, to see the stars more clearly,” he recalls. 

“Yeah,” you say, suddenly feeling a little sad. “Guess that didn’t work out.”

“Hey, you can still go,” Donghyun kisses the top of your head. He points to the sky. “Just not in the way you imagined.”

You nudge him. “That’s depressing.”

“What? We’ll all die one day—”

You smack his chest. “Shut up, Donghyun.”

He chuckles, and then, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, going back to watching the stars twinkle. 

“You know… I think I’m okay with all this,” you whisper, grabbing his hand. Donghyun interlaces your fingers together, his thumb caressing the back of your hand gently. “If the rest of my life is spent like this… with you.”

Donghyun squeezes your hand. “Me too, angel.”

YOU’RE sitting in the living room, sipping on hot chocolate by the window. You gulp, feeling odd. You’re sick, you know that, but it feels weird to feel your body getting progressively weaker and weaker with every passing day. After swallowing all the needed medication, you felt too tired to be doing anything around the house. You asked Donghyun for a hot chocolate, feeling a little weird as a simple task like making yourself a hot chocolate feels so draining now. And then, here you are, watching the snow fall onto earth outside your window. 

Suddenly, you feel like playing in the snow. The cold snow stinging against your skin, making your ears and nose red feels strangely comforting. You take a final sip of your drink before walking towards the coat rack, sliding your arms into a thick winter coat. Albeit slow, you still push yourself to make your way to the coat rack, even though you’re moving more slowly than you used to.

Donghyun, who is in the kitchen trying to figure out how to cook chicken soup, sees you wearing your winter boots. His eyes widen, and he leaves his station, immediately rushing to you. 

“Where are you going, love?” he asks, hands gently holding your arms. 

You bring your hair out of your coat. “Outside?” 

“You’ll get sick,” he says, pouting. 

You give him a mischievous smile, already reaching for the door. “Too late for that.”

Donghyun lets go of you, though he’s walking behind you, following your steps. He watches as you amble out to the front lawn of your house, looking so in awe of the snow. You unknowingly smile, loving the feeling of snowflakes decorating your hair. You slowly crouch down, and as your hands touch the fresh snow, you feel like you’re not doomed to death in the near future. It’s like a refreshing break, and you don’t have to think about your future. 

It’s just you, Donghyun, and the things you love. 

Busy rolling mini snowballs to make miniature snowmen, you feel a scarf wrapped around your neck. You look up, and see Donghyun softly smiling at you, snowflakes adoring his dark brown hair. He hands you a pair of knitted gloves. 

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks.

You glance at your fingers, numbly red. “Kind of. But this feels good.”

Donghyun shakes his head, the smile on his face betraying his disapproval. He grabs your hand and gently puts the gloves on. “There, much better.”

You laugh at the way he’s so stubborn sometimes, and it’s the happiest sound Donghyun has ever heard. His eyes widen slightly, and his throat suddenly feels dry.

He crouches next to you, pulling you close to him. He turns to the army of mini snowmen you made, chuckling. “They are so cute.”

You simply giggle, already making another one. Donghyun turns his head to look at you, the snowflakes falling gently around you, each one landing on your hair, your lashes dusted with white. As he’s watching you hum happily to yourself, shaping the snow in your hands, he’s completely captivated by the way snow settles around you. The wind has a gentle bite to it, making your nose red against the cold. But you seem unfazed, eyes sparkling as you place another ball of snow on the snowman’s body. 

Donghyun smiles. 

You’re so beautiful, even when the world is blanketed in white, even when it’s so freezing cold outside. 

I’m the luckiest person in the world. 

YOU grunt, hating how getting out of bed feels so hard to do now. You’ve slept for almost twelve hours, but you can’t seem to get enough rest. Your breaths are evidently more shallow and laboured now, but you try your best everyday—pulling yourself out of bed to see Donghyun. 

God knows when it’ll be the last time you see him. 

It’s already noon, and you’re walking downstairs, in Donghyun’s hoodie, groggy and ridiculously out of energy. You find Donghyun in the kitchen, looking somehow stressed that half his pancakes are burnt. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” you say, throwing your arms around Donghyun’s waist, burying your face into his back. 

You feel his tense posture relax slightly. “Good morning, love. Are you hungry?”

“A bit..” you answer. “But I don’t feel like eating.”

“You should eat,” Donghyun says, turning around as he swiftly presses a kiss to your forehead. “Do you want pancakes?”

You press your lips into a thin line, contemplating. Your appetite has decreased significantly, and heartbreakingly, you don’t find yourself enjoying the foods you used to love as much anymore. 

You shake your head. You don’t think you can swallow pancakes down anymore. 

Donghyun tilts his head. He hums. “Do you wanna cook something together? Maybe mac-and-cheese?”

You nod. 

“That sounds good,” you say, albeit feeling like your appetite might decline like all the other meals that you’ve tried before. 

The two of you then begin to cook—Donghyun insists on being the one mostly doing all the technical stuff, letting you instruct him around. He’s not too great with the kitchen, and with the better cook in your relationship supervising, disaster still strikes. 

“Did you just put the sugar instead of salt?” you ask, horrified. 

Donghyun gasps, stammering. “Oh my god. I did.”

He stares, not blinking, at the mac-and-cheese simmering on the stove, its taste completely ruined. You stare at him. Then the two of you burst into laughter. 

“I think we should stick to you being the chef,” Donghyun says, wiping his eyes.

“Agreed,” you laugh. 

The two of you end up redoing the entire recipe again, this time with more care which causes you to eat lunch in the late afternoon, but neither of you mind. 

YOU find yourself slowly stepping down the stairs, loving the smell of coffee going around, accompanied by the chirp of birds outside. You make your way into the kitchen, trying you best to steady your breath. You watch as Donghyun hums softly as he puts together a bowl of greek yogurt and berries, completely at ease. 

You take a mental picture—this moment, this warmth, this love.  

“Good morning, my love,” Donghyun smiles at you when he finally notices you staring at him from the dining table. “What’s up?”

You shake your head with a smile. “Nothing. Just… I love you, Donghyun. I… thank you for everything.”

Donghyun walks over to you and sets down the mugs of coffee he’s holding, pressing a kiss to your nose. “I love you too, angel, so much.”

And for a little while, everything feels normal.

BUT it’s not. Nothing is normal. 

Donghyun noticed everything. The way your laughter lingers around for much longer each time it escapes you. The way you’re speaking less, like it costs you so much pain to be voicing your thoughts out. The way your every movement is much slower, more deliberate, and he can clearly see the toll that each action is taking on you. The way that your face gets paler every passing day, the way that your eyes are sometimes empty and distant, reflecting the battle you’re going through inside. The way that there’s an almost palpable sadness in your gaze—no matter how hard you try to mask it—as if you’re mourning everything that’s being taken away from you, but you’re trying to still hold to whatever’s left of your energy to make the best of things and people you love, for a final conversation, a last connection.

At first, Donghyun tries his best to convince himself that it’s nothing. That you’re going to heal. That you’re going to make it, that you’re going to grow old with him.

But deep down, he knows.

He notices the way your voice, once steady and confident, now weakens. He knows that, in every moment you’re awake and aware, you might be sharing a few words and smiles, but it’s evident that you’re slipping away, little by little. 

The space around you becomes quieter without your giggles, you’re less active and you get more tired easily, resting longer than usual. 

Donghyun is in agony, but he knows whatever pain he’s feeling is so small compared to yours. It’s a painful, gradual process that he knows will leave him feeling helpless, watching someone he so deeply cares about wither in ways he can’t control.

After a day of gardening and giggling together in your orchard, Donghyun notices you faltering more rapidly than normal. The two of you are eating dinner together, when suddenly, your breath hitches sharply. You cough—once, twice. Then, it doesn’t stop. 

Donghyun immediately gets off his chair and rushes to your side, rubbing comforting circles on your back. But then, he sees it. Blood. On your lips. On your sleeve.

Your smile disappears. 

“Y/N–” Donghyun tries to say, but his voice comes out in a whisper, cracked and vulnerable. 

“I’m fine,” you say too quickly, wiping at your mouth like it’s nothing. Like you’re not falling apart right in front of him, right in his arms. 

But Donghyun catches the immediate fear in your eyes. 

The next day, it happens again. After an evening of cosy stargazing and laying in each other’s embrace, you get up too quickly, and the next thing Donghyun knows—you’re on the ground. 

For a second, Donghyun freezes. 

“Y/N?”

You blink up at him, dazed. Then, you offer him a weak laugh. “I’m okay, I’m fine. Just… got dizzy.”

But when he helps you up, he can’t help but notice how your weight is heavier than before. And he feels it—just how fragile you’ve become. 

He grips you tighter as he leads you to the bedroom. 

Later that night, Donghyun can’t fall asleep. Instead, he quietly sits down, his hand still intertwined with yours. He watches you sleep, the reality of your future sinking harshly into him. 

The warmth of the happy memories he’s made with you, from the first time he knew you, still lingers, but there’s something else now—a quiet, suffocating dread. 

You’re slipping away. 

And no matter how many memories he’s going to make with you, it won’t change the inevitable. It won’t change anything. 

For the first time since this started—Donghyun feels something rise up his throat. Anger. 

At fate, at the universe. At you, for thinking that you could hide this from him. 

He clenches his jaw, tears threatening to fall. 

How could he ever let you go?

DAY 62.

The next morning, when the sun is just about to peek from the horizon, Donghyun is woken up by the sound of you gasping in pain. He immediately is awake, shocked to find you coughing out blood and panting for breath. 

He jumps off the bed, frantically trying to switch on the bedside lamp to see you better. You’re gasping for breath, each inhale weaker than the last. Donghyun kneels beside the bed, his trembling hands gripping yours tightly. 

“S-stay with me,” he pleads, his voice shaking. “Just a little longer.”

Your lips tremble into a small smile. You shake your head slowly. “I’m… sorry… sweetheart.”

“No, you can. You always could,” his hands tighten around yours, as if he’s trying to physically hold your soul down. As if he can physically keep you here by sheer will alone. “Just hold on, Y/N. Please. I’ll-I’ll go get your medicine, I’ll get the doctor—just stay. Hold on for me.”

You reach up, brushing your trembling fingers against his cheek. “Donghyun…” 

He leans into your touch, his eyes burning with unshed tears. 

“I—” you swallow painfully. It’s time to admit it all. “I thought… I could make you hate me. I tried.”

His lips part, a dry, humourless laugh escaping. “I know.”

“I didn’t want you to suffer.”

“I don’t care,” he whispers fiercely as tears begin to force their way down his cheeks. “I love you. And I will always choose you, over and over again.”

Your eyes begin to glisten, and your hand falls back to your side. “You’re always stubborn.”

“And you were always reckless,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. 

You exhale softly, letting your body relax into the pillow. “Donghyun?”

“Yeah?” his voice cracks, his face wet with tears. 

“Don’t… forget me.”

A choked sob escapes Donghyun and he presses his forehead against yours. Salty tears fall from his eyes, dripping onto your face.  “Never, angel, never.”

“I love you, Donghyun,” you whisper with all your might.

“I love you too, my love,” Donghyun whispers back, pressing a very soft kiss onto your nose. 

You smile, letting out one last, slow breath.

And then, silence. 

Donghyun stays there, holding onto you as if letting go would mean accepting the truth.

A few days after your funeral, Donghyun forces himself to get out of bed. You wouldn’t want him to live on with such sadness, he knew. He began distracting himself by doing everything he could, cleaning up the house while trying to preserve anything and everything that you left behind. 

He leaves the couch you loved to lounge on as it is; the mugs and extra pair of utensils you used kept neatly in the pantry; your clothes aptly folded away in your part of the closet. He made sure to keep all of your pictures framed and hung on any empty space the walls held. He made sure your favourite flowers are always in abundance, both in the house’s vases and the garden. 

In the drawer of your vanity, Donghyun finds a letter—one that you wrote with him during your ‘letter to future self’ session, a few weeks back. 

He slowly sits down on the edge of the bed, hands trembling as he unfolds the letter open. 

“Dear Donghyun, my love, my one and only, my fiancé.

If you’re reading this, it means I’m gone. And if you’re crying, I swear I’ll haunt you (lovingly, of course).

I don’t want you to be sad forever. I don’t want you to stop smiling. You have such a beautiful smile, and it would be a waste if the world never saw it again.

Live, Donghyun. Live enough for the both of us. 

You’re strong, sweetheart. Keep on living, keep on smiling. Be happy, dear. 

And if you ever miss me too much… just look up. I’ll be there. I’ll be the star that shines the most for you.”

A wretched sob escapes his chest, and Donghyun begins to cry. 

He misses you. Too much. 

Tears begin to flood his vision as he holds the letter to his chest. 

DAY 3715. 

It’s been 10 years. 

And you’re still here—fresh in Donghyun’s mind. 

The evening air is crisp as Donghyun makes his way up the familiar hill. The grass beneath his feet sways gently, kissed by the soft autumn breeze. In his hands, he carries a small bouquet of white lilies and baby breaths—your favourite flowers. 

He kneels by the gravestone, running his fingers over the engraved letters of your name. 

“Hey, Y/N,” his voice is soft, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid to disturb the peaceful silence around you. “I’m here, angel.”

He places the flowers down carefully and settles himself next to you, stretching his legs out. Before him, the sun begins to dip below the horizon, leaving behind a painting that covers the sky in hues of gold, pink and violet. 

“The sunset is beautiful, my love, just like you,” he murmurs.

The wind answers in a gentle hush. 

Donghyun puts his head down to let out a quiet chuckle. “It’s been ten years, and I still find myself talking to you like this. You’d probably laugh at me, huh?”

Donghyun crosses his arms, leaning to your gravestone, gazing at the sky. It was the kind of sunset that you loved the most—one where the colours blended seamlessly into each other, radiating a soft and comforting energy, gently like a touch of a lover’s embrace. 

“I hope the sunset is just as beautiful where you are.”

The breeze picks up, rustling through the golden trees, carrying with it the scent of browning autumn leaves. A single petal from the bouquet of lilies lifts into the air, swirling before settling gently on the ground in front of Donghyun. 

Donghyun exhales shakily. He lowers his head, his fingers caressing the cool stone. 

“I hope I meet you again soon, angel,” he whispers. 

The world around him feels still. And for a moment—delicate and fleeting—it almost feels as if someone was there, standing beside him, fingers against his own. 

Then, the wind sighs, and the feeling disappears with the sun. 

THE countryside house, cosy and just enough, was just as it had been when you first moved in with Donghyun. The wooden walls hold stories in their creaks, and the windows frame the endless beautiful sky, one that you loved so much no matter what the occasion was. Donghyun stands in the garden, tending to the garden filled with your favourite flowers. They had grown very well over the years, thriving in the soil that you had once tended with Donghyun. 

He straightens his posture, brushing the dirt from his hands. Lifting his head, he watches the sky shift from afternoon blue to the warm, comforting glow of evening.

“The sunset is beautiful again today,” he says, as if you’re still there, standing next to him. 

The wind begins to stir, carrying the scent of flowers through the air. Donghyun closes his eyes, feeling it wrap around him.

And for the first time in a very long time, he smiles. 

“I’ll see you again, Y/N.”

― © htaesan, 2025.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀want more like this? check out the 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

[zemnarihah]

my best friend has been very distant w me lately and i asked today if she wanted to hang out and she said she probably couldn't bc it's her brothers birthday but she would let me know if she could and i have her location and i just looked and she's at her boyfriends house rn....

[eupheme]

— come on and show me

[part ii | part iii | masterlist]

logan howlett x f!reader x wade wilson

rated e - 5.5k

tags: Logan POV, MMF threesome, jealous!logan, reader is wade's girl, mutual pining/crushes all around, voyeurism, dirty talk, open relationship, oral sex, fingering, Logan doms both of them, 69ing, fucklicking, ball worship, come eating, PiV

a/n: I want them to kiss and I also want them to kiss reader to here this is! 💕

Right now, all he can hear is Wade running his goddamn mouth. Drowning out the sounds you make - so fuckin’ pretty, and the prick is too busy listening to himself to appreciate it.

There’s one thing that Logan knows for sure - and it’s that Wade’s not doing it right. Not like he would.

(or - Logan tries to shut Wade up, and it doesn’t quite go as expected)

Logan can hear Wade from here.

Running that goddamn mouth already, and the sun’s only barely up.

Can hear you, too. The little whimpers that you try bite back. He can imagine the way your teeth sink into your lip - the thought has him shifting in his chair, breakfast forgotten.

So fuckin’ pretty, and the prick is too busy listening to himself to appreciate it.

Knows he could make you even louder, too. It’s almost like he’s at the mansion again, looking at another toy he can’t touch.

What a waste.

The sounds crescendo, the chanting of a name layered with that endless babble that makes his teeth grind, before the sound breaks.

