#i love knowing something is gonna hit you the day after

[jazzy96scorpio]

The Price of Fame

Description: Fame. Jealousy. Betrayal. When a photo of Pedro Pascal and his co-star goes viral, you long year relationship is pushed to its breaking point. Can you two overcome the storm and find your way back to each other?

Pairing: You / Pedro Pascal

Warnings ⚠️: adult content, established relationship, explicit scenes, strong language, hot and heavy scenes, and some relationship rollercoaster moments, oral sex (f rec), unprotected sex, sex, SMUT.

You've been warned! 😉

Word count: 1800

"I'm so excited for you, Pedro," you said, wrapping your arms around Pedro's neck as he finished packing his bag.

The sun streamed through the window, painting the room in a warm, golden light. "Alabama, huh? That's gonna be amazing."

Pedro chuckled, nuzzling his nose against yours. "Yeah, it's pretty wild. Marvel's going all out with this Fantastic Four launch. Saturn 5 rocket, live stream… the whole spectacle."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "I'm going to miss you this week. It's going to be a whirlwind."

"I'll miss you too," you replied, a small pang of longing hitting you. "Wish I could be there, cheering you on. But, you know, deadlines."

You gestured towards your laptop bag. "Work calls."

Pedro kissed you softly. "I know. But I'll be thinking of you. I'll text you as soon as I can after the trailer launch. Maybe we can do a video call later in the week?"

"Definitely," you said, smiling. "Show 'em what you've got, Papi! And try not to cause too much chaos with the other superheroes."

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"No promises. But seriously, I'll call you." He grabbed his bag, gave you one last lingering kiss, and headed out the door.

He was staying at your place for the weekend, and now he was off to Alabama.

You watched him go, a mix of excitement for him and a little bit of sadness at his leaving swirling inside you. You knew this was part of his life, the premieres, the press junkets, the constant travel. And most of the time, you were okay with it. But sometimes, like now, you just wished you could be there with him, sharing those moments.

The phone buzzed in your work desk.

You glanced at the caller ID – Mi Amor.  A smile tugged at your lips.  You slipped away from your desk for a moment and answered.

"Hey, Papi" you said softly, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice so your colleagues wouldn't suspect anything.

"Hey, babe," Pedro's voice was a little muffled, like he was cupping the phone. "Just got here. It's… well, it's a spectacle, like I said. You have to see this.  Don't miss it, okay?"

"I promised I wouldn't," you replied. "I'm trying to watch at my desk, but work is… well, work." You could hear the muffled sounds of laughter and chatter in the background.  Someone – you thought it might be Vanessa – said something you couldn't quite make out, followed by another burst of laughter.  A tiny flicker of jealousy sparked within you, but you quickly tamped it down.  It's his job, you reminded yourself. They're co-stars.  It's all part of the show.

"Okay, good," Pedro said. "Just wanted to make sure. I gotta go, they're about to start. I'll text you later, okay?"

"Okay," you said. "Have fun, Papi. Shine bright my love!"

"Will do," he said, and the line went dead.

You returned to your desk, your heart still fluttering a little. You pulled up the live stream on your computer and managed to catch the very beginning of the launch, the booming voice introducing the cast, the roar of the crowd.  Then, just as Pedro was about to speak, your phone rang – a client call you couldn't ignore.  With a sigh, you minimized the live stream, promising yourself you'd catch the rest later.  But as the day wore on, work kept piling up, and you knew you wouldn't be able to watch it live.

As your workday finally wrapped up, your best friend and colleague, Sarah, sidled over to your desk, looking a little worried. "Hey," she said, her voice low. "Everything okay with you and Pedro?  I mean…"

"Yeah, why?" you asked, a little confused. "Everything's fine.  Why?"

Sarah grimaced. "Just… take a look at this." She shoved her phone in front of your face. It was a picture on Instagram – Pedro and Vanessa Kirby, his co-star, all cozied up. Pedro was leaning his head on her shoulder, and they were both grinning. 

A hot flash of… something… went through you.  Jealousy? Anger?  You tried to brush it off. He's always like that with everyone, you told yourself. It's just Pedro being Pedro. But the picture stuck in your head.

Your phone started buzzing like crazy. Instagram.  You knew it.  You checked, and your stomach dropped.

Comments on your pictures with Pedro. 

💬"He's a jerk." 💬"He dumped you, lol." 

And then, the real low blows:

💬"You cuckold."

💬"He's been cheating on you, bet." 

💬"You were never in his league." 

Ouch. They were just words on a screen, but they still stung like hell.

Then you saw it – the same picture Sarah had shown you, now splashed all over the news sites. 

"Pedro Pascal and Vanessa Kirby: New Couple Alert?" the headlines screamed.

The articles were full of gossip about their "obvious chemistry" and how "close" they looked.  A simple photo, blown way out of proportion.

You felt a lump in your throat. You tried calling Pedro, your fingers a little shaky. Voicemail.  You called again. Still nothing.  That lump in your throat just kept getting bigger.

💔

You got home, a simmering anger bubbling inside you.

He hadn't called.  Just a short,  text message:

💬"At dinner with the crew. Will call later." 

Later.  As if a quick text could erase the images swirling in your mind, the whispers of strangers on the internet, the gnawing feeling in your gut.

Hours ticked by. You tried to distract yourself, but your phone was a constant presence, a silent judge. Then, another notification.  Instagram. 

Your blood ran cold.  It was a post from Pedro.  A clip from the movie, a scene with him and Vanessa… kissing.

Something inside you snapped. 

All the carefully constructed walls you'd built around your insecurities, around your doubts, crumbled.

The anger, which had been simmering all evening, boiled over. It wasn't just jealousy anymore. It was hurt, betrayal, a deep sense of humiliation. 

And then, the anger dissolved into something even more painful: tears.  Hot, uncontrollable tears streamed down your face as you stared at the screen, the image of Pedro and Vanessa kissing burning into your memory.

Later that night, your phone buzzed, the insistent vibration cutting through the silence of your apartment.  Pedro. 

You stared at the screen, your anger still raw, your hurt still fresh.  You didn't want to answer.  You really didn't want to answer. 

But after a while, exhaustion won, and you finally picked up.

"Hello," you said, your voice flat, betraying none of the turmoil inside.

"Hey," Pedro's voice was low, tentative. "I… I saw the stuff online.  I was going to call you sooner, but…"

"But what, Pedro?" you interrupted, your voice rising.  "You were too busy kissing your co-star for the cameras?  Too busy fueling the gossip mill?"

