#i have to complain a little i’ve been here since i was what. 10? i dont even know

[peitalo]

For each individual page of the book of bill that you read you have to then reread the entirety of journal 3. Yeah per page. Yeah it says it in fine print in atbash cipher

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

night out

a/n: we back babyyy!!! i haven't been able to stop thinking about these two for fucking months, so i wrote both this aaaaand another part to wrap up their story and get it out of my system.

summary: “I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader x ex!peter parker, light smut, reader’s mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, bffs kate bishop and yelena belova, french rave, dancing, kissing, over-the-clothes fun, foreplay, references to public sex, choking, manhandling, jealousness, possessiveness, angst, arguments, brat mode activated (though its totally justified), these hoes are not dealing with their emotions in a healthy way but it's just for the sake of yummy drama

word count: 1993

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“I thought we were just going to a cute little wine bar, not a fucking rave,” you yelled over the music as your friends dragged you further into the warehouse. 

“Oh, come on, babe,” Yelena boomed, slinking her arm around both yours and Kate's neck, “don’t be a chicken now.”

“Yeah,” your brunette friend on the other side of Yelena tilted her frame to catch your apprehensive eye, “you already sneaked out, so you might as well make it count.” 

“I hate it when you’re right,” you groaned, your gaze narrowed to a squint as you got used to the warm flashing lights that dully illuminated the club. 

“Then you must always hate me,” a smug smirk spread across her features before the trio of you ventured further into the crowded space. 

As the night faded away, you found yourselves bathing in the strobes of neon light as your bodies moved on their own accord, like you were all part of a hive, buzzing together in harmony.

But then when you tapped both of your dancing friends on their shoulders and ushered their ears to lean in close to your lips, you told them, “I’m gonna go get some water,” receiving two thumbs up before you made your way through the crowd to the curved bar in the corner. 

However, after the bartender handed you a plastic bottle and you tilted your head back to take a much-needed sip, a familiar voice found your ears from across the bar. 

“As I live and fucking breathe,” you tipped the bottle back down and glanced down the way at the unexpected figure moseying closer to where you stood. 

“Peter!” a surprised smile couldn’t help but spread across your features, “what are you doing here?” 

Settling in beside you, he said, “it’s a Saturday night, where else would I be?”

“No, I mean, what are you doing in Paris?” 

“Oh, what, am I not allowed to be in your city anymore since the breakup?” he joked.

“No, of course, you can be here.” 

Leaning in even closer so that he didn’t have to yell as loud, he asked, “so how are you doing?”

“Me? I’m good, yeah,” your head bobbed in a nod, “how about you?”

“Can’t complain,” his gaze washed over you as if no time had passed at all, “so… can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you shifted the water bottle to your other hand. 

“You seeing anyone?” 

“Oh, wow,” you half coughed, “Peter Parker, king of subtlety.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count, so I figured subtlety went out the window a long time ago,” he smirked, “so, are you?”

“I–, uhm…” your eyes averted a moment as you uttered, “no.” 

You weren’t, it was true. Though the reason for why you’d sneaked out in the first place did have to do with a matter of the heart. 

You’d asked your friends what their advice would be if you hypothetically needed to get over someone. They both of course assumed that you were referring to the man standing before you in the disco and not the person who watched you like a hawk every minute of every day. The method they had suggested wasn’t a sound one, though one that still found you desperate enough to try. 

To go out, meet someone else and bang the dude out of your system. 

“Can I ask you something else?” Peter asked again, ripping you out of your thoughts, away from your bodyguard and back in the moment. As you offered him a nod, he smiled brightly, “you wanna dance?”

And that’s how you found yourself in the middle of a crowded dancefloor, plastered against your ex.

It didn’t take long before your lips reunited as well, staying locked as you both let your hands wander, though for you it wasn’t entirely in the spirit of rekindling something that you’d missed, and more to help you forget about the person who you truly wished to lose yourself on a dancefloor with. 

“Fuck,” you heard Peter groan in your ear and his desperation poked your lower abdomen for the attention you used to give it, “you wanna go slip into the bathroom?”

“Uhh,” you giggled as his lips tickled the side of your neck, “what kinda woman do you take me to be?”

“Mine,” he smiled, “that’s who. I know you. A club bathroom is nothing… remember Amsterdam?”

“Y-yeah, I remember,” your body tingled at the thought. 

“That’s also an option, if that’s the kind of mood you're in,” he winked. 

Chuckling as he squeezed your tit, you shook your head lightly, “I’m not fucking you here on the dancefloor.” 

“Oh, come on, it–”

But the rest of your ex’s sentence was cut short as a figure forced itself between you two and pried you apart.  

Instinctively reaching out for Peter as he was forcefully pushed back, your arm then faltered as you blinked up to discover who had shoved him. 

“Barnes,” a shiver ran down your spine at the stormy expression plastered all over his face, a side of him you’d never witnessed before, “I–”

But he cut you off, only to bark, “out, now.”

“But I–”

“Do you wanna walk on your own or should I just toss you over my shoulder?” he glared down at you just before you watched Peter’s hand plant itself on Bucky’s broad shoulder. 

“Hey, dude, don’t touch her, back off,” your ex tried to square up to the intimidating guard dog. 

“No, no, Peter, it’s alright,” you rushed to explain, knowing full well that your bodyguard could and would put him in the hospital, “he’s–…” your eyes briefly flickered up to Bucky’s steely blue eyes, still directed at you, “he’s my bodyguard,” before you let your touch graze Peter’s forearm, “I’m so sorry, it was great seeing you again, but I have to go.” 

Getting dragged out of the club like a perp from a crime scene was not the way you’d imagined your night would wrap up. 

After he’d virtually tossed you in the back and slammed the car door shut behind you, you fished out your phone and swiftly sent your friends an explanatory text while you half-watched Bucky march around the vehicle to the driver’s side. 

The silent treatment he then served you nearly felt worse than the heated words you imagined tumbled around in his head as he fumed, his knuckles nearly turned white from how fiercely he was gripping onto the steering wheel. 

But when you finally mustered the courage to break the eerie silence, your words came out just above a whisper, “I’m sorry…”

“Are you?” his eyes snapped up to find yours in the review mirror, “really? Because I don’t fucking buy it.” 

“Well, I am!” you threw up your arms, “what do you want me to do?” 

“Not sneak out like a fucking teenager to get drunk with your little boyfriend,” 

“I’m not drunk and he’s not my boyfriend!” 

Not taking any of your words to heart, Bucky went on, “you know how stupid this was, right? What if something had happened, huh? I know you didn’t personally read the threats you got back when I first got this job, but trust me when I tell you that if any of those fuckers had gotten their hands on you tonight, you’d be lucky if you were still breathing when the sun rose. This is exactly the sort of reckless behaviour that caused you to need my help in the first place.”

Your mouth then fell open, utterly stunned at his audacity, “oh my god… you’re unbelievable…” you uttered breathlessly before hazily commanding, “stop the car…”

“No–”

“Stop the fucking car!” you roared, casting your gaze to him once more till you felt his foot step on the break. 

As the car screeched to a stop, you wasted no time ripping the door open and storming out. 

Though you didn’t dare to look back, you still heard him exit the vehicle as well and shadow you as you wandered a few paces away, just far enough for you to be able to get some air. 

“Y/n,” you heard him from just a few meters behind you, “get back in the car–”

But you didn’t shift your feet as you then interrupted, back still turned to him.

“I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

“What?”

“Well aren’t you?” you heatedly twisted around to face him, “because it sure fucking looks like it. Getting all fucking possessive, ripping me away from my ex before I can crawl my way back to him, before I get the chance to feel anyone inside of me but you–”

“Stop–”

“Is that it? You just want me all to yourself?” you kept on poking, too blind by your fury to consider the consequences, “you want it to be you that I’m so in love with that I’d make you personalised porn, which would consequently ruin my life and cause me to have a babysitter essentially stalking me.”

“Stop!” he took a step closer as he barked.

“Unless you’ve already seen the tape,” your feet shifted back, keeping him at a distance, “fantasising that it’s for you, getting yourself off to the image of me bouncing on that pretty pink dildo–”

Your sentence then crumbled into a shrivelled yelp as you felt his cold metal hand seize your neck and push you the last few inches up against the brick wall behind you. 

His fingers didn’t squeeze you in the slightest, though you still knew just how easy it would have been for him to tighten his grip and turn it into more than just a raging warning. 

“You done?” he spat as his eyes pieced directly into your soul, “or do you wanna give me more reasons why you’re nothing more than a spoiled little brat, why I should just quit now and not have to deal anymore with what a fucking pain you are in my ass?”

For the life of you, no attempts at offering him an answer were successful on your lips. 

He scared you. 

He’d never scared you before. 

Both because of the explosion you’d undoubtedly made even worse than it had to be, but also his fleeting threat of leaving you for good. 

It all terrified you… 

Though, there was also a different sensation that it awoke within you, one that caused your eyes to flutter down towards his lips, an action that your bodyguard surprisingly mirrored as well as your heated breaths synced up. 

You had no idea who moved first, if it was you or him, but the next thing you knew, you were kissing him.

With adrenaline still pumping in your veins, you clawed at his broad frame as you let your tongue flicker out and flutter against his own. The steely hand that had locked itself around your neck softened and whisked down your form, mirroring your own starving touch as he securely held you like you were about to fall. 

However, just as your palm slid down to find the bulge in his pants, rubbing it needily before your fingers tried to seize the short zipper, Bucky took a large step back, snapping to his senses and creating a wide distance between him and your melted form against the brick. 

His eyes refused to meet your foggy ones as he held them to the ground, slowly catching his breath before uttering, “get in the car,” defeat shining through in his low tone.

“Bucky–,” you tried, but without success as he then cut you off. 

“Please, just–…” his gaze fluttered shut a moment as you then heard him sombrely promise, “look, I’ll make sure your mom doesn’t hear word of what happened tonight. If we go now, then we’ll arrive before any of the staff wakes up, no one will notice.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble

[ajortga]

cute and absolute

pairing: jenna ortega x actress!fem reader

word count: 1.8k+

summary: it doesn't go unnoticed that you are one of the only people that jenna lets her walls down with.

based off request!

-

Where Jenna only accepts r's touch ??? Tyy

-🥝

-

Jenna is squirming in the car, screaming at her friend to drive faster so she can eat. 

“I’ve been on set since 6 fucking AM! It’s been 10 hours and I’m hungry! I skipped breakfast for this damn shit! What the hell do you mean you can’t get a burrito right now? All I want is a damn burrito and you’re telling me that we have to pick up Y/N, our friend, and first buy the book you wanted because it’s closer? CLOSER?” She screams, gripping her knuckles that were already white enough.

Jacob, one of Jenna’s friends laughs hard, a little threatened but not enough to be stopped. “It’ll only take 15 minutes at most! It’s more convenient, the bookstore is along the way and closer to our location, then we can just buy any burrito you want aft-” 

“CLOSER? YOU KNOW WHAT’S CLOSER?” Jenna throws her arms up in dramatic effect, huffing, “Me going insane! My sanity is at 10% right now, and if I don’t get my burrito this instant, I’m going to crash this car and fucking run to the nearest place that has a burrito. DON’T touch me!” She yells, smacking her friend's arm away because she cannot think properly at this moment.

“I’m STARVING, and I’m a woman who needs food to survive in this film ECONOMY! Can’t you drive any faster?-"

Jenna suddenly hears your voice outside from the slightly opened car window. She peeks her eyes out, her hands holding the glass. She suddenly sees you, looking sweet, happy, and perfectly sane as you come out of your driveway. “Hi, Jenna!” You exclaim, completely unaware that she was just ballistic for a burrito 5 seconds ago.

Her frustrated demeanor melts off suddenly, a goofy grin on her face as she sees just how happy you are. She brings her hand up, waving. “Hi!”

She just forgot how hungry she was and the person she just was less than a minute ago. Why was she so upset that she had to wait longer so Jacob could pick you up? She stopped feeling the need to bang her head on the nearest wall. 

“Jacob was telling me that you had a long time on set, something about how I had to save him because you were going crazy, so I got you some snacks.” You pull out a bag filled with goodies from your pantry.

The man that was driving stuttered as Jenna slowly turned to him, “I did not say it like that.”

“Oh yeah?” You ask, grabbing your phone and swiping and squinting. “It says here, “Please save me from this woman, she’s acting like a toddler that just shit her pants. SOS, crying crying emoji..” Um, oh and here. “This girl is so dramatic, complaining about not getting her burrito, she's wailing in the back seat. Please save her.” Don’t lie to me.” You state with a grin as Jenna munches on chips.

He rolls his eyes, grumbling. 

Jenna interrupts, “Okay, Jacob, you traitor.”

“You cannot be talking, slapping my arm away when I try to calm you down but Y/N being some sort of angel and making you all cuddly.”

The fuming brunette slowly turns back to normal as you slither your arm around hers, laying your head on her shoulder. “Glad to know you love me. How was filming without me?”

Jenna sniffs, letting you ruffle her hair, “One of the directors was trying to show us how the scene should play out, the popcorn in the microwave caught on fire.”

You nod, awkwardly as you look around. “Was it your popcorn?” You guess.

She huffs and sinks into you, “Yes, and now I'm starving."

-

Aliyah is losing her mind. First, her father was fixing the doorbell, and now it seems to be ringing on its own. Now, her older sister won’t cooperate as she tries to steady Jenna’s legs that are in the air. The brunette shrieks, causing Aliyah to pull away and make her tumble.

Aliyah groans, “This is the thirteenth time already! Let me make this clear, you asked me to help you do this random one handed handstand, but you won’t let me even touch you so I can get you into the right pose? You’re so weird.” 

Jenna shrugs, her head on the floor as she hangs upside down from the couch. “I am letting you touch me!”

“No you aren’t! You start shrieking and then falling face flat when I do! How the hell are we going to make this work if you won’t cooperate?”

The two siblings hear some shuffling as you crawl through the dog door, fitting yourself in. They blink, staring at you as you wiggle yourself through and throw a hand in the air, showing that you brought food. “Burritos!”

“Y/N! What are you doing? Go through the back door you doofus! You could’ve just knocked!”

You finally manage to squirm your way in as you stand up, brushing some leaves off of you and throwing them into the trash. You flip your hair, crawling through doggy doors were one of your talents. You signal her Jenna to hear you out as you put up a finger, “First of all, I was ringing the doorbell like, five thousand times, then I knocked, and no one was answering! I’m not letting the food get cold.” You pause, looking at Jenna who is currently staring at you upside down and hanging from the couch. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Trying to do a one handed handstand.” 

“Oh, wait. Oh! I know how to do that!” Happily, you hand her sister the bag with burritos and tacos, before collapsing to the floor.

There was awkward silence as Jenna and Aliyah stared at each other, “Um..”

Jenna always knew you as the silly girl across the block. Even after 5 years of friendship, she thinks you’ve just gotten sillier.

“That wasn’t it, I haven’t done it in a year. Hold on.” You position yourself, slowly doing a handstand. Jenna can see your shirt slowly rising up and showing your stomach as you keep yourself steady. You lift an arm off and hang it up. “Did I do it?”

Jenna giggles and flops down the couch. “Yeah. I think so.” She crawls behind you and picks up your body that was upside down.

“Hey!”

-

“Okay, slow and steady..” You say softly, squinting and holding Jenna’s legs, making sure she was in the right position. “Aliyah, try steadying her while she puts one arm up.”

“No way, nope.” She argues, eating her taco, “She literally kept shrieking when I tried to and starting kicking and squirming.”

“She’s not shrieking right now?”

“Well you’re just different I guess, you’re her best friend, so..”

You raise your eyebrows, a smile tugging on your lips as you tickle Jenna and make her fall on you. “You just love me, don’t you!?” You giggle, hugging her as she squeals and nuzzles against you.

-

It was late in the evening as you got changed into pajamas and flopped onto your bed. Nights like this always felt better, where you would switch on a show, read a book, or call friends. You decide to check some emails, looking over some asking for you to star in movies, replying to companies that want you as their ambassador, you click out of the tab. 

A small ding sounds on your phone as you see that Emma had texted you. 

meh meh myers: LMAO look at this article i found about u and jenna: https://hypotheticalsofcelebrities

y/n: okay my own researcher and detective, or should i say pippa fitz amobi? u get me?

y/n: lemme go check it out

meh meh myers: yus ily

y/n: ur the pip to my ravi 🥺

meh meh myers: corny

You laugh at yourself as you open the link, the article named ‘Escalating Relationships, Cute or Absolute?’

You roll your eyes and scroll down.

Fans say that they’ve picked up on the actress’s behavior, scooting away from castmates who’ve gotten too close during interviews and only staying close to one or two close ones. Not that she’s uncomfortable, taken from the way she seems unfazed most times. But, it is noticed that she seems like a bundle of happiness with individuals. A clip right here shows her with a fellow castmate, Y/N L/N, both starred in the famous series, Wednesday. It is caught on how Ortega was silently making sure that her friend was okay during an interview that had turned a little more uncomfortable for the other girl, squeezing her hand and clinging onto her. It seemed to have worked, for how the girl began to relax. What a friendship they have!

The tiny moments of comfort and physical touch occur in other interviews too, as well as cute Instagram comments on each other's posts that come off as playful flirting. Some comments are pasted here.

Jenna Ortega commenting on Y/N’s post of a photoshoot press for Wednesday last year in September:

jennaortega: That’s my girl

Another one on a post of the girl just doing an Instagram photo dump this year in March:

jennaortega: if you squint closely you can see me doing the dishes for my wife in the third photo

jennaortega: i will take your last name if i have to

jennaortega: my woman, i love you

Y/N L/N commenting on a post for Jenna’s Adidas campaign last year in November:

y/n_l/n: i will be the only one applauding the longest for u

y/n_l/n: tis is why i got adidas merch

Fast forward to Christmas with a dump of Jenna’s favorite people (Y/N included) in December last year: 

y/n_l/n: I love you this is why I wanted to bake the turkey

y/n_l/n: merry christmas to my favorite person

Another one to a selfie of Jenna posted this year in April:

y/n_l/n: oh i’m interested, what’s your number?

y/n_l/n: sign my contract to be with me forever? comes with a long time of house wife chores!

-

What do you think? Are they just really good friends with the cutest flirting? Or secretly dating? Answer us down in our poll, cute, or absolute?

Final vote with 20K votes

Cute: 24%

Absolute: 76%

—

carrots4life: but like, their relationship is both cute and absolute! why aint that a option?

mangofrosties: they are def dating istg i’ve never seen them both this happy unless they are together

-

You smile, looking away from your laptop as you kick your feet. You do feel like Jenna had a soft spot for you, she always hugged you first, tried picking you up, falling asleep with each other on set. But she was just your best friend, you would all say to interviewers.

The door slightly creaks as you turn, smiling. “Hey baby, I think you should see this.”

Jenna flops on the bed with you, letting you cuddle her as she kisses you and reads your screen, a goofy grin on her face.

“I guess they caught on that we might be more than friends. I mean, it's not a lie that we are best friends, girlfriends is just a small little detail."

“Cute and absolute.”

[dashing-disaster]

Bad Beer and Naked Rodents

Thank you @xmidhel for beta reading!

also on AO3

“You know,” Sal drawls, twisting the cap off another beer and handing it over, “for someone with an above average IQ, you’re dense as fuck.”

Tommy glares but accepts the bottle without protest. It’s his third. He takes a long sip and shudders. Bud Light. Why did Sal have to be such a fucking stereotype? But he was too tired to complain. He was too tired to do much of anything right now.

“He’s not wrong,” Lucy said to his left and Tommy directed his glare towards her instead. Like Sal, she wasn’t impressed.

“What? You know it’s true. There you are, genuinely happy for the first time in…” she pauses to think, “for the first time since I met you, actually.”

“Ever” Tommy supplies miserably, sinking further into the couch cushions. Something pokes into his right kidney and he reaches underneath himself, pulling out a small doll with messy blue hair, a pink ruffled dress and a … horn?

“Unicorn Barbie,” Sal exclaims and snags the doll from his hand. “Thanks man, you just saved this household a lot of sweat and tears. Look, babe, he found her!”

“Uncle Tommy to the rescue,” Gina says dryly, without even looking up from her laptop where she’s furiously typing some email that’s probably important and Tommy feels a pang of guilt at intruding on her peace and quiet unannounced at 9pm on a week day, Lucy in tow. He’s unable to dwell on it, however, because Lucy pipes up again.

“Let’s circle back here for a moment, your life was going great, you were happy, your hair was even starting to look good-“

“Hey!”

“Don’t interrupt me, Thomas. My point is, you got scared of commitment for three seconds and tell Evan Buckley, Evan Buckley, to go off to frolic on Grindr? I’m sorry, but do you know how stupid that is? Do you have any idea what happens to guys like Evan Buckley on Grindr?”

“Say his name like that one more time and I swear to God.” It comes out with far more venom than intended and he cringes internally. Why does he have to be such a bitch? It’s a credit to their love for him that none of his friends even bat an eye.

They’re not gentle either, and Tommy’s kind of glad about it. He doesn’t deserve gentle. Not now, maybe not ever again.

“What happens to guys like him on Grindr,” Sal asks curiously and then frowns. “And what do you know about Grindr?”

“My cousin wanted to try it out but he’s super paranoid about technology stealing his data, man’s still got a Nokia. So we set up his profile on my phone. He decided it wasn’t for him 10 minutes in but I kept the app and sometimes I go window shopping when downtime gets too long.”

“Why am I not surprised in the slightest,” Tommy mutters into his beer. Lucy is undeterred.