Trying not to look interested when the door opens a few minutes later. Snatching up the newspaper that’s been sitting on the cluttered tabletop for a month now, flicking it open.

Ignoring how Wade strolls out, adjusting the waistband on a pair of grey sweats that are hanging way too low on his hips for comfort.

Rummaging around for a bottle of water, the glow of the fridge illuminating the curve of his ass. The cut of the pants look familiar, Logan's eyes narrowing as he wonders if those are his missing pair-

The edge of the paper flicking up again into place again, just as Wade stretches - bending further, before the bottle is snatched from the back.

Logan huffs.

“Hey roomie,” Wade hums, flicking the cap at him. It sails through the air, disappearing into his forgotten cup of coffee with a little 'plunk', “Don’t let me interrupt that killer Ed Tom Bell impression you’ve got going on, just hydrating for round two.”

“Ooh,” A cock of his hip, as he turns - head tilting as he thinks, “Does that make me Josh Brolin? God, I love him.”

“That’s all?” Logan’s eyebrows lift as he sneers - ignoring another reference he doesn’t understand, “Been going at it for a while.”

As soon as he says it, he regrets it. Opening himself up for an attack. He can already hear the sing-song response at the admittance that he’s been listening.

Screwing the Pavlovian pooch, with the way that he's more than aware that his dick’s half-hard. The result of taking care of himself one too many times - an attempt at getting himself back to sleep, pretending that he isn’t jerking himself off to the beat of the frame that bangs against the walls.

Luckily, Wade zeros in on the exact wrong part. Sputtering, as water drips down his chin, “That’s all? What do you mean, that’s all?”

“You heard me,” The paper crinkles in his fist, “In fact, I’m surprised you even got round one off. Much less that she’s sticking around for another.”

“You wound me, and yet, flatter.” Wade’s hand flattens over his heart, “I never knew you thought about me like that.”

“I haven’t been thinking about you, you ass,” Logan snarls, teeth bared, “I just know that if you’re talking, then you’re not doing it right.”

Wade grins at that, teeth scraping over his lower lip as they stretch wide.

Eyes flicking over his form, assessing in a way that has Logan bristling - voice going syrupy-smooth, “Is that right? You think you can do better, mutton chops?”

The breath he inhales is ragged. That feeling back again - an urge to curl his hand around Wade’s throat, and squeeze.

“Yeah,” Logan growls out, “Yeah, I fucking do.”

The table shakes as Wade plops himself down on the edge, a leg crossing over the other. Interest gleaming in his eyes as his head tilts towards the bedroom door.

“Alright. Bring on the magic tricks, Angier.” His hands splay wide, wiggling, “Gonna show me how to make your fingers disappear?”

Logan glares, his eyes flicking down to where the fleece pulls across his hips.

“Right.” He spits, “Like you’ve got another in you?”

“Hey now, pookums. Marvel Jesus, remember?” Wade’s hand makes a sweeping gesture in front of his crotch, “Just give me three minutes and I’ll have risen.”

“That’s disgusting.” Logan barks, “And get off the table.”

If anything, it makes Wade sit harder. His legs pivoting until he can spread his thighs on either side of the paper, ankles dangling off the edge.

“Disgusting?” His tone pitches up, “Says the man that’s rocking a stiffy. Gonna jerk it at the breakfast table when I leave? You know Blind Al eats there.”

The paper twitches reflexivity in his hands, and Wade’s smile pulls wider as Logan shoots him a death glare, lips curling over teeth.

“Why the fuck would I do something like that?”

Wade hums, “Call it an educated wish.”

“Call it an educated get-the-fuck-out-of-here.” Logan scoffs. His eyes flicking towards the bedroom, the door still shut, “You’re talking like she wants this.”

Wade’s finger presses at the edge of the newspaper he’s hiding behind, and Logan bats his hand away.

He’s still not gotten used to all the skin, he doesn’t know where to look. The slightest shift back in his chair, but he’s already pressed up against the wall.

“Oh please, as if we don’t take turns roleplaying as you,” Wade sighs longingly, “This would be a wet dream come true.”

His eyes narrow then, as his tongue runs across his lip. Voice dropping again, coaxing.

“Look,” Wade says it like he’s leveling with him - talking man-to-man,“If you wanted to fuck her, peanut, all you had to do was ask.”

And for a moment, Logan truly considers it. Not just the fantasy that’s been playing through his head for weeks.

Weirder shit has happened, he supposed.

He’s already been claw-deep into Wade’s guts. A brawl in that shitty van that lasted until morning. Bound tip-to-tip in the void for god knows how long.

Getting walked in on in the bathroom at least twice in the last month. A gleeful “mind if I cut in?”, before Logan’s fist is sending him into the vanity.

The last time it took a full week to get the sink fixed.

Not to mention that Wade apparently seems so certain that his clothes were now their clothes.

So fucking keen on sharing.

So it wasn’t a stretch to think he might want to share you, too.

There’s something caught between his teeth, heavy on his tongue. About to loosen, when the door is opening.

Swallowing them down as you step through, thighs bare under a too-big t-shirt. Arms wrapping around Wade’s shoulders as your lips press against his cheek.

“Thought you were coming back, Red.” You coo. Drawn out by the sound of bickering as you had basked in your afterglow.

“Morning, Logan.” A smile sent his way after, turning sheepish, “You’re up early. Hope we didn’t wake you.”

He grunts in reply. Pretending there wasn’t a little jolt in his stomach at the sound of his name. That he hadn’t been thinking about spreading you across this table, lifting the hem of your shirt up-

If he’d been in your bed, no one would have had to wonder.

The whole damn floor would’ve been woken up.

“He thinks I fuck bad, so I’m gonna prove he’s wrong,” Wade adds in, cheerfully, “That okay with you, gorgeous?”

Logan glares over the top of his paper. A rough clearing in his throat as your eyebrows lift, glancing his way.

He hadn’t really meant to bring you into this, or at least, that’s what he’s telling himself.

That eye contact dropping, as you lean into Wade, your chin propped on his shoulder, “Is that right? How are you going to do that?”

Logan’s answer comes out flat, as he examines an ad in the bottom corner of the page,“I’m not doing anything.”

Wade sighs, his head knocking back against your shoulder.

“Come on, Wolvie. I would love for you to prove me wrong,” He needles, digging deep, “Put your money where my cock should be.”

Logan still doesn’t look up, “Not interested, I’m busy.”

The sigh that pulls from his lungs is long, a near-whine.

“What, with reading?” He exclaims, “Jesus you really are old. The retirement home called, they’re missing a resident.”

Logan’s eyes snap up now, narrowing, “Fuck. Off.”

With a sigh, Wade fucks off. Legs curling, until he’s rolling off the table. Your hand fitting in his, a water bottle tucked under your arm as you head back towards the room.

“The offer still stands!” He calls.

A beat, before you turn.

“Logan?” You call, as he’s helpless - his eyes pulling away. Drawn to you.

A little wink sent his way. Your finger gesturing towards his chest, as you smile.

“Your paper’s upside down.”

Logan’s still not quite sure how he got here. His feet moving on his own, fingers catching the bedroom door just as it starts to close.

Almost backing out when he sees the look of Wade’s face, pleased as fucking punch.

Standing by the edge of the bed now, as you kneel on it in front of him. Fingers slipping across his chest - curious, with the way your eyes flicker over his face. Eager, though you hide it well.

“So what exactly did you tell Wade to get him so worked up?” Your fingers twine around his neck, as his find your hips.

He hums at that - flicking towards his roommate before they find yours again.

“All I said was that if I can hear his mouth running from out there,” Logan’s fingers dent into soft skin, tugging you closer, “He can’t be doing a good job.”

There’s a shift off to the side. Wade sinking down into the beanbag chair he pulled up,“Can you believe that? As if I don’t have a good grade in my oral and my dickabilties.”

“A gold star, babe.” You shoot him a tender smile, before they focus on Logan again. Shoulder lifting, as your grin grows, “I mean, Merc with a Mouth, right? Seems like part of the package.”

He huffs, eyes dropping to your lips.

“You think it’s good,” Logan’s tone is almost pitying, “But it’s only because you haven’t had better.”

That pulls a gasp from your throat, eyebrows lifting.

“Yeah, I think you’re trying to emasculate me, but honestly…” Wade’s hand splays wide over his crotch, “Sploosh.”

“Sploosh.” You echo softly, and he can feel you shift closer. Can smell the fresh curl of arousal that heats your skin, as his hands ghost higher. A small smile, as your head tilts, “So you just all talk then, or…”

“No.” Logan scoffs, “No, I’m not.”

He closes the gap, more certain now. Mouth pressing against yours, as you squeak - tense in his arms, until you go liquid.

Soft tits pressed to his chest as his tongue sweeps against your lips. Swallowing a pretty moan as they part for him, his own groan rumbling in his chest as his hands wander.

Slipping down, ghosting against skin. Feeling the goosebumps that rise, as he draws circles against your hip. His name whimpered, and it shoots straight to his cock.

Not even a heartbeat, before the chatter begins.

“Bet your pussy’s wet already, isn’t it baby?” He coos, “A kiss like that, it’s even got me a little worked up. And I’m just producing this show.”

Logan’s eyes crack open as he glares, “You’re not producing shit, asshole.”

“Ooh, I bet you SO wish you worded that in a different way-”

You huff against his mouth, your touch guiding him back. The thought lingers, curiosity burning. Letting his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, knuckles brushing your thigh.

Tracing around to the curve of your ass, his wide palm splaying out, then squeezing against bare flesh.

“Is he right?” He rasps, his lips brushing against yours. Half-hating that he’s letting Wade get in his head, but the thought-

You gasp again, and his teeth flash with his smirk, “Are you wet for me already, sweetheart?”

“She’s been since she first saw you. Goddamn Niagara Falls,” Wade’s voice has softened - teasing now, “Isn’t that right, gorgeous?”

An amused shake of your head, as something silent passes between them. Logan doesn’t pretend to know how your relationship works - other than the fact that Wade was willing to do anything to save this world for you.

And that there’s something inside him that tightens - a flicker in his belly - whenever he looks at you. Whenever Wade flirts with him. That sharp annoyance from their meeting slowly bleeding out with each day goes by.

Something else taking root, the more time he spends with both of you. He’s not good with his emotions. Doesn’t want to name that ache when he saw you together.

A silent wish, with his shifting daydreams. With the jerk of his fist in the morning. Imaging you in his bed, at first. And then, more - two sets of hands. Two mouths at his cock, and then he’s suddenly coming harder than he has before.

He’s become greedy, the more you both give him.

“Show me.” It’s a command, soft and low.

Logan can feel your thighs press together, that little squirm. Tucking this new discovery away as you lean back, eyes dark with desire.

The briefest hesitance, before your fingers loosen from him. Slipping down, under the hem of your shirt. The nails on your other hand bite into his shoulder as you sigh - two fingers gliding through the wet folds of your pussy.

Pulling them back for him to see. Glistening, your arousal stringing between them. His hand is already curling around your wrist. No resistance as he tugs - guiding your fingers past his lips as they part.

Sucking the sweet taste of you as he groans, deep in his chest. Eyes fixed on yours so he can see the way yours widen, feeling how your fingers flex against the swipe of his tongue.

“Logan.” You sigh his name, and it only makes his moan - eyes shutting as you press down against his tongue. The need slipping into your voice, pleading.

“I wanna feel your mouth. Show me, too,” You sigh, as you slip from him, “Show me what you meant.”

Christ, he’s been aching for this. Eager to drown himself in your pussy, if you’d let him.

There’s a sharp clap that forces his eyes open. Wade’s enthusiasm as he drags the bag closer, chin cradled in his hands.

“Yeah, Logan. You gonna show us your dickabilites, or what?”

He shoots him a withering look. Softening before he turns to you, his chin tipping up.

“Lay back on the bed for me, sweetheart.”

You listen so sweetly, and it makes his cock throb. A quick dart of your eyes over to your boyfriend, who only nods.

“Take that off, baby,” Wade coos, “Show him how pretty you are.”

He’s not sure when he started letting Wade make orders, but for once he’s not wanting to argue about his suggestions.

Because fuck, you are pretty. No arguing with that.

Letting his eyes sweep over every inch that is revealed, as you lift the hem of your shirt. The curve of your hips, your soft tits that he can’t wait to get his mouth on.

Baring yourself, as you lean back against the pillows. His eyes are fixed on your cunt, already fitting himself between your thighs. Fingers reaching - ready to part you open. Taste you himself, bury his tongue inside you.

Your hand reaches out, pushing against his shoulder.

“Wait, you too.” You pout, “Let’s play fair, okay?”

He huffs, lips quirking. Hands catching the hem as he tugs his own shirt off, Wade diving for it as he tossed it towards the floor.

Twin gasps rise, and if he was a much younger man, he may have blushed.

“Fuck.” Wade groans, a hand dropping down his crotch and squeezing.

You’re already leaning forward, a hand flattening against his skin. A soft "wow" slipping from your lips - feeling the way his muscles jump as you slide over his pecs, the thick hair covering them.

A hand hooking around his shoulder - a smirk hidden as you tug him down on top of you.

Soft, beneath him. Those needy whines he loves so much caught between your teeth as he noses at your neck. Teeth nipping at skin, an urge to leave a mark for later.

That cry finally loosened as he moves down. Teeth and tongue biting and soothing at the tight peaks of your nipples. Broad hands cupping and squeezing, liking the way they fit in his palms. The way you moan, arching into his touch.

“Give me more of that,” He murmurs against your skin, "I want to hear you."

Your body tensing beneath his when he settles between your thighs. They have to spread, to fit his shoulders. Opening you up, putting you on display.

Watching how you clench - a throaty chuckle as his thumb presses just shy of your folds. Tugging you open, seeing how your skin glistens with slick already.

“Pretty fucking sight, you know that?” His eyes flip up to yours.

You’re propped up on your elbows. Teeth sinking into your lip, breath held as your eyebrows slant in anticipation. Lips parting with his words, a minute shift of your hips.

“You should see it when it’s stuffed full. Boston cream's got nothing on her."

There’s an embarrassed groan of his name. Logan ignores him - letting his thumb rub against the tight nub of your clit, instead. Your word turning into a sharp, inhaled breath.

Teasing, each circle achingly slow. Aware of the two sets of eyes on him, burning his skin. A low ache in his belly, his glaze fixing on yours, watching as you inhale as his mouth lowers.

A soft lick, tongue lapping against your slit. Tasting you more thoroughly, dragging against soaked skin, as his fingers tease at your entrance.

Focusing on your clit, tight flicks with his tongue. Letting his lips suck on the tight bud, as he sinks down to one knuckle, then another. A second finger slipping in once you get used to him, making room for himself as he scissors you open.

He can hear the soft, wet sound of your cunt, with each plunge of his fingers. Flexing and curling them until he can feel you clamp down.

The quiet sounds you make - soft breaths and gasps - turning louder. Panting now, as you whine. Hips lifting to meet the curl of his tongue, until he pulls back.

“Should be hearing this,” Logan grits out. A quick glance towards Wade as his fingers pound into you, “Not you talking out of your ass.”

There’s silence for a long moment, the words coming out distracted.

“You talk about my ass an awful lot for a man who pretends he's not interested,” Wade manages, slowly, “You change your mind about that, too?”

His breath shallow, as Logan growls in annoyance. Attention returning back to you. Fingers working faster, head dropping again to tongue at your clit.

A leg hooks over his shoulder - a heel digging into his back, tugging him closer. Logan loses himself - growling into your pussy. His own hips pressing down into the bed, as he tugs at his belt and button, relieving the too-tight ache of denim.

Feeling how you leak against his palm, tighten around his fingers. Chase that winding pleasure as you arch into his mouth. A hand drifting off the bed, reaching. Grasping.

“Logan.” You’re begging again, pleading. For more, for anything. For him not to stop, and he leans into the way you tug at his hair, guiding him to the right spot.

You come with your fingers entwined with Wade’s. With your thighs clamped against Logan's ears as he rips a cry from you - long and loud - threatening to suffocate him.

Would be the way he’d choose to die, if he could.

The sounds come flooding back, as your thighs loosen. Boneless and languid, your smile wide as your fingers trace his scruff, the sharp curve of his jaw.

Perhaps he was wrong, to think he could silence Wade entirely. Your orgasm has only made him more vocal - complaints about how “fucking hard he is” mixing with rambling praise.

“Wilson.” He finds himself growling. Beckoning with two fingers, as Wade practically springs from the bag.

“Oh my GOD,” Wade is gushing, clambering onto the bed with him, “This is way better than joining the Avengers. Even if they do have Thor.”

“Huge praise.” You smile drunkenly, pushing yourself up to press your mouth against his.

And under his direct instructions, Logan finds that Wade almost listens.