"It's not like that," he said, a defensive edge creeping into his tone. "It's my job.  It's part of promoting the film.  Vanessa's just a friend."

"A friend you lean your head on and kiss in movie scenes?" you scoffed. "A friend you make out with while the whole world speculates about your relationship?"

"It was a scene!" he exclaimed, his voice now louder. "It's acting!  You know that!"

"Oh, I know," you said, the sarcasm dripping from your words. "I also know that I don't go around snuggling up to my male friends, even if it was just a photo.  Oh wait, I don't have any male friends, do I?  Remember?  Because someone was so jealous, I had to cut them all off!"

"That was different!" he retorted.

"How was it different, Pedro?" you demanded, your voice trembling with rage. "Tell me how it's different to be pawed all over by a co-star while your girlfriend is being called a 'cuckold' on the internet!"

"Don't say that!" he shouted. "I'm not… I would never…"

"You didn't have to," you said, your voice now dangerously quiet. "Your fans did it for you."

"Look," he said, trying to soften his tone, "I'm sorry.  I didn't think… I didn't realize it would blow up like this."

"Sorry isn't good enough, Pedro," you whispered, the tears threatening to spill again. "It's never good enough."

"What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice laced with frustration.

"I wanted honesty," you said, your voice cracking. "I wanted respect.  I wanted… I wanted you to think about how this makes me feel, not just about how it makes you look."

"I do think about you!" he protested.

"No, you don't!" you screamed. "You think about yourself, your career, your image! You think about everything except me!"

"That's not true!" he yelled back.

"Yes, it is!" you shouted, your voice raw with emotion. "You're so busy playing the charming movie star that you've forgotten how to be a decent human being!"

"I am a decent human being!" he roared.

"Prove it!" you screamed.

The argument just kept escalating, insults and accusations flying back and forth. You were both yelling, neither of you listening.  Finally, completely fed up, you just chucked your phone across the room.  It hit the wall with a crack.  And then… silence.

🖤

Days blurred into one another. You finally got around to fixing your phone.  A thousand missed calls.  Hundreds of messages. All from Pedro.  You scrolled through them, a hollow ache in your chest. 

I don't know what we are anymore, you thought.  Nine years.  Nine years, and you felt like you were back at square one, questioning everything.

He pushed past you, stepping inside your apartment.  "We need to talk," he said, his voice tight.

Then, one night, he was there.  Knocking on your door.  You were a little drunk, trying to numb the pain with a bottle of wine. 

You opened the door, your heart pounding in your chest. "I told you, I don't want to see you," you said, your voice thick.

"About what, Pedro?" you scoffed. "About how you humiliated me in front of the entire world? About how you made me feel like I was nothing?"

"That's not what I meant to do," he said, his jaw clenching.

"What did you mean to do?" you asked, your voice rising. "What am I to you, Pedro? After all this time, after all these years, am I just… company? Someone to… fuck, when you need it?"

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and guilt.  "No," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "No, that's not… you're not…"

"Then what am I?" you demanded, tears threatening to spill. "Tell me, Pedro. Tell me the truth."

He tried to apologize, stumbling over his words.  "I didn't… I didn't cheat on you," he said. "I swear. I was loyal."

"Loyal?" you laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "Is that your definition of loyal, Pedro? Posing for pictures with your co-star, writing love scenes on Instagram?  Is that loyal?"

"I'll never do it again," he said, his voice pleading. "I promise. I love you. I… I want to marry you."

You stared at him, incredulous.  "Oh, now you want to marry me?" you said, the sarcasm dripping from your voice. "After all this?  After you've dragged my name through the mud?"

He looked away, shame written all over his face.  He’d always been emotionally unavailable, terrified of commitment.  And now…

"Don't," you said, cutting him off. "Just… don't."

"I do love you," he said, his voice thick with emotion.  "I can't lose you."

"You already have," you said, your voice breaking.

"No," he said, stepping closer, his eyes searching yours.  "Please, don't say that."

"It's over, Pedro," you whispered, the words heavy with finality.

"No," you said, shaking your head. "I can't deal with this anymore." 

A fresh wave of hurt washed over you, and a memory surfaced – a video you'd seen online, a clip from an interview, a casual joke that now felt like a dagger to the heart. 

"I even saw the video," you said, your voice laced with sarcasm. " She's 'My wife,' you called her. Funny, right?  Hilarious."

His face fell. "That was a joke," he mumbled. "It was taken out of context."

"Oh, I'm sure it was," you said, your sarcasm dripping.

"Just like everything else. Just like the cozy photos of you holding hands, just like the kissing scene, just like all the whispers and rumors. It's all just a big joke, isn't it, Pedro? A big, hilarious joke at my expense."

"That's not what I meant," he said, his voice cracking.

"I don't care what you meant," you said, your voice rising.

"What you did was pretty damn clear.  What you said was pretty damn clear. And what I felt was crystal clear. I felt like a total idiot. I felt betrayed. I felt… like I didn't even matter."

He reached out to touch you, but you flinched away. 

"Don't," you said, your voice hard.  "Just… don't touch me."

"You're being totally unreasonable," he said, his voice laced with frustration. "You're making a huge deal out of nothing."

"Oh, I'm being unreasonable?" you retorted, your eyes flashing.

"Am I?" you retorted, your eyes flashing.

"Or am I finally seeing things clearly?  Am I finally realizing that I deserve better than this?  Than being your secret, than being the woman you hide away, than being the butt of your jokes?"

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and frustration.  "I love you," he whispered again, his voice hoarse.

"No," you said, shaking your head. "You don't. You love the idea of me. You love the way I make you look.  But you don't love me.  Not the real me.  Because if you did, you wouldn't have done any of this."

"Please," he begged, tears now welling up in his eyes. "Just give me another chance."

You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw not the charming movie star, but a flawed, deeply flawed man.  And you knew, with a certainty that settled deep in your bones, that you couldn't do this anymore.  "No," you said, your voice firm.  "It's over, Pedro.  It's really over."

He suddenly pulled you close, his grip tightening on your arms. He kissed you, a desperate, almost frantic kiss. You tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let you go. He kept repeating, over and over, "I love you. I can't lose you. I love you."

You know you couldn't let him go. Not yet. Tears streamed down your face as you kissed him back, a desperate, broken sob escaping your lips.

"Why, Pedro?" you whispered against his mouth. "Why are you doing this to me?"

He kept kissing you, his touch both rough and tender. "You'll be my wife," he mumbled, his voice thick. "Only mine… and I'm gonna be only yours." 