“Anyway, Gabe’s no hag either and similarly baby-faced as Buck so every time I open the app they’re on him in minutes. Seriously, it’s like The Walking Dead and some of the messages I get are borderline illegal. And don’t get me started on the dick pics. They’re not even nice-looking dicks most of the time.”

“Is there such a thing as a nice-looking dick? I’ve always found they all look a little like mole-rats.”

Sal, who’s been fiddling with Unicorn Barbie’s hair in a futile attempt to get out some of the knots pauses and makes a pitiful little sound staring wide-eyed at his wife who’s still neither looking up from her screen, nor is she pausing her aggressive typing, and Tommy’s both impressed and a little scared of that level of multi-tasking.

“Don’t worry, bud, Gi loves your dick. You’ve got three little monsters to prove it.”

Sal shoots Lucy a look so dirty Tommy almost laughs.

“I love the man attached to it. It’s still a mole-rat, though.” A beat of silence, then Gina looks up from her laptop for the first time in two hours, finding her husband’s eyes across the coffee table. “I love mole-rats.”

Lucy snorts, but Sal looks so pleased even Tommy has to smile.

“Still, though,” Lucy picks up the previous topic again, “are we sure it’s a good idea to throw Buck into a world of mole-rats and creepy old dudes wanting him to call them ‘daddy’?”

Tommy decidedly does not look in Sal’s direction. He loves Lucy and Gina but this is a topic one only discusses with one’s very best of friends.

“A world of disappointment, more like. Buck’s had Tommy now, anything else will just be a let-down.” The dirty grin spreading on Sal’s face tells Tommy he’s about to be in trouble. And he’s right.

“We didn’t call my boy here Nine-Inch-Nail in high school for nothin’.”

“Okay, first of all, that is such a lie,” the grin goes impossibly wider, “and second, I am not 9 inches, okay?”

Three sets of eyes wander down to his crotch and if it wasn’t these exact three people, Tommy would be so uncomfortable right now. As it is, he simply huffs and shoves a throw pillow into his lap, crossing his arms like a petulant toddler.

“I’m 8.6.”

Silence.

Then all three of them burst out laughing. He tries to hold on to his petulance, but he only lasts about ten seconds before the corners of his mouth begin to twitch and he finds himself joining in against all odds.

“As I was saying,” Sal hiccups after they’ve all calmed down again, “Buck doesn’t need any other mens’ mole-rats. He only needs Tommy’s giant mole-rat.”

Tommy groans.

“God, I hate you.”

Half past midnight Gina pulls the plug and throws them out. Sal tries to offer him the guest room, but he declines. As much as he loves his best friend’s daughters, he doubts he’ll can be Fun Uncle Tommy in the morning and he hates disappointing them.

As they wait for their Uber to pull up, Tommy feels strong fingers wrap around his wrist and a moment later he’s pulled into a tight hug.

“Don’t fuck up your life like that, Tom, not again. You were finally so happy. And I like you happy. ” Sal’s voice is quiet next to his ear, but there’s a softness to it that is usually reserved for his daughters. Tommy feels his throat close up and he buries his face into Sal’s shoulder.

“I just don’t know how not to, Sallie,” he admits and hates how forlorn it sounds.

How forlorn he feels.

“You trust him. I know it’s the most terrifying thing to do, believe me I do. But you gotta.”

Sal pulls back to catch his eyes, but keeps hold of Tommy’s shoulders.

“This man is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, Tom, and if you give up on what you have now, you will regret it for the rest of your life. But in order to keep it, you need to let him in and you need to trust him to know what he wants. It’s not your place to decide that for him.

And I know you want to let him set the pace, but you can only do that as long as you’re able to keep up. This relationship is about the both of you and if things are moving too fast, you have to tell him that. It’s not fair to either of you if you don’t.

And Tommy, you have to talk to him about your shit.”

Tommy opens his mouth to protest but Sal shuts him up with a shake of his head.

“No buts. Buck isn’t stupid. Do you really think he hasn’t clocked by now that you have trauma? I’m not saying you gotta tell him all of it at once. But you need to start somewhere.”

Sal pulls him back in roughly and presses a kiss to his temple.

 “I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you. He wants to take care of your heart so badly. Let him. Let him love you. All of you.

And if it all goes to shit anyway, you know that I’ll be right here. I always will be.”

Tommy bursts into tears.

It’s 3am when he finally finds himself knocking at the same door he closed behind himself for what he thought would be the last time less than ten hours ago.

It’s telling that it takes Evan just under half a minute to open it. It’s more telling that his eyes are red-rimmed, and he’s still wearing the same clothes.

Evan’s terrible at hiding his emotions, doesn’t even try to most of the time. It’s one of the many things Tommy loves about him.

Right now, he seems to experience all of them at the same time.

Hope, when he opens the door. Relief, when his eyes fall on Tommy in the hallway.

Hurt, anger, fear, concern, fondness, and finally back to hope.

He’s silent. Waiting.

Tommy takes a breath.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

They look at each other, the insecurity and fear hanging between them like a cloud of vapor, so thick Tommy can almost taste it.

But there’s something else, too. Smaller, more fragile, and yet persistent like a moth chasing the light.

It’s the same thing Tommy’s seen in Evan’s eyes earlier.

Hope.

For a time, neither of them moves, as if they’re scared, that if they do it’ll spook and leave them alone in the dark again.

A minute passes. Two.

Somewhere in the building a baby begins to cry.

Evan steps aside.

[jjscrybaby]

prompt 19: ‘here’s my number.’

jj maybank x fem!reader | fluff | (reader has hair, no use of y/n, first meeting.)

not proofread and also not my best, i’m trying to get back into the hang of writing so i figured that maybe if i start posting my stuff it could give me the motivation again. hope you enjoy! :)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

JJ was sure he knew everyone that lived on the island. Whether they were a Pogue or a Kook, 9 times out of 10 he’d heard of them. Whether it was because there had been a scandal about Mr Anderson cheating on his wife with his secretary, or Mimsy hooking up with Topper Thornton at the most recent kegger, he’d heard of them.

So, when he checked over the itinerary for the delivery’s he was doing for Heyward he knew exactly who lived in the house he was heading to. An older couple, been on the island since they were kids, rich but not overly snobby. He walked up the driveway and knocked on the door, expecting the elder woman to open it since her husband’s recently broken his ankle. He had to do a double take when the wooden door was pulled open and the girl that stood there was anything but an old lady.

You were beautiful, hair tied up in a ponytail and pretty eyes that stared back at him. You looked a little tired, sporting a tee and baggy shorts that he assumed still costed more than his rent based on the logo.

“Hello?” Your sweet voice brought him out of his thoughts, mouth parted as he just stared at you.

“Oh, uh, sorry. Maybe I have the wrong house?” He looked around in confusion. The number was right, but last he checked there wasn’t a beautiful girl living in this house.

“Who are you looking for?” You questioned. He said your grandparents last name, making you nod. “You’ve got the right house.”

He just nodded slowly, handing you the two bags of groceries. They always ordered an absurd amount of bread. “Right. I didn’t realise they had a roommate.”

You giggled at his words, putting the plastic bags down — Kiara wouldn’t be happy — and grabbed your handbag from the side to get out your purse. “I’m their granddaughter.”

“Ohhh.” That made more sense. They didn’t seem the type to look on Craigslist for someone in need of a home. You held a twenty out to him. “Uh, it’s already paid for.”

“A tip,” you explained, nudging your hand closer to him. “Can’t be enjoyable walking around in this heat with all those heavy bags.”

“This is my last stop,” he shrugged, still not accepting the money. He wasn’t sure why, normally he’d be grabbing at it with greedy hands; maybe even trying to talk you into giving him more. Thats what he did with all of Heyward’s other customers.

“Just take the money,” you laughed.

“Twenty’s a bit much,” he argued, tapping his foot against the stone floor.

You hummed, giving him a look he couldn’t read. “Then how about you help me carry my last box upstairs. That mixed in with the delivery seems to add up to twenty.”

If any other Kook asked him to do such a thing he’d say no. He’d probably piss on their plants just for good measure. But you were something else, your little smile did something to him that he refused to acknowledge.

“Sure,” he agreed, stepping into the house. He rubbed his shoes against the mat, not wanting to trail dirt on the white carpet.

“Thanks. My back is killing me,” you complained, leading him further into the house where only a few boxes were left.

He read over them. Clothes. Blankets. Teddies. His face scrunched up in confusion. “Are you movin’ in?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Did you need anything? Some water or coffee or something?”

“Water, please.” He followed you into the kitchen, it was bigger than his entire shack. He leant against the counter, watching you reach up to the glass cupboard. “Where are you from?”

“Uh… all over really. My parents never enjoyed sticking to one place. I’ve been travelling for the last year. I was gonna go home, but after finding out my grandad’s getting more clumsy and my nan can’t take care of him herself I figured I could come help,” you explained, filling his glass with water and ice.

“That’s nice of you,” he murmured. He hadn’t seen either sets of his grandparents since he was a baby. His mom’s parents didn’t reach out whatsoever, not since she dipped, and his dads sent him a birthday card with a twenty each year. If they needed help, he’d probably pretend he didn’t see the message.

You just shrugged, taking your hair out of the pony just to re-do it. “They’re the reason I could afford, like, everything. Plus, I’m expecting some good karma.”

“Good karma?” He chuckled, accepting the cool glass from your hand. “Is that a real thing?”

“Who knows. But if it is, I want it,” you smirked. “So, you’re a delivery boy?”

He shook his head, putting the glass down on the marble counter. “Nah. I’m a busboy at the club, but my friend’s dad does the deliveries and I needed some extra cash.”

“Makes sense,” you murmured. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” he responded. He crossed his fingers that you were the same age, you looked young, but for all he knows you could be thirty and just really hot for your age.

“Me too,” you grinned. He smiled back toothily.

“Cool. So, uh, the boxes?” He asked.

For the next half an hour, he helped you carry up boxes. Your room was on the third floor, in the attic technically. It was bare, just a bed and a closet with a bathroom connected. He couldn’t blame you though, you had just moved in.

Once you were done, you walked him to your front door and held out the twenty again.

“Nah,” he murmured, waving you off.

Your face fell. “What?”

“I don’t need it.”

“You just helped me out for the money, so take the money,” you argued. “I should probably give you more than twenty.”

“How ‘bout this… you could thank me in another way,” he suggested.

“Like what?” Your eyebrows furrowed, head tilting as you looked up at him.

“Could let me take you to dinner sometimes,” he shrugged nonchalantly, although on the inside he felt like he was going to burst.

Your eyes widened in surprise, staring at him for a moment before a soft smile appeared on your lips. “Yeah. That seems fair.”

“Cool,” he grinned. “You got a pen?”

“Sure.” You walked a bit further inside the house, opening up a draw and handing a pen to him. He took it from you and pulled out an old receipt for gas from his pocket. He scribbled over it, a cheesy smile on his face as he handed it back to you.

“Here’s my number, I’m expectin’ a call,” he stated, giving you a wink.

You laughed, pocketing the receipt. “You’ll get one.”

“Cool. Uh, see you soon then,” he said, walking out the front door with a pleased look on his face.

You watched after him, waving as you closed the door. You definitely hadn’t moved to Outerbanks to find a man, but you definitely weren’t going to complain. You pulled out the receipt and giggled at what was sprawled on it. Below his phone number was a little note.

Call this number. You’ll have no regrets ;) - JJ

[inkmonster21]

Short n’ Sweet 💋

Hugh Jackman x Fem!Sister!Reynolds!Reader

Warnings: smut (oral fem receiving)

A/N: I’m a mess over this man. I’ve loved him since I was 10 and he STILL looks fine asf!

Short n’ Sweet Masterlist

Who’s the Cute Boy in the White Jacket?

💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋

You sit on your couch scrolling on your phone when your front door opens and your older brother Ryan walks in.

Ryan grins as he sees you sitting on the couch, his tall form filling the doorway for a moment before he strides into the room. "Hey, kiddo," he says affectionately, a playful smile on his sharp features. “I tried to call you.” He takes note of the phone in your hand. “You’re either too busy being a star, or just completely ignored my call."

“I ignored it.” You say without even looking in his direction. Ryan chuckles and plops down on the couch next to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders in a brotherly manner. He grins cheekily at you, his eyes sparkling. “I could have been dying. And here you are, scrolling on tinder without a care.” You roll your eyes and lock your phone. “I’m looking for inspiration. I just want to get this album done. Every song I have is just… sad and kinda cringy.” You groan as you fall into the couch pillows.

Ryan chuckles and pats you on the head, amused by your groan. He knows how demanding the entertainment industry can be, and his protective instincts kick in a little.

"I hear you, kid," he says sympathetically. "Albums can be a grind. But hey, once it's done, it'll be worth it, right? Your fans are gonna love it." You shrug, still unsure of most of the songs. “It’s all about the Shawn drama.” You say as you look over the lyrics to some of the songs. “Just wish I could get some different type do muse. Heartbreak has been so over done. I wrote all these when I actually cared about him and what happened.”

Ryan's smile turns a bit softer as he notices your struggle. He knew better than anyone how difficult it could be to find genuine inspiration when you were under so much pressure.

"Ah, the Shawn drama," he says, rolling his eyes a little at the mention of your ex. "That dude is such an ass. But don’t let that get in the way of your creativity. You'll find the right nitch, I know it."

“Are you and Blake still coming to the show?” You were opening for Taylor Swift on her Era’s tour. Ryan nods eagerly, visibly thrilled about your upcoming opportunity.

"Are you kidding?" he exclaims, grinning from ear to ear. "We wouldn't miss it for the world, kiddo. Seeing you open for T Swifty? It’s been forever since I was able to start a mosh pit to love story.”

You point a finger at him, “Now, I don’t want to hear any complaints about my choreography.” Ryan chuckles, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I promise not to complain. But if it involves twerking and pole dancing, I might need bleach for my eyes."

You laugh and throw a pillow at him. Ryan laughs along with you, dodging the pillow with a quick move. He grins at you, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Careful, kid," he teases, reaching out to ruffle your hair. "I'll have to tell your fans that you're nothing but an oversized child."

You shrug, “That’s fine. I’ll say I get it from you!” Ryan grins at your comment, pretending to be offended.

"Me?" he exclaims with mock indignation, placing a hand over his heart. "Excuse me, I am the epitome of maturity and responsibility."

You roll your eyes “sure, Deadpool.” Ryan grins even wider, enjoying the banter.

"Hey, I'm a mature adult and a responsible father," he points out, feigning seriousness. "Just because I happen to have a sense of humor gifted from the gods does not mean I'm immature. Besides, you're one to talk about maturity. You're still singing about your ex-boyfriend," he teases.

You scoff. “Well maybe I’ll get a new boyfriend to write about.” Ryan grins wolfishly, sensing an opportunity to tease you further. He props his feet up on the coffee table, lounging back on the couch in a relaxed manner.

"Oh really?" he says, raising an eyebrow at you. "And who might that be? One of those young pretty-boy singers who follow you around like a lost puppy?”

You shrug, “maybe. Have to make sure to train him up good. Pee pads, food bowl, walks, the works.” Ryan laughs and gives you a sly smile, continuing to tease you.

"Oh, I see. What's next, a collaboration with one of them? A love song about puppy dog eyes, floppy haircuts, and carpet burns?"

Your phone rings and you assistants name shows on the screen. Ryan notices you pick up your phone and sees your assistant's name on the display. He looks at you curiously.

"Who's calling?" he asks, tilting his head at you. “Megan.” You say as you answer. Ryan listens intently as you answer the call, leaning closer, his curiosity piqued. He watches you talk, trying to figure out what's going on from your side of the conversation. “I’ve got to go to rehearsal early.” Ryan nods, understanding the demands of a busy work schedule.

"No worries, kiddo," he says, standing up as well. "You go do your thing. We'll see you at the concert. I’m going to wear my sequin top and cut off shorts."

You nod with a smile to your older brother, never being able to take him seriously. “You’ll look so good, Ry.”

"Break a leg, kid. And don't forget to send me some backstage photos.” Ryan waves as he exits your apartment.

As he walks out of the lobby his phone rings. Ryan glances at his phone, seeing Hugh's name on the display. He quickly answers the call, curious about what Hugh might want.

"Hey, Hugh," he greets in a cheerful tone. Hugh smiles at the sound of Ryan's voice. He has a pleasant and friendly demeanor.

"Hey, Ryan. How are you doing, mate?" he asks, his voice tinged with a hint of excitement. “Good. Good. Going home from my sister’s place. Had to see her before the big show.” Hugh nods, understanding the bond between siblings.

"how is your sister, by the way? I've heard she's quite the rising star." Hugh had heard a lot about you through Ryan and other people in the industry. He had seen your performances, your interviews, and your music, but always from a distance through the screen of his phone. There was something about you that intrigued him, an undeniable talent and charm that drew him in. He had subtly expressed his interest in meeting you to Ryan a few times, but your busy schedule never seemed to align with any opportunities.

“Why don’t you come join us tonight? Finally get you two together.” Ryan offers and Hugh wasn’t going to turn him down. As Hugh thought about you, he couldn't help but feel a flutter in his chest. There was just something about you that captured his attention. Whether it was your captivating charm or your undeniable talent, he couldn't quite put his finger on why he felt so drawn to you. He couldn't wait to finally meet you in person and see your performance up close and personal.

Despite his growing admiration for you, Hugh knew he had to keep his feelings in check. He was well aware of the age difference between the two of you. He was much older than you, and the thought of pursuing anything with you seemed irrational and inappropriate. He didn't want to risk creating an uncomfortable or unprofessional situation, but his attraction to you was undeniable.

While browsing Instagram, Hugh's eyes widen as he sees your latest upload. It's a picture of you in your chair, getting your makeup and hair done for the concert. You looked absolutely stunning. He stares at the picture, taking in every detail of your face. The way your hair framing it perfectly, your eyes sparkling, and your lips curled into a small, confident smile. He couldn't help but feel his breath catch in his throat.

The stadium is buzzing. Ryan, Blake, and High make their way to the VIP area, taking in the bustling atmosphere. Fans are chatting excitedly, eagerly awaiting the start of the concert. They were also buzzing about your upcoming performance, which had added a new level of anticipation to the event. Hugh looks around, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness as he waits for the moment he finally get to see you in person.

“She was so excited.” Blake hums happily as she recalls your excitement from a few days prior. Ryan chuckles as he too, remembers how excited you were to perform. He glances over at Blake, a fond smile on his face.

"She's always got so much energy and enthusiasm," he says, his voice filled with pride. "Can't blame her, this is a huge show. I just hope she doesn't get too nervous." Hugh nods as well, sharing Ryan's sentiment.

"She has nothing to worry about," he reassures them. "She's talented, and the fans adore her. Plus, she's opening for Taylor Swift, that's quite an accomplishment in itself."

As soon as you step on the stage, a burst of deafening applause from the crowd fills the air. People scream your name and cheer wildly, clearly excited to see you perform. Some fans even wave banners with your name on it.

You send a wink to the crowd. They go wild in response to your wink, their cheers growing even louder. They were clearly enjoying your flirty and confident attitude on stage. People can't help but swoon over your every move, mesmerized by your charms.

Music starts and you begin to sway. “We’re going to start this off on a good note.“ you say into the mic before you begin to sing your song.

The music begins to play and you start to sway your hips, putting on a show for the crowd. Your voice, clear and smooth, begins to fill the arena with the melody of your song. The fans erupt into screams and applause, instantly drawn into the energy you project. They sing along with the lyrics, completely captivated by your performance.

Hugh was absolutely mesmerized watching you perform. Your confidence, your energy, your stage presence, it all combined into an intoxicating performance. He couldn't tear his eyes away from you, completely mesmerized by your every move. He knew he wasn't the only one in the crowd captivated, people were losing themselves in the moment, completely entranced by your presence on stage.

As you look out into the crowd, your eyes land on your brother Ryan, his wife Blake, and the famous actor Hugh Jackman sitting next to them. You feel a jolt of excitement mixed with nerves shoot through you. There he was, the famous actor you admired so much. He was watching you perform, and your heart skipped a beat at the realization. You try your best to maintain your cool and focus on the performance, all the while hyper-aware of Hugh's presence in the audience.

Hugh is captivated as he watches you sing and engage with the crowd. As your eyes suddenly meet his, his heart skips a beat, taken slightly by surprise. Your smile, radiant and genuine, strikes him deeply. He can't help but smile back, his eyes locked onto yours. The connection he feels is electric, and in that moment, he can't look away. “Holy shit. Ryan did you bring the wolverine?” You ask joking over the mic.

The crowd bursts out into a cacophony of laughter and applause at your unexpected but hilarious comment. Ryan groans but grins widely, amused by your boldness. Hugh chuckles, clearly impressed with your humor and wit.

“You guys know they’re going to be teaming up?” You ask the crowd about the upcoming Deadpool and Wolverine movie project they’re filming soon.

The crowd erupts into excited shouts of anticipation at your question. They had no doubt been looking forward to this movie collaboration between the two actors. Hugh can't help but grin, appreciative of your acknowledgment of his work. He gives you a small nod, silently communicating his approval and appreciation of your comment.

Your eyes rake over Hugh. Clad in a white jacket he looked fine as hell. “God damn. He’s even hotter in person.” You say into the microphone as you stare at Hugh.

Ryan and Blake chuckle at your comment, clearly amused by your bluntness. But Hugh can't help but feel a jolt of excitement at your words. He blushes faintly, not expecting the unexpected compliment. The crowd roars with laughter and cheers, clearly enjoying the banter between you and the famous actor in the audience.

Ryan shakes his head and point a warning finger at you making you laugh. “Oops. I’m getting big brother all pissed.” The crowd laughs along with you, enjoying the playful banter and sibling dynamic you share with Ryan. Ryan laughs and shakes his head, pretending to be annoyed but secretly amused by your antics. Hugh watches the interaction with a smile, thoroughly entertained by your charismatic personality and easy-going nature.