“Get on your back,” He points, as you scooch to make room.

"Ooh, dirty." Wade grins, splaying out on his back, hands tucked under his head.

“No,” Logan makes a frustrated sound - ignoring another comment. A twirl of his finger, “The other way.”

His head is cradled near your hips now, legs stretched out toward the pillows.

Logan’s next words are a growl, “Now, clean her up.”

Wade groans, as he catches up.

“Fuck.” He whines, “Yeah. Come here, baby.”

Hands guiding you into place, your knees framing his head, as you face towards the headboard. Wade’s mouth already tipping up to meet you, a soft moan as his tongue swipes against your slit.

“I don’t want to hear you until she comes.” Logan rasps, and he can see the way Wade’s hips lift.

Just now catching the darkened fabric, where it tents.

Another thing to catalog.

Content for now to let his hands drift as he stands behind you at the edge of the bed, his chest pressing to your back. Sucking a mark in the hollow under your ear, feeling the buzz of your whine against his lips.

Hands cupping your breasts again, feeling their weight. Pinching at the tight peaks, before his thumb is smoothing over them.

Your eyes are blown wide, fingers curling against your thighs. Panting as the overstimulation tips towards pleasure, the feel of the sweet mouth below you soft and familiar.

Shifting as you sit, rocking back to where Logan’s cock presses against your lower back. His hands tugging at the zipper, shoving his jeans down as he works himself free. Kicking them off, after.

You gasp when you see him from over your shoulder, and he can’t help the way he twitches in his hand at the sound. Can’t pretend he isn’t leaking from tasting you, his cock heavy as he lets go to let it hang between his thighs.

“Fuck, that’s not fair.” It’s muffled, and you hum in agreement as Wade lifts you to get a better look, “God didn’t make you perfect enough as-is? Just had to make you proportional, you goddamn stallion.”

A derisive sound as his arm wiggles out from under you, fingers reaching.

“And Jesus H. Christ, look at the girth-”

Logan bats his hand away.

It should annoy him. That Wade isn’t listening. That he’s commenting on his cock - but it doesn’t.

Can’t help but think that in here, in this room, the chatter isn’t so bad. Would never admit that he’s wrong, just that when he’s admiring and not on a dumb-as-fuck tangent, it’s almost - flattering.

Maybe that’s too far. Tolerable, perhaps.

“You want my mouth?” You offer sweetly, breaking into his thoughts. Hungrily.

There’s a flash of white teeth as Logan smiles. A hand pressing gently against your back, until you’re stretched out over Wade.

“No. I’m still gonna fuck you, baby.” He rasps, “Just wanted a little peace and quiet while doing it.”

You moan, thighs inching wider. Head turned so you can watch the way he moves behind you. Adjusting your hips until your ass is in the air, his fingers gripping the base of his cock as he lines himself up.

“Keep going, Wilson.” He grits out, when the man goes still beneath them.

A rough chuckle rattles.

“Not a fucking chance, human tripod. I am SO watching this.”

Fuck it. He lets him.

Letting the tip of his cock press against your entrance. Wade’s arms curling around your thighs, holding you in place as you string tight above him.

“God, it’s even bigger from this angle. Feels like I’m in a goddamn eclipse right now.”

“Why do you sound surprised, babe?” Your voice is strained. Face buried against Wade’s stomach, fingers curled in the sheets, “I thought you guys fucked in the void.”

That fleeting curl of warmth leaves him.

“We what?” Logan growls, leaning back to glare at the peek of dark brown eyes, the top of a bald head he wants to slap.

Teeth bared, as he snarls, “We didn’t fuck. I beat the shit out of him in a goddamn van.”

“All night long.” Wade laughs - and then sighs fondly, “And isn’t that just the same thing?”

Fingers encircle his cock from below before he can retort, squeezing. A tug as he guides him into the tight clench of your pussy, and Logan thinks he really should just shove his claws into Wade’s dick.

But that desire bleeds away, as you stretch around him. The twin groans from beneath him, the sounds blending together.

“Oh,” You moan, clenching around him. Back arching, as he slips in another inch, “Makes sense. Was… was just wondering why it took you so long to join us.”

Logan goes still for a moment, with this new information. A realization that he could have had this the whole time, if he had asked.

That Wade hadn’t been joking before.

He groans, hips snapping forward. A grunt below as your knees squeeze against Wade’s throat, but from the way you squirm, Logan can tell that his mouth is at work again.

Teasing at your clit, as his own hips slowly start to move. Feet planting on the bedroom floor as his hands fit against your waist.

Using the leverage to drive himself deep. Hips flush as his balls slap against your skin, growing sticky with your release.

“This is hot, this is so fucking hot,” Wade groans, babbling as he sucks in a breath, “I’m so going to jerk my dick raw thinking about this later.”

And with the reminder, he supposes he can throw his roommate a bone.

“Come on, baby,” Logan rasps - reaching. A little nudge against your chin, angling your head, “Looks like he needs a little help.”

It’s benevolent. It’s selfish - his fingers biting into skin as you realize what he means. Watching as you tug at the waistband of Wade’s sweatpants, pushing them down.

The man moans, from between your thighs. Sweet nothings mumbled as your hand wraps around his cock, angling it into your waiting mouth.

Watching how the leaking tip presses into your cheek. The buck of his hips as you fist moves, while you suck - your spit slicking up his cock.

It looks like the rest of him. Mottled skin, the tip flushed a deeper shade of red. Long and thick in your hand - Logan’s cock throbbing at the way you swallow him down, how your lips part to make him fit.

His pace picking up. Pounding into your tight, wet cunt as Wade groans against your clit. Tongue lapping and licking, winding you higher as Logan drives you towards a second.

Slowly drifting, as the flicks of his tongue grow longer. The tip pressing against your folds, as you groan around his cock.

Further down. Tasting the tang of your release - the salt of skin where you’re split open, stretched wide.

And then further. Logan jerks, as something wet drags along his shaft.

“Wade.” It comes out as a rough growl. Pitching into a huffing whine when it happens again, flattening against the heavy weight of his balls.

Choking him, as his rhythm stutters. Hips flexing into you as he grinds himself flush, teeth gritting.

“Fuck.” It’s hushed, pulled from his lungs.

Having to find himself again - hold back the urge to come right that second - as you squirm beneath him. Wade’s tongue traveling from your clit to the tight seam of his sack, his hips rocking in your mouth.

Finding a rhythm together, Logan’s head tilting back. The room filled with lewd sounds of their joining, of wet mouths and the rhythmic pounding of the headboard against the wall.

Lucky that Al was out for the morning, or else they’d never hear the end of it.

Your cries pitch up, as his cock drags against the spot his fingers found. Something clenching deep in his guts, eyes dragging down to how you look wrapped around him. The pink peek of tongue beneath, how the combination makes his toes curl.

Imagining another morning. Sharing you in another way, his cock buried in your ass while your lover fills your cunt. Whimpering between them, unable to form words.

The sound you make now are not that different - the cadence of your panting is one he’s coming to recognize.

“You close, sweetheart?” He rasps, arcing over you, “Can feel your pussy clenching around me. So fucking tight, can’t wait to feel you come all over my cock.”

It pulls a moan from you, head lifting from Wade’s cock. Resting against his stomach, as your hand wraps around him. The jerk of your fist messy, off rhythm.

“Yeah, you are.” Logan hums, as his hips rut into you, “Come on, Wilson. Make our girl come.”

There’s a rough groan. Wade listens for once, head tilting to suck at your clit. Logan concentrating on the angle that makes you cry out, a hand fisting in the sheets.

Their names a mumbled mess on your lips, as you’re yanked higher and higher. Your moans pitching up, growing louder.

Just like his dreams. Even better, really.

“Please,” You whine, “I’m, I’m-”

A high-pitched gasp, then, as your face buries against Wade’s hips. As your pussy clamps down around his cock, fluttering with the steady saw of his hips.

“Good fucking girl.” The praise is soft, as his thumbs rub circles against your skin, “That’s it, let him taste how sweet you are.”

Working together, the tight licks against your clit going lazy again. Dipping to your entrance to taste your release against his shaft, Wade’s cock leaking and bobbing against his stomach.

Drawing out your pleasure, until the stars fade from your half-lidded eyes. Until the rushing in your veins ebb, and the pulse around his cock fades.

A low sigh, before Logan’s reaching - his chin tucking against your shoulder. His hand curling around yours, guiding it back to Wade's cock.

“Don’t forget about him.” Another command, but gentle this time. His hand moving with yours, palm mapping your knuckles as he sets a rhythm, “There you go.”

He could let go. You’ve found yourself again, eyes hazy. But he keeps his hand there. Keeps a pace that is so much firmer than your own, his own hips matching the rhythm as he chases his own end.

Wade’s groan replaces yours. A hand leaving your thigh to wrap around his, biting down hard into muscle. It only drives him deeper into you. Logan’s own moan bitten back as the tongue against his dick slips against his sack again.

Then against the thin layer of skin just behind, teasing.

“Fuck.” It’s a rough growl.

His hand works faster, teeth gritting. Feral sounds caught in his throat, as the pressure in his belly grows.

The last thing he sees before he comes is the drips of white against his knuckles. The warmth, a ragged groan against the inside of his thigh. Your mouth closing around to catch the rest, taking Wade’s cock into your throat with a soft sigh.

It robs him of his breath. A shuddering moan, as he grinds himself deep. Spilling into you again and again with each pulse of his cock, blood rushing in his ears.

Legs threatening to give as he empties himself, as his chest presses flush against your back. His face buried in your hair, as your tongue traces his knuckles. Cleaning them, as he did for you.

When he can, Logan eases from you with a grunt. Watching how you gape, then clench, now empty.

A bead of his release welling up, dripping against your skin. You go to move, but Wade’s hands curl around your calves - pulling you flush.

It’s hard to look away, as he licks away Logan’s come. A sharp ache of desire with the sound of a needy groan, as his tongue dipping inside.

Maybe Wade doesn’t have such a bad mouth, after all.

Logan’s arm is numb, but he can’t bring himself to move. Can’t remember a time when he’d let his brain turn off like this. A brief moment of silence, and it’s bliss. His world standing still.

“So that’s how you do it.” You muse quietly, dizzily. Head cradled against his chest - fingers dragging through the hair, gently scratching.

A stirring on his other side, where Wade is using his bicep like a pillow.

“Mm, I don’t think I got it,” Wade counters, but it’s soft - hazy at the edges. “Think I missed a couple steps. Was that round two or three?

"Three," You say - as Logan grunts, "Two."

The fingers on his chest drift down, dipping over his stomach.

“Well, either way...” You hum, snuggling a little closer, “Maybe you oughta show us, one more time.”

Wade flips over then, chin propped in his hand, “At least. Maybe even twice. We’re bad learners, peanut. Dumb as fucking rocks, really.”

“Mhmm,” You sigh, “Really dumb. Can't even count.”

And he can’t stop the twitch of his lips, even with his eyes closed. Had forgotten what it was like to be warm like this.

To be wanted.

And maybe, he even feels… content.

Something he never thought he’d be, again.

thank you so much for reading! it means so much and I am so happy to be dipping my toes into these pairings💖

[vi-steponmeplease]

ˋ°•*⁀➷ loser!gf ellie

synopsis: just some random headcanons about what it'd be like to date loser ellie who's js so obsessed with you.

notes: never made any headcanon posts before, so don't mind the setup lmao i have no clue what i'm doing

tw: mostly fluff but there are some smutty hcs (oral — e!receiving)

✧₊⁺ to begin with, ellie defo prefers cozy 'netflix n chill' date nights over dressing up for fancy dinners.

✧₊⁺ cuddling up on the couch with you is something that never fails to make her heart swell, no matter how long you’ve been together.

✧₊⁺ but mostly because it gives her a chance to imagine what domestic life with you might be like—though she’d never admit it, afraid it might seem like she’s moving too fast.

✧₊⁺ she’s a sucker for resting her head on your chest while you thread your fingers through her hair, gently massaging her scalp as the two of you watch some cringey movie you’ll inevitably fall asleep to halfway through.

✧₊⁺ on the rare nights you don’t doze off, ellie grabs her brown acoustic guitar adorned with spongebob stickers and serenades you with a gentle melody while you rest your head on her shoulder.

✧₊⁺ when you’re out with friends, ellie—being the absolute dork she is—seizes the opportunity to practice tricks on her scratched-up skateboard, determined to one day impress you with her skills (even though she can barely land a kickflip without bruising herself)

✧₊⁺ when she eventually heads home with fresh scratches and deep purple bruises on her arms and knees, she does her best to patch herself up and cover them with makeup, hoping you won’t notice.

✧₊⁺ walking around town with ellie is always chaotic, as she can’t help but scream with excitement at the sight of every cat she sees.

✧₊⁺ bonus points if she’s eating chips—she’ll immediately tear open the bag and try to feed the poor animal junk food, no matter how much you explain it’s unhealthy. she just wants the cat to be happy and fed.

✧₊⁺ speaking of cats, she's defo the type to snap 0.5 pictures from every angle, proudly maintaining an entire folder dedicated to her feline encounters.

✧₊⁺ you got her a dino necklace for her birthday, and she’s never taken it off since.

✧₊⁺ ellie also has a whole mini-figure collection of the reptile and loves sending you pictures of two dinos kissing, always captioning them with: us!!

✧₊⁺ this girl lets nothing—absolutely nothing—distract her from a videogame. but the moment you so much as call her name, she’s running to you like a stray dog that just found its owner.

✧₊⁺ sometimes, you sit on her lap as she plays, watching her screen and asking the silliest questions. she always answers with a smile and a soft kiss on your cheek.

"what about there? would you die if you went inside that room?" you ask, your arms draped around her neck as you tilt your head to get a better view of her game.

she chuckles softly, pressing her lips to your jaw before fiddling with the joysticks. "judging by the fact that it’s pitch dark in there, i’d say… probably, yeah."

✧₊⁺ the room eventually falls silent, her focus fully locked on the game. but when she glances down a few moments later, she finds you fast asleep, your head resting on her shoulder, and she can’t help but smile.

✧₊⁺ you’ve never seen a room as messy yet effortlessly aesthetic as ellie’s. somehow, the clutter only adds to her charm and uniqueness.

✧₊⁺ sometimes, as you sit on her bed scrolling through your phone in comfortable silence, ellie sketches little drawings of you.

✧₊⁺ by now, her sketchbook is filled with portraits of you—you’ve become her muse.

✧₊⁺ she used to get shy about showing you her artwork, hesitating before every reveal. but after seeing your excitement over one piece, she proudly gave you a full tour of her sketchbook, secretly basking in the joy of being the reason behind that pretty smile of yours.

✧₊⁺ one time, ellie asked you to press your lipstick-stained lips onto a piece of paper, saying she wanted to create something abstract.

✧₊⁺ that moment quickly escalated into her kissing you with urgency, her lips trailing heated breaths down your neck and collarbone. before you knew it, you were lying on your back, clothes discarded on the floor, as she devoured you like a prisoner savoring a last meal.

✧₊⁺ ellie had never tasted pussy before, but she didn’t need any frame of reference. she’ll always insist yours is the best she could ever have.

✧₊⁺ she’s a soft dom, big on praise—even when you’re the one between her legs.

ellie’s head falls back against the wall, a low groan slipping from her lips as your tongue flicks against her clit. you wrap your lips around the sensitive bud, watching her face contort with pleasure.

“fuck, baby. just like that,” she grunts, her hand threading into your hair and tugging gently to bring you closer. “you’re doing so good.”

✧₊⁺ in the end, ellie is just a hopeless loser who’s madly in love with you and would do anything to make you happy.

[zorosangell]

zoro x mihawk daughter! reader 👁️👁️

⛥ﾟ・。 nurse

synopsis: a mysterious man crash lands on your gloomy island, and you patch him up... unaware of his odd relationship with your father.

cw: part 1/3, fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro is a lovable idiot, reader's a bit soft spoken, reader is FIONE, i imagine she dresses like morticia addams but its not explicitly described, mihawk clocks zoro's tea a lil bit

a/n: what i would give to bandage this man up myself

"Never thought I'd see the day..." you sighed, grabbing a vase of water off the end table.

The sound of clanking and pouring echoed throughout the room, slowly waking the swordsman up.

"A man on this island..."

Zoro fluttered his eyes open, the golden rays of morning light ushering him back to the land of the living.

'I'm... alive? ...But where am I?'

"Morning," you greeted, softly, a warm smile on your face as you approached the bed. "You scared me for a moment. With the rough shape you landed in, I thought you were dead for sure."

Suddenly, his eyes shot wide, memories from Sabaody all rushing back.

Pacifistas.

Sentomaru.

Kizaru.

The crew.

Now fully awake, he greeted the world with a deafening yell, you letting out an equally loud shriek of surprise.