The words, even though they sounded a little possessive, sent a shiver down your spine. You kissed him back, harder this time, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

He scooped you up into his arms, carrying you easily into the bedroom. Clothes flew everywhere – shirts, pants, everything – landing in a messy heap on the floor. His kisses got more urgent, more demanding.  He missed you. He needed you.  It hit you like a ton of bricks.

"I missed you so damn much," he growled, his voice low and husky as he kissed you roughly. "I need you, baby.  Seriously."

He kissed you gently, brushing the tears off your cheeks with his thumb. His lips trailed down your neck, then lower, to your breasts. He suckled, teasing, sending shivers all the way down to your toes. "Mmm, you taste so good," he mumbled against your skin. "Like… like sunshine and trouble."

He moved lower, his tongue tracing a path down your stomach, then even lower, to your core. He licked you, swirling and teasing, driving you absolutely crazy.

You were soaking wet, practically dripping. "Oh, Pedro," you moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Fuck me, please."

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and intense. 

Slowly, deliberately, he pushed himself inside you. He watched you, his eyes locked on yours, as he moved slowly, kissing you deeply. His full weight pressed down on you, making you feel grounded, like you were finally in the right place. 

"So perfect," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "You're so damn tight."

"Fuck me, Pedro," you begged, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts. "Harder."

He did what you asked, his movements getting more urgent, more powerful.  His cock was hard and thick, filling you up completely. "Yeah, baby," he groaned, his voice rough. "That's it. Take it what you need."

He grabbed your butt cheeks, pulling you closer, grinding his hips against yours. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, a smirk on his lips. "You like it when I'm a little rough."

You answer with a moan "Yes, fucking yes, Papi!"

Your pussy clenched around him, milking his cock with every thrust. You came, a long, drawn-out orgasm that shook you to your core. You squirted, your juices dripping down his balls and huge cock, soaking the sheets. 

"Oh, shit," you cried out, your body trembling. And then, he came, a guttural cry escaping his lips as he filled you completely with his seed.

He leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours. He kissed you softly, his breath warm against your skin. "I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "I love you so damn much."

After you showered, you lay tangled together in bed, the afterglow still warm between you. He held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you. "I love you, mi amor." he murmured, his voice soft.

Then, he got up, reached into the pocket of his jeans, and knelt beside the bed.  He pulled out a small velvet box, revealing a sparkling diamond ring. "Will you marry me?" he asked, his eyes shining with love.

Your heart did a flip.  Finally. After all the crap, all the doubt, all the mess, this was it. This was the moment you had been waiting for. "Yes, Papi" you whispered, tears of joy streaming down your face. "Yes, Pedro. I'll marry you."

Thank you for the reading 💜

Please like, reblog and comment. ❣️

Request by @bonneyzsk

I hope so you are gonna like it 😊

My native language is not English so I apologize for mistakes.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

𝑯𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝑫𝒂𝒚

a/n: happy valentine’s day, my beloveds!!! i love all of you so, so much. like, so much. if i could, i’d send you all glitter-covered valentine’s cards and the biggest, warmest hugs. i hope today is kind to you, whether you’re spending it with someone, treating yourself or just chilling. you deserve all the love in the world. Bill’s and Fiddleford’s parts are coming bit later, but in the meantime, i hope you enjoy Stan and Ford. take care of yourselves, and remember: you are so, so loved 💖

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒚

the first thing Stan does on valentine’s day is complain. “ugh,” he groans as he gets out of bed, rubbing his back. “it’s valentines and i wake up feeling like i got hit by a bus.”

you raise an eyebrow when you see him coming downstairs to the kitchen. “you say that every morning, Stan”

“yeah, but today it’s worse. i swear.”

you tilt your head, thinking. “i could give you a massage?”

just one simple innocent offer and Stanley Pines, full-grown conman, ex-criminal, self-proclaimed tough guy, goes absolutely red. “uh—what? no, i don’t need—” he coughs, turning away. “not like—i mean—“

you smirk. ”so that’s a yes?”

“that's a no!” he grumbles, turning away and heading out of the room, all red and embarrassed.

later, after hours of pacing, making frustrated noises and trying to convince himself that this is a stupid holiday and why does he even care, while also trying to figure out how to ask you on a date without looking like a complete idiot. . .

Mabel is busy hanging out with Candy and Grenda, so he turns to Dipper, which is a mistake.

Dipper, who was in the middle of reading Stanford's journal, looks up at him. “so, essentially, grunkle Stan, what you need is a multi-step plan.”

Stan is horrified. “a what?”

“a plan,” Dipper continues, flipping to a fresh page. “a strategic approach. first, we gather data. then, we make a list of optimal date locations. i’m thinking greasy’s diner, because statistically—“

Stanley just groans, dragging a hand down his face and that's when he realises something. he’s overthinking this. he’s sitting here, talking to his nerd nephew, listening to plans and lists, when he’s never needed a damn plan before in his life. what the hell is he doing??

“okay, nope, nevermind. kid, i’m just gonna take ‘em to a diner.”

“wait, what?” Dipper frowns. ”but you need a PLAN!”

”the plan is the diner.”

“wait, grunkle Stan! i was getting to the part about psychological profiling!“

so that’s how Stanley Pines ends up standing in front of you, very awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “uh. you, uh. wanna go to greasy’s with me. for a date. or whatever.” the moment the words leave his mouth, he wants to die.

and now he wants to die much more because you just smiled at his words and nodded. “yeah. . . yeah, i’d love to!”

the date is going great, which means Stan wants to run. you are too beautiful. it’s pissing him off. especially when light catches your face, when you laugh, when you keep tilting your head while listening to him ramble about whatever, even though he’s pretty sure he’s not making sense.

his heart is pounding. “soo, uh, you, uh. you ever been arrested?”

in response he gets a full-on, unattractive, choke-on-your-own-spit kind of snort from you, what makes him look so proud of himself.

“okay, ice broken,” he thinks. “we’re doin’ great. yeah.”

Stanley hates himself for it but you are too beautiful and funny. and it is ruining his life. he’s sweating. literally sweating. he tries to make small talk and immediately forgets how to speak like a human being.

he’s gonna run.

he's gonna find some dumb excuse, say he left the stove on, pretend to trip and fall out the window. but what he doesn't know is that he's not the only one who's nervous, you’re both so awkward it’s ridiculous. Stan keeps tugging at his collar. you keep fidgeting with your hands, stuttering and avoiding eye contact

suddenly, even to yourself, you stand up. “non specific excuse!!” after announcing that, you flip the entire damn table over and run out of the diner.