It was clear that you had everyone in the audience completely enthralled. People were utterly captivated by your presence and your performance. You exuded a confidence and sexiness that was irresistible. You were the embodiment of the boy or girl's dream, leaving the crowd completely entranced by your charm and talent. Hugh couldn’t help but feel drawn to you as he watched you perform.

As you finish your final song, the crowd erupts into applause and cheers, clearly energized and excited for what was to come. They had been thoroughly entertained by your performance and were ready for the main event of the night. Hugh watches as you leave the stage, his eyes lingering after you as you disappear behind the curtain.

You rush off the stage, heart still racing from the adrenaline of the performance. You quickly change out of your performance outfit and into your sheer black dress. You can't help but feel a mix of excitement, relief, and satisfaction at how well the performance went.

You make your way to the VIP area, joining your friends and family to enjoy the rest of the concert. The area is spacious and comfortable, with plush seats and plenty of room to relax and mingle. you settle into your seat, taking in the atmosphere and anticipation building as people wait for the main event of the evening: Taylor Swift’s performance.

Blake hugs you tightly, expressing her admiration for your performance. “You were amazing! So hot!”

"Thank you so much," you say, still a bit winded from the adrenaline of the stage. You return the hug, grateful for her support and encouragement. Ryan laughs and jokingly tries to ruffle your hair, but you quickly swat his hand away, not wanting to mess up your freshly styled hair.

"Hands off!" you exclaim playfully, trying to smooth down your hair where he tried to mess it up.

Hugh speaks unable to hold it in any longer. “You were fantastic.” He stretch his hand out. “Hugh. Ryan has told me so much about you.” Your eyes widen in surprise and excitement as you hear Hugh introduce himself. You reach out and shake his hand, feeling a slight tingle at the touch of his skin against yours.

"It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, Hugh," you say, your voice a little breathless. You glance over at Ryan, wondering how much he had told Hugh about you.

Hugh can’t help but notice the slight shiver that runs through you at his touch. He smiles warmly, genuinely impressed by your performance.

"The pleasure is all mine," he replies, his eyes scanning over your face, taking in your beauty. "You were amazing up there." Hugh notices the blush that spreads across your cheeks as he compliments you. It’s a subtle gesture that he finds adorable. His smile widens as he watches you reaction, his eyes lingering on your blushing face for just a moment longer than necessary.

"I’m being completely honest," he says, his voice soft and sincere. "You have an incredible stage presence, and your voice is absolutely captivating. You truly have a gift." Ryan clears his throat. “Alright, she’s amazing. Yes, we all are jealous.”

Hugh laughs at Ryan's comment, realizing he might have been gushing a little too much. He shoots Ryan a wry smile, acknowledging his jest.

"Alright, alright," he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I’ll rein it in a bit.“

You laugh at Hugh comment. You shrug, “no keep it coming. I love to hear it.” You send wink with a smile. Hugh chuckles at your response. He can't help but appreciate your confidence and the way you take compliments in stride.

"Oh, you do, do you?" he asks, his tone light and playful. He smirks, the corner of his lip curving into a sly smile. "In that case, allow me to shower you with more compliments. Your voice is like a melody, your stage presence captivating, and your beauty is truly otherworldly."

Ryan groans, “oh my god. This has been a huge mistake.” Ryan pushes between you and Hugh. “I’m separating you two!”

Hugh laughs, thoroughly enjoying the lighthearted banter between you and Ryan. He playfully holds up his hands, as if to say “I surrender.”

"Alright, alright," he says, feigning innocence. "I’ll behave, I promise."

Hugh catches your subtle glance in his direction, and he can’t help but respond with a slight smirk. He gives you a small nod, silently communicating that he gets the message. Your brother might not like it, but Hugh was going to continue to compliment you,behaved or not.

Hugh noticed how your eyes seemed to light up whenever he complimented you, how your face would flush with pleasure. He also saw the way you ate up his attention, clearly enjoying the extra glances and words of praise. The way you responded to his compliments only fueled his desire to keep going. He found your reactions delightful, your eagerness to receive his praise feeding his growing affection for you.

You shiver slightly as you feel Hugh's hand graze down your arm. The touch is gentle, his fingers leaving a trail of electricity on your skin. As Hugh says your name, his voice low and intimate, you look up and meet his gaze, your heart skipping a beat.

“Yes?”

Hugh’s heart leaps as you respond, the way you say yes sending a thrill through him. He takes a step closer to you, his hand still lingering on your arm, his smile warm and captivating.

"Can I get your number?" he asks, his voice a soft whisper that only you can hear amongst the small crowd of people around you.

You look to him in slight shock. You flirted for fun and the show, but never did you really think he’d be interested. “Absolutely.” You say and take his phone putting your number in. Ending it with a heart emoji. Staying on brand.

Hugh watches as you type in your number, a smile spreading across his face when he sees the heart emoji you add to the end. He can’t believe that not only have you agreed to give him your number, but you’ve also added a little flirtatious touch to it. He takes his phone back, looking down at the new contact, a feeling of excitement and anticipation bubbling inside of him.

You are sound asleep when your phone buzzes on your bedside table. You rouse from sleep, groggily reaching for your phone to see what the notification is. As soon as you see the text from an unfamiliar number, your heart skips a beat. You quickly open the message to find that it's from Hugh, sent earlier that morning before he worked out.

You and Hugh texted back and forth throughout the day, unable to stop the growing spark between you two. The conversation is easy, full of laughter and a flirty undercurrent that keeps things exciting. Both of you find it difficult to focus on anything else, eager to see what the other will say next.

As the day goes on, your texts become more frequent, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. Hugh finds himself looking at his phone more often than he’d like to admit, his thoughts constantly on you. He can’t help but let his imagination run wild, thinking of all the things he’d like to say and do to you if he was with you in person.

You were in rehearsal when you finally got a break to text him. You took a selfie with your microphone. Your hair in a mess, and you were in your relaxed clothes. “The life of a pop star.” You send the text to Hugh with the picture.

Hugh's heart skips a beat as he sees the selfie you sent him. You look adorable, your hair a perfect mess and your relaxed clothes making you look comfortable and carefree. The microphone in the picture tells him you're in rehearsal, and he can't help but imagine what it would be like to watch you on stage again.

he texts back, a smile on his face. "You look beautiful. Can't wait to see you perform again."

You smile at his text. Replying with, ‘I’ll have to give you a backstage tour next time.’ Biting your lip as you hit send. It was flirty but could easily be pushed off as friendly. Hugh was friends with Ryan. Nothing wrong with offering Hugh a tour.

Hugh grins as he reads your text, his pulse quickening at the thought of you giving him a private backstage tour. The wording is suggestive, but the offer could be construed as simply friendly. Still, he can't help but feel the hint of flirtation in your message and it makes his heart race.

"I’d love that,” he replies, trying to keep his response casual but struggling to keep the excitement out of his message. “Definitely looking forward to the special treatment.”

“Who the fuck are you texting that’s got you all smiles?” Ryan asks as he walks in, script in hand for Deadpool and Wolverine. Hugh looks up, a bit surprised by Ryan’s sudden appearance. He tries to mask his smile, but it’s difficult to hide the fact that he was texting someone who was making him grin.

“Uh, no one in particular,” he replies, clearing his throat and setting his phone down on the table. He quickly changes the subject, not wanting to reveal that it was your texts that had put a smile on his face.

“So, you got the script, eh? How’s it looking?” Ryan shrugs with a smile. He was excited as fuck to bring this to life. “Oh It’s going to be insane.” Hugh can sense Ryan's excitement as he talks about the movie and it’s contagious. He returns the smile, sharing in his friend's enthusiasm.

“I have no doubt it will be,” he says, raising an eyebrow in playful anticipation. “I can’t wait to see what kind of chaos the dynamic duo of Deadpool and Wolverine will bring.”

Your assistant, producer and songwriter sit with you in the studio, all of them focused on helping you work on your next album.

You suddenly get a wave of inspiration, and start tapping your pen against the page in front of you. Your mind starts racing with different thoughts and ideas, as if a creative spark has been lit within you.

As you sit there, pensively tapping your pen, your mind drifts back to the late-night texts and calls you’ve been exchanging with Hugh. You think about his compliments, his jokes, his words of praise that never fail to make you feel special and wanted. The idea of him constantly on your mind, even when you should be focusing on your work, both excites and disturbs you.

One particular conversation coming to mind. Your phone rang. It was 12:05 am. You were in the studio as usual. Hugh was calling. You answered, “Hey.”

Hugh's heart leaped as he heard your voice on the other end. He smiled to himself, picturing you in the studio, surrounded by music and creativity. His voice was soft and warm as he responded.

“Hey, there,” he said, his tone affectionate and tinged with excitement. “I hope I’m not calling too late. Just couldn’t sleep.”

You smile into the phone, biting your lip. “Can’t sleep? Thinking of me too much?” You tease Hugh. Hugh chuckled at your tease, his heart skipping a beat at the thought of you thinking about him as much as he was thinking about you. He could almost picture you biting your lip as you spoke, the mental image making him wish he was there with you. “I am thinking of you too much.”

Hugh smiles as he hears your laugh through the phone. The sound was like music to his ears. He relished these late-night calls with you, the way you seemed to understand how much you were on his mind and how badly he wanted to be with you.

“You have no idea how true it is,” he said, his voice lower now, more serious. “You’ve been on my mind constantly lately. I can’t seem to get you out of my thoughts, no matter how hard I try.”

“I have that effect on men. Usually it’s men under 30 but I’ll make the exception for you.” You say teasingly. Hugh laughs, your cheeky response both endearing and a slight turn-on. He could imagine you with a smirk on your face as you made that quip, your eyes sparkling with playful mischief.

“Is that so?” he replies, his voice low and seductive. “Well, I suppose I can’t say I’m surprised. You’ve certainly had a captivating hold on me since we’ve first met. It’s like you’ve cast a spell on me, and I’m finding it increasingly harder to resist you."

You laugh again, “now you’re getting it.” Hugh wonders aloud. “What are you doing, sweetheart?”

“I’m at the studio.” you say leaning on the table. closer to the phone. just as close as you can get to Hugh at the moment.

Hugh’s heart thrills as you say you’re at the studio again, imagining you working on your music, surrounded by instruments and sound equipment. He wishes he was there with you, watching you work and listening to your beautiful voice fill the silence.

“Ah, little late isn’t it?,” he says, a hint of admiration in his voice. “You really are dedicated." You shrug, “I’m a singer. Of course I’m working late.” You laugh.

As you come back to the present, the influence of your thoughts about Hugh and the late-night call is evident in the words you write. The lyrics flow easily, one after another, each word feeling more personal and heartfelt than the last. You're lost in the creative process, the words coming effortlessly as your feelings for Hugh pour out onto the page.

You look down at the words on the page.

“he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh

Is it that sweet? I guess so

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know

That's that me espresso”

The lyrics you write are poignant and heartfelt, expressing your own feelings about Hugh and the effect you have on him. The idea that he's thinking about you every night, that you keep him up at night like a strong cup of espresso, is both flattering and a little tantalizing. You can almost picture Hugh's reaction if he were to hear these words, imagining a smile spreading across his face, his eyes gleaming with affection and desire.

Your entire crew is taken aback by the lyrics you've written, their jaws dropping as they hear the heartfelt words pouring out of you. Your producer's comment only reinforces their disbelief, and the excitement in the room is palpable.

"Damn, you really wrote that just now?" the producer asks. "That's incredible. Holy shit! This is going to be a huge hit."

Your producer is practically giddy with excitement, his enthusiasm contagious as he pushes you into the recording room. He's determined to make the most of your creative burst and get the song recorded while you're still inspired and filled with emotion.

"This is gold. We need to capture this energy and these lyrics while they're fresh in your mind."

You smile as you see Hugh's name flash on your phone screen. It's late, and you’re wrapping things up but the familiar sight of his name fills you with a mix of excitement and anticipation. You answer the call, a warm feeling spreading through you at the idea of hearing his voice again.

"Hey," you say, your voice soft and full of affection. “Are you at the studio?” Hugh's voice is hopeful. He knows how much time you spend there working on your music, and he can't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the possibility of hearing you say yes.

"Yeah," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'm at the studio. You caught me at a good time. I was just about to leave.” Hugh smiled as he pulled around to the front of the building. “Good. I’m out front waiting on you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard Hugh say he was waiting outside. A mix of surprise and excitement washed over you. He was here, waiting for you? You never expected him to show up unannounced, especially at this hour.

"You're outside?" you asked, trying to hide the eagerness in your voice. "What are you doing here?" Hugh's chuckle echoed through the phone, his voice warm and gentle.

"I just wanted to see you," he said simply.

As you hurry to pack up your things, Hugh's words send a warm shiver down your spine. The thought that he simply wanted to see you, just for the sake of it, was both touching and thrilling. Knowing he was waiting for you outside made your heart race, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement at the prospect of seeing him.

You'd never imagined you'd have feelings like this for an older man like Hugh either, but here you were, practically running to get to him.

“Well, I’m on my way down now.” You say into your phone. Hugh grins at the sound of your voice through the phone, knowing that you're on your way down to meet him. He leans against his car, a sense of anticipation building in his chest. He can't wait to see you, to witness your smile, and feel the warmth of your presence.

"I'll be right here waiting for you, sweetheart," he replies, his tone filled with affection. "Take your time."

As you step outside of the studio, the cool night air hits your face. You look around, seeing the familiar sight of the paparazzi lingering in the parking lot and empty streets, ready to snap a photo of unsuspecting celebrities. You had almost forgotten about them, since they always seemed to lurk around corners, hoping to catch a glimpse of famous faces.

Tonight, it appears that you and Hugh are the targets. The paparazzi spot you and their cameras immediately start flashing, the bright lights and loud clicks of the cameras filling the air.

Hugh quickly reaches out and takes your hand, guiding you to his car. He opens the door for you, making sure to shield you from the paparazzi's cameras as best as he can. He knows that the last thing you need is for your face to be plastered across every gossip site and tabloid magazine.

Once you're safely inside the car, Hugh hurries around to the driver's side. As he gets in, the paparazzi continue to snap photos, the bright flashes illuminating the dark night. You hold your jacket up in front of your face, trying your best to hide from their intrusive camera lenses.

Hugh glances over at you, a look of concern on his face as he sees you holding your jacket up in front of your face. He knows how much you dislike the constant presence of the paparazzi and the intrusive nature of their photography.

"You okay?" he asks gently, his voice filled with empathy. He starts the car engine, preparing to drive away from the throng of photographers.

“Better now.”

Hugh relaxes slightly as he sees you nod and smile, reassured by your response. He knows that the presence of the paparazzi can be overwhelming and uncomfortable, and he's relieved to know that you're feeling better now that you're away from them.

"Good," he says, returning your smile. "Let's get out of here."

He skillfully maneuvers the car out of the parking lot and onto the empty streets, leaving the paparazzi behind. The night is quiet and peaceful, the only sound being the hum of the engine and your soft breathing.

As Hugh drives, he steals glances at you, taking in your delicate features illuminated by the passing streetlights. He can sense your tiredness, the weariness from working late into the night. He knows how driven and passionate you are about your music, and he admires your dedication.

"You really shouldn't work so late, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and concerned. Hugh reaches out and places his hand on your thigh, his warm palm against the soft silk of your skin. It's a small gesture, but it speaks volumes of his care, concern, and desire for you.

Hugh pulled up to your building, pulling into the parking garage. He slows the car. “Do you want to come up? “ you offer your stomach tight with butterflies.

Hugh hesitates for a brief moment, torn between wanting to spend more time with you and not wanting to overstep any boundaries. He considers your invitation, his heart fluttering at the thought of being alone with you again.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice slightly hoarse with desire. "I don't want to intrude. I know you're tired." You shake your head, “if you left I’m going to end up calling you anyway. Why not stay for a little?”

Hugh chuckles at your words, his heart warming at the idea that you'd call him anyway. It seems you can't resist the pull between you either.

"Well, if you insist," he says, feigning reluctance. "But don't blame me when you're too tired to be awake tomorrow." “Oh, I am definitely saying you’re the one to blame.” You giggle as you get out of the car followed by him.

Hugh grins at your cheeky response, knowing full well that he'll take the blame with pleasure. He follows you out of the car, closing the door behind him. As you make your way towards your building, he slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side.

Your body fits perfectly against his side. It's moments like these that he cherishes, these simple, intimate moments that make him feel truly connected to you.

Hugh's mind is racing as he walks beside you, thoughts swirling through his head. The age difference between the two of you is something that constantly looms over him, a constant reminder that he's older than you, with a life and experiences that you may not fully understand.

He worries about the impact that being involved with him will have on you, both publicly and personally. He doesn't want to put you in a position where you'll be judged or misunderstood simply because you're with him.

You unlock the door and step into your home, Hugh following closely behind. The familiar surroundings of your apartment greet you, the dimly lit rooms adding a sense of warmth and comfort.

Hugh glances around the space, taking in the cozy living room, the open kitchen area, and the hallway that leads to your bedroom and bathroom.

Hugh couldn't help but notice how much the space resembled you. It was as if your essence had been poured into every corner of the apartment.

He took a deep breath, taking in the scent of your home. The sweet, gentle fragrance filled his senses, instantly making him feel at ease. It was like being enveloped in a warm embrace, a sense of comfort and peace washing over him.

“Do you want anything to drink?” You ask going into the kitchen. *Hugh smiles at your offer, appreciating your thoughtfulness.

"Sure, that would be nice," he says, his gaze never leaving your face. "Do you have any wine?" You smirk and nod.

Hugh grins as you return with two chilled glasses and a bottle of wine. He watches as you pour the smooth, rich liquid into each glass, the sound of the wine bottle clinking against the glass filling the cozy quiet of your apartment.

As you sit down next to him on the couch, Hugh can't help but take in the sight of you, the dim lighting casting a soft glow on your features. He takes a sip of his wine, savoring the taste and the intimate moment between the two of you.

Hugh leans back against the couch, his body relaxing as the alcohol courses through his veins.

"This is nice," he says, his voice slightly huskier than usual. "Just getting to spend time with you, without having to worry about being interrupted or watched."

You smile and nod. “Or my brother.”

You roll your eyes at the thought of Ryan if he knew you’d been spending time with Hugh.

Hugh chuckles at the mention of your brother, imagining the kind of reaction he'd have if he knew about your time together.

"Your brother would definitely have some choice words if he knew we were here like this, wouldn't he?" he says, swirling the wine around in his glass. “Yeah, but I don’t really care.” You were an adult woman who could make your own choices. And Hugh seemed like a great one.

Hugh grins at your defiant attitude, appreciating your confidence and independence. It's one of the things he finds most attractive about you - your unwillingness to conform to the opinions of others. "I like that about you," he says admiringly.

Hugh takes another sip of his wine, the alcohol giving him a little bit of liquid courage. He stares into your eyes, knowing that he needs to say what's on his mind. He knows the risk he's taking by revealing his feelings so soon, but he can't hold them in any longer. The chemistry between you is undeniable, and he wants, no he needs to let you know how he feels.

"I know it might seem like it's too early to say this, but I just need to get it off my chest," he says, his voice slightly hoarse with emotion. "I don't know what it is about you, but you've got me feeling… things. I can't get you out of my head, and the more I get to know you, the more I like you. I know it's only been a short time, but I can't deny the way I feel."

Your heart clenches with happiness, a burning warmth spreading across your chest as a joyous smile splits across your face. It was a relief to know that Hugh's affection mirrored your own, confirming that the depth of your emotions was reciprocated.

Hugh's heart swells with relief as he sees the joyous smile spread across your face. He can see the emotion and happiness in your eyes, and he knows that you feel the same way he does.

He reaches out and takes your hand, enveloping it gently in his own, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your skin. He gazes at you, his voice filled with tenderness.

"I can't explain it, but you've just... you've got me. Completely."

You feel Hugh's hand gently touch yours, his touch sending a shiver of warmth and affection through you. As you meet his gaze, you can see the tenderness and vulnerability in his eyes.

"I know exactly what you mean," you reply, the words escaping your lips on a breath of air. "Being with you just feels... right. Like a piece of me that I didn't even know was missing has finally found its place."

Hugh's heart warms at your words, a feeling of contentment washing over him. "Yes, exactly," he says, his voice soft. "I don't think I've ever felt this way before. It's like... like I've been searching for something all these years, and now I've found it in you."

He squeezes your hand gently, his gaze locked on yours. "I can't believe it's only been a couple of weeks. It feels like I've known you for a lifetime."

Your desire to kiss Hugh grows stronger with every passing moment until it becomes overwhelming. You want to feel the warmth of his lips on yours, to taste the sweetness of his breath and lose yourself in his embrace. The ache of need consumes you, but you hold back, waiting for the perfect moment.

Hugh can sense the increasing tension between you, the air thick with unspoken desire. His eyes scan your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips, and he knows that you're feeling the same way he is.

He can't resist the allure of your gaze any longer. He moves closer to you, the space between you practically nonexistent. He can feel the heat of your body, the magnetic pull that draws him to you like a moth to a flame.

He reaches out, his hand gently cupping your jaw, his thumb tracing along the softness of your skin. His eyes never leave yours, the depth of his passion reflecting in the blue of his irises. He leans in, his face mere inches from yours.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. The words send your heart racing, and a mixture of excitement and longing washes over you. Your breath catches, and in a barely audible whisper, you respond, “Please.”

Hugh's heart skips a beat at your response, the sound of your "please" like music to his ears. Without hesitation, he closes the small gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a gentle, yet passionate kiss.