And, in your fear, you dropped the entire vase and fell backward, too occupied with trying to back away from the screaming man.

Hearing the commotion, Zoro shut up, weakly turning to see its source.

You had managed to retreat into the shadows, hiding yourself from the intruder.

"Who are you?" he asked, sharply, eyes zeroed in on your silhouette. "Where am I? And why are you here?"

"I could ask you he same..." you replied, warily. "And don't scream like that again. You're not dying, I made sure of that."

Painfully, he swung his feet over the edge of the bed, letting out a few winces and curses as he attempted to stand up.

He was missing a familiar weight on his hip.

"What did you do with my swords?!" he barked.

"I'm keeping them hidden until I can ensure you're not a threat."

Brows furrowed deeply, Zoro grit his teeth, thoroughly pissed.

"I'm warning you..." he stood on shaky legs, attempting to step forward, only to fall on his knees.

Guilty, you let out a sigh, suddenly feeling sorry for his poor shape.

"Sir, please, get back in bed. You'll re-open your wounds," you sighed, imploringly, moving forward to help him up.

Annoyed, Zoro scanned the area, eyes landing on your figure as you emerged from the shadows, widening at the sight as your hips swayed side to side.

Long, (h/c) hair...

Plump lips...

Heavenly curves, made evident by your long, black dress...

Smooth brown skin...

Alluring, (e/c) eyes....

Goddamn.

'Curlybrow'd lose his mind...'

You were dripping in beauty and mystery.

Zoro, so mesmerized, didn't even realize that you'd already cruised your way over, and were now standing directly in front of him, helping him up.

"I found you laying in a crater in the woods, unconscious," you explained, pulling him back to the bed. "You looked two steps from death's door... so I brought you back here, and tried to fix you up the best I could."

It was almost funny.

You had little to no medical knowledge at all, so majority of the first few days was spent teaching yourself how to do it all.

With a smile, you sat him down, "I'm glad to see you're alright."

But Zoro didn't register a single word.

He couldn't help but allow his mind to drift to the way your lips moved, enunciating each syllable so smoothly.

Though, when he realized you'd stopped speaking, his eyes found yours, an embarrassed glow rising to his cheeks.

"I... uh... can you repeat that?" he replied, bluntly.

This was the first time he was talking to you, and he wasn't even paying attention.

It was easy to say you were a little irked.

"I'll get you your swords," you sighed, flatly, giving up on any hope of conversation as you turned around to exit the room.

Without giving him a chance to speak, you walked away, hair swishing across your back as you moved.

Zoro, on the other hand, still sat there, more flustered than he'd been in a long time.

He thought back to how close your body was to his, your breast slightly rubbing against his back as you helped him up.

Watching you strut out the room, his gaze drifted to your backside, internally cursing himself for being so pervy.

Something about you flipped a switch in him—be it your mystery or your unspoken grace—and he had never found himself so entranced and intrigued in all his life.

And all you did was talk to him.

'The hell's wrong with me?'

This was the type of behavior one expected from Sanji or Brook.

Not him.

Not the cool-headed swordsman.

Not the Roronoa Zoro.

Hand rising to his face, he roughly shook his head, snapping himself out of it.

"I gotta get the hell out of here..."

"Father, please, I—"

"Not only did you bring an unknown man into our home while I was away..." Mihawk started, tone sharp as he cut you off.

You flinched, instantly piping down as you took a step back, hanging your head.

He hadn't taken such a tone with you since your teen years.

"But you nursed him back to health... and returned him his weapons before confirming that he was of no threat."

Hearing it laid out like that, you sounded stupid.

But in the moment, you swore that Zoro meant you no harm, your observation haki not sensing any malice or ill-intent even when he was yelling at you.

"He's not unknown to you, Father, you've met him before," you attempted to plead your case, albeit quietly. "And from what you've said about him, he's perfectly honorable. He wouldn't have hurt me."

"You didn't know that," he corrected, brows furrowed. "For all you knew, he could've slit your throat the moment you lost sight of him."

"That's a little extreme..."

"That's the world."

After returning Zoro's swords, you left to go make him something to eat, but returned to find that he had escaped.

Frantic, you searched the castle for hours, combing through every nook and cranny in an attempt to find the swordsman.

But, of course, it would be your luck that your father would find him upon arrival—somehow he had found his way through the woods and to the ruins where he attempted to fight off some of your monkey friends.

Safe to say, when your father finally arrived home, he was less than pleased.

Even still, you patched up the swordsman once again, unable to leave him in such a precarious state.

"Father, please try to understand. I was only trying to—"

You stopped in your tracks, both you and the warlord sensing a new presence.

And, like clockwork, the man of the hour weakly pushed open the door, heaving, as he seemed to be struggling to keep himself upright.

Worried, your brows furrowed, concerned for his health.

"What are you doing out of bed?" you asked, softly, "You're hurt... bad."

But Zoro pressed forward, using the sheaths of his swords as walking sticks as he approached your father.

"You shouldn't be walking in this condition... you can barely stan—"

Suddenly, he dropped to his knees, bowing his head before his arch rival, much to your surprise.

"Will you... train me as a swordsman?" Zoro asked, fervently, pressing his forehead into the stone floor.

He'd managed to take a look at the News Coo you left on the end table, discovering Luffy's message to reunite in two years.

Which meant that the whole crew would have to get significantly stronger if they wanted any hope of surviving in the New World.

Him included.

"You disappoint me," Mihawk stated, brows furrowed. "Stand up."

He turned away from the sight, annoyance dripping from his tone.

"I can't believe you would ask your enemy for instruction... Have you no shame?"

He rolled his eyes, swirling around his wine glass.

"Get out of here. This is pathetic," he scoffed. "A pity, perhaps, but I overestimated your worth."

'Father...'

You felt bad about his harsh words, not wanting him to kick a man while he was down.

But the swordsman didn't budge, remaining in his exact position without fault.

"I said stand up... you're making a fool of yourself."

"Please help me!" Zoro tried once again, not moving an inch.

"First of all, the baboons beat you... and even after that, you couldn't make it to sea," Mihawk shrugged, taking a sip of his wine. "I can't help you. It's hopeless."

"They didn't beat me."

The two of you froze for a moment, shocked.

'No way... did he really?'

"You're the only one left to take down... but, I'm just not good enough to win against you the way I am now. Anybody can see that."

"I don't follow," Mihawk stated. "Clearly, you still consider me your enemy, yet here you are bowing down, begging for my help."

Zoro lifted his head, his expression one only attributed to a man on a mission.

"What do you mean to do?"

The swordsman's glare sharpened, not a doubt in his mind.

"Kill you, of course."

With that, your father let out an amused laugh, a rare smile cracking on his lips.

"You admit you want to kill me, and you expect me to assist you in that?" he asked, knowingly. "You're strange. What a ridiculous request. Aren't you the least bit embarrassed?"

Though he was quick to reel it in, a new question popping into his mind.

"Perhaps... your priorities are different now, Roronoa?"

Zoro's breath hitched at the insinuation, slightly surprised by his perceptiveness.

"(y/n)..." you father turned to you by his side. "Tend to his injuries."

(y/n).

'So, that's her name...'

It was oddly fitting.

With a quiet nod, you stepped forward, silently heading toward the door.

"We start your training once you've recovered."

At that, Zoro's face lit up, gratefully.

It was finally time to get stronger.

Throughout the entire two years, he poured his blood, sweat, and tears into his training, working diligently to become the reliable swordsman Luffy knew him to be.

But, little did he know, those two years would bring him ever closer to you, as well, as you acted as his personal nurse and cheerleader on the sidelines.

You two would become inseparable, spending your days together as you watched him train, cooked him dinner, did his laundry.

Your presence and company became as constant as he air he breathed.

So, when the day finally came for him to depart, it was safe to say that both sides had a particularly hard time letting go...

To be continued.

[grooveology]

. . . haha . . . imagine being tashi's childhood best friend, growing up beside her and getting into stanford together . . . meeting patrick and art then she starts dating patrick but reader is never left out (and neither is art) hmmm why does patrick wrap his arms around readers waist?? why does tashi smile at the sight??? why is art so touchy with tashi AND in front of patrick??? why are you all so affectionate?

i may have gone a bit overboard, but i did kind of forget about tashi x art sorry ): hope this gives your genius thoughts justice!!

you and tashi? the epitome of the sun and moon, two peas in a pot—but with way more codependency than either of you would admit to. you were attached by the hip. how could you not be? you grew up together, lived on the same street, went to the same school, and eventually went to the same university. you were each other's first kiss, first makeout, first homoerotic friendship! it was only natural for you two to share boyfriends–friends. you aren't sure how it happened, but one night you both meet patrick zweig and art donaldson (although, they were both on your radars way before the party.) the boys immediately take an interest in you and tashi, inviting you over to their hotel room. surprise, surprise, you both make an appearance.

patrick shares his touching story about teaching art how to jerk off and suddenly tashi gives you a look and you can't help but burst into laughter. okay, alright, maybe you were a tad bit drunk. you snort, laugh, and then, before you can stop yourself, the words slip out.

"that reminds me of the time when tash offered to give me kissing lessons."

tashi, unfazed as ever, takes a casual sip of her beer and grins.

“well, you were nervous about kissing guys,” she says, her tone maddeningly matter-of-fact. “you needed all the help you could get.”

you groan, burying your face in your hands. "tash—oh my god.”

now, it was patrick who bursts out laughing, nearly spilling his drink. “wait, wait. are we talking, like, full-on tutorial?”

“shut up,” you mutter, cheeks burning. “it wasn’t like that.”

oh, but it was!

art is too amused by the conversation to say anything, but you can feel him watching. his pretty blue eyes flicker between you and tashi, it's almost like he’s taking mental notes on this whole conversation.

"what?” you snap, more defensive than you mean to be.

art’s grin widens just a fraction, and he takes a sip of his beer, shrugging. “nothing. just… you two are close. closer than most."

you don’t know how to respond to that, but tashi, of course, doesn’t miss a beat.

“so are you two,” she says casually, her eyes flicking toward the beds shoved together at the center of the room.

and somehow, just like that, the room shifts. one thing leads to before you know it, your lips are on tashi’s, soft and searching, the taste of beer and laughter still lingering in her mouth. patrick’s mouth finds art’s, and the sound—a soft, startled hitch of breath—pulls your attention for half a second. you glance over, catching the way art’s hand curls around patrick’s neck, pulling him closer.

and then, somehow, art’s lips are on yours. the shift happens so naturally it barely registers—his mouth is soft, he's not rushing, instead, he's savoring as if he's trying to memorize the feel of you.

besides you, patrick’s mouth crashes against tashi's with urgency, his kisses hungry, almost desperate, as though he’s been holding back all night and finally let the dam break.

since that night, things changed—with art now attending stanford alongside you, and patrick going pro (yet he always found a way to visit) the four of you only grew closer.

patrick and tashi were the first to make it “official.” you’d think that would’ve made you the third wheel but no. it was the opposite. they invited you and art to their dates. your opinion mattered—on everything. what they wore, where they went, what they ate.

you and art? you were “friends.” friends who held hands when no one was looking—or even when they were. friends who kissed each other at parties or on lazy afternoons when the sun hit his dorm room just right.

and then there was patrick. it didn’t matter that he was tashi’s boyfriend—there were nights when his mouth found yours instead, kisses that were playful but lingering, his hand never failing to slip to your waist.

tashi never seemed bothered. if anything, she found it amusing. eventually, she’d roll her eyes, a small smile twitching at her lips. "he’s a sloppy kisser, isn’t he?” she’d say, tone so casual it could’ve been about the weather.

"i'm a great kisser." patrick would shoot back defensively, pulling away from you.

“sure,” tashi would reply, deadpan, her eyes cutting to yours like she was about to make a point. she’d tug you away from patrick and kiss you herself—wolfishly and possessively.

when she pulled back, her lips still brushing yours, a small smirk played on her face as she turned her attention to patrick, just as quickly, her gaze shifted back to you. her smirk softened into something almost affectionate—almost.

"i’m the better kisser,”

oh, and patrick and art? they were affectionate with each other too, in their own way. patrick was never shy about grabbing art’s thigh in the middle of a conversation, drawing lazy patterns. and art had his ways of showing care—kissing patrick’s head or brushing a soft kiss against his lips whenever he had to leave for a tennis match.

despite it all, though, you and tashi were the closest.

when patrick was away, you made sure to take care of her, her legs would part for your fingers found her cunt, moving slowly at first, then deeper, curling just right until soft gasps turned into desperate moans that filled your shared dorm room.

“tashi, you look so pretty." you murmured, your lips brushing her neck as she arched beneath you, her head tilted back, her breath hitching as your thumb found her clit, drawing lazy circles that sent her spiraling.

and tashi? she had her ways, too. every morning, she’d wake you with a kiss, her lips brushing yours softly and every night, she’d kiss you again—she’d press you up against the wall, her breath warm against your skin as her hands pushed down the shorts you’d “borrowed” from her.

her fingers found you easily, sliding between your thighs, drawing out a gasp as her lips trailed down your neck. “mine,” she’d murmur against your skin, a claim as much as a reminder.

at the end of the day, it was always you and her. the boys were just playthings, distractions from the way her nails dug into your skin, the taste of her on your lips, the way she said your name like a prayer. you were hers, and she was yours—always.

[fadingdaggerr]

hiii! can you write mel x reader where reader is a baseball player that's why melissa's no. 1 choice of melee weapon is a baseball bat l

also, i looooove your writing style. i love details sm, i feel like the readers can connect more with what they're reading that way. and happy holidazee!!

strike and sink

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! | 4.3k

includes: r has some anger issues, author clearly never did team sports

warnings: touch of violence, kissing/making out

note: i genuinely know NILCH about baseball. i was a competitive fighter this is not my strong suit okay. everyone hold hands, we’re gonna pretend any of this makes sense together.

The slowly warming spring air was a relief of the bitter winter that plagued the city for months. The ice is gone, grey skies clearly to the scenic blue, the streets becoming more active as people pull themselves out of a small hibernation. It’s invigorating for Melissa, practically skipping towards the main door of work, happy to not have the chill making her knees stiff.

The morning had given her too much pep, noticeable even to her as she tries to fight a smile that won’t quit. Part of the day's comfort seems to radiate off of her. From her warm bed, to the warm shower, to the warm body that joined her, now in the warm air around her. A sheer joy and excitement stay around Melissa as she treks through the halls of Abbott.

After dropping her things off in her classroom, she makes her way towards the lounge to find Barbara and the rest. Pushing through the door, she hears Janine and Jacob talking about something she has no interest in, Barbara off towards the television to gaze at Jim Gardener.

Melissa feels like Coke and Mentos as she pours herself a cup of coffee, trying to get her routine out the way before she snaps. When the morning update ends, and her other half reunites with her at the table, her resolve cracks.

Turning in her chair to address the room, she asks, “who’s got plans Saturday?”

“Well me and Gregory were go-” Janine begins.

“Cancel it!” Melissa says, pointing at her grade partner with a smile, “we’re going to a baseball game.”

“The Phillies?! I didn’t think they were playing this weekend?” Jacob guffaws.

Melissa’s face pinches up briefly, “no, dingbat. It’s a minor league game. Got some free tickets to spare and I’m feeling charitable.”

The younger teachers, to their credit, hide their confusion at Melissa’s excited offer. Never once did they imagine that she would care for minor league anything, but free is free. The three nod together in excitement, knowing better than to question anything. The grin on Melissa’s face makes it even more worth it to them, not used to that level of outward happiness.

“I’m in! But you’re buying me a corndog, Schemmenti!” Ava announces over the intercom, making everyone roll their eyes in time with their amused grins.

Barbara looks at the lingering smile on her friend’s face, letting out a low, knowing hum at the expression. Green eyes snap her way with a squint, silently telling her to not say anything. The kindergarten teacher just raises her hands in surrender, shaking her head with a playful look.

Taking her suspicious look back, Melissa brings her attention to her phone. Propping her glasses on her nose, she opens her texts.

Gonna need 6 tickets at the booth.

Your reply comes quickly, as if you already knew what she’d say.

Amore: already there. under “sexiest woman alive and co.”

You’re an idiot.

Amore: and yet you beg for me. a conundrum, truly

Melissa rolls her eyes, swiping her hand over her face as she tries to hide the schoolgirl smile stretching across her face. Answering will only encourage you further, and she will be damned if she’s caught blushing like a tomato over a silly text. Instead, she brings herself back into the conversation for the rest of the school week. Though with every blink, she pictures you.

—☽—

Not wanting to be stuck in the car with everyone for even fifteen minutes, Melissa only picks up Barbara, having everyone else meet her at the stadium. It pains her to not wear the spare jersey from the back of your shared closet, opting for a shirt with the same orange as the team’s color. Barbara settles for her only orange necklace, one she never wears, but will in order to entertain her best friend.