Stan watches this happen in slow motion and, without thinking, he jumps up, pointing at you.

“now that’s my kind of person!" he yells to people at the diner as he runs after you.

you’re both running through the empty gravity falls streets, laughing so hard you can barely breathe. when he finally catches up, you both collapse against a wall, panting.

“i can’t believe you just did that, wow!” Stan wheezes.

“well, i can’t believe you chased me,” you shoot back.

you’re both just grinning at each other like idiots. Stan looks at you and damn, he’s so in love it’s stupid.

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅

there’s glitter in your hair and Ford notices this first, because there’s glitter everywhere, on the floor, on the couch, on him.

“Mabel,” he says slowly, lifting a sleeve coated in shimmering specks. “what exactly have you done?”

Mabel, who is sitting across from you, shrugs, completely unbothered. “we're making valentine’s day masterpieces, obviously.”

you grin, lifting a small, glittery pink heart with messy writing scrawled across it. “see? Mabel’s making some for her friends. im just helping her!”

oh, damn, that adorable smile of yours. . . Ford clears his throat, though his ears turning noticeably pink. “oh. well. that’s very sweet of you.”

before you can say anything, he disappears into the kitchen, leaving you and Mabel alone together.

some time pass and what started with nail polish, somehow escalated to homemade friendship bracelets with Mabel telling you about all boys she met in Gravity Falls, avoiding Gideon's name, you smile at her because that girl looks so cute cutting out ridiculous little shapes with her tongue sticking out.

“you think waddles would like a card?” Mabel asks, tapping her chin. “or do you think pigs don’t understand the concept of romance?”

“i think waddles would eat the card,” you reply, flicking a bit of glitter at her.

“you are so right!”

suddenly, you hear very familiar voice from the kitchen. “no— waddles!! no! bad pig! shoo! go away!”

Mabel screeches so loud your eardrums nearly rupture. “Ford and Waddles interaction?! i need to see this!”

you dont even have time to react as she launches herself across the room, screaming your name over and over in excitement.

“off the counter! off the counter now!”

you're a curious person, so when you finally peek in you see Ford half-bent over the kitchen table, trying desperately to shield something from Waddles, who is aggressively attempting to munch on a piece of paper.

“uncle Ford!” Mabel yells, “why are you yelling at my baby??”

Ford jerks up. “i—i. . .”

Mabel’s eyes catch sight of the now slobber-covered valentine’s day card and she gasps again, so loud you cover your ears.

“OH. MY. GOSH.” she whips back toward you, pointing dramatically. “go. go away. go to the living room and act like nothing happened!”

you want to stay here longer, trying to see what is going on there, but Mabel keeps pushing you. “do not question me, just go!”

Ford looks mortified. you, very confused, decide to listen to Mabel and back out. when you sit down on the glitter-covered floor, you still hear their voices, because Mabel just doesn't know what does “talking quiet” means.

“oh my gosh, uncle Ford!” from the kitchen comes the unmistakable sound of a chair scraping across the tile, a very panicked grunt, and what is possibly the sound of an envelope being hastily shoved under something. “i knew it! you were making a valentine’s day card!! oh my GOSH, i knew it!! i knew you had a crush on—“

“MABEL!!”

“i can’t believe this, holy llama socks, you’re actually doing something romantic!”

“shh!! keep your voice down!! what if—“

“what color was the glitter? tell me right now. was it pink? was it gold?! it was gold, wasn’t it?!”

there’s a very long pause. then, Ford mutters, “. . .it was gold.”

Mabel squeals. ”uncle Ford, you have to give it to them, please please please!”

“i can’t do that!”

“ughh, why not?!”

Ford sounds so exasperated you can picture him running both hands down his face. “because that is embarrassing! i. . . Mabel, i can't do that.”

”but you wrote them something sweet, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU??”

“Mabel, sweetie, please.”

“you are so lucky i have a strong sense of mystery, uncle Ford, i would never, ever reveal your deepest secrets. no matter how much they might want to know. even if they asked very nicely. even if they bribed me with candy. even if they looked so, so beautiful today!”

and god, Mabel acts so suspicious for hours. she side-eyes you at dinner, she hums conspicuously when Ford walks past, she does wiggly eyebrows. it’s a whole thing! but she doesn’t tell you why, and by the time the day winds down, you nearly forget. . .

until later that night, when the house is quiet, you find a folded pink valentine’s day card tucked neatly beside your pillow.

the front has a little hand-drawn equation that you don’t totally understand, but something about it makes you smile.

the inside reads, in Ford’s impeccable cursive handwriting:

“of all the possible realities, i’m grateful to exist in this one with you ♡ ”

and underneath, a little scrawled postscript “p.s. please ignore the bite mark on the corner. i had to fight for my life against a pig today.”

[nayaesworld]

Made Men

Mafia!Terry Richmond x Black reader

Warnings: MDNI, Family trauma, mentions of murder, betrayal

A/N: Happy Lovers Day y’all…I hope y’all enjoy💕

—

Summary: Focus on your studies, mind your manners, and stay away from that Richmond boy. Your aunt sang that same tune to you over and over again…but destiny had better plans. And In a world where most people experienced death long before love, how could you deny fate when it came wrapped in a 6’3 package with a crimson bow on top..made men made the underground world go round and yours just so happened to be a bit off its axis..

His very own Miss Universe. The epitome of black beauty and radiance, and he loved you. For all the things that were terribly wrong and fucked up in his life, you were that one right thing in his world that kept him grounded and humble. He loved you for all your weird quirks and interests, for all your loud laughs and giggles, and yet life was telling him yet again that he couldn’t have it all.

Why did the two of you deserve to pay for the past grievances of your families? Why did the two of you have to pay for something that y’all weren’t alive to experience? People were trying to keep her out of his reach, without knowing how far he’d go to get her. No limits. No fucks given for the lives he’d take so they had better stay out of his way. No more separation from her. He couldn’t live that way, couldn’t live without her.

She was worth the trouble, she was worth the risk.

Hands tapping lightly against the steering wheel of his 1969 Ford Mustang. Smoke billowing in the cabin of the car from his cigar. He had learned early on that patience was a virtue and honing it for the right moment made all the difference. He was watching and waiting for his cue, a signal from his baby. It was such a shame he had to even go to such lengths to bust her out of that prison they called her home. A sit down was what he was hoping for, a little chat of some sort to get down to the bottom of this bullshit. So much bull shit. Terry knew who he had to have it with and he played out how things might go in his head, but he’d take any chance if it meant peace with her.