The taste of your lips is like a drug to him, addictive and intoxicating. His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, wanting to eliminate any space between you.

His tongue seeks entry into your mouth, and as you part your lips, he deepens the kiss, exploring the sweet heat of your mouth. His other hand comes to rest on your waist, pulling you onto his lap. He wants to be as close to you as possible, to feel the weight of your body against his as he kisses you senseless.

As Hugh's hands roamed over your body, his touch felt like fire on your skin. In that moment, the age gap between you melted away, leaving only the raw desire and passion that burned between you. You didn't care about the years that separated you, all you could think about was the intensity of his experienced touch and the way he made you feel.

Hugh's hands continue to roam over your body, exploring every dip and curve of your form. His touch is possessive and yet gentle, his experience evident in the way he seems to know exactly how to make you respond to him. He breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin.

He sucks and nips at your flesh, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites down to your collarbone.

As you break away, gasping for air, a sly and sultry smile spreads across your face. "My bedroom is just down the hall,"

You say, your voice low and husky as you look at him through half-lidded eyes. The invitation is clear, and you can see the effect you're having on him as his eyes darken with desire.

Without a word, he scoops you into his arms, lifting you up against his chest as if you weigh nothing at all. "On the right or left, baby?," he whispers, his voice gruff and hoarse with anticipation.

“Left.” You whisper as you kiss his neck. Hugh lets out a low moan. The feeling of your lips on his sensitive skin sends a bolt of pleasure through his body.

"Mmm, keep doing that," he murmurs, his hand gripping your waist tighter. He follows your directions down the short hallway, moving to the left and gently carrying you into the bedroom.

He sets you down on the bed with care, the silken sheets cool against your skin. He drinks in the sight of you, laid out on the bed before him like a present just waiting to be unwrapped. He moves to the edge of the bed, kneeling between your legs. His hands run up your thighs. He looks at you, his eyes dark and full of desire.

You lie back on the luxurious bed, your body tingling with anticipation as Hugh's strong hands roam over your thighs. The soft silk sheets caress your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine. He's taking his time, teasing you with his touch, and the anticipation is almost unbearable. You want him, desire him, and the heat between your legs intensifies with every passing second.

Hugh kneels between your legs, his eyes locked on yours. His gaze is intense, dark, and filled with a hunger that matches your own. He leans in close, his breath tickling your face, he whispers, "You're breathtaking." His deep voice sends a thrill through your body.

As he speaks, his hands glide up your inner thighs, inching closer to the clothed core of your desire. You hold your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. Thank god you wore a dress today.

His fingers brush against the sensitive skin of your pussy, his touch only divided by the thin cloth of your panties. The pressure of his fingers making you gasp softly. He pauses, enjoying the moment, and you can see the pleasure reflected in his eyes as he teases you. Hugh lets his hands travel to the side hem of your panties. He runs his thumb over the seam as he looked up to you through desire filled orbs. Wordlessly you nod, a gasping smile on your glossed lips.

Hugh pulls back the pretty side of your panties, revealing your heat to his eyes. He groans at the sight of it, warm and wet with your arousle. Hugh dips a finger through your folds causing you to arch up with a soft moan.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice hoarse with desire. You nod, unable to form words as pleasure clouds your mind. Hugh chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "I can see how much you want me," he continues, his fingers gently stroking your folds. "But I'm going to make you wait a little longer."

With that, he leans down and replaces his fingers with his warm, wet tongue. He parts your pussy lips with his tongue, exploring your intimate folds with slow, deliberate movements. You let out a soft moan, arching your back further as his tongue finds your clit. He suckles gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His experienced mouth knows exactly how to drive you wild.

Hugh's hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place as he feasts on your sweet pussy. He alternates between soft licks and firm strokes, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. You reach down, threading your fingers through his hair, wanting to pull him closer, but he gently bats your hands away, maintaining control.

"Not yet, sweetheart," he whispers, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "I want to taste you, all of you." He spreads your legs wider, exposing you completely to his hungry gaze and mouth. His tongue plunges deep inside your wetness, fucking you with slow, deliberate movements. You cry out, your body trembling as he hits all the right spots.

As he eats you out with passion and skill, your hands grip the sheets tightly, the silk providing little comfort against the intensity of your pleasure. You're lost in a haze of sensation, Hugh's tongue working its magic, driving you closer to the precipice of orgasm. He senses your impending release and increases his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit.

"Oh god, I'm gonna cum!" you exclaim, your voice hoarse and raw. Hugh doesn't let up, instead, he redoubles his efforts, determined to push you over the edge. Your body convulses, every muscle tensing as the orgasmic wave crashes over you. You cry out his name, your hips bucking wildly as you ride out the powerful climax.

Hugh continues to lap at your sensitive flesh, drawing out your pleasure, making the orgasm stretch and extend until you're sure you can't take any more. Finally, he pulls away, his face glistening with your juices, and moves up your body, his hard cock pressing against your thigh through his pants.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, and the sensation sends another shudder of pleasure through your sated body.

"I want you," you whisper against his lips, your voice laced with desire. "I want to feel you inside me."

You lean into him, your dress pooling up at your hips. Breathlessly you grab into Hugh and reach for his belt buckle. Hugh chuckles at your rushed hands, your eyes filled with desire and anticipation. He can see the disappointment in your expression as he gently grabs your hand, stopping you from going any further.

"Hold on, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and gruff. "I want to take my time with you. I don't want this to be just a quick hookup. I want to do this right. To treat you with the respect you deserve."

Hugh gently moves your hands above your head, pinning you to the bed with his strong arms. He gazes down at you, admiring the sight of you underneath him, your dress riding up your hips and your hair spilling across the pillow. His eyes are dark and filled with a passion that is both intense and possessive.

He captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he holds you in place, his body pressed against yours. Hugh continues to shower you with kisses, his hands roaming over your body, as he speaks.*

"So, to do that, I’m going to make you dinner.” He kissed you again between his words. His lips moving to your neck as he murmured, “at my place, on Friday at eight." His teeth graze your skin as he nips at your collarbone, a low growl of desire rumbling in his chest.

"It'll be a proper date. With candlelight and wine and music, the whole nine yards. Just the two of us, enjoying each other's company. Everything you deserve.”

As you smile at Hugh, the mixture of excitement, anticipation, and tenderness in your expression give the impression of being lost in a dreamlike state. It’s as if nothing else exists besides the two of you.

He gives you one last lingering kiss before reluctantly pulling away, knowing that he needs to leave before things get out of hand. He can't help but feel a pang of disappointment as he untangled himself from your embrace, but he knows that this will only make your date on Friday even more special.

You lounge on the bed, propped up and gazing at Hugh with a sultry grin on your face. You tease him as, you sit up and ask saucily, "Okay then. Friday. Will you fuck me then?"

Hugh lets out a rich chuckle, admiring your clever attempt to trap him. He’s well aware that you’re trying to get him to give in, but he’s enjoying this playful game of push and pull.

Hugh pulls you up until you’re standing beside him. He gazes at you with a mixture of desire and affection in his eyes, and with a soft smile, he requests, “Walk me out, darling?”

You give him a sly smirk, determined not to give in so easily this time. You walk past him, making sure to put an extra sway in your hips as you do so, knowing full well that Hugh’s eyes are on you. "Fine," you reply, feigning reluctance as you lead the way towards the door. Hugh follows behind you, his eyes tracing the captivating movement of your hips as you walk. A sly half-smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he can’t help but enjoy the sight of you trying to regain the upper hand in this dance of desire.

As Hugh stands on the threshold, preparing to step out into the hallway, you open the door and hold it for him. He starts to turn away, saying his goodnights, but before he can make his exit, you grasp the collar of his shirt with a quick yank, pulling him down to your level. You capture his lips in one more kiss, a brief moment of passion and intensity that leaves you both breathless.

Hugh stands there for a moment, a little dazed. A smile slowly creeps across his face as he takes the moment in. "Goodnight, darling," he replies, his gaze lingering on the closed door you've just disappeared behind.

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 30. breaking news

chapter tags/warnings: manipulative! naoya. physical aggression. verbal abuse (not to reader). infidelity/adultery. extremely strong language. corruption. family drama.

word count: 3.4k

notes: thank you again for your patience with the chapter! life update: i resigned from my company (on good terms, even though the work had sucked my mental and physical health), and i am soon doing a trip to japan and southeast asia as part of my recovery. still, i will be actively writing and responding since this community is so important to me! also, has anyone been keeping up with jujutsu kaisen's manga?! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Life without a sugar daddy was rough.

As Toji Fushiguro's ex-wife and Naoya Zenin's ex-mistress, Mari faced this harsh reality since no one threw their money in her direction anymore. She slept little this past week, overwhelmed by financial stressors. While she still subsisted on the younger executive's credit card (with his fortune, Naoya hardly noticed the charges on his bill), she realized that she actually had to work for an income.

Such was the case as Mari walked home one evening after interviewing for jobs, her body and mind exhausted from fielding mundane questions about her previous professional experiences (which she had little of).

Upon unlocking her apartment door, she was immediately greeted by the sight of her illuminated living room.

That struck her as odd.

She always switched the lights off before she left.

However, when she spotted a familiar face down the hall, she found the answer.

"Tsumiki." Mari dropped her purse by the door. "What are you doing here?”

The woman had not seen her one and only blood-related child in months. While she knew that her daughter—who was, without doubt, a fantastically accomplished and intelligent young lady—just completed her second year at Oxford University, she thought the girl had chosen to remain in England for her summer break. Didn't Toji mention that she did not want to return to Tokyo?

Not that Mari complained. She was just...confused.

Admittedly, Mari should know the answer to her question, but she had been too ‘occupied’ to contact Tsumiki as much as a good mother should. As a result, Mari found herself in the dark about the girl's life in the United Kingdom, her plans for the university holiday, and her recent classes in…what was her field of study again?

Surely, Toji and his twerp son Megumi would know all the answers since Tsumiki had always been closer to her Fushiguro stepfamily. Quite a shame, since Mari would have considered her daughter as the most perfect angel otherwise.

She toed her shoes off.

“When did you arrive in Tokyo?” Mari continued with a plastered smile and approached the girl sitting with crossed arms in the living room.

Genetics ran deep between mother and daughter. Uninformed observers might even mistake the pair as sisters, the physical resemblance uncanny in how Tsumiki presented a more youthful version of the older woman by sharing the same warm chocolate-colored eyes, long dark hair, and flawless porcelain skin.

Yet, physical similarities meant nothing when Mari could not fully decipher her own flesh and blood.

“I came back to Japan earlier this week,” Tsumiki responded a terse edge in her tone.

“But I haven’t seen you until now.”

“Because I’ve been staying with Dad.”

“Oh.” So, she meant with Toji. “You mean your stepdad.”

“No,�� she corrected sternly. “He's my dad.”

Theoretically, Mari could go into a whole tangent on how Tsumiki’s actual father was some middle-class nobody whom she hadn’t seen or spoken to since her first divorce (and that was many years ago). Or how the Fushiguros technically were Tsumiki’s ex-stepfamily since Mari had divorced her second husband Toji earlier this year.

But she spared her daughter from the reminders.

“Well, I’m glad to see you back, honey.” With a bottle of unfinished cabernet sauvignon in the fridge, Mari meandered to the kitchen to pour herself a full glass. She returned to living room and joined her daughter on the sofa. “How have you been? I’m guessing England has been treating you well? I have never been, so I wouldn’t know. Heard that the fish and chips are good there."

No response.

Am I being ignored? Mari commented inwardly and swirled the red wine in her chalice.

She took her first sip amid the long and awkward pause before switching the topic to encourage conversation. "Anyway, whenever you would like, you’re always welcome to stay a few nights here. Wouldn't hurt to spend some more time with your mother."

Only for Tsumiki to quip, “We’ve talked about this before. I don’t want to live with you.”

Now, this—Mari believed—was certainly uncalled for. "Watch your tone with me, young lady."

"For what? I am not here because I miss you," her daughter resumed. "If I had a better option, I would not bring myself to show up here and be in front of you."

The older woman placed her glass down and tried to appear calm. Hearing Tsumiki speak with such contempt twisted a deep knife into Mari's heart. Once upon a time, her daughter had been the sweetest girl—warm, full of life, and eager to express her innocent thoughts with anyone she encountered. Now, however, that same person had been tainted into someone cold, guarded, and withdrawn, demonstrated by her disrespect to the very woman who had given her life.

"That is no manner to talk to your mother," Mari cautioned.

"Well, maybe because I have my reasons."

"Which are?"

"Do you want to know why I did not bother to text or call you these past several months?" and Tsumiki did not wait for an answer before she angrily added, "Because I am so upset that you filed a divorce with Dad!"

While Mari had hoped to not bring up the topic before, she had no choice but to do so now.

"That big, burly, bulky man is not your father," she snapped. "He and his emo Harvard-bound son are not your family! In the eyes of the law, there is no longer any relation between you and them. But, I am your mother. I had given you life, and this is what you think of me?"

"Because I love them!" Tsumiki opposed through a hardened glare. "Dad and Megumi treat me more like their blood-related family than you do!”

Mari could not believe the preposterous words her daughter spewed. She always presumed that the Fushiguros had been corrupting her child, and to see her suspicions confirmed had Mari standing up promptly from the couch.

"How dare you say after all I have done for you, Tsumiki?" Mari interrogated angrily. "Did you think that I left your biological father and then divorced your stepfather for what...for fun?! These choices were difficult for me, too! But I made those judgments because I wanted to give you a better life in which we didn't have to worry about where our next meal, our next piece of clothing, or our next rent payment would come from! Your biological father is a no-name nothing. He could’ve never supported the lavish lifestyle you had experienced during your adolescent years. In fact, if I hadn’t married Toji Fushiguro, you probably wouldn't be studying at the University of Oxford right now! I, alone, could never have afforded all your years of expensive tutors or private school tuition. Please, think before you speak. I know I did not raise an ungrateful brat.”

Tsumiki furrowed her brows from the comments.

“You're the ungrateful one, Mom!” she insisted, and the said woman visibly reeled back when the girl continued to seethe with antipathy. “All the money that you had spent while married to Dad, he never asked for a single cent back. Never. In fact, he still pays for my university. In his eyes and mine, I’m as good as any blood-related child to him. He hadn't asked you to chip in because he knows you wouldn't have the money to. Divorcing the man you've been leeching off of isn't a sign of appreciation, Mom."

To hear her child defend another family, Mari wasn’t sure if she was going to laugh or cry at how ridiculous this scene was, the only thing she could process being the pain and betrayal that slammed her with one bitter blow.

"Well, did you want to become a laughingstock?" the woman rationalized. "Given our ties to the Zenin name when Toji left the company, those nasty journalists would've clung onto any scrap to label you a buffoon. You know what those tabloid writers are like! I had the foresight to divorce that man. I did not want the disgrace if we remained attached to the Fushiguros."

After that response, Tsumiki turned quiet with one sharp exhale as her eyes snapped shut, and Mari, whose entire body had undulated from heavy and irate breaths, thought that finally—finally—she had won this godforsaken argument.

Until she heard the younger girl speak again.

"Yet, you have humiliated me more than anyone," and noticing how her mother quirked a brow, Tsumiki went on. "Who are you really trying to protect, Mom? Are you truly making these decisions for my benefit? Or is it...for yourself?"

Despite hiding a gulp, the older woman noticed her heart race. "What do you mean?"

"How can you explain this?"

As though that was her cue, Tsumiki reached for her phone. She tapped onto the front page of the Yomiuri Shimbun, the most highly circulated newspaper in Japan. Before Mari could read the bold title labeled as 'Breaking News,' Tsumiki provided her with a verbal summary:

"The world knows you're a homewrecker, Mom."

Naoya found no surprise when Naobito Zenin burst into his executive suite as an angry bull would charge toward a provoking cape.

Plenty of times, his father barged into his private office completely unannounced, slamming the door open with enough force to rattle the wooden bookshelves behind him. Usually, the dramatic entrance would be followed by a slew of harsh admonitions, and this encounter—Naoya could tell—would be no different.

The astringency cast on his father's countenance gave the executive no other choice than to rise from his seat, his office chair sliding back so he could pose tall and confident as the heir to Japan's largest conglomerate should be.

"Father," he greeted, curt.

Taking hurried steps around his mahogany desk, Naoya aimed to meet the older man halfway until he instead came into contact with one harsh blow that sent his face flogging to the side.

Naoya froze, his gaze lowered.

Instinctively, he reached for his throbbing cheek with one hand as the other wiped briefly over his busted upper lip. To have his father approach him physically like this didn't even register as a surprise. Despite his title as the Zenin CEO, Naoya continued to be scolded, lectured, and outright ignored because, in his father's words, he 'never seemed to get anything right.'

Even now, the older man found no hesitation in cursing out his only child.

"You fucking son of a whore! Want to explain why your affair with Toji's ex-wife is all over Japanese media?!"

Slowly, Naoya lifted his eyes from the floor. He had suspected that this would be the topic of discussion. In the last hour, Naoya saw his name plastered over tabloid pages, news websites, and social media feeds as an anonymous whistleblower tipped publishers in regards to his scandalous affair with Mari—and the millions Naoya spent to hide it. Evidence ranging from supposedly long-gone paparazzi photos to screenshots of money transfers circulated quickly with the internet.

Naturally, Naoya had seen the headlines too...

'Zenin Corporation CEO Exposed for Concealing Affair with Predecessor's Ex-Wife' 'Everything to Know About the Zenin Household's Uncovered Drama in Family, Business, and Love' 'Billionaire Naoya Zenin Entangled in Cheating Scandal, Accused of Bribing Press to Silence Coverage'

...and the comments:

'That’s why you can’t trust rich people. They never have any shame.' 'His wife and company deserve better.' 'Disappointed that this is the scumbag leading our country's largest company.' 'The Board should fire him.’

Now, that last comment struck a very particular chord, especially since the Chairman of that very Board stood before him.

Naoya clenched his hands, yet he stood mute. With every wrong move certain to cost him far too much in return, he was completely powerless in front of the family patriarch and, as a result, his first logical reaction was to defend himself.

"I do not have the evidence yet, but I am certain Toji had planned this, Father. Him, and also Sukuna, Geto, and Choso. All four leaked these details because they didn’t want to see your son succeed. I will resolve this. I am going to call Toji immediately and—“

"You're right," Naobito interrupted coldly. "If Toji had still been CEO today, he would've made sure that none of this bullshit would’ve happened.”

Naoya widened his eyes in bewilderment, not anticipating his father to twist his logic like that. He already received a literal slap across his face, but to realize that Naobito still compared him to his older cousin all these months later drove him insane!

"No, Father. What I meant was—"

"Oh, there is no need to correct me. I know what you meant," Naobito tested in a low voice. "What I gathered from this conversation is that I have given you a million chances in life, and you know what? You blew every single one of them. You're an asshole, you're a cheater, and you're a complete humiliation. I can always count on you to paint me as a failed father."

Outrageous.

With the bitter staring contest between father and son, the latter boiled internally listening to the insults from the man who sired him. For the ruthless Naobito Zenin, Naoya meant no value as an heir without the ability to achieve his high standards. 

"Some twisted brain you have for sleeping with your cousin's ex-spouse,” Naobito then chided, yet amusement remained absent in his tone. “Was that the low-class tramp I saw in the photos with you on the private jet the other day?"

The blonde kept his mouth shut.

But his father wanted an answer. "Well?!"

Suck it in, Naoya. That's all you can do now. "Yes."

What a sight, to see how someone blazing as a furious flame then erupt into a violent volcano. Naobito grabbed his son's collar, pulling him forward and shoving him against the wall. His fists shook as he sought the other's gaze.

"You're fucking married, you realize that?!" he snarled.

"I do! Which is why I have cut Mari from my life! I don't talk to that woman anymore."

Unimpressed, Naobito tugged forcefully at Naoya's shirt again. "I am truly astonished by what an idiot you are. Your answer doesn't change shit." He tightened his grip and did not care that his son wrapped both hands around his wrist to prevent himself from choking. "Let me tell you something, boy. I did everything—everything—to convince our Chief Operating Officer to let his treasured daughter marry you, you despicable bastard. He didn't want to hand the girl over because he knew—oh, that man is wise!—he knew that the union mainly served as a tactic to improve your public image and that there was little obvious benefit for his child. Power and money did not interest him when compared to his daughter, so the one promise I made is that you would love her," and he roared, "so, what the hell have you done?!"

Naoya had heard his father’s warnings countless times, yet he previously brushed each one aside with an ambivalence he now acknowledged as foolish. Unlike before, the threat to his hard-earned position suddenly became very, verypalpable. He grappled with a strange fear, unable to pinpoint what precisely unsettled him the most. The scorn from a world that no longer saw him as an honest businessman? The sneers from relatives with an undeniable reason to mock him? Or perhaps the fury from his draconian father, whose disappointment cut deeper than any public disgrace?

"I—" Naoya's choked voice resembled a croak. He could hardly breathe. "I apologize. This entire situation...this got out of my control."

Alongside his callous disregard for his son’s feelings, the Zenin patriarch even scoffed.

"This isn’t about getting out of your control, boy. This is about your complete lack of judgment. In fact, Daisuke called me when he saw the headlines, and you know what he told me?" and he had to refrain from flinging his son onto the ground before he continued, "That Y/N's been staying in her family residence again because she is going to leave you!"

Naoya held his next breath. Fuck, he knows. Naoya intended to keep his recent arguments with you a secret, hoping to resolve the situation first. However, since your father snitched...lying would be a dangerous move.