The redhead’s eagerness is infectious, finally happy to see you back on the field for the first time all season. She was bitter when practice started, only able to go to a few of them before the coaches closed the practices to get focused and avoid distraction, which felt targeted towards her even if it wasn’t. At this point, she just wanted to see you in those pants. God, those pants.

“How well do you think you’re going to control yourself?” Barbara asks. Melissa peaks over briefly, giving her friend a questioning gaze. The woman sighs, “presumably, you don’t want the kids in your business. And do you really think they’re not gonna notice your ogling?”

“I’m just hoping they mind the game and not my business,” Melissa grumbles truthfully, having not really thought about how attention could fall on her.

Barbara gives a slow nod, “ah, yes. Because they’re all well known for minding their business.” Melissa huffs at the sarcasm, but sequesters herself to silence.

Pulling up to the stadium, she pulls in next to Janine’s car, seeing Jacob and Janine excitedly waving as Gregory gives a smaller one. Stepping out, everyone talks as they wait for Ava to arrive, knowing her tendency to arrive fashionably late. Once she does, everyone is shocked to see the principal step out wearing a jersey for the team.

Her hands fly up in confusion, eyes landing on Melissa, “you invite us to this and I’m the only one to show out? Are you trying to make me look like a nerd, Schemmenti?”

“Last week you explained the sociopolitical commentary of Star Trek to me. You don't need help looking like a dork.”

This silences Ava long enough for Melissa and Barbara to corral everyone to the entrance. At the ticket stand, she gives her name, crossing her fingers that you were just joking. Six tickets are placed in front of her, immediately grabbing them to lead the group to her usual spot. Second row at the home dugouts, she ushers everyone in, Barbara to her left, Ava to her right. Before she can even speak, the redhead passes Ava a five, “get your own damn corndog.”

As the seats fill in around her, Melissa is practically vibrating. The loudness around her is oddly comforting, hearing everyone’s excitement. Peeking every few seconds, she hopes to catch the teams entering the dugouts. She wants to check her phone to see if she has a message from you, but she knows you’re too in your head to even acknowledge your phone’s existence. Her persistent watching is broken by Jacob leaning over Ava’s empty seat.

“How did you even get these seats? They’re like the best ones!”

Melissa’s brows raise, trying her best not to sputter, “I know a guy.” A glint of nonbelief goes over Jacob’s face, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he retracts back to Janine’s side, sparing one last analyzing gaze at Melissa before going back to the conversation.

“You’re screwed,” Barbara mumbles, fixing her sunglasses.

“I’m screwed,” Melissa parrots, but leans forward in her seat to be as close to the field as she can manage.

—☽—

Ava shimmies into the seat just as the teams pour onto the field, but Melissa’s attention doesn’t divert once. Her eyes scan to find where you are, finding a familiar figure shifting weight from foot to foot. You seem to know eyes are on you, stilling for a second as you look around. A little grin grows on your face as you finally catch the sight of familiar red hair in the crowd, but you keep yourself from drawing attention to her with your usual blown kiss. You instead settle on tapping your toes into the grass three times.

The teams take their places, and you settle yourself on the second base, fiddling with the velcro of your glove as you wait for the game to start. Your opponents, the Blue Foxes, were well known in the league for their cutthroat playing style. For the last three years, they had remained undefeated, and all thanks to their pitcher. Castille was known as a sharpshooter for their pitching accuracy, and your team had been practicing even harder just for this.

Their first batter strikes out, the second only gets to second base, the third is out before they run it to first. You can see your coach to a hard clap from the dugout, clearly pleased that nothing had been scored yet. The second inning plays out similarly, though Castille strikes out two of your batters easily, and is clearly angered when another makes it to third.

As another inning begins, you refuse to rip your eyes away from the ball. Risking a blink is not in the cards. The Fox batter, Morgan, slams hard, the ball flying out into the grass. Your centerfield scrambles for it, throwing it to you before Uwey makes it to your base. Screaming in the stands only propels you, jumping with all your might to get it from the air, planting yourself on the base as Uwey slides in.

“Fucker!” He yells at you, though a grin crawls on his face as you offer your arm to get him up. “I was betting against that, leapfrog.”

“Oops,” you joke, giving him a pat on the shoulder as the umpire declares that he’s out.

Tension between the teams rises quickly during the break, feeling the staredown as you chug water. You make an effort to not look back, but you can feel it regardless of where you divert your attention.

“We feeling oh-and-oh?” Jackson asks you, wiping sweat from her brow before putting her cap back on.

You flex your glove hand, trying to work out tension, “if we’re lucky. I don’t wanna make a fool out of myself today.”

“Your girl here?”

You can’t hide the smile on your face, “yeah. And she brought some people, so it’s our ego now.”

Back on the field in the sixth inning, all the niceties between everyone stop quickly. There’s no help up from the ground, no compliments for good plays. There is only icy eye contact, especially with every fastball that Castille sends to your batters. You practically cackled when Jackson made it to second off one of them, watching her wave crazily to her dad in the crowd.

Peeking behind you, you catch a glimpse of Melissa in the stands, watching her clearly explain what’s going on to Barbara. From your spot, she can’t see you, which is likely the only reason her eyes are not glued to the diamond. There’s a confidence in her place here, knowing it well and knowing your team, she almost has an authority about her.

The coach waves you down, letting you know you’re up to bat next. Next quickly becomes now as Castille strikes out Ismat. The sickly grin on their face makes you nervous, but you force yourself to steel up. Your name echoes through the speakers, announcing your approach to the plate. Gripping the bat, you tap against the plate three times before raising the bat, giving it a slight twirl as you nod.

Melissa’s focus stays on you, watching the bat tap one-two-three. Softly against her thigh, her hand copies the pattern. Leaning forward slightly more, she watches with rapt attention.

The first pitch flies past you at breakneck speeds, strike one. You adjust your grip, eyes not faltering as you eye up Castille, nodding again. This time, you swing, hearing the solid thwack of the ball against the bat. Immediately you take off, keeping your focus on the first base, expecting the shadow of the ball to fly overhead.

Turning as you slide in, you see the ball go towards Jackson. Not the baseman at third, but Jackson. A sickening cry follows, a gloved hand rising to hold the side of her face. Beside her in the dirt is the ball. It takes no time for you to deduce who had done it, only one person could hit someone running that fast. How the ball got to them, you have no idea. All you know is that Castille did it.

The umpire calls a timeout. The moment he does, you’re sprinting across the field to Jackson. You shove everyone out of the way, crouching down to her level.

“Still with us? Got your facilities?” You ask, more concerned sounding than you intended.

She nods weakly, gripping your arm to use it as leverage to get up. The Foxes gather around, checking on her too, all except Castille. Once Jackson is up, you immediately turn, stalking towards the pitchers’ mound.

“The fuck is your problem?!”

The echo of your voice reaches the stands, everyone leaning forward in their seats. Melissa goes to rise immediately, face serious and hands clenched, but Barbara grips her arm to keep her in place. The anger coming off of her seems to clue in the others, who all watch the scene with equal curiosity.

Your teammates quickly run up, one trying to pull you back a bit. All you notice is the bat in his hands, immediately ripping it from his grip with a harsh tug. Still, you keep it pointed down, simply a not-so-subtle threat.

“It was an accident. No need to get pissy,” Castille says, stepping into your space. “Just a little baseball, everyone gets hurt.”

“Everyone’s about to include you, fucknut,” you twirl the bat in your hand, raising it ever so slightly.

With a sly grin, a hand stiffly pushes you back, “shit happens, let it go. Why don’t you go play nurse now that your shortstop is out of commision.”

You mock the laugh they let out at their own comment, bat coming up in a full swing. Just as Castille’s eyes widen, you feel a hand grip the end of the bat, stopping you in your place. Turning back, Morgan only shakes his head, silently asking what the fuck you are doing. Your eyes dart back to the pitcher in front of you, a little terror hidden on their face. It placates you enough to hear the coach calling you over to the dugout, no doubt for a scolding. Dropping your arm, you trudge over, shoulder checking everyone as you go.

Melissa’s unblinking eyes never leave you until you disappear into the dugout. She watches the bat fly from your hand into the hard wood of a stadium with a sharp crash. Green eyes stay on you as you rip the hat from your head, smashing it to the dirt as you walk. Barbara keeps her in place still, feeling the way her friend is practically shaking with anger, as if she feels what you are feeling. Unbeknownst to Melissa, the others are scanning over her, silent questions on their faces that they cannot voice now without facing wrath. Ava peers over to Barbara, eyebrows raising in amusement. The response she receives is a subtle eye roll.

“Holy shi-” Ava starts excitedly, but is silenced by Melissa’s hand flying out to try and cover her mouth.

Tuning in, the redhead tries to make out what the coach yells at you. The man is clear is not trying to hide his displeasure. “Are you nuts?... Could have killed them… Don’t care what hap- stop interrupting me!”

Staring up at your coach, you practically pout in your spot, “they fucking fastballed Aliyah to the face and I’m getting shit?! They’re still on the field!”

“It was an accident,” he tries to reason.

“Sharpshooter missed that hard? Bull-fucking-shit man!” You shout as you stand, crossing your arms with an air of defiance.

Your coach takes a deep breath, staring you down. “Locker rooms. Now,” he says with no room for anything else. If you speak again, you won’t touch a bat or glove for weeks. Rolling your eyes with a huff, you head to the stairs.

From where she is sitting, Melissa cannot see where you are, or rather, where you went. Her frantic eyes scan the field, but from Barb’s grip, she is not even able to try and get a better view. Eyeing the field, she sees the coach round the dugout and approach the fence. He waves at her, motioning her to talk to him.

Melissa immediately shakes herself free from Barbara’s hold and flies down the wobbling stairs. Bracing herself on the fence, she asks, “what the hell, Marty?”

“I put the walking liability in timeout in the locker room,” he said with a fading annoyance. “That shit can’t happen on my field.”

Melissa frowns, “that jackass nailed Aliyah on purpose, come on.”

“We all know that. Now, can you just help me out here?”

Rolling her eyes, Melissa trudges down to the gate, letting herself onto the field to go the quick way.

“Oh, word?” Ava says, looking towards Barbara. Gregory looks at her with confusion. Motioning at the field, then Melissa’s disappearing figure, the gears finally begin to turn.

“Word,” Barbara says with a flat tone, picking up her phone to text Gerald.

—☽—

Laying down on the bench, you stare at the popcorn ceiling in hopes to calm yourself down. The cool wood is a balm to your sweaty back, freezing out the fire in your veins. Anger sloughs off the longer you lay there. Your vision blurs as you fight hot tears, acidic with your anger. You know better than to react like that, especially so publicly. Shame crawls up your spine, knowing Melissa’s friends saw you like that, that Melissa saw you like that.

The door to the locker room opens, the slam of the door being followed by heeled footsteps quickly approaching. Sitting up, you’re met with Melissa’s frown.

“Hi,” you say, offering a weak smile.

A single brow raises, “hi? That’s what you’ve got for me?”

“My bad? Whoops?” You shrug, knowing that there was no saying you hadn’t had the intention of bludgeoning Castille. Your eyes drag away from her face to fully look at her for the first time since you left this morning. The smile on your face stretches, “you look beautiful.”

Melissa gives a silent laugh, and you revel in the way her eyes close and she ducks her head. Even after two years, she still gets all shy when you compliment her. Stepping closer, she plants herself between your legs, “maybe next time, fail in beating up someone off the field.”

“Wouldn’t’ve failed if Charlie didn’t cut in,” you mumble, hands rising to hold the back of Melissa’s thighs. Leaning forward, you bury your face against her stomach. Any and all lingering tension in your body disappears when her hands come to your back, scratching up and down slowly. “Sorry I embarrassed you,” you whisper against her.

Bending over you, she presses a kiss to your head, “how’d you do that?”

“Attempted assault and battery.”

“It’s a Saturday night in Philly, amore. That’s just business,” she jokes, but the meaning isn’t lost on you.

Melissa stays right there until the game ends, the buzzer ringing loudly. Pulling back from her, you nod towards the door, wordlessly telling her to go before the team comes in. Pressing a kiss to your sweat-dried hairline, she walks out, but not before sending a look back to you that makes you shiver.

True to your silent word, as the team pours in with the look of defeat written on their faces, you duck into the furthest shower stall. With grime gone and body dry, you tug one of Melissa’s sweatshirts over your body and slide into the softest sweatpants Amazon can deliver. Returning to your locker, you start shoving everything into your bag, not taking the time to fold or organize anything. Spinning on your heel, you try to leave, but your coach steps in front of you.

“I know,” you say. “Head on my shoulders, use it. Bat as a weapon, don’t use it.”

“You cracked it,” Marty says with exasperation, shoving the bat from earlier into your hands. “What’s this? Number seven now?”

“Five,” you mumble, avoiding his eyes. Tucking the bat under your arm, you shuffle past him. With your head down, you leave, trying to hide your face from the other team as people move in and out of their locker room. Moving through the maze of people, you try to find your girlfriend at your normal meeting spot outside the stadium.

In a circle, the Abbott group debriefs under the streetlight. The yellow light illuminates fiery red hair, drawing you in quicker. Hearing your steps approach, she turns in your direction, and arm outstretched in invitation to tuck yourself into her side. The group, except Barbara and Ava, look stunned at your arrival, scanning over you and the arm around your shoulders. A dual ooooh passes the lips of Janine and Jacob, Gregory only giving a slow nod after thinking about what Ava pointed out earlier.

“Got something for you,” you say quietly to Melissa, feeling a tad exposed knowing they all watched your outburst earlier. A single brow props up in question. From under your other arm, you pull out the cracked bat.

“Don’t swing, slugger!” Ava jokes, putting her hands out in mock self-defense. You can't really hide the embarrassed look that flashes across your face.

“Ignore her,” Melissa says, grabbing the bat from your hands, toying with it in her grasp. Her nail runs along a thin, long split in the wood, looking back at you. “Can never bring me a not fucked up one, can you?”

“I prefer to call it a signature,” you offer. Melissa shakes her head with a silent laugh, arm tightening to pull you into a one-armed hug.

The night ends with a reluctant promise from Melissa to invite everyone over for dinner to properly meet you, and a genuine promise of tickets to any home game from you. Ava sends Melissa a double thumbs up, gesturing towards you as she mouths nice. Walking with Melissa and Barbara to the car, all the energy in your body is practically melting away. Gameday jitters and the anger you felt earlier had kept you awake, but now all you want is your bed with your girlfriend wrapped around you.

In order to be polite, you sit in the back to let Barbara sit in the passenger seat. Before Melissa even turns onto Barbara’s street, you’re dead to the world in the backseat with your cap covering your face. If your snores disturbed their conversations, they never said a word.

—☽—

The soft feeling of pressure going up and down your shin wakes you from your slumber. Sliding the cap off your face, you peek towards Melissa, sitting in the backseat now with your legs in her lap. Blinking quickly, you sit up, wordlessly agreeing to go inside, still silent with lingering sleep.

Melissa grabs your bag for you, letting you trudge up the steps to the front door and fidget with the lock. Once inside, you shove your shoes off and flop onto the couch. Dropping your bag by the door, Melissa settles next to you. Resting her head against the back of the couch to match your position, she looks in your direction.

The second she does, you’re leaning to tuck yourself into her side. With your head on her shoulder, you mumble, “can put it in the kitchen.” At her questioning hum, you elaborate, “the bat- wait we have knives. Laundry room.”

Melissa chuckles at the sureness in your tired voice, pressing her lips to the crown of your head. The feeling makes you shiver, immediately sitting up, so close to her that your noses brush. The newfound closeness makes the corners of her lips curl up, creases around her eyes deeping as you just stare at her in subtle awe. Slow blinking eyes rake over your face, just as carefree in their indulgence as your own gaze.

It becomes impossible to hold back, leaning into her the second her eyes find yours again. Soft lips brush against yours, and you push into her, kissing her with all the love fizzing in your chest. Her hand slides from around your shoulders to cup your neck, keeping you close as you shift to straddle her lap. With the gentlest touch, you cup her face, thumbs sliding over the apples of her cheeks.

Manicured nails dig into your neck slightly, making you whine against Melissa’s lips. Shuffling on your knees, you desperately try to press harder into her, wanting to be as close as close can get. The feeling of her tongue passing over yours is enough to make you shift your grip to her hair, tugging just enough to make a groan crawl from the back of her throat.

Part of you panics, trying to pull back to make sure you weren’t rougher than you intended. Melissa doesn’t let you get far, leaning in quicker than you back away, drawing you back in. Nipping at your lip, she finally lets you go, only to make you pout.

“Don’t start with me,” she jokes quietly, trying not to break the small bubble of comfort. “You go upstairs and change, I’ll warm up some leftovers.”