A light switched on and off twice in the living room of the house. His signal..and a sign that things might not be going so smoothly inside for her. He blew out a stressed breath before he stepped out of his car, frustrations were running high but he tried to remain calm and let the bite from the wind chill his hot head. They were supposed to be on the road by now. Long gone and doused in the warm sun deep in Jamaica. A retreat..an escape from this life, and her Valentine’s Day gift. Yet here he was February 13th a day before…bulllshit. His long black leather trench coat blew in the wind as he advanced towards her childhood home.

__

You

Things were bad again between you and your aunt. The packed bags and visible passport sent her into a fit of rage. Only this time you met her frenzied haze of nasty words and disappointment with your own anger. You were beyond fed up, her constant overprotective nature and disregard for your feelings was wearing you down.

“What? You thought I was gonna just let you run off with that boy…he’s no good?!”

“You never even tried to get to know him, you’re a fucking hypocrite, you’re ruining my damn life and you don’t even care!” Wet hot tears streamed from your face endlessly, your body running high on emotions and you were lightheaded from all the yelling.

“I know enough about his family that I shouldn’t have ever let you get close to him! You don’t know what you think you do and I’m sick of repeating myself.”

“Yet again you're speaking in a riddle like I’m some child..tell me the truth. If you care for me how you so often claim. Tell. Me. The. Truth.” Your fingers hit your palm after every word. Beyond fed up with your aunt's silly little rants, this was not going to be how you continued to live your life.

A heavy knock at the front door shut her mouth before she could lie again. The knock was loud and solid, but knowing who resided on the other side of it made your hammering heartbeat calm down enough for you to finally breathe.

Your protector.

Your calm in the loud world.

Your Terry.

You rushed to open the door, almost pulling it clean from its hinges in your rush to get there before your aunt. Leathered hands reached for you and pulled you into his embrace, the smooth cool leather not hiding the rapid thump of his heartbeat. He was angry too..and rightfully so.

“Are you ok..did anybody put their hands on you?” He fired off questions quickly and I shook my head no before he placed me behind him and stepped into the house.

“You’re not welcomed here..bold of you to show your goddamn face.”

“I’m welcomed wherever she is. Because unlike you I have her best interest..period.” You watched him reach down and set a timer on his wristwatch before he rolled his tense shoulders.

“Five minutes. That’s how long you get to tell your niece the truth, or I will. Tell her why you can’t bear to look me in my face…why you can’t tell her the truth after 25 fucking years of raising her.”

Vanessa; your aunt stared daggers at Terry. She reached into her purse and pulled out a fresh pack of cigarettes and a lighter. A sign that she was getting overly irritated and anxious but you could care less. She owed you this and so much more. She pat the bottom of the pack before pulling one out and quickly lighting it.

“ I don’t owe her or you a motherfucking thing. And if you knew what was good for you, you’d watch your next words carefully.” Deflection. It was typical with her.

“Tick-Tock auntie, you do it or I will.” His usual smile ridden face was still and frozen in anger. A stark difference from the man you cracked jokes with.

“You damn Richmond men..always coming around taking what doesn’t belong to you. A bunch of no good ass niggas!” More riddles. More rage.

“Tell her how your obsessive and lustful behavior behind my uncle put her mother and father in harm's way. How you knew he actually wanted her but you didn’t mind playing the back field just as long as you were around him.” And there it was, the truth that for some reason I wasn’t owed. The reason my parents were murdered.

“Tell her! How even though you knew her mother had no interest in my uncle, you still planted those seeds into his head that got her parents murdered..you knew he couldn’t take her rejecting him and you sat back and watched this unfold anyways.”

Sobs escaped your mouth and threatened to choke me with their escape. The truth really did hurt and right not that pain was feeling more physical than mental. All that time without the truth..without your parents. Your child would never know this kind of pain and despair. You pulled the white mohair cardigan tightly around your little bump. You and Terry were going half on God's greatest gift to earth…something to live for and do better for. Your sole reason for wanting to get the hell away from this place. You had done your time here tenfold, it was time to get away and raise your baby with your fiancé.

“Go put your bags in the car baby..I’ll be right behind you.” He pressed a kiss to your temple and handed your bags to you.

“Hmm so you just gonna choose that nigga over your own flesh, how are you any different from me neice?”

I rushed over to rearrange her face but Terry grabbed me and pulled me to him. My shaking hands were covered by his large ones and I let their warmth mingled in with his protective gaze soothe me.

“Remember what we’re fighting for, baby. She’s not worth it, you know that, it’s just me, you, and our future.” He bent down into a squat and pressed a kiss to my belly, whispering kind words and affirmations to it.

“That baby will have his last name… his DNA. That’s no family of mine. You leave this house,you're dead to me girl!”

“I’m counting on it.” And with that you grabbed Terry's car keys and slowly carried all your belongings outside. Freedom at last.

__

Terry

“I haven’t heard from Terrell in a week, what did you do to him? I’ll have your body parts scattered from here to fucking South America..don’t test me boy!”

“My uncle is dead..and if you don’t want to meet the same fate as him I’d advise you to watch what you say next Vanessa. This is the bed you made, lay in it.”

“Terrell was a good man! He had his bad days, name a person that doesn’t…he loved me and you took him from me!” More deluded thoughts of “love” but what this really was was a sick obsession.

“My uncle was a sorry ass nigga. A scum that deserved to be wiped clean from this earth…behind her you gotta know I’ll get rid of anybody so please don’t be so surprised.”

Terry stepped into your room and headed to her walk-in closet where she had the rest of her valuables packed and tucked into a corner. He slung the duffel bags over his shoulder and grasped the photo album containing pictures of her and her parents before walking from the room. Vanessa sat in the recliner near the window watching Y/n settle into the passenger seat. Envy written across her face clear as day. She wanted what she couldn’t have, so she had planned to live vicariously through her niece. But those days were over.

“For what it's worth, she really did love you. Long before you broke her heart and crushed her dreams, you meant something to her once upon a time.” She squinted her eyes at him and walked over to stand toe to toe with him. Smoke from her cigarette blowing out of her pity and into his face.

“Get out of my house. And if you or her return to this city I won’t stop her uncles from going after either of you.”

Terry simply smirked to himself before walking away and out into the cold air. The constant purr of his car welcoming him back.

“Where will we go?” He stared into her pretty shining eyes, hands stroking her cheek.

“The time I had to spend away from you…I had something built for us, a haven. I promised you a home to raise our child in, someplace silent and serene. That place is ready love.”