"I have not seen Y/N in a week because we've had a few fights." Naoya did not dare admit the details about how you two became arguing spectacles, first in his cousins' presence and later on at the café. "Just...marriage quarrels. We will get over—"

“She would be a moron to stay married to you,” Naobito cut off. "Y/N and your unborn child deserve more than to have a public disgrace like you in the household."

Right. Had he not been reminded, Naoya would've forgotten that he had lied to his father about your pregnancy, too. His hands grew clammy where they still seized his father’s wrist.

“There"—a cough—"there is no child,” Naoya blurted out, determining to rip all bandaids off in one go.

Naturally, his father became perplexed.

“Excuse me?” His hold loosened just enough for Naoya to gasp properly for his next breath.

“Y/N is not pregnant,” Naoya repeated, his voice hollow with resignation. “During our last family dinner, I only said that because I wanted to please you.”

The older Zenin became still, appalled by the younger one's bravery to say those words. For a moment, Naoya braced himself for another physical blow before his father released him, shoving Naoya backward such that he stumbled.

“If you weren’t so disappointing, there would be no need for you to lie to me,” Naobito pointed out coldly. "Not only to me, but also your wife, your colleagues, and your shareholders on matters about your family, your marriage, or your commitment to the company. If Toji had not brought this to the media's attention, how much longer would you have manipulated the truth for your benefit?"

There he went again.

"I don't understand," Naoya protested, unable to contain his frustration any longer. "Toji doesn't belong in this family anymore! Why do you keep talking about him? Father, you forced him to leave earlier this year, citing his threat to our family and company's reputation."

"You're the one to talk!" Naobito shot back. "At least Toji has the brain that you utterly lack." Before the younger man could react, the Chairman had already turned on his heel. "I have made my decision."

His decision?

A confused Naoya watched his father head for the exit.

"Wait, Father...!"

"Enough!" The infuriated man raised a hand right as he neared the door, a warning for him to not speak further. "Our discussion has concluded. Effective immediately, Toji Fushiguro has been re-instated as the Zenin Heir and CEO."

Instantly, Naoya slumped forward in disbelief.

Even as the older man disappeared, the room appeared to spin dangerously. Toji Fushiguro...re-instated? As the heir and CEO?

Naobito Zenin could never make up his mind, now could he? In Naoya's head, this must be some cruel joke.

Ever since he comprehended his ability to bend fate to his will, he had promised himself to fight tooth and nail to defend the (very rightful!) position that he worked hard to earn. He had disposed of his cousin through slander, he had to put up with shitty corporate politics, and, hell, he had to even marry you!

Some may label Naoya's current negative publicity as irredeemable, but he held hope the situation would normalize once the steam blew over.

With these thoughts in mind, Naoya regained his balance and rushed out as well. "Father!"

However, by the time he reached beyond the doors, Naobito Zenin was no longer there. Even his secretary could not be found as, instead, two imposing figures stood by the desk where his assistant should be. Naoya didn't recognize them. The men were tall and well-built, their muscled arms and thighs visible despite the fabric that covered their tattooed skin.

"Nice to meet you," one started after the long silence. "I am Eso and this is my younger brother Kechizu."

A stumped Naoya frowned.

"May...I help you?"

"No," the other answered nonchalantly, "because we are here to knock you out."

"Wha—"

And Naoya's vision went dark.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: Note that Eso and Kechizu are Choso's younger brothers in JJK. (Both are not completely human in canonverse, but we shall suspend beliefs.) Also, I cannot explain the satisfaction as I wrote about Naoya and his mistress finally getting wrecked! Talk about justice being served! There were many ways these scenes could have played out, but I strategically chose Tsumiki and Naobito as the agents in the discussions. Freed from corporate America handcuffs, I plan to post again soon. Love you all!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzuruu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

[lunajay33]

Change

•🩰🎀🩷•

Summary: Y/n is a loner but loves ballet but her family doesn’t have enough money for her to dance at the studio, Daryl is a redneck who hates people and prefers bikes, until one day these two run into eachother and their lives change drastically, will Daryl toughen her up? Will y/n soften Daryl? Or both? How will things go when people start coming back from the dead

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader

A/n: This is going to be a series, it’s gonna start with how they met eachother and their lives before the apocalypse, eventually it’ll blend with twd story line!!

•Masterlist•

I’ve always wanted to dance, to strap on pretty pink ballet slippers and wear the tights and everything, ever since I was a little girl and first watch Swan Lake, watching how there was a light beautiful side but how also a dark side to a person it hooked me, but that dream was quickly crushed when my parents refused, saying they didn’t have enough money to put me in ballet because my older brothers football was more important and they couldn’t afford both at once

It’s always been like that, whatever my brother wanted he’d get within a reasonable price, but when I asked for the simplest things they would get mad and always turn me down, saying I should get a job if I ever wanted anything. So that’s exactly what I did, I got a waitressing job at the little diner in town, working after school and on weekends just hoping to be able to save enough for ballet classes, but balancing school and work everyday is exhausting and having a terrible home life ontop of that doesn’t help

My older coworker told me to make some friends and that might help things, help distract myself for a while and have a person to relay on for once but it wasn’t so simple, if you weren’t drop dead gorgeous, or had nice clothes and money in my school then the girls treated you like a ghost

So here I am sat at my usual bench under the wilting tree behind the school for lunch, sitting in the cafeteria all alone at a whole table felt pathetic, embarrasing, plus it was more comforting here, no pry judgemental eyes, plus the air out here smelt of fall, fallen crisp leaves, the towns forest right behind the school, it was comforting

I finished my lunch putting the book I was ready away in my bag and made my way back for my next class, biology and today we were getting a new seating arrangement, one I’ve been waiting for the whole month since I was sat next to one of the mean girls, I took my seat right as the bell rang

“Okay class today we are moving around, so find your spots” she said as she projected the new seating up on the board, I found my name at the second table to the back on the left, I made my way noticing I was sat with Daryl Dixon. He was quiet, usually kept to himself kind of like me, people would always talk bad about him but never dared say anything if his older brother was around, I remember the times my brother would complain about how obnoxious Merle Dixon was….as if he wasn’t the exact same

I plopped down next to him taking out my books and pencil case

“Hi”

“Hey” he said keeping his eyes on the table

That’s all we said to each other the whole period until the end of class

“Okay everyone, whoever you’re sitting with is now going to be your new lab partner, you’ll be working on this project together outside of class and it’ll be due at the end of next week, so I advise you figure out a time and place to work on this” she said as she handed out papers seeing it was a project on the cycle of frogs and their habitats

There was 10 minutes left in class for us to figure out how to get this project done, I turned in my seat looking at Daryl, up close I noticed he was actually kinda cute in a mysterious way

“Would you like to come to my house tomorrow so we can work on it?” I asked as tomorrow was Saturday

“Sure” I wrote down my address and gave it to him right when the bell rang

I was getting ready for Daryl to come over, I don’t know why I was so nervous maybe because I’ve never really had many people over and that my parents and brother were psychotic and mean and I didn’t want him to witness that. I looked in the mirror brushing out my hair that I’ve combed through a hundred times already, hoping my outfit was nice enough, a whiteish sweatshirt that had a hint of blush pink to it, paired with black leggings just wanting to be comfortable but hopefully still cute, that’s when I heard a knock at the door

“ILL GET IT!” I screamed not wanting anyone else to answer especially not my brother since he knew Daryl was Merle’s brother

I stood infront of the closed door huffing out a breath to calm my jitters, I opened it and there he stood, hands in pockets with his usual gruff demeanor

“Come in” I said stepping aside for him to come in

“Do you wanna work in my room?”

“Sure” he said as he kicked off his shoes

I lead the way to my room, it wasn’t a big house so it wasn’t like we had to go down hallways to get to my room, I closed the door when we got in as he dropped his notebook on my bed looking around my room which made me anxious, my walls had little framed photos of Swan Lake, little painting of ballet slippers, my room wasn’t much since my parents put so much into Jackson’s room but these photos were all I had to keep me happy

“Nice room” he said with a smirk

“You don’t have to lie” I said smiling as I crawled on my bed sitting up against the head board as he followed to sit at the foot of the bed

“I ain’t, it’s…..different, do ya dance?” He asked looking back to the pictures I adored

“No, I’ve always dreamed of it though”

He looked at me with a strange look I couldn’t read

“Well why don’t ya?”

“My parents won’t let me, said Jackson football is my important and will lead to something” I said shrugging my shoulders, if anyone could understand brother problems it would be him

His usual glaring eyes softened but I didn’t want the pity, I thought about my crushed dream enough I didn’t want to think about it more so I flipped open the text book to the section we needed and we got to work, it was silent for the most part and I welcomed it, until we took a break

“Merle says yer brother is always runnin his mouth, talks bad about ya” my heart thumped in my chest, Jackson could say anything about me and I’d have no way to deny it since no one really liked me and he had his whole football team full of guys who only thought with one thing

“What does he say?” I asked nervously

“Says yer a weirdo, says ya run around sleepin with every guy on his football team” my heart felt like it stopped and shrivelled up

“What……..I would never, I can’t believe he would say that, I don’t know why he hates me so much” I said as my bottom lip quivered try to control myself, not wanting to cry infront of him and make him uncomfortable

“Merle an I, we don’t believe ‘em……..plus it ain’t like everyone else in that damn school ain’t like that” he said looking back down at his note book, fidgeting with his pencil

“It would be better if I had friends that would believe me and be on my side” I said huffing a little sarcastic laugh

“I can be yer friend” he said so quietly I almost didn’t hear him

“You don’t have to pity me, I know you don’t like people” he looked back up at me with he glaring expression but for some reason it didn’t bother me

“I ain’t pitying ya, yer one of the few people that don’t annoy me at school, yer nice and keep to yer self” he said bluntly making my heart flutter

“Okay, I’d like to be friends then!” I said smiling as we both went back to work

After 2 hours of going back and forth working and talking we got the project done, I led him to the door standing there as he laced up his shoes, I opened the door as he stood back up

“So uhh, ya wanna hang out again tomorrow?” He asked gripping his backpack strap

“Sure, I have a shift at the diner in the morning but you can come by and we can eat there after I’m done, I get a discount!” I said excited

“Sounds good” he said about to leave before I stopped him

“Wait, here’s my number, it’s for my room phone so you can call anytime if you want” I said handing him a piece of paper with my number

“I’ll call ya later then, see ya” he said in his gruff voice as he left watching him disappear up the side walk

It was the next day and I was almost done my shift, I’d covered a lot of tables and was now just wiping down the counter waiting to see Daryl walk through the door, the door bell chimed and I looked up excited but instead it was Jackson and some of his football team members, they came in loud and obnoxious as usual

They came to the counter, filling three seats along the counter

“Jackson what are you doing here?” I asked putting down the rag I was using

“Oh come on sis we’re just hungry” he said sarcastically as his friends laughed with him

I sighed taking out my pad “well what do you wanted?”

“I wanna see you bent over my truck” his friend said, I was disgusted but I wasn’t good with this kind of thing

“Cute little thing like you mmmmm, what I wouldn’t do” his other friend said

I was beyond embarrased I just wish someone could help me, and as if my prayers were answered someone came in to intervene

“Leave er alone jackasses” I looked down to a seat further down the counter seeing it was Daryl, he must have just came in

“Oh ya and what’re you gonna do Dixon?”

“Just get outta here” he said sending a glare that could kill, they huffed and got up with a commotion

“Whatever, we’ll see you around bitch” they said to me before they left, I made my way to where Daryl was seated my face felt so hot

“Sorry you had to see that?” I said giving him a glass of water

“Do they do that often?”

“Ya usually when I’m working on the weekend, they think it’s funny”

“I can get Merle, set them straight” he said making me smile

“Nah it’s not your problem but thank you, I’m kinda use to it by now, even though it incredibly embarrassing” I said covering my cheeks

“Anyways, I’m done now so I’ll go clock out and be right back” I said trying to change the subject, I walked to the back taking of my waist apron and got my purse

“You done for the day sweetie?” My older coworker May asked

“Yeah, but me and my friend are going to have some lunch here”

Her eyes lit up “Friend? Did you finally manage to snatch someone up” she said twirling her pen as she smacked on her cherry gum she always had in her mouth

“Yes, he’s just easy to be around”

“HE?”

“Yes May my friend is a boy don’t get all crazy, but he’s waiting so I have to go before he thinks I left” I said blushing as I went back out and sat next to him at the counter

May took our orders and left to attend to the other few customers that were still here

“So why do ya work here?” He asked

“My parents said if I ever wanted anything I needed to get my own money, plus I’m trying to save to be able to afford ballet classes, it may be stupid but it’s my dream”

“It ain’t stupid, yer workin fer what ya want, I get that” his voice was kind but the grumble to it made me tingle

“Thanks, do you work anywhere?” I asked as May gave us our meals, my strawberry milkshake and grilled cheese, and Daryl’s coke with a burger and fries

“Sometimes I work on fixin people’s bikes ‘round town ta make some extra money, Merle said I’d make more if I did what he did but I don’t wanna fall into that crowd” I knew what Merle did, the whole town did

“Maybe one day we can get outta this town where people won’t judge us and we can have actual good jobs”

“Ya maybe”

With that we silently ate our food until we finished and May gave us our checks with my discount then we were leaving heading the door bell chime

We walked down to my house as neither of us had cars, until we stopped infront of the house awkwardly

“Lunch was nice, thanks for coming bye, you can come anytime”

“ ‘course, I’ll……I’ll see ya tomorrow then?”

“Ya I’ll see you tomorrow Daryl” I said smiling as we went separate ways, I closed the door to the house my heart thumping against my chest

I finally had a friend

Part.2

This will be a series so if you like to be added to the taglist and get notified of the next part comment below!!:)

Taglist: @deansapplepie

[sweetbans29]

Mia Bella - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You and Caitlin meet at the dog park :)

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Here's a cute one for you - I honestly just love the thought of meeting outside of basketball and then having mutual support of one another. Ugh - I digress.

6 weeks. 6 weeks was all your summer at home consisted of before having to head back to school to start pre-season training. You play volleyball for UCLA which had you back in SoCal starting in the middle of July. Your love for playing outweighed your disgust for such a short summer but 6 weeks felt like nothing. 

Your favorite part of being home was getting to spend all the time in the world with your baby, Mia. Mia is a six-year-old, beautiful aussie who has been your best friend ever since she was a puppy. She is your favorite reason to come home for the summer. She provided the rest you needed from training while keeping you out in the sun. And this summer you were extra excited.

The city had just put in a new dog park right down the street from your house that had triple the space than any of the parks within a 10-mile radius from you. The only plan you had was to take her there daily. You knew she wasn’t going to complain about that - it was a long-standing summer tradition for the two of you.

You got home on a Friday night and first thing Saturday morning was taking Mia to the park. You grab you both water, her ball, and a blanket and put it in a bag with some snacks (some for you and some for her). You grab Mia’s leash and next thing you know you are off to the park. 

It’s a beautiful day. Mia makes a b-line to the park as your dad had been taking her since it opened. You get to the park right around 9 and find a nice place to set up your blanket. You set everything down and take Mia off her leash, she immediately gets the zoomies and you run around with her. You grab her ball and begin to play fetch.

If there is anything Mia loves more in this world than you, it is playing fetch. She would play all day if someone was willing to throw the ball to her. As you are throwing the ball with her you see another pup come and join Mia. A beautiful golden joins in with Mia - never stealing the ball but just happy to have someone to run around with. Mia drops her ball and the two dogs begin introducing themselves. The golden comes your way to get some pets and seems so excited to find another friend, even if you aren't four-legged.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see another 2-legged friend come jogging your way. You get up from the squat you were in to give the pups some love and give a little wave to the girl coming up.

"I am so sorry," she begins but you immediately wave her off.

"Please don't apologize, your pup is a sweetheart," you say as you continue to love on her pup. "What is their name?"

"Bella," the girl says. "My sweet Bella."

"It's so nice to meet you, Bella!" You say as you give her ear scratches. Your dog then goes up and looks for pets from the Bella's owner. "That is Mia," you say signaling to your baby.

Once a moment passes, you realize you haven't introduced yourself and extend your hand to do so. She shakes your hand with a smile and tells you her name is Caitlin.

"Well it is certainly a pleasure to meet you, Caitlin," you say with a smile. “I’ve caught a few of your games last season - your game is strong.” It’s her turn to smile after you give the compliment.

You invite her to sit while your pups run around. The two of you begin to get to know one another. You learn that she’s played basketball her whole life and that she had to play on the boys' team while she was in elementary. Following that - she was chosen to play for Team USA when she was in high school. As she was talking about playing, it was really neat to hear how much she loves the sport but is still able to separate her game from who she knows she is. Sitting there listening to her, it feels like she has opened a door to her soul- her genuine self. Your heart was instantly hooked.

As she kept talking, it felt like everything in the world melted away - she could talk you into circles and you would follow her anywhere. She talked about how she wanted to go to UConn but they never reached out to her. The coach never came to any of her games and the school never contacted her family. She ended up going to Iowa which meant she was close to home and her family could come and watch her play whenever. She talked about how that affected her in a way she wouldn’t have expected at the time but was for the better. You don’t know what it was but it felt like she was telling you things she hasn’t told anyone.

After she finishes talking about basketball, she starts to talk about how she was born and raised here. She talks about her two brothers and how competitive she was and still is. She talks about how there wasn’t much time for anything outside of basketball. Not that she regretted missing out on things like prom and dating.

When it was your turn, you talked about how you had a very similar background but instead of basketball, it was volleyball. You grew up playing from a young age and are now playing D1 volleyball at UCLA which is a little further from home than you hoped. You talked about how your family travels to come see you as often as they can but it never feels like enough. You talk about how you don't really know what you want to do after playing in college - you have thought about coaching but haven't figured it out yet.

Continuing, you talk about your family and how you are an only child but always wanted siblings growing up. You talk about how nice it was to go to college away but how much you missed the Midwest and look forward to coming back after you graduate. You relate to her in how time outside of sports had you missing things that felt like a right of passage but never really minded it. You were lucky to always have friends on the teams that you played on - they kept you going.

Before the two of you know, it is already mid-afternoon. Both of your pups are napping next to one another like they have known each other their whole lives.

"How long are you home for?" Caitlin asks.

"I have about 6 weeks before having to head back for training. It's not much but it is better than nothing," you say, giving a half smile to your new friend.

"Dang, that feels like nothing," she says with a little laugh. "Do you have any plans?" She asks, hoping that this is just the start of a new friendship rather than a one-and-done thing. She had shared more with you in the last few hours than she had with most people in the first month.

"The only set plan I have is to bring Mia here as much as possible," you say with a smile. "If you aren't super busy, you should join! You and Bella of course," you follow up.

"It's a date," she says giving you a smile. Your cheeks start to heat up, smiling back.

The next few weeks were some of the best you have ever had while being home for the summer. Caitlin and you had spent every day at the park, bringing your dogs of course. Some days you would both bring a book and read, others you would end up talking the whole time. It was really nice to have someone to spend time with while you were home.

Getting to know each other at the park is what brought you to her house today. As you get out of your car, you see her come around the house and wave. You give her a wave back as you grab your things. You don't know how it happened but one day at the park you brought up how her shooting from the logo and how you couldn't shoot a basketball to save your life. She promised she would teach you before the summer was over.

So here you are, about to make a fool of yourself in front of one of the best women college players and there was nothing you could do. You walk over to her and give her a little hug.

"Are you ready to learn how to shoot?" Caitlin says with excitement. Her excitement is contagious.

"As ready as I will ever be!" You say with a chuckle, Caitlin's cute when she is excited.

The two of you stretch and she goes on about how she knows you will be a natural...or so she hoped.

You always love to prove people wrong, usually, it is those who are telling you that you can't do something. This time around, you wish you could prove her right because it was quite embarrassing.

"Well that was terrible," she says with a laugh. Both of you are lying on the ground in her home gym as you have just spent the last two hours trying to do anything that resembled basketball.

"I feel like that doesn't do justice to what I am capable of athletically. If you really want to see what I can do, you would come to one of my games," you say with a laugh.

"I would love to see you play," she says, turning her head to look at you. "Maybe someday we can make that happen."

Looking back at her you reply, "I would love that Cait."

"Then I'll come watch you play," you say with a smile. She smiles in response and scoots a little closer.

"Can I tell you something?" She asks. You nod, turning to face her. The ground wasn't the most comfortable thing, but you wanted to provide her your full attention.

"I am really glad our dogs met that day in the park," she begins, not really making eye contact with you. "I wasn't super excited about coming home for the summer but meeting and getting to know you has changed that. I am really glad we met. talking to you and laughing with you has brought me joy and I want to continue talking even when you go back to California. I don't want to not talk to you...or see you because well, I like you. I like you a lot. And I don't really know what to do with how much I like you because this is all new to me and..." You grab her hand and give it a squeeze. She finally looks up at you.

Her hand comes up to your face, her fingers brushing against your cheek. Her eyes look at your lips as she begins to lean in.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," she says just above a whisper, as her face inches closer to yours. You shake your head no as you close your eyes, waiting to feel her lips.

The kiss is simple. It is slow, just getting to know what the other feels like. Once she breaks away, you place your forehead against hers.

"I like you too," you say with a smile.

AN: Finally a shorter one, we are working on it. I hope you enjoyed it! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

The Daily Mail has helpfully listed all the times Meghan’s rebrands and relaunches have failed.

Archived Link

Here, FEMAIL reveals the Duke and Duchess' projects that, for all the carefully constructed razzmatazz of their launch, have so far come to little.

ARO/Roop:

[L]ittle more has been officially revealed about the brand, with no Instagram posts on the firm's official account since March and the website simply offering fans the chance to join a waitlist. But what exactly are potential customers waiting for? Jam and dog biscuits? A source told The Daily Mail in June that the priority is instead the launch of a rosé wine. It's unclear when exactly American Riviera Orchard products will be available.