You sigh, pressing your forehead to hers, “five more minutes?”

A little grin plays at her lips as she presses a kiss to your cheek, letting you drop your forehead to her shoulder and relax your weight against her. A mumble of I love you vibrates against her neck, a soft kiss placed on warm skin.

Five minutes wouldn’t be so bad. And neither is the thirty minutes that it turns into, with you knocked out on top of her with a hand still buried in her red locks.

note: no longer the holidays but i hope yall had a good season!! in between my last fic and now i graduated college, so i would call mine a general success on that front <3

feedback appreciated as always, my sweet babies <3

[rynwritesreid]

I am obsessed w Ryan Gosling wearing a necklace with his wife’s initials on it to the Barbie Premiere!!!! Can we see Spencer doing the same thing, maybe to the office or a team dinner ? 😍

A/N: this is such a cute idea, and if I am being honest this is defo something early to mid season Spencer would have done. Thank you for the request:)

Summary: it’s basically as requested. I have added in some detail about other women flirting with him and that’s why he decides to wear it, but he does still wear it to the office.

Content: fluff. Fem!reader. Other people flirt with Spencer, but he doesn’t reciprocate.

Masterlist| requests are open| navigation

Spencer was aware he got attention from other women; he knew he was attractive. He never flirted back, or really gave anyone else the time of day and he was very open with the fact he was in a very committed relationship with you. You were also not prone to jealousy, you didn’t really like other people trying to flirt with Spencer, but you understood he was an attractive and very intelligent man. 

Spencer though, he had become to hate it. He didn’t understand why people didn’t care he loved you, that he was in a relationship with you, and only wanted you. He, being the ever-intelligent man he is, had come up with a solution.

“Hey, I have something to show you.” Spencer reached into his pocket and pulled out a medium sized box. “Before you get too excited, this isn’t a ring. It’s a necklace with your initials on it.” 

“Are you going to wear that?” you asked with a smile, feeling a warm flutter in your chest as you looked at the delicate necklace in Spencer's hand. The silver chain glinted under the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the window, and the initials intertwined beautifully, a testament to your bond.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. I want everyone to know who my heart belongs too.” 

And with a tender smile, Spencer carefully fastened the necklace around his neck, the cool metal resting against his warm skin. As it settled into place, he stood up and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close in a tight embrace. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, steady and sure.

"I love you," Spencer whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "And I want the whole world to know that you're mine."

*

The next day, Spencer turned up to work wearing the necklace. JJ was the first to notice, her eyes scanning the necklace, wondering why he had suddenly started wearing jewellery.

"What's that, Spence?" JJ asked, tilting her head in curiosity. Spencer smiled, his eyes lighting up as he adjusted the necklace instinctively.

"It's for Y/N," he replied proudly, his voice tinged with a newfound sense of determination. "I want everyone to know that she's the one I love."

JJ's gaze softened as she took in his words, understanding the significance of the gesture. She nodded approvingly, a small smile playing on her lips.

"That's sweet, Spencer," JJ said, her tone genuine. "I'm happy for you both."

Derek had overheard what JJ had said to Spencer, and while he also did think it was cute and he would never tell a man that wearing any jewellery wasn’t masculine, he still wanted to tease Spencer a little. 

"Hey Pretty Boy, since when did you become a fashion icon?" Derek teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he sauntered over to Spencer's desk. Spencer rolled his eyes good-naturedly, used to Derek's playful banter.

“Oh, you think I’m a fashion icon because this, Derek?” Spencer grinned, a playful glint in his eye as he adjusted the necklace once more. "Well, let's just say I'm setting a new trend."

Derek chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Alright, Reid, if you say so. Just don't let Garcia catch you. She might think you're stealing her accessory game."

Spencer laughed at the thought of Garcia's reaction, imagining her excitement at seeing him embrace a new fashion statement. It felt good to have his friends' support and light-hearted teasing about his gesture towards you.

No one else seemed to care, Garcia had done a squeal of excitement when she saw the necklace and realised the initials were yours. But other than that, no one seemed to fuss over it.

*

Though he had noticed that he friends and colleagues didn’t seem to care about his necklace anymore, he had noticed how other women would interact with him. They seemed to glare at the two initials dangling around his neck and back off.

Spencer found himself almost amused by the reaction of the women who used to flirt with him. Their glares held a mix of disappointment and frustration, as if his simple act of wearing a necklace had somehow dashed their hopes. He couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at their reactions, knowing that he was making it clear to everyone where his heart truly belonged.

~join my taglist~

~taglist~

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[oh-obrien]

GRID ACE 0.5

GAMER READER x Lestappen SMAU

Summary: Reader is a Red Bull e-sports athlete who happens to catch the attention of two particular drivers with her streams.

All pictures are from Pinterest and reader has various face claims!!

Part five and I promised this one would be the last but I’m a slut for this pairing apparently and can keep going🤭

Look for one or two more parts!

Also look out for a Maxiel college SMAU!!

Comment to be tagged ☺️

Masterlist / Previous Part / Next Part (my links aren’t working right now I’ll be fixing it tonight 😊)

Xx.y/n.xX just posted

Las Vegas, Nevada

Liked by Yourbestfriend, Landonorris, and 45,688 others

Xx.y/n.xX , @ yourbestfriend and the grid... not sold separately.

Yourbestfriend shop the package deal today!

-> Danielricciardo it's like those American stores that sell huge amounts of things!

-> Xx.y/n.xX today on @ Danielricciardo can't google the correct terms: Big Box Stores

-> Landonorris to be fair he isn't American and he's trying

-> Xx.y/n.xX hey, @ landonorris. Five. Seconds.

-> Oscarpiastri great now he's crying in the corner

-> Danielricciardo @ landonorris crying in the club (the hotel bathroom) because he just received the most devastating news ever (y/n was a bitch) even though it was expected (y/n is a bitch every day)

-> Yourbestfriend WOAH WOAH WOAH DANNY BOY. She might me a bitch but she's my bitch.

-> Maxverstappen1 my bitch.

-> Charles_leclerc ours*

User1 MY PARENTS ARE PARENTING IN THE COMMENTS

-> User2 sometimes I forget they're actually dating and then they whip out that

-> User3 no because Max and Charles will just say our girlfriend sometimes and my brain like factory resets

-> User4 NO LIKE Y/N LITERALLY SAID MY BOYFRIENDS ON STREAM THE OTHER DAY AND I WAS KICKING MY FEET GIGGLING

-> Landonorris imagine how tired we are of it.

->User1 LANDO NO

-> Georgerussell63 imagine how tired we are.

-> User5 I’m D E A D GEORGE TOO

f1 you all better be ready to race next weekend after this one

-> Redbullracing what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

-> McLaren we don’t want to hear wedding bells only car engines

-> Scuderiaferrari VROOOOOOOM

-> Xx.y/n.xX they’ll all be in tip top racing shape for next weekend 🫡

-> User1 EXCUSE ME WEDDING BELLS???

User6 I’m trying to tell who on the grid is out all together.

User7 I WANT TO KNOW WHOS FINGER HAS THAT FAT ROCK ON IT IN THE SECOND PICTURE.

-> User8 THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I WAS TRYING TO FIGIRE OUT TOO. THERES TWO THOUGH SO LIKE???

-> User7 I feel like it can’t be Y/N she always has really fun nails and they just hard launched like a few weeks ago

-> User9 my boyfriend is a RB mechanic and says this has been going on for well over a year now

-> User10 it always makes me mildly uncomfy when people speculate about this stuff

-> User7 girl sit down they’re public figures

-> User10 it can really easily just be a friend out with them and one one of the drivers SO’s though

-> User11 Y/N in her gold digger era bagging two F1 drivers

-> Xx.y/n.xX my contract from professional gaming ensures I don’t need to “bag” anyone thank you very much. Sorry you can’t find one man to love you let alone two ☕️

-> User12 OH MY GOD THAT IS INSANE

-> User13 period Queen 👑

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Landonorris just added to their story

Story Replies:

DanielRicciardo : you’re going to be in trouble for this one

Landonorris : Danny boy, Max posted it with me while Charles and y/n were on their bathroom break.

Georgerussell63 : Today on Lando breaks the internet

Landonorris : it’s my duty 🫡

Xx.y/n.xX : If I wasn’t so hungover right now I’d be mad about this.

Landonorris : your lovely fiancé told me I should post it

Xx.y/n.xX : my lovely fiancé was almost as drunk as I was and his judgement was impaired

Landonorris : no, max was actually pretty in his right mind.

Xx.y/n.xX : if he wasn’t out getting me and Char coffee right now I’d be more mad about this

Yourbestfriend : best man 🤝🏻 maid of honor 🤝🏻 being menaces to society

Landonorris : you know it sweetheart

Yourbestfriend : sweetheart?

Landonorris : did I stutter ?

Yourbestfriend : 🫣

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

User1 E X C U S E M E?????? I know we all went FERAL over Lando’s post last night but WHAT??

-> User2 I just assumed it was one of his friends. I did not realize the rest of the grid was there

-> User3 I bartended for most of the event last night and I can tell you they brought out the club and if you KNEW who it was you’d go INSANE!

-> User1 GIRL YOU CANNOT JUST SAY THAT

-> User3 the couple was ALL OVER each other.

User4 REMBER Y/N’s INSTA THE OTHER DAY??? We NEED to figure out whose hand that ring was on!!!

-> User5 my vote is on Max, Charles and Y/N

-> User6 Y/N’s Val team was posting on their stories that they were in Vegas a couple days ago, why else would they be there?

-> User7 Y/N’s best friend has also been posting that she’s in Vegas.

-> User5 she’s been traveling with the grid also, I think there’s something else going on there with her and a driver as well.

F1forthegirls BREAKING : an unnamed source has confirmed that the party was for Y/N, Max and Charles. The source c confirms that Land and Yourbestfriend rented out the club, set up catering and tapped most of the grid to help decorate.

-> User8 NO FUCKING WAY THIS IS TRUE

-> User9 Until my mother confirms absolutely nothing is true!

-> User10 WHEN DID THEY GET TOGETHER THIS IS INSANE

-> User3 they were like a bunch of love drunk idiots last night it’s definitely real. Those boys WORSHIP her

-> User11 WE NEED MORE DETAILS @ user3

-> User3 nah they deserve to keep is mostly private! They haven’t even announced yet and this leaked!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Xx.y/n.xX just posted

Las Vegas, Nevada

Xx.y/n.xX Max and Charles have the best pit crews but I have the best “I Do” crew.

User14 I AM SO SORRY BUT W H A T THE ACTUAL FUCK

-> Xx.y/n.xX ahh you can’t say fuck, penalty.

-> User14 HELLO???

Danielricciardo I made a great pick with the last decorations

-> Xx.y/n.xX 🙄

-> Landonorris I HELPED

-> Xx.y/n.xX no boys allowed ✋🏻❌

Yourbestfriend girly really goes for it with the hard launches

-> Xx.y/n.xX it’s my specialty 🤭

User15 are we just not going to ask when this happened???

-> User16 so it was totally y/n in her last post with the MASSIVE engagement ring

-> User17 it looks like a stack my bet is she got two rings actually

-> User18 each boy would’ve definitely gotten her one

-> User19 I NEED THE DETAILS!!!

-> User20 I want to know when they ACTUALLY got together being that they’re apparently ENGAGED now??

Maxverstappen1 what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas

-> Charles_leclerc no you just party too hard to remember

-> Georgerussell63 actually @ oscarpiastri and I needed to drag you and Y/N out of the club, Max was perfectly fine.

-> Maxverstappen1 exactly.

-> User21 WHY AM I THINKING ABOUT LOVE DRUNK MAX GIGGLING WHILE HE FOLLOWS THEM BACK TO THE HOTEL

-> Xx.y/n.xX @ Landonorris drop the vid!!!

Redbullgaming excuse me that’s OUR top frag we’d like to keep her!!!

-> Redbullracing actually she’s coming home with me

-> Scuderiaferrari I feel like we deserve a place in this conversation now also

Yourteammate1 THE BEST WEEKEND 🍾 🎊

-> Yourteammate2 THE BEST BRIDE TO BE

Valorantesports Whatever they’re doing I like it!

-> Xx.y/n.xX admin pulling out the Neon vocie lines 🥹🫶🏻

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Charles_leclerc just posted

Tagged @ Xx.y/n.xX, @ maxverstappen1

Comments on this post have been limited

Liked by Landonorris, yourbestfriend, and 1.23M others

Charles_leclerc Together is a wonderful place to be

Xx.y/n.xX Forever and ever and ever!!

Maxverstappen1 of course this is the picture you picked

-> Charles_leclerc it happens to be one of my favorites

-> Xx.y/n.xX they’re all my favorites

Landonorris ITS HAPPENING STAY CALM! STAY CALM!

-> Danielricciardo he is not calm

-> Oscarpiastri he’s definitely not calm

Scuderiaferrari CONGRATULATIONS TO OUR FUTURE FERRARI ROYALTY (and max too we guess)

-> Redbullracing truce?

-> Scuderiaferrari we’re still coming for that world championship

Carlossainz55 🍾🎊🥳 Congratulations!!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Maxverstappen1 just posted

Tagged @ Xx.y/n.xX, @ charles_leclerc

Comments on this post have been limited

Liked by redbullracing , georgerussell63 and 1.83M others

Maxverstappen1 My favorite place is next to you

-> Xx.y/n.xX and Char*

-> charles_leclerc AND CHAR!

DanielRicciardo let the festivities begin!

-> Xx.y/n.xX Danny’s in his wedding planner era

-> DanielRicciardo at your service m’lady

Redbullgaming Two world champions and a soon to be world champion? UNSTOPPABLE!

-> Maxverstappen1 Hell yeah! My crew delivers!

-> Valorantesports Max Verstappen three time world champion pulling out OUR voice lines? AHHHHH

-> Xx.y/n.xX you’re not ready for Max’s Geckko main arc.

Lewishamilton Congrats, mate! Lucky to have gotten a front row seat to your story.

-> Xx.y/n.xX 🫶🏻

Tag list : @that-one-little-soybean @menagerofmischief @delululeclerc @evermoreandroyalblue @tsnelf7 @dukeofjjune

[chironshorseass]

ok i really really really enjoyed watching the first two episodes and i think the show is already so faithful to the books in ways the movies wished they were BUT i’m gonna be a bitch just because i can and rant about a few insignificant but at the same time very important Things the writers didn’t Understand:

percy is angry.

and i know this is seen with his anger towards poseidon in the show, but i’m talking angry. as in, generally speaking. when he’s with grover and they’re talking about nancy, percy says something along the lines of “we should fight back,” and grover’s like “noooo we can’t stand up to bullies.” and then percy stands up to her and blah blah blah…but in the books percy’s first line is “i’m going to kill her” after she throws a sandwich at grover. grover talks him out of it because he’s already on probation.

with just this scene we know percy stands up to bullies, and that’s partly why he has so much trouble at school! in the show, he stands up to nancy, apparently for the first time, and gets kicked out because of it! sorry but as someone who worked in a school, i know for a fact that kids can get away with so much more before they’re actually kicked out lol. it would’ve made sense, like in tlt, that he’s already at risk of suspension so him “pushing” nancy is the final straw. it’s just very weird, considering it could be only a line of dialogue that makes percy’s anger and the connection between his outburst and him getting kicked out more clear.

consequently, percy arrives at his appartment and gabe is just a general (still admittedly abusive) jerk instead of a drunk, violent (also abusive) man. when we meet gabe, it makes a lot of sense why percy has so much trouble with his anger. it’s easy to see that connection. literal child + alcoholic abusive father figure = there’s bound to be some trouble….that’s not really the case in the show, especially in the way that sally easily stands up to him. people have said a fair bit about this topic already, so i’m not gonna expand on that, but i really wish the writers had focused more on percy’s internal anger, as it’s such an important part of his character and affects the way he reacts to things throughout the books; it just worries me that in the first episode it wasn’t as established. i. e. he hates dionysus on sight because he reminds him of smelly gabe, he hates the gods—is angry at poseidon—because, where was he when my mom and i were suffering at the hands of smelly gabe? ok i’m not gonna talk about more of this or of sally because other people have said it and i could write a four page essay of what the show got wrong plus i want to talk abt other things before this gets too long:

the monster scenes.

the mrs. dodds being a fury reveal felt sooo…weird? even the movie version did it better lol. it felt super rushed and strange how percy’s just standing there and the next he’s on the ground, but he had riptide with him so he just impaled her and then she turned to dust??? in the books, not only does she get percy alone, but grover tries to stand up to her—which is a big deal since he knows what she truly is and shows how much he cares for percy in that moment. percy has time to be genuinely terrified bc he’s alone with a literal monster and he’s about to die…and chiron throws him riptide just in time, but then he too vanishes so percy’s left wondering if he imagined everything. but no, in the show mrs. dodds comes out of nowhere and attacks him, and it’s so fast that percy doesn’t have time to dwell on wtf happened. the situation doesn’t seem as serious as it does in the book; in the book she tries to interrogate percy bc she thinks he’s the lightning thief, and when she doesn’t get her answer, she attacks him. this is another thing: the stakes. they don’t feel as high in the show because there’s no annabeth trying to ask percy what was stolen, no hellhound, no fates cutting a string, and no alecto/mrs. dodds interrogation. there’s not much of a lead up to the quest, really.

theeen the minotaur scene, which also feels super weirdly paced and there’s just not that same sense of urgency. again, other people have talked about this, so i’ll just stick to another main concern of mine: grover’s role in the scene. it was so strange how in the book he’s semi unconscious and in the show he’s fine (so fine that sally does something completely out of character and makes grover swear to keep percy safe? she would never put that much pressure in a child???) ok so he seems fine in the show, but then when they’re running percy’s holding him as if he can’t walk???? they’re not even fully sprinting, given that a monster is chasing them lol. (the problem with the stakes; i mean with the way they run and have an entire talk with sally makes it feel like they’re not in any real danger).

back to grover: he was perfectly fine, and he got percy back safe. not at all like in tlt, where percy has to practically carry him back, after loosing his mom and killing the minotaur. THEN percy passes out and later wakes up at the big house. this is important, bc grover’s entire THING is being percy’s protector, and he couldn’t do that properly bc he was indisposed. he felt awful. of course he did. his character arc is overcoming the guilt and insecurities—that he’s not a proper protector and therefore can’t search for pan; his main character motivation—by successfully completing the quest and helping percy retrieve the master bolt.

these are just little seeds that needed to be planted in the first two episodes of the show…so that the rest of the show feels cohesive and makes sense with what happens in tlt. if these character traits and scenes are looked over and not given proper importance/not replaced with something similar, then the show will have a different tone than it does to the books. i don’t think it’s necessarily bad, but it is disappointing that the details sprinkled in the source material are lost in translation. they may have seemed insignificant to the writers, but not to meeee!!!!!!