__

“Baby you have to secure her head first..I promise you won’t break her.” You laughed softly at the panicked look on Terry’s face as you slid your one month old daughter into his arms.

Peace and bliss had befallen you and Terry those last months of your pregnancy. As he promised he had you nestled away in the beautiful woods of Fairburn, Georgia. The 3,000 square foot lake house sat on the Chattahoochee River smack dead in the middle of two acres of land ; it had a wrap-around porch and had three bedrooms and bathrooms. Your pregnancy was safe and your baby was healthy because of it, the quiet air surrounding you was a safety net.

You found peace everywhere on the property. Sitting on the front porch sipping your favorite red wine,arranging a savory dinner on the marble island in your kitchen, splashing your feet into the river while your fire pit crackled beside you, or those sweet nights where you laid in bed curled into the hard ridges of your fiancés body. Now your favorite times were spent nursing your daughter Clark, and adjusting to and loving the everlasting changes of motherhood. The love between you and Terry grew constantly and sometimes you’d wonder how it was even possible to love someone with every fiber of your being…how you could love everything about him.

“That little eyebrow arch she does is all you, and she thinks it’s so funny…hi my little dumpling aren’t you just the funniest sweet thing.” Your squeaky baby voice had Terry chuckling as you moved away to prepare her bottle. You poured the cooled breast milk into a four ounce bottle before placing it inside a bottle warmer to be heated. You squirted a bit on your wrist to test its temperature before walking into the living room and handing it to Terry. You watched her as her little hungry coos filled the living room and her tiny hands reached up to pull in her father’s shirt.

You munched on oatmeal chocolate chip lactation cookies and stroked the fine hairs along his neck. “Thank you for rescuing me. All I had to do was mention my situation one time,you never questioned me,never hesitated, all you did was act. I’m blessed that Clark has you for a father, she won’t ever feel what I felt growing up.”

“You thank me? I did what a man was supposed to do love, you don’t see that light around you..that light that binds me to you. I’ve killed for you…and to keep this peace I’d do it again. Because there is no price too high to pay for what you give me, what you just gave me.” He racked down and pecked a kiss onto the baby’s head before pulling you in for a tender kiss.

“We’re raising our daughter together, she’ll always have us…always feel the love we have for her. She's gonna grow up here and never have to lift a finger. She’ll be beautiful and smart just like her mommy because that’s what we intend for her.”

“And so it will be darling…next on our list the wedding”

“You ready to become Mrs.Richmond and give me a bunch of babies?”

“I’ve been Mrs.Richmond since we were seventeen having baseball tournaments in the park.. I loved you then and I still do…and I’ll give you a hundred babies, pretty boy.”

“Mm you want me to lay Clark down so we can work on number two right now..I think she wants a sibling, look at that face.” He held her up and matched the cute pouty expression on her face.

“My baby said no such thing..but mommy does need some loving from daddy. Can you have her down in ten minutes?”

He put her in the crook of his arm and began rocking her slowly. “Make it five, and put that new lace set on…I wanna tear it off you.”

You took off running towards your shared room and slipped into the racy pink set. You sank into the plush bed giggling softly to yourself. Thank god for made men…

__

@kirayuki22 @uniqueoutlierblog @rose-bliss @kaylalb @blackpinup22 @henneseyhoe @slvt4her @ruewritesoccasionally @writingsbytee @melalsworld @mauvecherie-writes @venusincleo @meadowshelby @cocooned-butterfly @playgurlxoxo @piscesdashcam @otfniah @23jammy @that-one-anxious-mango @ch33z3grits @melosliving @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @kenshisluvrgirl @rawflwrs @becauseimswagman1 @ranikyani @blyffe @keehendrixx @ovohanna24 @yassbishimvintage @pocketsizedpanther @simplyzeeka @zillasvilla @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @theereina @keyaho @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: "Don't Wait For Me"

Part 5

You found out by accident.

Marshall had been hanging around more lately—more than usual. He barely left the house unless it was for something necessary, like picking up groceries with you or taking Whitney to school. He was always there, watching you like you might disappear if he turned away for too long.

You hadn’t really thought much about it. Not until Hailie mentioned something offhand over breakfast.

"Is Dad leaving today?" she asked, stirring her coffee.

Your stomach dipped. "Leaving?"

"For LA," she clarified, glancing up. "He was supposed to be gone last week, but he moved things around. Paul’s been blowing up his phone about it."

You set your fork down carefully. "He moved things around?"

"Yeah." She frowned, suddenly hesitant. "You… didn’t know?"

You forced a smile, shaking your head. "No, I didn’t."

You found Marshall in his home studio, headphones around his neck, absently scrolling through his phone. When he saw you standing in the doorway, he set it down, stretching his arms.

"Hey, baby." His smile was soft, easy. "What’s up?"

You crossed your arms. "When were you going to tell me about LA?"

His expression barely flickered, but you knew. "I was gonna tell you," he said after a beat.

"When?"

"When it mattered."

"It matters now."

Marshall sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Look, I just… I didn’t want to leave yet. Not when things are still—" He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I didn’t want to leave you."

Your throat tightened. "Marshall, you can’t just put your life on hold for me."

"It’s not like that—"

"It is like that," you cut in. "You should’ve told me."

"And what? Left you here alone, knowing how you’ve been feeling?" His voice sharpened, frustration creeping in. "I’m not gonna pretend like I don’t care, baby. I’m not just gonna hop on a plane and act like everything’s fine."

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "You don’t have to act like everything’s fine. But you also don’t have to babysit me."

"That’s not what I’m doing—"

"Then what are you doing, Marshall?"

Silence stretched between you, heavy and unspoken.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "I’m trying to make sure you’re okay."

You shook your head. "And I’m trying to make sure you are. You love what you do. You need to go do it."

Marshall studied you carefully, as if trying to gauge whether or not you were really okay with this.

Truthfully, you weren’t sure.

But you had to be.

"If I go," he said slowly, "I need to know you’ll be honest with me. No more pretending. No more faking."

You hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."

"Promise me."

Your chest ached, but you met his gaze. "I promise."

He didn’t look convinced, but he nodded anyway, pulling you into his arms.

"I’ll only be gone a few days," he murmured against your hair. "You call me if you need anything. Anything at all."

You closed your eyes, gripping his hoodie tightly. "I will."

And for now, that had to be enough.

---

The days felt longer without Marshall there.

You kept up the act for the kids, same as always. Smiling through breakfast, helping Whitney with her schoolwork, making sure Alaina and Hailie had everything they needed. You cracked jokes, cooked dinner, made sure the house felt as normal as possible.