Archetypes:

The Duchess, who produced only one series of her podcast Archetypes for Spotify before parting ways with the company, had signed with Lemonada to develop and host a new series. However, a source told Eden that there is not expected to be any work broadcast this year. 'The relaunch of Meghan's Archetypes podcast got pushed back to 2025,' the California-based source says….Lemonada is said to be concerned that there would also be 'scheduling conflicts' between the launch of its podcasts and that of Meghan's lifestyle brand, American Riviera Orchard.

40x40:

It was unclear at the time as to exactly how the project would work, or whether there would be any way to measure its success. But according to The Sun, less than 10 months on, there was no follow-up on the campaign and royal expert Angela Levin said she thought the 40x40 project had been 'cancelled'. She said: 'I think it's very quietly gone into the dustbin,' added that it was an idea of the royal's that 'didn't come off'. There also doesn't seem to be any mention of the 40x40 project on the Duke and Duchess' Archewell website.

Spotify:

Last January, [Bill Simmons, Spotify’s head head of podcast innovation and monetization] blasted Prince Harry, saying it was 'embarrassing' to be affiliated with the same company. 'Shoot this guy to the sun,' he said, according to sports website The Big Lead. 'I'm so tired of this guy. What does he bring to the table? He just whines about s*** and keeps giving interviews. Who gives a s***? Who cares about your life? You weren't even the favourite son. You live in f****** Montecito and you just sell documentaries and podcasts and nobody cares what you have to say about anything unless you talk about the royal family and you just complain about them.'

The couple produced less than 13 hours of content during the three-year partnership: 12 episodes of Meghan's Archetypes show, and a 30-minute Christmas special featuring both the Duke and Duchess.

Pearl/Netflix:

Harry and Meghan signed a five-year agreement with Netflix* in 2020 worth an estimated $100million (£80million) but earlier this year there was speculation that their contract renewal was under threat.

The couple's first launch on the streaming giant was their six-part documentary 'Harry and Meghan' which was released in 2022 and caused controversy with its series of swipes at the Royal Family. … But in May, Netflix dropped Meghan's planned animated series Pearl as part of a wave of cutbacks prompted by the streaming service's drop in subscribers. All references to her doomed animation were wiped from her Archewell website after the series was axed by the streaming giant. A prior description of the series under the Archewell Productions subsection was nowhere to be found after it was cancelled.

*There’s been a lot of speculation over the years about their Netflix deal, but this is the first official confirmation in writing (that I’ve been able to find) that it’s a 5-year deal. This supports my theory that the new push for content (Meghan’s lifestyle show, her cooking show, and Harry’s polo documentary) is a final “do or die” effort to be able to renegotiate their contract and renew their deal.

[constesplanetarium]

✩╔═*.·:·.✧✦✧.·:·.*═╗✩

Coffee “Date” Hangout

☼⚠︎ Ryland (Yandere! Best Friend) x GN! Reader

✩╚═*.·:·.✧✦✧.·:·.*═╝✩

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

a/n: mr. locksmith is back…

if you’re new, i recommend reading THIS to understand Ryland (not too necessary, but recommended!), and THIS to understand the mentions of the others. :)

TW!!! General Yandere shenanigans (possessiveness, jealousy, aggression towards other guys, etc.), aggression towards you, ominous threats, not really a TW but there’s also a bit of tsundereness in there

Word count: 3k

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“Oh look, you’re here. 10 minutes late too.” Ryland grumbles as you brush his complaints off with a roll of your eyes. He brushes some of his hair out of the way with a dark tan hand, extending his hand out to tap on the table. “Hurry up.” He always does this. You could be fifteen-point-five seconds late, and he would still complain about it.

“Whatever. Sit.” He pats the spot next to him in the little booth, and you toss your small bag on the opposite side, taking a seat across from him. Since he wants to give you attitude, you’ll give him some back. He scowls, but picks up the menu and scrolls through it.

“Ah, strawberry cream crepes! That sounds good, huh?” His angered demeanor vanishes as he points eagerly to the menu item. It’s so easy to tell when he’s really mad and when he isn’t. That must be one of the perks with having him as a friend for this long. “Or I could go with the french toast, huh. What’re you gonna get?”

You pick up your menu and settle on whatever catches your eyes first, flipping the menu over before you let your temptations get the best of you. Ryland seems to know what he’s going to get too, as soon as the waitress comes up.

“Yeah, just the strawberry crepes, and a black coffee.”

You murmur your order to the waitress too, and as soon as she leaves, Ryland clasps his hands together, tilting his head to the side as a grin forms on his face.

“I always love going on dates with you, babe.” Yuck. This isn’t a date. And the next time he calls you babe, he’s catching a right hook to the face.

“Yeah, ‘course it is. Look around.” He gestures around to other patrons in the café, obviously on dates with their significant others. But that doesn’t mean anything for the two of you.

“You’re always in denial.” He struggles to even get the sentence out, chuckling as he sees your irritated expression. “Alright, I’m just kidding. Not like I would go on a real date with you anyway.” What a liar. You roll your eyes at him, trying to hide the smile forming on your face.

“Ugh, hell no. You’re so ugly and nasty.” Yeah, whatever. It’s so easy to see right through him. “Gross.” He seems to pause, tapping his finger on the table before speaking again.

“And, uhm, sorry for how I acted over the phone yesterday afternoon.” He murmurs, his joking demeanor dropping instantly. To be honest, he didn’t even need to apologize in person. Just by the way he sounded over the phone when you got home last night, you could tell he felt awful.

Despite that, it doesn’t take long to get into the swing of conversation, and your food arrives even sooner than you thought it would. Ah, it smells so good…

Ryland’s already dug into his crepes, white cream all over his mouth as he speaks. “Ah, wow!” He exclaims, his mouth full of food. “This shiss ahmazhing!” Hehe. ‘Shiss’. It’s cute to see the pure bliss on his face, too. You didn’t even know he really liked crepes like that.

He swallows his food and licks the corner of his mouth, missing a bit of the cream. “I’ve been making some at home recently.” Really?

“Yeah.” He suddenly scoffs and looks away, oddly frustrated at your shock. “You know, you would know this if you came by my apartment more often, instead of studying all of your time away.” Ah, so that’s what he’s angry about.

“Okay, sure, ‘important’.” Ryland mutters, taking another piece of his crepe as he stuffs it inside his mouth, and goes for a sip of his coffee. There isn’t a way to cheer him up, huh? “Yeah, your bullshit classes are more important than me. Sure.” You never said that. He’s always jumping to conclusions, huh?

“I just… Ugh.” He scoffs. “You know I miss hanging out with you, no matter how gross you are.” He nudges a strawberry out of his crepe as he talks, stabbing it onto his fork as he takes a bite. “And who knows how it’s gonna be later down the line, with working full time and what not.” He waggles his fork around, pointing to you. “Especially cause’ it looks like you never have time for me anyway, even now.” Well, what about now?

“This,” He gestures to the entirety of the café, and your meal. “doesn’t count. You know I mean things like, er, relaxing in my room.” Ryland extends his hand out, starting to count on his fingers. “Or watching a movie, baking, talking smack about everyone else- Ah, did you hear what Cody did?” He snickers, wiping some cream off his mouth. “He was playing around these two girls, and they both caught him. Idiot.” Eh, it was gonna happen sooner or later. You take another bite of your meal, and soak in the atmosphere of both the café, but also finally getting the chance to hang out with him again.

He isn’t wrong. Life has been pretty busy nowadays, but for the past few weeks, it looks like things have been calming down, especially with the chilly weather. You even got the chance to relax with Marcus yesterday.

“Oh, yeah.” Ryland nibbles another strawberry off the tip of his fork. “Him.” He mutters, his shoulders becoming a bit tense as he takes another bite of his crepe. “How was it?”

It was pretty fun, in all honesty. And the muffins he gave you as a gift were even better.

“That’s good.” He says dismissively, taking a sip of his coffee as you drone on just a little more about Marcus. It doesn’t take long to see the look of disinterest in his face, since he usually doesn’t hide it, so you switch the topic rather quickly.

“You know, I can bake too. It’s not hard.” He grumbles. “We should bake together sometime. It would be even better than with… Whoever.”

You sigh, shaking your head at his jealous nature. Idiot.

“If you’re gonna sit there and sigh, how about you just stop mentioning other people altogether?” Ryland snaps, dropping his fork on the table with a clatter as he crosses his arms. “That shit pisses me off. You’re out with me, and you’re wondering what the fuck this ‘Marcus’ guy is doing right now?” Ryland scowls deeply. “It can never be just us two, it’s always someone else…” His voice trails off as he stares down at his crepe, brows furrowing as he becomes lost in thought. You sigh at his outburst and take another bite of your meal, rolling your eyes.

It’s become so normal, brushing it off is something second nature at this point. Really, are all boy best friends this protective?

Nah, probably not. It’s always been just him that acts this way, even all those years back.

“You never take me seriously.” He hisses. “I’m gonna do something one day, cause you keep on pissing me off with all of these guys, watch.” Eugh, his tone sounded even worse right there, worse than usual… Maybe something really is off?

Once you ask, all he does is pick up his fork and mutter something under his breath. You can’t catch it at all…

It’s quiet between you two for a moment, and all that fills the silence between you two is his fork scraping on his plate, as he takes another piece of his almost finished crepe.

Though, despite all of this, all it takes is a small murmur of his name, and then another one, for him to crumble.

“Oh jeez.” He mumbles, his hand trembling a bit as he takes another bite of his crepe. “I’m sorry.” Ryland says in a hushed voice, seemingly nervous of what you think of him. “I’m trying to get better at controlling myself, I promise.”

Yeah…

“I just,” he pauses for a second. “I just really like you, obviously, so…” Ryland looks back up at you. “You don’t hate me, do you?”

Of course not.

“Are you mad?”

You smile, yet sigh, shaking your head as he starts to laugh a bit.

“Yeah, okay, of course,” he mutters. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“How bout’ there?” It took a bit for him to get back to his energetic self, but with a bit of conversation and teasing, hw’s back to good ol’ Ryland. He points to a small sweet shop on the side of the street, a fairly large line leading a bit out of the store despite the time of day, Or, er, the time of night. “They have good sweets, even some candy. Want me to get a couple, so we can take some home?”

Yes please.

Ryland grins and rubs your shoulder affectionately. “My cars open. You can wait there.” But couldn’t you just go inside with him? He pinches your cheek and tugs on it, enjoying your complaints at the pain and all of the name-calling. “I don’t want you waiting outside in the cold. I’ll be fine. Plus,” he flicks you right in the forehead, bringing a scowl right to your face. “I wanna get you some surprise sweets, so we can try them together.”

Oh. Your scowl is wiped off your face as he mentions the little surprise he had in mind. Hmm.

Fine.

You open the passenger door of his car, taking a seat inside. After Ryland makes sure you’re comfortable, and that the car is warm enough for you, you watch him walk off to the line, which luckily, has already gotten shortened by two people while you both were talking. This won’t take long.

You fiddle around with your bag in your hands, glancing around at the people passing by on the street. Actually, some of these people stay in your apartment complex, huh? It’s not too strange, since it’s fairly close. Maybe only an eight minute drive. You’ve already counted three people you recognize crossing by, including a group of women with some bags of the same sweet shop Ryland had just gone to. There’s also this guy leaning against a wall, obviously disheveled from either an exhausting day, or he’s drunk out of his mind.

Maybe it’s both?

Wait. Wait a minute.

That guy seems familiar.

Hmm. Caramel skin, brown trench coat, light brown hair, a bit messy too. It has a sort of wild look. A flask in his left hand, cigarette in his left, different color-

Different colored eyes?! Holy shit, it’s that man! The guy that helped you out with your apartment that night, no way!

He really did save you that night too, ahh, maybe another thank you and a small hello won’t hurt.

You open the car door, slamming it shut behind you as you run up to him, tapping him on his arm, and he swivels around to meet your gaze. Uh oh. There’s an evident scowl on his face. “What?” His deep, raspy voice snaps out, but his face softens as he meets your gaze, a sigh leaving his parted lips. “Sorry; Been a little wound up lately.” His eyes wander as he looks you up and down, a small ‘hmm’ noise leaving his throat as he smiles. “Can I help you, sugar?”

You stop and raise a brow. He doesn’t remember you?

His face scrunches up a bit as he slips his flask into some of his trench coat pockets, reaching up and rubbing his stubble. “I’m sorry, have we met before?” Mr. Locksmith grumbles, tapping his finger lightly on his cigarette as he looks you up and down, and he draws in another puff of smoke. “I don’t think I would fully forget a pretty face like yours.”

Oh. Your face warms up, but you don't provide him any assistance as you wait for him.

Luckily, it doesn’t take long for the realization to pop up on his face, and he blows the smoke out as a wide grin spreads on his face. “Oh, hey, I know you! You were the person who got locked out of their apartment, yeah?” You nod excitedly and smile, thanking him again for helping you that night. He brushes it off and taps his cigarette again, ash falling onto the ground.

“It’s nothin’. Anything to help a pretty person like yourself, sugar.” His rough hand pets and ruffles the top of your head, and you scowl at his touch. You pepped yourself up for this hangout with Ryland and everything, now he’s going to ruin your hair.

Thank god the little “date”, as Ryland called it, is already over.

“Now, what’re you all dolled up for? Are you meeting somebody?” You shake your head at his question. “Oh? You’re already done?” He says, drawing in more smoke from his cigarette, then letting it fall to the ground as he stamps it out lightly with his foot. “Hope your little date was nice. Where’s the lucky guy?” Wasn’t a date, but okay.

Off, somewhere. Getting snacks; ah, hopefully he gets those little cream puffs. Maybe Marcus would like one.

“Ahh,” He smiles. “It’s not very nice of him to leave a pretty thing like you out here alone though, is it, sugar?” You giggle and shake your head, playing along with his joke. How charming and funny can one guy be? He’s pretty good at this. Now, how many other people have fallen for his spell?

“No one else.” That’s hard to believe, for someone like him. “You’re the first.”

Ahh, now hold on a second…

“I know, I’m just joking around.” He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, popping the lid open. “You smoke?”

Hell no.

“Suit yourself.” He chuckles. “Thanks for the fifty bucks, by the way. Spent it on exactly what I told you I would.” But a whole fifty on just cigarettes is a bit much, isn’t it?

“That’s why I bought some alcohol with it too. And a nice tie.” He reaches up to his neck, stopping once he notices said tie isn’t there. “Oh yeah, forgot. I took it off earlier. Didn’t want to get it messed up.” Well, at least your money didn’t fully go toward a bad habit.

“Hold on. This your boyfriend walking up? I thought you were messing with that boy at the bar.” Boyfriend? You don’t have a…

He points down the street, and sure enough, Rylands walking up to you both, looking extremely displeased.

“Uh oh.” Mr. Locksmith chuckles and takes a step back from you as Ryland makes his way over. “Better have an explanation up.” His eyes scan over you again, up and down, and he starts to chuckle. “You little cheater.”

Ah, damn.

“Hey,” Ryland greets you in a hushed voice, glaring at Mr. Locksmith as his hand snakes around to your waist, pushing you flush against him. “C’mon, is this dumbass hitting on you?” And there goes his defensive nature. You scowl and shake your head slowly in annoyance, nudging him with your elbow harshly on his side. “Ouch, ‘kay, damn.” He hisses. Ryland's hand is still tense around you. “So, who the hell is he?”

“So you must be the lucky man.” Mr. Locksmith laughs a bit, waving his hand around dismissively. “Nah, I’m no one is important. I just helped them with…”

Oh god, he shouldn’t mention the apartment! If he does, Ryland’s gonna cause a storm with his questions like “Why didn’t you come to me?” and “Why didn’t you call me?” Ugh. Please don’t!

“Their car the other day.” Oh? “Damn thing was making some weird noises, and I happened to pass by, so I lent them a hand.” Ah, your savior!

“Your car had a problem? Why didn’t you tell me?” Oh my god. Ryland frowns as he turns back to Mr. Locksmith. “What was the problem?” Seems like a harmless question, sure, but you could tell that there was a sort of interrogating tone behind his words. Looks like he’s trying to suss out the lie. Hopefully Mr. Locksmiths a good liar.

“Their engine was sputtering. A quick look and a whack or two fixed the problem.” Nice!

“That’s all?”

“Yeah.”

God, the air between them is so tense… Mainly coming from Ryland.

Even with the tense air, Mr. Locksmith’s smile hasn’t faltered a single bit. Either he’s good at acting, or he finds the whole situation amusing. Probably the latter. And it looks like Ryland didn’t buy the lie either, but he’s always been hard to lie too.

“Something the matter?” His eyes flicker over to yours. “Your boyfriend seems tense.”

Alright, time to go.

You tug on Ryland's sleeve, trying to tug him away from the situation at hand, but it doesn’t look like he’s gonna budge.

“Hey, did you tell this guy I was-” He looks down at you, and you can see the irritation in his expression, but sees the forming frown on your face, and his eyes soften. “... Ugh, nevermind. C’mon.”

“Nice meeting you.” Mr. Locksmith gives a small wave goodbye to Ryland, and you tug him away harshly, ready to cuss him out right then and there.

“Sorry, sorry, you know how I am.” Yeah, you know all too well. Ryland gives you a cheeky chuckle and a grin, locking his fingers together with yours. His hands are always rough, but warm. “But hey, look! I got them! The last ones too. They’re fresh.” Yum. “Too bad for the suckers in line behind me.”

… He’s okay, right?

You turn your head back to Mr. Locksmith, and bite back a smile once you see the wink he gives you, holding a finger up to his lips. How fun, maybe you’ll drop a gift by his apartment later. What number did he say it was? It looks like every time you run into him, you always end up owing him some sort of favor.

Odd, you didn’t even ask for his name. Mr. Locksmith will be his name forever, you guess.

“Next time, don’t go asking weird strangers for help.” It’s always a lecture with him. “Just come to me, okay? You know damn well I’m a jack of all trades.” Yet a master at none.

Ryland reaches over and pinches your cheek, tugging on it lightly as you complain and wince at the pain. “C’mon, don’t make fun of me like that…” He chuckles “You don’t know what kind of things I’m capable of.”

ミ★ 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴. ★彡

might write a small bonus part where yall eat the sweets in his apartment, might not, idek

i’ll probably make a masterlist of this series soon so the story is a bit easier to follow :)

working on the house of castiello rn btw... expect it soon :)

[arachnoia]

gone ➶ . ˚ ༉‧₊˚ˑ༄ؘ | miguel o’hara

miguel o'hara x fem! reader

a/n: i think that atp, im just a miguel o’hara writer (not that im complaining but gimmie requests pls !! theyre open on my acc !!) this is also a drabble ive been wanting to write because i’ve always wanted to write angst (well tbh idk what this is?) but wasn’t sure how to? lowkey i want this to be a story that isn’t just a one shot but lmk if you guys want more of this? im just trying stuff out!

pt2 - ‘holy shock’ pt 3- ‘finally’

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Breathe in, breathe out...”

The beautiful city stunned you as you stood on top of a random building, breathing in its modern, refreshing look.

It kind of took your breath away, contradictory to what you just told yourself a few seconds ago.

You barely finished another mission as your universe’s one and only Spider-Silk. Was it tiring? Hell yes, no doubt. But you never took a moment to actually admire Earth-928’s Nueva York, where Spider Society headquarters was located. Nueva York was also the place where you were if it wasn’t fighting crime and going to grad school in your own universe’s New York.

You usually swing to the top of a business building, a little bit far from Spider Society headquarters. It was quiet and peaceful. It was your thinking place where you could release any emotions you wanted to spill when you couldn’t anywhere else since you can’t really spill your emotions if you were to be taken seriously.

Plus, the one person who you expressed your deepest emotions, is gone.

As you simply stared into space while remembering the feeling you felt this morning.

You noticed some tears gathering at the outside corners of your eyes. Your eyelids began to droop, and you began to sob quietly as your chest hurt from, what some call “heartbreak”.

To be completely honest though, it was just melancholy and depression from what happened hours prior.

You couldn’t say that the emotion you felt for him or what you feel is loving him because it wasn’t love.

It felt like something stronger. But you knew it wasn’t reciprocated back.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“So why don’t you just kick your professor’s ass?” Miguel joked. His laugh made you feel warm inside. It was a cute laugh in your opinion.

The two of you were sitting down, at the building you like to think at, munching on sweet, baked, fig empanadas from a lady's restaurant in your universe. Doña Rosa? She was a nice lady and safe to say, Miguel would definitely come back for the empanadas.

“Please, O’Hara. I’d get simply kicked out and would have to never show my face ever again…But the bastard deserves it for ripping apart my paper on exploring different dimensions with colliders!”

He chuckled. “Right, because you have experience. Do you not? Y/l/n?”

“EXACTLY. BUT NOT EVEN GRAMMARLY HELPED ME NOT GO THROUGH HIS REIGN OF TERROR!” You felt pissed, but Miguel found it absolutely hilarious to see you worked up as you angrily took a bite out of your empanada. It was cute.

“Swear to god, that bitch is scarier than most of the stupid anomalies we fight,” You pouted and glanced at him. He looked like he was trying to not start laughing even harder than he was before. “Y/l/n. Just calm down it doesn’t matter. Plus didn’t you mention it was like 10% of your grade? You’ll be fine it’s not that bad.”

You smirked at him. “Oh, so you’re trying to say it’s still bad?”

“No…but look at me.” You turned to his direction as he placed his empanada on a napkin next to the rest of the lot and he rested his hands on your shoulders.