[damnfeelings09]

Animals AU - Shadow's version

A.N: I like Shadow's soft side, I guess this AU is not as dark romance as I imagined it but can you blame me? He's just sooooo cute. RED for stalker, GREEN for you. Careful who you talk to, they might not be exactly who you think they are.

White fluffy fur and red eyes flooded your dreams, running away from someone you couldn't recognize. The heaviness in your legs did not allow you to run, your steps slower and slower, and that hand coming from the sun my salvation moving farther and farther away while you were consumed by darkness. You awoke with a start looking everywhere for Shadow but you were alone in your cold, dark room. Fear creeping down your back as the door opened to reveal a figure, tall, broad, dark, slowly aprooching you, as the night lamp started to outline Shadow's figure, you relaxed and let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding.

“What you doing awake?” He asked caressing your face

“I... nightmares.” his expression softened. “Don't wanna be alone, I'm scared”

“Told you there's no need to be afraid of the dark if you're with me,” he said laughing lightly. settling in to sleep holding you tight as if his life depended on it and it did.

“Want me to tell you a bedtime story?” You nod, caressing his chest once more. “'kay, this one's about a princess with big beautiful eyes and long silky hair and a... knight a dark one but not the kind you'll like. She danced to the music only she heard, as if no one else was there. Their paths crossed for a brief moment, a wrong turn caused her to end up in the knight's arms and he... well let's just say he got the drink he wanted but not in the form he needed. The princess looked at him with her eyes so big and those beautiful red cheeks as she ran her hands over his body trying to clean him up. So scared and embarrassed, like a little bunny at the mercy of a predator. She excused herself and ran to her carriage. It was a second, maybe less, but it was enough to capture the knight's raw, hard, black heart and took it with her.”

Shadow's story sounded awfully familiar, memories from years ago, hit you. You remembered it. It was in your freshman year? While jamming a song on your earphones, pretending the music was taking you somewhere else, as per usual, swaying your hips to the beat of Dance Macabre, and an unexpected turn that should have ended with you face down on the floor, instead you found yourself in someone's arms. What happened next was like a blur in your memory, you remembered the embarrassment and the thousand apologies you had given to the stranger, you remembered running to the subway and hiding inside trying not to look out the window. “It was you...” you muttered without being able to turn to look at him. “Is that why you call me that?”.

“I was screwed since the first time I layed my eyes on you bunny. I couldn't get that sweet scent out of my mind. I was yours from day one. You have no idea how long I've waited to do this.” He lowers his head, eyes locked on yours asking for permission, he kisses you. Slow, soft, as if he feared you could break at any second. He deepens the kiss, tastes your lower lip biting it hot, steady, a soft moan scapes from your lips but Shadow won't let it go any further, not in the state you're in. He's already waited so long that a few more days for you to regain your sanity is no problem, besides, he doesn't want you to regret it in the morning.

Shadow wants, wishes that when he fucks you it's conscious, because you want it and not just to erase a bad memory.

Morning came, sunlight sneaking through the curtain, fluffy hair tingling your face. You try to get up to close the window but a strong arm holds you around your waist pulling you back to the bed. Shadow lies beside you nuzzling into your hair, his legs locking yours so you wont run away. You take a moment to admire him, his nose shiny, his jet black fur soft white fur dots near he’s muzzle as if they were freckeles, tiny eyelashes adorn his eyes. You move your hand, stroking his face it's soft and the smell of fresh lavender envelops your senses. He looks so relaxed, peaceful, tender, as if he is another Shadow. Slowly you move closer and gently deposit a kiss on his lips. He opens his eyes, this time there is no fire behind them, just a mix of orange and reddish, like sunset you think. The shadow of a smile peeks out of his expression.

“Morning,” you say, still caressing his face. Shadow seeks the touch of your hand emitting a soft prrrrrrr, drawing you closer to him, the curves of your body fit perfectly with the hardness of his, the warmth between you is enough to make you tremble.

Who knew he would be the one to take care of you?

[mayandjuly1811]

I DISLIKE HUNTER'S FAVORITISM

Lilith is so based for this. Hunter gets special treatment from not only in the Emperor's coven but also in the entire show, crew and fandom.

The crew also loves the idea of giving him more trauma and focus. During livestreams and talk shows, there are always questions about him, even more than King - one of the main characters.

In the show, many point out that the first letters of the episodes in which he appears with the Hexsquad is an acronym for H-E-A-L (Hunting Palismen, Eclipse Lake, Any Sports in A Storm, Labyrinth Runner). It means the Hexsquad, even Luz, the main character, is a plot device for his arc. I also knew that Hunter was written to stay at the Owl House after the whole event of Hollow Mind. Imagine him staying with the main characters of the show, having them comforting him, center around him. It will be the same with how the Hexsquad is written to be centered around him as his support system again, specifically Gus and Willow. Undoubtedly, the show intended to make him one of the main characters so obviously that it isn't subtle anymore.

- Luz: the main character of the show. In season 2B, Hunter replaces Luz as their new best friend in the trio. Like seriously? Even though Luz is dating Amity, she can still have spare time for her friends. But the writers don't care, so Hunter will have more time with Willow and Gus. It paints Luz in a bad light as someone who throws her friendship away once she finds love. It's OOC of Luz. Never thought a main character could get such bad writing treatment.

The nightmare sequence is also unreasonable. While others’ resentment towards Luz sounds more logical, Hunter's isn't, at least to me. I don't get why the writers wrote Luz thinking Hunter get mad of her like this “I lost him helping you.” Who helps who actually? He came to Luz's place first. He was the one asking Luz for help and not the other way around. He literally ran away first and intended to face Belos alone despite Luz's calling. Even though Luz is self-blaming, her interaction in the nightmare sequence with Hunter makes no sense.

- Next is Amity: I was expecting Amity to have more screen time with Willow, since I'm not satisfied with how their friendship is written. But alas, if Luz, the main character, doesn't even have any episodes ever since Hunter appears, how could Amity - a side character - can?

The writing flaw is obvious in her rekindled friendship with Willow. The way Amity views Willow's strength is negatively retconned. In Understanding Willow, she says that she didn't think of Willow as weak. In the next episode, she even cooperates with Willow and Luz to compete against Boscha. Grudgeby is a dangerous sport, and Boscha is a tough competitor who has won several cups. Obviously, Willow proves her strength there, shows her magic and even scores the last goal. Amity sees it all. In season 1, it's going in the right direction, Amity acknowledges that Willow isn't weak and even cooperates with her. She never tries to stop Willow from competing with the excuse of thinking her weak. But in Labyrinth Runner, she gets done dirty so bad. The writers intend to show that she's overprotective of Willow and wants to protect her, but by what way? Trying to make up for the times when she can't stand up for Willow in the past? No, by underestimating her. This makes no sense compared to how she's written in season 1. This scene, when Amity says that the guards are tough, and not anyone can stand up to them, her lines can be added up like “Willow, you just got kidnapped by them and I'm worried about you. I faced the Scouts before, and they were quite tough, so I got thrown down the pit by one.” It would be better than writing her as underestimating Willow's strength! Oh and I hate the irritating scene “Good luck, Willow”. They could have just written Amity asking Willow if she was okay.

Why Amity is retconned like that? I strongly believe that Amity is flanderized as someone who underestimates Willow's strength to uplift Hunter, who admires and appreciates her strength despite only meeting her once. I already saw “Willow forgives Hunter faster because he sees her as strong while Amity sees her as a weakling.”

- Willow: Any Sports in a storm is supposed to be a Willow's episode but it's a Hunter's one apparently. Willow is written to be hard-working, determined and strong from the start of the episode with her dream of being the first Flyer Derby captain. But it gets overshadowed by Hunter's new friendship and interaction with the group. From the middle till the end, there's barely any scenes of Willow being recognized as a good captain. There's no scene at least like other teammates praising her for her leadership and planning. And there's no scene of her interpersonal emotions like “I did it” or her fathers being proud of her. She wishes to be good at Flyer Derby and follow in her fathers’ footsteps. It's never mentioned again. It's not about her, it's only about developing Hunter and the ship tease Huntlow. Instead of writing how her newfound confidence and captain leadership are recognized, her old wound “half-a-witch” is brought up to develop Hunter and Huntlow, even though it's not the SAME thing Hunter and Willow have in common!! Hunter gets the spotlight in the Flyer Derby team, from praising, encouragement to the photo taking. He's the centre in the photo, just like how everyone is focused on his slow typing at the end of the episode.

Willow is also retconned as a forced girlboss stereotype from dragging Hunter when they first met to being insensitive of his trauma. Like why did she get done so dirty? Especially in Thanks to Them, Willow comforts Vee quite well. She said Vee didn't have to go to the museum if she was still afraid. But it's not the same in For the Future when she tries to comfort Hunter by bringing a Flapjack's photo right after he lost his palisman.

- Last but not least, Gus. Labyrinth Runner is a Gus episode that gets overshadowed. The breathing technique is something special in Gus and Willow's friendship. But it's used to develop Hunter again. It's used to develop his and Gus's friendship, and his relationship with Willow.

Gus, who has been friends with Willow for years, can't recognize the real Willow while Hunter can. It's reasonable if Willow gets scared of Hunter. Also, that he thinks Willow doesn't get scared of him isn't entirely convincing to me. Even though Willow isn't utterly scared, she would at least be wary of him. He kidnapped her and others, locked them up, took their Palismen and took them away from their families. He saved them at the end, but what they've been through was very traumatizing. Willow is insecure about her strength. Not to mention it doesn't make any sense when Hunter sees how Willow doubts her strength and calls herself half-a-witch. He stirs up her insecurity and how can he think she isn't afraid of him? Yet in Labyrinth Runner, he is written to be more understanding of her strength more than Gus?

If Hunter knows that the illusion isn't Willow, Gus should have known as well. Gus is the master of illusion, and he can't even recognize an illusionist? Also, his best friend? They could have written that Gus recognizes Willow through the breathing technique, which is the only thing they knew to solidify their friendship more.

In Labyrinth Runner, both Amity and Gus are done dirty in this episode in order to make Hunter outshine them. And most of all, Huntlow. Hunter is written to be more understanding and appreciating Willow's strength more than Gus and Amity, so Huntlow would be more convincing.

- Season 3 has only three episodes but more than half of the screen time is about Hunter, playing the main character role just like Luz. I'm glad that I'm not the only one who thinks Hunter's possessed scene and killing Flapjack are unnecessary. How does it benefit his character and the plot? Hunter can still defy and fight Belos without being possessed. The only effect from this is his ability to do magic and going through more trauma. According to what the crew says, they like to give him trauma. It makes me think that they're too focused on him and make him have more screen time and attention than others.

- The writer gives him too much trauma yet they can't handle it right. Hence, they shouldn't have added that in the show, especially in a cancelled one. In For the Future, Hunter has to shove his grief down to comfort Willow. Gus is sidelined like usual in favor of Hunter and Huntlow. He knows about Hunter's secret, what Belos did and it traumatizes him a lot, but his feelings are never mentioned during season 3. Oh great, it's only brought up again when it has something to do with Hunter.

- Why can only Hunter reach out to Willow when she has a breakdown? Why is Gus trapped and further away from her? And if I thought it can't get any worse, Willow only says thank you to Hunter then holds his pinky. What about Gus? He tried to comfort her too. Willow first met Gus when he was having a mental breakdown, she comforted him and understood him. That's the start of their friendship. It will be much more meaningful when Gus plays a more important part in helping Willow by the same breathing technique she taught him. Even though Willow and Gus usually stay together, their friendship is written on such a surface-level despite having a lot of potential.

- Willow and Gus are considered as the most powerful characters in the group. But the writers say “no, let Hunter shine”. First minute, both Willow and Gus are confident that they can take down Kikimora, but later, Hunter has to come to the rescue. Like, I'm not saying Hunter can't save her or Willow is weak but it doesn't fit right in this moment. Willow has just got her comfort and confidence back, yet she doesn't get to have the moments to show her strength and power. Give me Willow and Gus’s power combo that defeats Kikimora satisfyingly, not just boasting about their power, but failing and then getting rescued by Hunter. It feels like their power is nerfed out so Hunter has a chance to show off his new power (even though he's already done that).

- Lastly, Flapjack tattoo, another sign of Hunter favoritism to me, so feel free to agree to disagree about this. Tattoo is one of the most noticeable traits on one's body.

It's ingrained on the skin and noticeable on the characters’ designs. How on earth everyone else has to have the tattoo of his Palisman? I get that they want to respect Flapjack, but this seems like Hunter has main character favoritism in the show. The group doesn't even bond with Flapjack that much. They can show respect for the Palisman in other ways, making a carving, album and so on. If they tattooed it, it's mostly because of Hunter. I still prefer Luz to have flowery tattoos or something else related to her father. And I prefer others having their tattoos of their own Palismen rather than Hunter's.

- Not only the Hexsquad but another side character also suffers from this, Alador. In Clouds on the Horizon, Alador shows his clear doubt towards Hunter. It makes perfectly sense because he was the Emperor's right-hand man, everyone is doubtful of him, including people at Hexside. They even intend to send him back to the coven. But when Alador doubts him, instead of explaining himself like he has with the Hexside teachers and students, he chooses to criticize Alador. "At least I didn't build him an army." That's a weak counterback. Did Hunter forget that he was the one coming to the Blight factory and inform that Belos wants the Abomatons exclusively?Belos is the most powerful person on the Isles, so both Odalia and Alador can't defy him and can only build the Abomatons only for him. They can't sell their invention to others anymore. It's hypocritical of Hunter to say that to Alador when he was in the same position like them, unable to defy Belos's power and demand. Instead of saying that "I'm leaving Belos" "I'm not going back to him." "I realized he wasn't like how he actually is" to counter Alador's doubt, Hunter criticizes Alador for also helping Belos with such a weak counterpoint. People only attack others personally when they run out of excuses in an argument. The writing of their interaction makes no sense, and intends to make Hunter the victim and Alador the bad guy. Unfortunately, I only saw how hypocritical Hunter is.

In short, the favoritism in Hunter's writing did damage to other characters' writing, including Luz, the main character. He is written as the most sympathetic character, while some characters are nerfed and OOC to make him outshine them. If the show is written like that, no wonder the fandom centres around him too much and put other characters down in favour of him.

[sickeninglyshoujo]

a/n: continually obsessed w/ cod dads, here's price

part 1: simon here

part 3: soap here

part 4: gaz here

masterlist here

warnings: pregnancy

word count: 1.7k

buy me a ko-fi

Price was afraid to have babies with you because of the age difference and you rolled your eyes every time he talked about being an old man and how a pretty young thing like you shouldn’t be dating him much less trying to get knocked up by someone his age. As if he’d let you even entertain the thought of leaving him for a young buck who couldn’t spoil you like you deserved.