But at night?

At night, it all fell apart.

Once the house was quiet, once the girls were asleep, once you didn’t have to hold it together anymore—you couldn’t.

Some nights, you just sat in the dark, curled up on the couch, staring at nothing. Other nights, the weight of it hit you so hard you couldn’t stop the tears, couldn’t stop the sobs from clawing up your throat, couldn’t stop the ache in your chest from threatening to swallow you whole.

And you couldn’t tell Marshall.

Because you knew he would come home.

He’d drop everything, get on the first flight back, and you couldn’t let that happen.

You just had to make it a few more days.

You could do that.

You had to.

You didn’t hear Hailie get up.

Didn’t realize she was standing in the hallway, listening.

Not until it was too late.

Not until you heard her bedroom door close softly.

Not until, miles away in a hotel room in L.A., Marshall’s phone started ringing.

He almost didn’t pick up.

It was late, he was exhausted, and he had an early meeting in the morning. But when he saw Hailie’s name on the screen, his stomach twisted.

"Hail?" His voice was groggy, still thick with sleep. "What’s wrong?"

"Dad, you need to come home."

He was sitting up instantly, heart slamming against his ribs. "What happened?"

"It’s Mom." Her voice was tight, low. "She’s not okay."

Marshall swung his legs over the edge of the bed, already reaching for his jeans. "Talk to me, Hailie. What’s going on?"

"She’s been faking it, Dad," Hailie whispered. "She’s been pretending for us, but I heard her tonight. She was crying so hard I—" She broke off, swallowing thickly. "She didn’t want you to know. She thinks you’ll come home."

His jaw clenched. "She’s right. I am."

"Dad, I don’t know what to do."

"You don’t have to do anything, baby," he assured her. "I’m coming home."

"Okay." A shaky breath. "Please hurry."

"I will."

He hung up, heart pounding, fingers shaking as he dialed Paul’s number.

The meeting could wait.

The whole fucking industry could wait.

Because nothing—nothing—mattered more than getting back to you.

---

You barely slept.

By the time the sun started creeping through the blinds, you were already out of bed, already moving. You had to keep moving. If you stopped, if you let yourself think, it would all come crashing down again.

So you focused on the morning routine.

Wake Whitney up. Get breakfast ready. Make sure Alaina and Hailie had everything they needed for school. Keep smiling, keep joking, keep faking.

By the time you dropped them off, your chest was so tight it felt like you could barely breathe.

And as you pulled into the driveway, staring blankly at the house, it hit you all at once.

You needed Marshall.

Not just wanted. Needed.

Like oxygen. Like gravity. Like something fundamental and vital that you couldn’t live without.

Your hands were shaking as you grabbed your phone. You hit his name, pressed the call button, held your breath.

It rang once.

Twice.

Voicemail.

You hung up and tried again, but it went straight to voicemail this time.

Panic crept up your spine.

You tried again. And again.

Nothing.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, and suddenly it was hard to breathe, hard to think.

What if something happened to him? What if he wasn’t answering because—

No. Stop.

You pressed your forehead against the steering wheel, gripping the phone so tightly your knuckles ached.

He was probably just busy.

You told yourself that over and over, but it didn’t help.

You needed to hear his voice.

You needed him to pick up and tell you everything was okay. That you were okay.

But he didn’t.

And for the first time since he left, the panic swallowed you whole.

You sat in the car, gripping your phone like it was a lifeline, willing it to ring.

Nothing.

You tried again. Straight to voicemail.

Your breathing was coming too fast now, shallow and uneven. Your fingers curled into your palms, nails digging into your skin.

Where is he?

You felt sick.

You stumbled out of the car, barely making it inside before the weight of it all slammed into you.

Marshall wasn’t answering.

He always answered.

Unless—

Your chest tightened, stomach twisting. Memories you had buried clawed their way up, images of him unconscious on the bathroom floor, paramedics shouting, machines beeping.

What if something happened?

What if he was—

No. No, no, no.

You pressed your hands against your temples, forcing the thoughts back. You couldn’t go there. You wouldn’t go there.

But you needed him.

You needed him now.

And he was gone.

Your legs gave out before you reached the couch, knees hitting the floor with a thud, but you barely felt it. You clutched your phone, fighting the sobs building in your throat.

You were so lost in the panic that you didn’t hear the front door open.

Didn’t hear the keys drop onto the counter.

Didn’t hear the footsteps—hurried, desperate—until they stopped right in front of you.

"Baby?"

The voice broke through the fog in your head, and your heart nearly stopped.

You lifted your head.

Marshall was standing there, breathing hard like he’d been running, eyes wide with something close to panic. His bag was still slung over his shoulder, like he hadn’t even stopped to put it down before coming to find you.

You blinked. "M-Marshall?"

"Jesus, baby." In an instant, he was in front of you, dropping to his knees, hands cupping your face. "What’s wrong? What happened?"

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. You just launched yourself into his arms, gripping the back of his hoodie like he might disappear if you let go.

"I c-called you," you choked out. "You didn’t answer—I thought—"

"Shit, baby, I’m sorry." He wrapped his arms around you tighter, pressing his face against your hair. "I was on the plane. I turned my phone off. I should’ve—I should’ve told you I was coming home."

You froze. "You were already coming back?"

He exhaled shakily. "Yeah, baby. Soon as Hailie called me."

Your eyes burned. "I—I didn’t want to ruin your trip."

Marshall pulled back just enough to look at you, hands firm on either side of your face. His gaze was intense, voice rough with emotion. "I don’t give a fuck about that."

You swallowed hard. "I need you."

His expression softened, something breaking in his eyes. "I know, baby." He pressed his forehead to yours. "I’m here. I’m not going anywhere."

And for the first time in days, the tightness in your chest eased—just a little.

[angel-w1ngz]

I've had a revelation

I have a plot idea and I'm gonna attempt (key word attempt) to write it out. I HAVE NEVER WRITTEN FAN FICTION but the fan fics just ain't hitting right no more so it it goes. Please let me know if it's decent

Plot: you get zapped into supernatural the same way Dean and Sam got zapped into Scooby do. (You also have a massive crush on Castiel)

You arrive home after a long day working as a nurse, you hated that job. People always treated you like you were worthless whether that was doctors, patients or other nurses. You were planning on quitting your job for weeks now but you couldn't seem to find the courage.