“Breathe in. Breathe out.” You chuckled at his direction.

“Miguel, you sound like a yoga instructor."

“No no, I’m being serious here! No dejas que esa mierda te moleste, okay?”

You raised your eyebrow and smiled playfully. “Alright, like you’re the calmest person on this Earth,” He laughed. “I’m not but you’re not like me. I don’t want that to affect you, especially because it doesn’t matter.”

“Now. Breathe in…”

You softly smiled at him, to which he returned, “And breathe out.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“It's pleasant, isn't it?” Peter replied as he began to go in your direction, breaking up your train of thought. He and Mayday gave you a sad look as they walked over to hug your shaky form.

“How-?”

“Y/n, I saw you swinging here after barely teleporting here. What’s wrong?”

You didn’t know what to say. You felt a metaphoric weight on your shoulders as you struggled to tell Peter.

“Was it perhaps…Miguel?” You felt like laughing. Here you were, crying while Peter was acting full-on dad and Mayday was playing with her Spider-Man beanie. It would be a very unusual sight to someone who was just viewing you three at a distance.

“I’m just going to take that as a yes,” Peter said as he sat down on the roof and patted to the space next to him. “Take a seat, Y/l/n.”

You followed his directions and sat down.

It was quiet and a bit windy. It gave you a sad memory and you felt like you were drowning in it.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You felt a rush of anxiety and couldn’t breathe.

“I CAN’T. I CAN’T DO IT, O’HARA," you screeched, scratching Miguel's arm in excruciating pain.

“YES YOU CAN, Y/L/N!! CALM DOWN!”

The two of you were in a mission to stop an anomaly. You were one of the first to start attacking…and one of the first to be badly injured. Your right thigh was impaled with several medium sized pieces of glass from being thrown to a glass building and you ran out of webs to shoot. You froze and wanted to cry, feeling vulnerable.

Miguel went over to try to help you as the other Spiders went to attack said anomaly. You knew each other as friends since you were one of the first Spiders ever to be recruited to the Spider Society so you knew each other pretty well. When he saw you injured, he quickly saved some civilians and rushed to your direction.

“Yes, you can Y/l/n. Look at me. Breathe in.” Your eyes widened as you saw him grab the largest piece of glass. He had 2 pieces of cloth with him. “No, stop looking at them and look at me. Breathe in, goddamn it.”

You stared at him and he gave you a piece to bite down. You tried to calm down as he took the piece out and screamed into the cloth. “I’m going to wrap it up, okay?” He said, earning a nod from you. “Good girl. Now breathe in…”

“…Breathe out.” You said.

“That’s my girl,” He said as he smiled at you and carried you with the rest of the civilians.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Breathe in, breathe out,” You whispered. Saying that phrase now just made your tongue feel bitter. Like eating a sour candy except it doesn’t turn out sweet at the end, but just making you frown.

Peter smiled and turned to you, “Now tell me what happened, kid. People don’t just run away before saying hi to their favorite person, therefore being me? !”

You scoffed, “Peter, no offense but why does it matter to you? You should be focusing on other things other than my well-being.”

Peter raised his eyebrow and rolled his eyes. “Listen, kid. You and the other Spiders like Gwen or Miles, matter to me.”

He covered Mayday’s ears. “Shit, even Miguel. If I see you mopey and sad and what not, of course, I’m going to be worried!”

“Really?” You were shocked. No one really has given you that fatherly attention like Peter has.

The only one who would really listen to you, was Miguel. But you can’t really rely on him now, can you?

“Yup. Now tell me what’s going on? Is everything okay?” Your breath hitched and you froze.

You then took a deep breath, sighed, and smiled bitterly.

“Miguel, he told me he wants me gone from his life,” you said as you felt a sudden pang in your chest.

Just feeling those words leave your lips made the melancholy come back even stronger.

And it hurt like fucking hell.

[yeoja-dream]

Intertwined

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: BTS OT7 X Reader 

Genre: Fantasy, Magic, Eventual Smut, Plot, slight slow burn

Characters: Vampire!BTS, Elf!Reader

Content Warning: none 

Word Count: 4.3k

You finally wake when the rays of the late morning sun warm your face and hurt your eyes. You sat up groggily, rubbing the sleep from them with balled fists. Unwillingly, the events of last night flood your barely continuous mind. The memories have you kicking at your sheets with frustration. 

“What was his issue anyway?” You complained out loud. Maybe you’d never get to know. At least I get to say I’ve both instructed and kissed a member of BTS, you attempted to reason. The thought brings you little comfort. 

While you set something fragrant to boil on the stove, you checked your phone, finally, scrolling through dozens of missed notifications due to your late slumber. Habitually, you checked for new work emails, the top of which gave you immediate pause. “SUBJECT: I’m sorry. SENDER: KIM SEOKJIN. You’ve got to be kidding me.” You laughed incredulously. 

Dear Y/N, 

Firstly, I would like to apologize for contacting you via your work email. In my rush to leave last night, I forgot to exchange more proper means of contact. I would also like to apologize for my behavior. I understand that it must have been, in a word, confusing. If you would be kind enough, I would greatly appreciate the chance to explain myself properly in person. The issue is more complicated than I have a great understanding of, so I would also like to bring Namjoon who has a better understanding of the circumstances. However, I wouldn’t want to impose or make you feel like you were being ganged up on. 

Please understand we will take no further action with you, and should to ignore this correspondence we will take it as your disinterest in the subject matter and we will leave you alone. 

Best, 

Kim Seokjin 

“Jeez, this guy is uptight.” You mumbled, reading the message in totality. You sighed, sitting back in your rickety kitchen chair. Confusing is an understatement. You thought to yourself. But you also couldn’t deny that curiosity clawed at your insides. You sipped your hot, spiced cider, the taste giving you comfort and confidence. Something is telling me to hear them out, Dad. You thought to yourself. I just hope the cinnamon is enough.

Dear Kim Seokjin,

Sending emails is cumbersome, so here is my cellphone number. Text me whenever you’d like. 

Thank you for apologizing. I will decide whether or not I accept it after our meeting. It may be sudden, but I took the day off of work today. If today does not work, you can make arrangements with me after the studio closes every day at 10 pm. 

Best, 

Y/N

You type the email and hit send before you can overthink it too much. What makes a man go from ready to take you on the floor to running out the door you couldn’t fathom, but you certainly looked forward to finding out. 

It was about 2 hours later your phone buzzed with a notification, a text this time. 

Hello, this is Jin. We all have schedules this morning, but Namjoon and I will be finished around 5 pm. Is it alright if I go ahead and make dinner reservations? Is there any place you like in particular?

Dinner reservations? You mused to yourself. That sounded formal, more formal than you were comfortable with. Dinner reservations were for dates, of which this meeting was certainly not. 

Dinner is fine, but there is no need for reservations. I’m in the mood for Mediterranean tonight, so you can meet me at Olive and Thyme at 7. You replied. 

Your phone buzzed again soon after sending. 

Olive and Thyme at 7. We will be there. Thank you. 

At that you tossed your phone to the other side of the couch, settling back into the cushions, zoning out to whatever insane dating reality TV show was on. Speculation is going to get me nowhere. You reminded yourself. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a while since you had a reason to get dressed up, you realized as you curled your freshly washed and dried hair. Except the concert you had attended just 2 days prior, you could list the occasions you had to dress up for in the last 20 years on one hand. The thought makes you sad. 

Your theme is cute but casual, you reminded yourself as you selected your pair of favorite high-waisted jeans, a plain crop top to match, and a light jacket to go over. There was also no need to go overboard with makeup, a little bit of skin tone-flattering eyeshadow, mascara, and a pink lipgloss would be plenty. 

Of course, you didn’t forget about your ears. You’d had the pointy pains in the ass your whole life, and as such, you had discovered dozens of ways to hide them away. Your hair was down today, so pinning them back with a dab of spirit gum on the back side of each was more than enough coverage. 

You stood back, admiring your handiwork in a standing mirror in your bedroom. Cute and casual, you decided. It was while looking at your reflection, that you also realized how remarkably well you had been taking things. Just two days ago, you were a faceless fan in a sea of other fans. You were meant to enjoy a fun performance and return to your daily life, and yet impossibly, not but 24 hours later, the oldest of BTS was running out of your dance studio after a steamy make-out session, and now supposedly wanted to meet up to discuss something cryptic. It was absurd, anyone would agree. Even in your most delusional of fantasies you couldn’t have dreamed up something more ridiculous. Maybe that was what was keeping you calm, sane. Maybe this was all just a crazy dream. 

The time to leave fast approached, and with those lingering questions you found yourself in the back of an Uber on your way to destiny. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The interior of the restaurant was dated in its decor and sparsely populated, even when it was time for the dinner rush. You were the first one there, the aromatic smell of spices and wine hit you like a wall causing your stomach to clench painfully in hunger. The hostess was a small, mousey woman, who upon your request, sat you in one of the booths on the far side corner of the restaurant, more privacy, you figured. 

Quickly the cool-headedness you were able to maintain from the safety of your home gives away to waves upon waves of anxiety. Bouncing your legs and chewing your nails was all you could do to relieve some of the pent-up nervousness as the seconds felt like hours. You cursed yourself silently for needing to arrive early. 

Your suffering is somewhat short-lived, however, and as the clock hit 7:00 on the dot, the bells on the entrance door chimed as two handsome, well-groomed men walked in. It was easy to identify the pair as your evening guests. 

They were nicely dressed in outfits not dissimilar to your own. They too spotted you easily, and with a swagger in their walks that made you need to look away, they both slid next to one another in the seats opposite to you. It was weird, though. Having both THE Kim Seokjin AND Kim Namjoon sitting across from you should make you feel 10x more anxious than you had before, and yet, slowly, you felt the tension in your shoulders come to dissipate, and when you really focused, the buzzy, electrical feeling from the previous night was becoming more and more prominent. 

“Thank you for meeting us,” Jin took the lead. “This is Namjoon.” 

You cracked a smile. “I know.” 

“Well, I didn’t want to presume…” Jin trailed off embarrassed. You didn’t think you had ever seen Jin get embarrassed before, it was cute. 

“Hi,” Namjoon said, offering his hand to you. You took it, and before you could greet him back, the very same warm, tingly sensation zipped up your hand and down your spine. Your smile quickly faded as you found yourself needing to grip the table to reorient yourself. 

“Woah…” you breathed, shaking your head to clear some of the building haze. 

The two boys looked at each other, then back to you. 

“We’re going to talk about that, actually,” Namjoon said. “But first let's put our orders in.” 

It was easy enough to flag down a waitress and place your orders. Small talk was easy to pass the time until your meals were served.

“So…” you began, picking at your salad. “Every time I touch you guys I get a weird feeling, whenever I am around you guys I get a different weird feeling, and at least Jin was acting weird around me.” 

The pair sat back in the booths and sighed, before looking to one another. 

“I’ll start,” Namjoon said. “What do you know about soulmates?” 

“Basically what everyone else knows.” You stated. “One true love and all that. Although…” you trailed off. You triggered a memory, distant at first but grows with clarity when you concentrate on it. 

“Daddy, what’s a soulmate?” You asked, book in hand, curled up in your reading nook in his laboratory. 

“Well I suppose that depends on who you ask,” He said, not pausing from his work. “If you ask most people, I think they would tell you that it was someone they love a lot, or maybe someone who they feel like they’ve known for longer than they’ve actually known them.” 

“Hmm.” You responded. “What if I don’t ask most people?” 

“Hm?” Your dad asked, confused. 

“Well, you said if I asked most people, that they would say all that. What if I don’t ask most people.” 

“Ah,” He said, holding up two liquids seemingly comparing them. “Well, some other people would tell you that soulmates are different than just people you love a lot. They would tell you that souls are real, and when a soul is created, it is created alongside another. Usually, they are created in pairs, but it's not unheard of for them to be created in groups larger than that. Each soul is placed in a different vessel, but it will always pine for the soul it was created with.” 

“Woah…” You respond in awe. “What happens when you meet your soulmate?” 

“They say when you meet your soulmate, you’ll just know.” He said, notating something down in his journal. “Your soul calls out to theirs, long lost lover and friends reuniting after millennia. You burn and ache for the other until your souls are finally tied in a tying ritual. The tying ritual gives you a bond that you can communicate simple ideas or feelings over.”  

“Wow! What kind of ritual do you have to do?” You asked, curiously. 

“Oh well,” he paused from his work, looking away. “It is a bit too complicated for you now, but when you get older I will explain.”

“Do I have a soulmate?” 

“Of course, you have a soul don’t you?” 

“Ew. I don’t want a soulmate, Daddy.” 

He laughed at you, walking over to you to pat your head. 

“I’m afraid there are just some things in life that we cannot control, Pumpkin. Besides, I’m not going to be around forever, and it makes me feel better that you’ll have someone to keep you company someday.”

“Nooo!” you whined. “Who else is going to make strawberry rhubarb pie with dinosaurs? You have to stay around forever, okay Daddy?” 

He laughed at you again, kissing the top of your forehead before returning to his work. “Sure thing, princess.” 

You shake your head bringing you back to the present as the memory flicked by. “Souls are created alongside other souls and put inside of people who then spend their whole lives looking for each other and once you find the person you just know and you can tie the souls together and they’ll be happily ever after.” You summarized from your memory. 

“Pretty much,” Namjoon said. “I was worried you were completely unaware. Have you ever met anyone you felt that way about?” 

“Like just knowing? Not really.” You admitted with a shrug. You had loved before, certainly, but you guessed that soul mates were something bigger, much more profound. Someone you loved and knew deeper than summer romances and puppy love. 

“We have,” Jin spoke up this time. 

“Oh,” You said, eyebrows coming together in confusion. 

“But I kissed you, you must be now wondering,” Jin said. You nodded slowly in response. 

“When you are near me, what sensations do you feel?” He asked. 

You took a moment to gather your thoughts. “I feel like there is a current running through me, and the more I spend time with you and the closer in proximity to you I get, the stronger the feeling gets. My brain gets dizzy and hazy like I’ve had a few glasses of wine, and yet my acuity is still razor sharp. And when I touch you, it feels… weird.” You confessed. When I touch you it feels really good and it makes me want to touch you endlessly you added in your mind. 

They shared a knowing glance before Namjoon spoke. “THAT is the feeling. THAT is knowing.” 

“Huh?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow. “I thought knowing was more of an abstract concept, like wow it feels like I have known this person my whole life, I think I want to marry them someday.” 

“In the movies, absolutely,” Namjoon agreed. “But those feelings are your soul, physically calling out to ours.” 

“You’re kidding.” You said, unbelieving. 

“Let me ask you this then,” Namjoon begins. “Yesterday when you were kissing Jin hyung, I bet it felt so, incredibly right, right?” 

You looked at Jin. If you could be honest with yourself, you wanted to climb over this table and kiss him again. Maybe then he’d bend you over the table and take you right here, Namjoon’s hands on you helping bring you to completion- you cut yourself off before the thought can continue further. 

Namjoon looked at you knowingly. 

“So if I am to believe that what you are saying is correct, I am the soul mate to both of you.” You asked, matter of fact. 

“We are suggesting that you are all of our soulmates,” Jin stated, looking at you seriously. 

“As in, all 7 of you.” You asked again matter-of-factly.

They nodded in response. 

You laughed, exasperated. “Bring out the cameras because this is un-fucking-believable. This has to be a joke.” 

The serious expression on both of the boys’ faces says otherwise.

“I know this must be a lot to take in,” Jin said honestly. “It was a lot for me as well. And the others.” 

“What?” You asked, confused again. 

They share a look and Namjoon nods encouragingly before Jin speaks again. 

“We are actually all mated to each other, all 7 of us.” 

“Wow,” you breathed. “You guys are as close as you portray online.” 

The pair chuckle at that. 

“Me and Yoongi found each other first and from there we found different members at different times. Every member struggled with it in different ways, so you probably aren’t alone in anything you’re feeling right now.” Namjoon said. 

“You said mated. What does it mean to be mated?” 

“Oh, it just means that we marked each other.” Namjoon rolled up his sleeves, showing off two gashes, dark in coloration one next to the other. “We all have one. You can either accept the pairing and become marked, or reject it and become a single soul.” 

“What is the marking process?” You ask.

“You don’t know?” Namjoon asks, before putting on a serious face. “In short it is a bonding ritual involving sex.” 

You flushed red at that notion. “So if I wanted to be marked by each of you I would have to…” You trailed off, imagery and fantasy flooding your brain causing you to snap your knees closed. Namjoon looked away, swallowing hard. 

“Yes,” Jin states plainly. “But there is a rejection process as well. None of us are familiar with it, but if that is the choice you’d want to make we’d happily assist you with that.” 

“We should be a little more clear with you as well,” Namjoon looks at you again. “You have full choice and freedom in this case, but ultimately, now that you have found your soulmates, the empty, hollow feeling you will have when we are apart, and the buzzy electric feeling when we are together will become more and more unbearable as time goes on and if you don’t make your choice at all, it will drive you mad.” 

“How long do I have to decide?” 

“A few days, a week at maximum.” He answered earnestly. 

“You are right this is a lot to take in.” You sighed heavily. “With all due respect, I know you based on some well-edited clips and your music. You are all attractive as hell don’t get me wrong, but I don’t know you, and intertwining your life with someone you have an entirely parasocial relationship with is, in a word, insane. And for you guys too, you don’t even know me. 

“That is true, but we didn’t know any of the members that well when we went through the mating ritual,” Namjoon said with a shrug. “Besides, did you really think the universe was so unkind as to leave you without a way to break the bond? People can change, become abusive and cruel, and with or without your partner's consent you can break the mating bond at any time.”

That brought you some comfort. At least there was an ejection seat if the shit hit the fan. 

“This is a lot to process,” you stated, rubbing your temples in frustration.

“I am the oldest, but I was the fourth to join,” Jin started. “When I found out I was pretty upset, I had a solid lifestyle going for me that I didn’t intend to give up.” 

“How did you overcome that?” You asked.

“It was Namjoon that convinced me,” he said, gesturing at the younger man. “He asked me to get to know them. That the divines or the universe or fate had good intentions and I would be sorry if I didn’t at least try.” 

“I was a bit heavy-handed and naive,” Namjoon cut in, embarrassed. 

“At any rate,” Jin continued, “I resolved to give it a month. I wanted to date them, get to know them, you know?” He laughed. “I think I barely made it a week. Something about the all-consuming pull of your soul is hard to resist.” 

“I bet…” was all you were able to mumble in response. “I feel bad,” You confessed. “About the whole getting-to-know-you thing.” 

“What do you mean?” Namjoon asked. 

“I think it’s fairly obvious that I am a fan,” you began, “and while I can’t claim to know you, I would certainly argue that I know each of you just a little more than you know me.” 

“We have forever to get to know you,” Jin said with a wink. Namjoon elbowed him in response. 

“For starters, I’m sure you understand that our public personas are different than our public ones,” Namjoon began “But put more politely, Jin is correct. In the way that some humans go through with arranged marriages that sometimes work out, sometimes something bigger than us calls us to make a leap of faith and trust that it works out.” 

“That sounds like we are putting pressure on the situation. I think I speak for both of us when I say we meant to simply arm you with the most amount of information we can provide. Besides, on the getting-to-know-you front, we know more than you might think,” Jin said.

“Do tell.” You stated, raising an eyebrow. “It appears you somehow found out who I was, and further that I was a dance teacher.”

“I know you’re hiding some cute ears under all that hair,” Jin said with a lilt. 

You instinctively reached up to make sure they were still in place. “How could you possibly…” you mumbled. 

“The truth is,” Namjoon started, lowering his voice. “We aren’t exactly human either, and our, shall we call it, conditions, allow us to sense the energy of different creatures.” 

“So you’ve known the whole time?” You asked, flabbergasted. 

“Pretty much,” Jin stated. 

“Sorry, that's just like, probably my biggest secret and it is just out there so I’m a little off-put. Not that it’s your fault just, in conjunction with everything…” You trailed off. 

“We thought it important that you also knew,” Namjoon said. “That we are vampires.” 

“Vampires?” You repeated. “All of you?” 

“Yes,” He replied. 

“No wonder you are all so unearthly attractive,” you mumbled under your breath. 

They both chuckle at that. 

“When we meet a soulmate, sometimes something darker, more carnal comes out. Vampires, once they are connected with their mates, can only feed off of them. All other blood becomes a virulent poison, so everything in a vampire’s body commands them to claim and mark their mate as soon as possible. Prevents their only food source from walking away.” Namjoon stated. 

“That’s why I kissed you suddenly in the studio,” Jin explained. “It’s not that I didn’t want to already, but I had resolved to not make any physical contact with you until all of this had been laid out, but the way you were looking up at me, the feeling of your hand on my body, your smell in that warm, closed room…” he trailed off before clearing this throat. “It was too much to bear. It brought out that dark side and well, you were there. I’m sorry for doing that without giving you the proper context.” 

“It’s fine,” You admitted. “Truthfully, I wanted you to kiss me, and I enjoyed it.” I wanted you to do more, you thought to yourself. “I was more hurt and confused when you, superhumanly I am now realizing, left with barely a word.” 

Jin’s expression was nothing if not apologetic. “I realize that must have been upsetting, and again I’m sorry for that too.” 

“But wait,” You began, tilting your head to the side. “If you are all vampires and are mated to each other, then do you drink each other’s blood? Do you even have blood in your body to drink? And if a vampire can only feed from their soulmate once they’re found, what happens if rejection occurs?” 

“Yes and no,” Jin said. “It is actually a myth that vampires don’t have blood. The vampire toxin mutates the blood of the person being turned and makes it so it's the only way for the new body to get energy. Problem is, vampiric blood isn’t very nutritious and it takes forever to regenerate by itself, so we have to supplement with animal blood usually. It's barely edible, and not that much more nutritious but it's better than being dead.” 