Throughout your pregnancy he treated you like fine China, afraid he’d say the wrong thing and make you cry. He’s heard about women’s hormones during pregnancy even as you remained rock solid, rolling your eyes when he’d ‘yes dear’ you.

You tried to kick him out of the bathroom when morning sickness hit and he refused. Instead sitting on the tub next to you, petting your back as you leaned into the toilet and tried to soothe you, telling you how strong you were and how beautiful you were carrying his baby even with sick bubbling up your throat at the slightest movement “I thought morning sickness was only supposed to be in the morning,” you moaned with your forehead pressed against the cool floor tile. “It’’s a misnomer, love,” John said, removing himself from his perch on the tub to wet a cool washcloth and wipe down your face.

He wishes this phase was over, hates seeing you in pain like this.

That changes once the baby’s born then he’s ready to do it all over again. He didn’t know how attached he’s gotten to helping you do the things you couldn’t because of your belly  like putting on your shoes (looking up at your belly reverently the entire time before planting a kiss on it) for you and helping you pick things off the floor that your clumsy fingers dropped. He grew a particular affection for helping you rub shea butter and vitamin E oil over your rapidly appearing stretch marks.

Price insists on building the nursery furniture without reading the directions, “Know what I’m doin’ woman,” and to your chagrin he was right. Managed everything without a set of directions perched on his knee and instead chucked them to the side with the box.

The first thing he built was the fancy rocking chair he bought for you, insisting you don’t help him with anything “At least let me hold the screws John, I feel stupid just sitting here!”

To him, peace is this. This is what so many long nights holed up in some shithole on a mission have led to. Him sitting on the floor at your feet, building a life together while oldies play on the record player in the next room. He’s so overwhelmed in the moment he can’t help but pull your hand to his lips and kiss it and laughs at you when you ask him what’s wrong

“It’s all right, is the thing, love.”

When you get the first ultrasound, he stops at the store on the way home and purchased a picture frame (insisting you stay in the car and not overexert yourself, he’ll just be a moment, love). The next day he’s on base it now proudly sits facing him next to the photo of him and you vacationing in London with your faces squeezed together in the frame, selfie-style.

Tells anyone who enters his office about you and how far along you are, whether they ask or not, comparing the baby to different sized fruits, which parts were developing that week.

“She’s the size of a lime now, tiny little thing.”

“Can you imagine that she’s growing fingernails in my bird’s belly!”

Absolutely rubbed your swollen ankles in the evenings when he got home from work, peppering gentle kisses on them when he switched feet

Loved your pregnancy brain fog and would kiss your nose any time he got to remind you about something. He became the keeper of your calendar, scheduling your appointments and taking you to them.

When you go into labor, he’s on base in a meeting with some high-brass in a meeting on a highly classified matter. He’s not even allowed to bring his phone into the room. Instead having to turn it off and lock it in a safe prior to entering even with a baby on the way. He was aware this might happen and had instructed you on the line of succession.

“If you can’t get ahold of me, leave me a message lovie, then go down the line. Simon’s second-in–command-”

“Then Kyle, then Johnny, I know, John, you’ve drilled it into my head,” You soothe him, petting the creases he’s worn between his eyebrows, “It’ll be just fine, women have been doing it for thousands of years.”

“I’ll be there, I promise lovie,” He kisses your palm

You leave the message on John’s voicemail, a curt, “It’s time John, once I hang-up I’m dialing Simon, just like we practiced.”

Simon answers on the third ring, “Missus?” His rumbly voice cuts across the line.

“It’s time Simon and John’s still in the meeting since his phone is turned off.”

“Copy.”

The line goes dead leaving you blinking at the Call Ended screen.

You decide that Simon is aware of the drastic nature of the matter and instead busy yourself, you lug the baby bag and your purse to the floor next to the door and go through the checklist John had created in the front pocket: Stove off, windows shut and locked, televisions off…It wasn’t until Simon was letting himself into your front door that the list was likely a distraction from your husband to stop you from leaving on your own until Simon arrived.

Simon collects you with the cool confidence of a Lieutenant in the special forces.

No, don’t worry about the bags or the door, he’s got it, just get yourself into the car.

You try John’s number over and over on the way to the hospital, narrating Simon’s driving, “John, I’m going to have words with you when this is over, I cannot believe you let your pregnant wife in a car with what has to be the worst driver in all of Manchester!”

Before you know it, you’re being rushed into the hospital with Ghost snapping at the nurse at the desk for a wheelchair, NOW! He barks out orders in true military fashion leaving your head buried in your hands as you’re being escorted to the maternity ward.

“Now don’t worry, Sir, your wife is in excellent hands,” one of the nurses addresses Simon, all muscle pushing you in the wheelchair, unblinking and matching their pace.

“He’s not-” You try and interject.

“She better be,” Simon cuts you off, “And the labor will be handled with the utmost care or someone will have to answer to me personally.”

The contractions have started coming back to back and you’re pacing the hospital room, sucking on ice chips fed to you by a patient Simon.

Kyle and Johnny have also arrived and join him in his vigil, somehow maneuvering their way through the “Father and family only” policy the hospital has.

“She was adopted,” You later find out Kyle deadpanned at the security trying to stop him from entering the room, “Can’t you see the family resemblance?”

True to his word, John is there.

He’s rushed into the room, frazzled and running his hand over his beard, eyes darting until he finds you, “Hey sweet girl, I’m here, I’m here,” pointedly ignoring the nurse trying to count out the men in the room

(“Who are these men to you again miss?”)

(“I’m the father,” Gaz informs, flipping through a magazine to pass the time between bursts of activity with contractions.)

You moan out John’s name slapping at his chest weekly when he gathers you up into his arms and hugs you, “I’m mad at you John!”

“Don’t be mad, love, I made it just like I promised,” He tries to soothe you, smoothing his hands over your disheveled hair. “Not about being late, about getting me pregnant!” “It’s a bit late for that now, love,” He does his best to hide the smile twitching into place under his mustache. 

The boys remain in the room for the entire labor, John holding one hand and the other men trading off when your grip became too strong (“Dinnae know the lass could break my bones with just one hand,” Johnny moans shaking out his aching appendage.)

When the baby finally arrives, the doctor again looks around at the men in the room, “Would…Dad like to hold her?”

John finally extracts himself from your bruising grip to hold your daughter, eyes twinkling with joy at seeing the bundle covered in blood and viscera. Such a difference from every other time he’d been covered in the blood, these are stains he’ll gladly wear.

#1 baby wearer captain price

“I hardly get to hug you anymore because she’s always strapped to you!”

Price’s eyebrows go up at that, “Are you jealous, love?

 “Not jealous, but I miss my husband's arms around me!” When you say that with a slight pout in your voice, Price is quick to arrange Uncle Soap and Gaz so he can wine and dine you like old times. 

You make sure to wag your finger enough at the boys and remind them they’re there to babysit, not throw a rager and rile up the baby, even though you know your warnings are falling onto deaf ears. You wholeheartedly expect to return home to a cranky and overtired baby and two military men.

“Can’t neglect either of my girls” he’d mutter into your hair after pulling you close after dinner, holding you to his chest tightly in the middle of the sidewalk 

“You never do, John, you’re the best man I could’ve hoped for,” You muttered into his chest, “Never did I think I’d get someone so in love with me and our child.”

Will regularly fall asleep with the baby curled on his chest, boonie hat pulled down over his eyes, with your daughter also lulled to sleep by his steady breaths. You can’t help but take a photo every time it happens, so smitten with how your husband enjoys his quiet days on leave.

You can’t help but send the photo to the boys, having the group chat with them immediately blown up with emojis sent by Soap, laughing at the Captain’s prone form.

As a joke the photo ends up framed on Price’s desk, next to the ultrasound. Price actually enjoys having it to remind him of the peace he has waiting at home and the joke is ruined when the photo remains in it’s place of honor.

[eupheme]

I am back with another sneak peek to share, this time of a little wade x f!reader x logan something (2 snippets) (with roommates!logan & wade, and reader is wade’s girl) hope to have it out soon/this weekend! 💖

wade wilson x f!reader x logan howlett

rated e - voyeurism, jealousy, sharing

edit - fic is up here!

Logan can hear Wade from here.

Running that goddamn mouth already, and then sun’s only barely up.

Can hear you, too. The little whimpers that you try bite back. He can imagine the way your teeth sink into your lip - the thought has him shifting in his chair, breakfast forgotten.

So fuckin’ pretty, and the prick is too busy listening to himself to appreciate it.

Knows he could make you even louder, too. It’s almost like he’s at the mansion again, looking at a toy he can’t touch.

What a waste.

“That’s all?” Logan’s eyebrows lift as he sneers - ignoring another reference he doesn’t understand, “Been going at it for a while.”

As soon as he says it, he regrets it. Opening himself up for an attack. He can already hear the sing-song response at the admittance that he’s been listening.

Luckily, Wade zeros in on the exact wrong part. Sputtering, as water drips down his chin, “That’s all? What do you mean, that’s all?”

“You heard me,” The paper crinkles in his fist, “In fact, I’m surprised you even got round one off. Much less that she’s sticking around.”

“You wound me, and yet, flatter.” Wade’s hand flattens over his heart, “I never knew you thought about me like that.”

“I haven’t been thinking about you, you ass,” Logan snarls, teeth bared, “I just know that if you’re talking, then you’re not doing it right.”

Wade grins at that.

His eyes flicking over him in a way that has Logan bristling - his voice going syrupy-smooth, “Is that right? You think you can do better, mutton chops?”

The breath he inhales is ragged. That feeling back again - an urge to curl his hand around Wade’s throat, and squeeze.

“Yeah,” Logan growls out, “Yeah, I fucking do.”

The table shakes as Wade plops himself down on the edge, a leg crossing over the other. Interest gleaming in his eyes as his head tilts towards the bedroom door.

“Alright. Bring on the magic tricks, Angier.” His hands splay wide, wiggling, “Gonna show me how to make your fingers disappear?”

(the chokehold this movie has on me)

[eimids]

alexia putellas nsfw alphabet pretty please? 🤍

Alexia Putellas NSFW alphabet:

All of the letters cause i'm nice today

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Alexia will cuddle you sure, but first she usually wants to make sure your are cleaned and that you drink something. She will ask many times if you are okay and if you need anything.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your lips. She loves to kiss them, she loves when you suck with them, she loves anything to do with your lips. She wants them on her body all day every day.

For herself she doesn't necessarily have a favorite part. She just loves that her body is healthy enough to play football and do what she loves.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

She loves to make you squirt and when you do, she is fascinated with the amount of cum that leaves your body. She isn't bothered if some of it ends up in her mouth.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

She LOVES to have her way outside of the bedroom. She is a dominant personality and loves to give you simple orders and tasks. During the day she will message you things like "drink water, love", "Have you been good girl for me?" or "remember to take care of yourself bebe". She just wants to take care of youu.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Alexia knows what she is doing. You have dated for a long time and at first both of you were a bit inexperienced but now she knows your body like the back of her hand.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

She usually likes watching you ride her. She will be on her back and you will be riding her strap while your boobs bounce. That's the best view that she can imagine.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Alexia is a serious person and during the moment she likes to be stern, not neccesirely serious but focused. She will goof around before and after but during she will be very focused.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Alexia waxes her pubic hair often. She likes to have it all clean and tidy. But although she waxes and likes herself with no hair, she doesn't really care if you have hair or not.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

She is romantic but always in bed. Of course she will tell you how much she loves you and will have very intimate moments with you after romantic dinners. But usually it isn't very romantic, more passionate.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Alexia doesn't masturbate often, she will call you to help herself to get off but she would much rather have you in person. One thing she absolutely loves is to watch you touching yourself. She could come by the sight of you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

She loves somno. She loves to wake you up by fingering you pretty cunt. She loves to hear you sleepy moans and see you squirming. She was scared to ask you about it, but once you enthusiastically said yes, she was VERY exited to try it for the first time.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Alexia loves to have you all to herself in the safeness of your home. Kitchen? She loves it. Shower? Say no more. Bedroom? Amazing. As long as it's in a place where only she can have you, she's happy.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Alexia is a big fan of you in tight clothes. She likes when you walk around the house in your little shorts that show a bit of ass

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Well beside the obvious ones like not doing anything that can seriously hurt you, she will say no to any breath play. She will not choke you in any way, not even just slightly. But other than that, she is very open to anything.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Alexia LOVES your tongue and mouth. She usually loves giving but if she can have your mouth on herself, she will have it so happily. She loves sitting on your face and just grinding on your tongue.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

She will have you in anyway. She likes slow and sweet morning fucks but she also likes to blow your back off during a heated moment in the bedroom. She doesn't really care as long as she can have you.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Alexia loves to have quickies. If she can eat your pussy quickly before her practice, she will. Those happen quite often in your household.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Alexia is a risk taker, on and off the pitch. She likes to experiment in the bedroom and in fact you guys probably have tried everything under the sun.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

As an athlete, she can go for a long time. She has a high stamina and will go for all night. On her behalf, she doesn't last very long before coming. She can take only take a little before she will be screaming your name.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

She has her fair share of toys, and she loves to use them on you. As long as you are comfortable with the gags, vibrators, dildos, restraints and even some anal plugs, she will gladly use them on you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Alexia will tease you relentlessly. She will make subtle comments during the day to rile you up until you are basically all over her just needing her to fuck you. If you are at a party, she is happy to touch your thigh, kiss your neck, comment how sexy you look just to see the reaction she gets out of you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Alexia doesn't moan that much, but rather breathes really loudly. But if a moan comes out, she will happily let it. On the other hand she loves hearing you. She loves how reactive you are to her and how your beautiful moans fill the room every time you she touches you.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

my brain isn't braining rn and i cant think of anything, sorry not sorry

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Alexia loves to wear boxers. She really likes how comfortable they are and just how she can make you go insane when she is only wearing boxers and a t shirt.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Her's isn't very high to have you touch her. She obviously needs your touch and loves when you make her cum, but she is happy to just get you off and make you cum.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Alexia doesn't fall asleep easily. She will not fall asleep if there are any noise, light or other disruptances. When she has you sleeping next to her peasefully, she will try to get some sleep for herself.

[newtonsheffield]

Would you ever write another fic with Neddy as a kid? Maybe Kate and Anthony had a one night stand, but Kate only got his middle name (in a little game of them not saying their first name) and when she finds out she is pregnant she can't find Anthony to tell him until one day, years later, she sees him on the tv on the Royal Wedding, "Viacount Bridgerton" written under his face.

Oh my god.

It’s the shock of her life. Even more shocking than sitting in her bathroom hoping the test wasn’t going to be positive weeks after she hooked up with a guy in a hotel.

She knows exactly two things about that guy

1) his middle name is Edmund

2) The night they hooked up was the anniversary of his father’s death.

When she realised she was pregnant she really did try to find him but neither of those facts gave her a lot to go by and he knew less about her. It was the way they’d designed their game. He picked a nickname for her and she only used his middle name after that. They’d gotten a hotel room rather than go to either of their homes. Another part of the game. And now she has a three year old who’s starting to ask questions about his Dad that Kate can’t answer.

She didn’t have any plan to name him Edmund, but the second she held him she saw how the name suited him. The only thing he would have from his father even if she hadn’t told Mary and Edwina that. Neddy is the most beautiful little boy. He’s sweet and kind and he loves cuddling with her and Newton.

But imagine her surprise when she’s sat in Mary’s living room with Neddy on her knee and none of them are paying attention to the news segment about a Viscount campaigning for a new library in Kent until Kate freezes when she hears his voice.

“Holy fuck!”

It’s out of her mouth before she can stop it because there he is. Anthony, Viscount Bridgerton apparently. The man who’d given her a wry smile when she’d said Edmund didn’t suit him. You aren’t the first person to tell me that. He looks exactly how she remembers him and she barely has time to process the fact that Neddy’s father is a member of the aristocracy.

“What?” Edwina frowned. “Do you have huge opinions about public libraries?”

Kate shook her head, cradling Neddy who was about to fall asleep. “That’s N-E-D-D-Y’s D-A-D.”

Both of them are stunned. Kate is as well. And maybe she should have just kept going about her life but she didn’t know how. So there she is, standing in the office she googled. Clearing her throat when the receptionist asks if she’s expected.

“I doubt it, but I really do need to see him.”

“Are you and he acquainted?”

“We… he might not remember…”

At just that moment the door to another office down the hall opened and out he strode, Anthony, Viscount Bridgerton, just as handsome as she remembered. He stopped dead when he looked at her, his lips parting in surprise before a slow smile spread across his lips.

“Ah, Trouble. We meet again.”

“You have no idea.”