“Fascinating,” You said. “The universe really fucked you all over making you all mates and vampires then, huh.” 

“Tell me about it,” said Namjoon. 

“Well, what about my other question?” You asked. 

They exchanged uncomfortable looks. 

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Namjoon said gravely. 

“I thought we were being honest with each other?” You asked, feeling slightly frustrated. 

“We are, it’s just…” Namjoon sighed. “It would add stress to a stressful and confusing situation and I don’t want you to worry about it.” 

“Well, now I am worried!” You exclaimed. 

A few beats of silence passed between you all. 

“Just tell her, Joon,” Jin said. 

Namjoon sighed at that. “When a vampire is rejected, or when a vampire’s bond is severed, the vampire dies. Jin mentioned that we can subsist on animal blood for nutrition, but what he didn’t mention, is that the consumption of energy is also part of what vampires consume when they eat blood, and once you find your soulmate, it is only their energy you can subsist off of.” 

“So you’re saying…” You trail off, flabbergasted, before starting again. “You’re saying should I choose to reject you all, I am dooming you to starve to death and die.” 

“You understand why I was reluctant to tell you.” 

You put your head in your hands, head spinning with the information dump of the last hour. How could it be in just 48 hours you went from a passing fan to suddenly, apparently, being the deciding factor whether or not BTS dies? It was too much to handle, and with the added pressure, you felt like your head was going to explode. 

“I need time.” You managed to say. 

“Perfectly understandable,” The pair agreed. 

“I have to go, I think,” You said, starting to stand up. “It was lovely to meet you but being so close is messing with my mind a little.” 

“By all means,” Namjoon said. “Don’t worry about the check, it’s the least we can do.” 

“Okay, thank you.” You said, standing fully now. “You have my phone number, text me any time, I guess. Bye.” You began somewhat robotically walking away from the two men who had just turned your life upside down, out of the restaurant, and into the cool early night air. 

You walked for hours, the outside had always been a place of meditation and peace for you. Your mind swam, full of questions and concerns. On one side, your heart soared at the chance to be with BTS, by all appearances they were hot, funny, kind, and interesting people that just about anyone would sell their grandma to be with. On the other side, you worried. About how you didn’t really know them personally, how they didn’t know you, how stupid and impractical it was to make a life promise to someone you barely knew let alone 7 someones, and most importantly, it concerned you how loudly something deep within you called for you to accept them. Now, there was the added pressure of not killing them. If only you were here, you sighed inwardly. You’d tell me what I should do. 

Somehow, you found yourself full, your feet sore, and no closer to a conclusion. You collapsed on your bed, exhausted, sleep finding you and carrying you off as soon as your eyes closed.

[every-kuzu]

Please I beg you to do a character analysis on Kakuzu <3 from whichever part of him you'd like

okay. i’ve got a two hour car ride and a playlist to listen to - lets take a crack at this.

i’ve talked about this a little in response to another ask, so i’ll be bringing up stuff that i have touched on before, but first and foremost - kakuzu is a very guarded character. a lot of the time, you need to pause and really observe him, peel back the layers, which is something a lot of naruto fans don’t really do - probably because kishimoto didn’t spend a lot of time on him and hidan. hell, there are some things that even i didn’t notice until i started this blog and had to pause and observe him.

so. when you ask the average naruto fan about kakuzu, what’s the first thing they would think of? money, most likely. and his love for money is a big part of his character - but is it really the biggest? he says that the only thing you can have faith in is money, which i have no doubt is his actual philosophy, but he still backs away from asuma and his bounty (which it’s clearly been shown that he wants) when pain calls them back to ame. hidan complains and tries to bargain for more time, but kakuzu shuts him up and falls back immediately. this could’ve easily been a moment where he too tells pain that they need more time, but no.

because kakuzu is loyal. one could even be so bold as to call him loyal to a fault, especially in the past and even more especially given his past. that loyalty is what allowed takigakure to betray him in the past, yet he still shows pain that very same loyalty. he even tells hidan that the mission they were given by pain is absolute - another thing that is very unexpected, given his backstory.

so what does this tell us? that kakuzu believes in akatsuki's plans, or at the very least has a lot of respect for pain. (this plan being nagato's original, not any of the three-or-four-different-plans-in-a-trenchcoat-bullshit that showed up in the war arc.) now, kakuzu is also very obviously jaded from a long life in a world like naruto's, so i'd say it's up to interpretation how much faith he actually had in akatsuki, but do you really think he'd stay if he didn't see himself getting anything out of it in the end?

and that brings me very-much-not-seamlessly to my next point: he's not as uncaring as he acts, and this is best illustrated through his relationship with hidan.

now, when you look at their relationship, the general consensus would be that they hate each other. and once you look a little deeper, it seems like hidan cares more then kakuzu. according to some sources, he only joined the akatsuki because of kakuzu, and he openly shows concern for him in the fight versus team 10 + kakashi. but what's often overlooked here is that kakuzu does the same, and that's likely because you have to look even deeper to see it.

on the surface, kakuzu seems to be at the very least annoyed with hidan at all times. he berated him and talks down to him most of the time, and hidan retaliates. they seem to be at each other’s throats most of the time. but kakuzu has a lot of faith in hidan’s abilities. the minute hidan gets his curse on asuma, kakuzu’s thoughts are about how he’s 35 million ryo richer, which shows that he truly believed that hidan had it in the bag. the same goes for the fight with team 10 + kakashi - when they get separated, kakuzu openly expresses that he believes that hidan will kill shikamaru. he also shows concern for hidan, which is best shown, again, in the fight with team 10 + kakashi. kakuzu might not show it as openly as hidan does, but he does care about him. unfortunately, since we get to see so little of them, this is the best example i’ve got and we can only speculate how this care extended to the other members of the akatsuki.

which brings me to the next thing i want to touch upon - his anger and how it’s presented to us. or rather, not presented, because it’s an informed flaw.

the kakuzu we’re told about through other characters is apparently famous for entering a murderous rage every time something annoys him, but the kakuzu we’re shown doesn’t match this. the kakuzu we see is jaded, stoic, and grumpy, but he’s never mad. the most we get is him taking a single swipe at hidan after he griped about a bounty, but that was just in the anime. we know that he’s killed four former partners in this murderous rage of his, but he never shows a sign of being even close to snapping in the manga. and yet this “anger” is what most of the fandom chooses to cling to when it comes to him, which i think is because it’s something that can be observed from how other characters talk about him and not something that you need to observe from him. still, kakuzu’s murderous rage is an informed flaw, which i think is disconnected from how he’s presented to us, especially when we dig a little deeper.

in the end, i don’t really have a conclusion to all of this. it was mostly a way for me to point things out that most people might’ve not noticed. but in the end, this is just my personal interpretation of all these little things, and i’m not trying to claim that it’s the only correct one, but i’m just saying - i believe that there is more to him under the surface.

[tartarusknight]

The King of the Freaks | Pt 4

(Yes I am too lazy to keep writing that long title so it’s been changed from now on...)

Ao3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Eddie was kinda pissed as he stabbed at the food on his tray. "You sure they said we can't?" Gareth question, and he sounded just as Eddie felt.

"They said that we couldn't do this week," Eddie said again, and he glanced up as Steve moved to sit down next to Jeff. He was pulling something out of his backpack and it was the first time since that first time that Steve actually sat with them.

"What can't you guys do?" Steve questioned as he pulled out a container of cookies and slid them over to Jeff.

Jeff lit up even as the others looked confused. "We can't do Hellfire this week. Apparently, the drama club needs the drama room this week." Jeff explains, and Steve pauses.

His face makes a hundred micro expressions before he shrugs, "You could do it at my house. I don't really care." Steve states and moves to stand back up hit Jeff pulls him back down. "Uh, what?"

He looks confused, and it's unfair because it seems like the moment they should be confused. "Three questions. First I thought you had swimming? Second, why would you let us do it at your house? Most parents think we are a cult, and I doubt your parents would think differently. And lastly, what's up with the cookies?"

Steve looks a little embarrassed as he's forced to stay there. But he meets Eddie's gaze. "First, I do have swimming, but I don't care. Come over that night or another if you really care. Second, my parents are in either Beijing or Belgium right now, so they don't get an opinion. And the cookies are for Jeff because he helped me last weekend. He can share, or he doesn't have to, I don't care."

Eddie blinks, "you'd let us be at your house without you there?"

"Sure, why not. I doubt you'll trash the entire place. And even if you do, there's not much you could do I haven't seen before. I've had enough parties to get good at cleaning up." Steve states, and Eddie looks at the others, trying to see if they're just as confused.

"That's amazing, dude! How about we get pizza, since you'll host?" Jeff offers, and Steve gives them a tight smile. Eddie's not sure if it's because of the topic of food or the idea that they're going to take him up on the offer. 

Steve nods and it’s a little sharp, “Right. Yeah just let me know date and time.” He pauses and goes back to his bag. He pauses before he can pull whatever he’s grabbed before steeling himself. “Here, just in case I’m busy.” He drops a key onto the table and practically bolts from the table. 

Eddie waits for him to come back and take the key with a sike. But he doesn’t, instead Eddie sees him dodge Billy’s foot and escape out of the lunch room. “Here I thought we were adopting him.” Gareth mused and picked up the key. Jeff smacked him and took the key. “Hey!” Gareth complains. 

“Yeah, I’ve actually been to his house so...” Jeff points out.

That gets Eddie back up and moving, “yeah. About that, what the hell?”

Jeff laughs, “I helped him cook. He’s been struggling with meet lately and you know my sister.” Eddie nods because it does make sense but at the same time it makes zero sense. “I bumped into him at the store...” Jeff trails off, “I think we need to try harder.”

“Harder?” Eddie squeaked and his friends gave him a look that he really wished he didn’t know. 

Jeff doesn’t let that stop him though. “Well, I thought it was bad enough going from top dog to the new top dog’s chew toy but the guy is struggling. He only had condiments in his fridge even though he told me he was a good cook, which he is. Apparently he has no clue where his parents are at the moment. He had a guess but that was it. And! He has no clue when they’re coming back. I asked and he laughed it off saying maybe for Christmas. Christmas.”

“It’s not even Thanksgiving yet!” Grant states and Jeff nods. 

Gareth sighs, “I’ve been bothering him during my free period. Normally just working on shit next to him... but the dude is not okay. He squints when he reads like he can’t see it well. I’m pretty sure he’s been getting migraines since he fought with Billy. And I’m 80% sure he’s partially deaf in his left ear. Cause if I whisper on that side he never responds. But he will when I sit on his right.”

“He never eats lunch,” Eddie sighs. “He always tears his food apart to make it look like he’s eating. If his fridge is empty than he might not be eating that often.”

“Well shit,” Grant sighs. “But how do we help him without it being weird.”

Eddie presses his hands together under his chin to think. “Okay, so we stop with the subtle friendship and go for it. If we’re his best friends then maybe he’ll let us help him.”

“So operation make Steve Harrington friendship bracelets is ago.” Gareth grins and Jeff throws a grape at him. 

They already had access to the boy’s house. How hard could it be?

@zerokrox-bloglog @cyranyxx @adaed5 @the-redthreadd @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaringceyoustopcaring @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshitorthisshit @failedstarsandgoldencloudsds @bisexualdisastersworldd @deadlydodoss @anythingyouwanttobee @nburkhardtt @bestwifehaverr @thehumblefigtreee @megzdoodlee @swimmingbirdrunningrockk @mightbeasleepp @bxlthazarar @autumnal-dawnn @chillichatss @nonbinary-eddie-munsonon @the-daydreamer-in-the-cornerner @eddie-munson-is-my-wifewife @a-little-unsteddiedie @sharingisntkaren @a-huge-nerdy-nerd @0o-queendean-o0 @beckkthewreck @vi-an-te @vampireinthesun @newtstabber @dinosareawesome2137  @spicemallow @hellomynameismoo  @luthienstormblessed @briceslayed @angeldreamsoffanfic @dbquills

[bad268]

Every Step of the Way (Pablo Gavi X Barca! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/FCB

Requested: Nope, I’m testing it out. I’ve been a Barca fan since 2018, but never actually did anything with it lol. Also, I’m aware he doesn’t speak English, but my Spanish is elementary level at best, so I’ll stick to English with Spanish nicknames.

Warnings: ACL recovery discussed A LOT  (I used my sister’s experience with it so yeah)

POV: Third Person (She/her)

W.C. 2208

Summary: What's worse than one ACL injury? Two ACL Injuries!

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Within 10 seconds, the lively stadium became silent. It was a freak accident, and it never should have happened. It was a normal game against Madrid, and she had already scored the point that took the Barcelona team ahead 2-1. Looking back, maybe it was ambitious to go for another goal so soon. 

She remembered going for the kick but could not remember anything after that. Maybe she got hit by another player or maybe she twisted her leg wrong. All she knew was that it hurt like hell. It felt like her leg was on fire as she registered being carried off the field by the medical team. 

In the locker room, she learned that she had torn her ACL. That was not something she needed to hear during the height of her career. Like her boyfriend, she was one of the youngest on the team and one of the most promising talents. And now, she had to come to terms with being benched for at least nine months.

The same week that she sustained the injury, she was already in surgery. It was a fast turnaround; she felt like she was getting whiplash. Everything during that week hand blurred together, and the next thing she knew, she was in their bed at her and Pablo’s apartment with a metal knee brace. That’s when it started to set in. 

What if she could never get back to her normal? What if she could never play again? What if there are complications with her recovery? What if this…What if that…What if… What if…What if…

That’s what Pablo walked in on; his girlfriend of two years was on the verge of a panic attack as she frantically pulled at the metal brace. She was crying and screaming that she was fine. She was just dreaming. She was not actually injured because it was all in her head. 

Pablo ran forward, pulling her hands away from her knee quickly before she could do real damage. He held her hands as he watched her thrash around before finally settling down when she met his eyes. Her eyes were watery as she met his, trying to regain her sanity, until she was able to understand what he was saying. “You’re okay. You’re going to be fine, mi vida (my life). I’m here to help you every step of the way. Wait, wrong choice of words.” He was rambling, something he only did when he was extremely nervous. The thought made her smile a little as she squeezed his hands to get his attention. “How are you feeling now, mi amor(my love)?”

“My leg is on fire,” She sighed, and Pablo had to hold back the smile since he knew the thrashing and pulling at the brace did not help her in any way. If anything, it made the pain more intense. Instead of voicing these thoughts, he just moved her to sit up on the bed. “Where are we going?”

“We are going to get you out of bed and get food. Then, I can give you more pain meds,” He replied quietly as he leaned down to press a small kiss to her forehead before kneeling to make sure none of the cogs on the brace came undone. That was the last thing they needed. “What are you feeling?”

“I don’t really care, whatever gets the pain to stop faster,” She complained as he pulled her up to stand on her one good leg. He pulled her crutches over as she playfully glared at him with no *real* heat behind them. “Do I have to use the crutches? They hurt my arms.”

“I could always carry you around,” Pablo offered with a smirk as he moved his arms to be under her arms and around her back as he picked her up straight. Clearly, this was not what she envisioned, causing her to laugh. Pablo chuckled with her as he was happy she was starting to get out of the deep rut she was in moments before. “Was this what you were thinking?”

“I imagined bridal style, but now looking back, this is probably the only plausible way you could carry me,” She admitted, and she was right. He could not really hold under her knees because of the stitches and the brace. It would have been more uncomfortable for her than using the crutches. “I feel like a ragdoll.”

“The cutest ragdoll I’ve ever seen,” He joked with her, causing her to roll her eyes as she slapped at his shoulder. “Hey! I wouldn’t hit the person who’s holding you up right now.”

“You wouldn’t drop me,” She gasped in mock offense. Pablo sent her a look that said ‘Challenge me,’ and she knew it was over. He loosened his hold on her as she slowly slid down his chest. She jokingly pleaded, “No, Pablo, please. Don’t let me go!”

“I’d never leave you,” He reassured as he pulled her back up and kissed her. “I’ll be by your side every day until you’re back on the field.”

“Then you’ll break up with me?” She teased.

“No,” he chuckled bashfully as he hid his face on her shoulder. “I’ll be on the sideline then.”

~~

After a week of recovery and relaxation, she started rehab. The specialist started her out on small exercises like bending her knee and slowly putting more weight on it. It was a slow process, but she was getting to the point where she could walk unassisted. Sure, she still had to wear the metal brace and use at least one crutch, but it was so she did not strain it any more than she already had. 

And who was by her side through every appointment? Pablo. Who was there every time she needed new medication? Pablo. Who was there to carry her every time she did not want to walk because he had no backbone when it came to her? Pablo. Boyfriend of the Year, honestly.

It finally got to the point where she could go to a game a month after her initial injury. Not to play in it, but she could sit in the stands and cheer on her favorite country. She was cleared just in time to attend the final game of Spain’s European Championship qualifying group against Georgia, and of course, her favorite midfielder was playing. She was not on the sideline per se, but she was in the stands in the first row from the pitch.

She was wearing one of Pablo’s kits (obviously) as she leaned her body weight against the barrier, cheering him on. It was still early in the game, and there were no points on the board. He was doing an amazing job given that he tweaked his leg a couple of days prior in the Barcelona game. He was running like he owned the field and making some good plays. 

Within 10 seconds, the lively stadium became silent, and she felt her heart drop. All she did was blink, and suddenly, she knew something was wrong. The camera zoomed in on Pablo, who was lying flat on the ground, clutching his right knee. His face clearly showed his pain, and it hurt her to see him in pain. It took a few minutes, but he was walking back on the sideline, getting checked out.

He came back a little while later for another play. Before he even started running, she had that feeling in her gut again. It was not long after running back to the field that he was kneeling on the grass, clutching his leg as the yellow card was thrown.

It felt like forever for her. She wondered how long it felt for him. How bad did it hurt? How bad was the damage? Did he just dislocate his knee? Would he be back in later?

She did not get to delve too deep into the rabbit hole. He was walking, well limping, off the field again with some assistance, but at least he was walking. That had to have been a good sign, she thought. She turned to grab her crutch, so she could make her way up to the concourse. Maybe they would let her down into the locker room to see Pablo.

It was a little difficult given that the game resumed and people were back up and cheering, but she managed to get to the concourse without tripping or injuring herself more. She approached a couple of security guards that she knew personally. 

“Do you know if I’m allowed to go down to the field or in the locker room?” She asked, hopeful, as they stepped away to radio down to the security by the locker room. It did not take them long to go back over to her and direct her to the elevator. Once again, it felt like forever, but she made it down to the base floor. 

She hobbled her way over to the locker room where she immediately recognized one of the Barcelona physicians walking out. It was eerily quiet despite the game being in full swing just outside the hall. It filled her with nerves.

She needed to keep her composure because he needed her support more than ever. She took a minute for herself and took a few deep breaths before she pushed through the door. Despite expecting to see him injured, nothing could have really prepared her for seeing him flat on the table. 

She limped over beside him where he had one arm over his eyes and the other fist clenching as physicians assessed his knee. She made sure to stay out of the way as she grabbed his fist, unwinding his fingers to grasp at her hand. She used her other hand to run through his hair as he kept his eyes screwed shut, leaning into her. 

After a few moments, the physicians finished up. Instead of vocalizing what was wrong, they gestured to her leg before pointing at him. They stepped out of the room, and that’s when Pablo noticed they were not touching his leg anymore, causing him to lift his head and look around. She took her hand out of his hair as she sat on the table since her knee started bothering her, and when he laid his head back, it landed on her lap. She moved her hand right back to his hair as he stared up at her.

“Guess who gets to play nurse now?” She attempted to joke.

“If you’re insinuating that it’s you, we’re screwed because you’ve only been recovering for a month,” He sighed, “No offense.”

“Oh, none taken,” She replied sarcastically as she took her hand out of his hair and leaned back on it. Immediately, he started complaining as he used his hand that was not already holding hers to reach back to find the other. “No, that was mean. Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry, mi amor(my love),” He mumbled as he stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. “Will you play with my hair again now? I’m in pain. Speaking of that, did they say what they think it is?”

She smiled down at him as she put her hand back into his hair and he reached his hand back to hold her wrist there. “I know you are, and I’m sorry. At least we get to go through the same recovery.”

“You’re lying,” He gasped, eyes widening as he sat up and looked back at her. “Do they think I tore my ACL? That would mean I’m out for the season! And the EuroCup!”

“Welcome to the club,” She tried to joke, but he was not laughing. She moved so that she was sitting right next to him as she wrapped one of her arms around his shoulders and still held his hand in hers. “Hey, don’t start just yet. They probably need to take you for some X-rays and do a couple more tests. Don’t get too far ahead of yourself. You could have just strained it.”

“How long would I be out if it’s a strain?” He asked quietly, leaning back into her embrace. 

“Pretty sure it’s anywhere from three weeks to three months,” She said after she googled it. “Whatever happens, just know I’ll be with you every step of the way…wait. Not that. Wrong choice of words.”

That’s what broke him. He started laughing as he leaned onto her shoulder before whispering, “I get it.” Then, the physicians came back into the room with a gurney to take Pablo to the X-ray. He looked nervous and anxious again, but as soon as he looked over at her, he knew he would be fine. “Will you hold my hand, mi vida (my life)?”

“Of course, I will,” She answered endearingly as she stepped aside for the physicians to move him to the gurney. She grabbed her crutch and followed them toward the X-ray. He looked over at her, and at that moment, he knew that he could not live without her. They would be with each other through every step of the way, and when they were both healed, he knew just the way to thank her. 

~~~

Part 2 ->

~~~~~

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