You stepped into your grungy one bedroom apartment and kicked your shoes off. The apartment wasn't great but it was your home. You sighed and couldn't wait to just lay in bed and turn on your favorite show. Not bothering to take off your scrubs you plopped down on your bed and turned on the TV.

As you clicked play you noticed a weird purple light in the background of the TV. "No fucking way"

You immediately stood up and stepped close, tilting your head with a confused and almost curious expression. You reached your hand out touching the light before everything went black for a moment.

You opened your eyes after what felt like an eternity and looked around assessing your surroundings. 'what the hell is going on' you thought to yourself. You were smack dab in the middle of the forest late at night. You were never one for nature and to be here at night freaked you out even more.

Standing up you dusted off your scrubs and looked around before three men came running in your direction...with guns pointed at you?

"who the hell are you?!" The shorter one yelled out with a tone that was anything but friendly. It took you a moment but you recognized all three of them. You stood frozen before your jaw dropped to the floor.

"no..fucking way" you spoke, stunned at what was currently your state of life right now. Of course you loved supernatural but to be in the show, hell that was terrifying.

"answer the damn question!" Dean barked causing Castiel to put a hand on his shoulder and Sam to turn to him.

"Dean I'm pretty sure she's just..human" Sam spoke

"a human doesn't just appear out if thin air Sam!" Dean snapped.

"No no he's right, I am human, test me! Splash me with holy water and cut me with silver if you have to but you guys have to listen to me" you spoke frantically, you didn't want to end up dead here, well maybe it would've been better than back home, at least here you knew what happened afterwards.

"how do you know-?" Castiel started and was almost immediately cut off by Dean

"because she's a monster that's how!"

"Dean, let's just test her" Sam spoke as he dug into the duffle bag he had around his shoulder. He pulled out a flask and a silver knife and walked over to you. He splashed a bit of holy water over your face.

"Jesus, a bit dramatic are we?" You wiped the water off of your face and held your arm out as Sam slid the knife across.

"see? I'm human!, but I need you three to listen to me" you spoke trying to get to your point before the real monsters showed up.

"we're listening" Castiel spoke, you always loved Cas, his gruffy voice made something in your stomach drop. Hearing him in person wow you could barely stop the heat from rising to your face. Sure Misha Collins was hot but Castiel? Castiel who thought he was real? You were almost fangirling in your own head.

"this is going to sound insane" you started off, mentally preparing yourself. "Remember that time all three of you were zapped into Scooby Doo because of some haunted TV? I'm pretty sure that just happened to me..oh and yeah you guys are a show, sorta like how you guys are also books"

Dean stood there debating on whether or not to believe you. Meanwhile Castiel was trying to find some sort of sign of lying and Sam's jaw was practically on the floor.

"and how exactly did you know that happened?" Sam spoke first.

"your lives, your story, everything that's ever happened to you guys is in a TV show called supernatural" you stood there awkwardly and tried to find anything that would prove it. You dug around in your pockets before pulling out an air freshener with Sam's face on a strawberry.

"see? Merch!"

"is that..?" Sam spoke

"dude you're a freaking fruit" Dean laughed

"oh no I have one of you too Dean" you pulled out another one with Dean on a banana

"guys were getting distracted" Castiel butted in.

"right" you spoke, "I need help getting home"

Authors note

PLEASE LMK IF I DID GOOD AND ILL CONTINUE THE STORY eventually it'll lead to Castiel x reader stuff if that's what you guys want. I literally came up with this plot last night before I fell asleep and I haven't been able to find good fanfiction in a MINUTE so it's up to me now. Let me know if it's worth continuing

[kaiyunsim]

valentine —

pairing : best friend!woonhak x gn!reader

summary : woonhak wants to ask the reader to be his valentine but doesn't know how to. when he tries to form an idea, his hyungs decide to tease him.

warnings : fluff, reader is lowkey dumb, none !

a/n : i love woonhak. i want him to be my valentine. ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT THESE PHOTOS?!?!? boba eyes are my weakness

queueing : valentine - laufey

— wc : 5.5k — not proof read —

woonhak stares at his phone, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. he’s already typed and deleted his message at least five times, each attempt making him more frustrated than the last. inviting the reader over shouldn’t be this hard. he does it all the time... so why does it feel like he’s about to do something life-changing?

he sighs, shaking out his hands before typing again.

hey, wanna come over to my dorm later? just to hang out. nothing weird. just normal. totally normal.

he reads it back, groans, and immediately deletes the last part. why does he sound so suspicious?

before he can rewrite it, jaehyun suddenly plops down next to him on the couch, his presence almost making woonhak drop his phone.

“why do you look like you just got caught doing something illegal?” jaehyun asks, peering over at his screen.

woonhak quickly turns his phone away. “i don’t.”

“you do,” riwoo chimes in from the other side of the room, lounging against the armrest of the couch. “and judging by how you’re acting, i’m guessing it has something to do with them.”

woonhak freezes. “who’s ‘them’?”

riwoo raises an eyebrow. “you know exactly who.”

jaehyun grins, leaning closer. “are you finally confessing?”

woonhak chokes on air. “what—no! i’m just inviting them over. to hang out.”

“sure,” jaehyun says, dragging out the word like he doesn’t believe him at all. “just to hang out.”

woonhak glares at him. “it is just to hang out.”

riwoo hums, clearly unconvinced. “so why do you look like you’re about to throw up?”

before woonhak can defend himself, sungho walks into the room, pausing when he notices the way everyone is staring at woonhak. “what’s going on?”

“woonhak’s texting y/n,” jaehyun announces.

“and freaking out about it,” riwoo adds.

woonhak groans, covering his face with his hands. “i hate you guys.”

sungho laughs as he takes a seat. “why are you so nervous? it’s not like they’re gonna say no.”

“that’s not the point,” woonhak mutters.

“then what is the point?” riwoo asks.

woonhak opens his mouth, then closes it again. he doesn’t really have an answer... at least, not one he’s willing to admit out loud.

the thing is, he does want to confess. has wanted to for a while now. but the thought of actually doing it? terrifying. so instead, he’s been sitting on his feelings, convincing himself that just being around the reader is enough.

except it’s not. not really.

so, after much internal debate (and several sleepless nights), he decided to do something about it. valentine’s day is coming up, and if he doesn’t confess now, he doesn’t think he ever will.

but none of that matters if he can’t even send a simple text.

he squares his shoulders, determined to ignore the way his friends are watching him like he’s a reality show about to reach its peak drama moment. he quickly types out a new message. something short and to the point.

hey, wanna come over later?

before he can second-guess himself, he hits send.

there. done.

“so,” jaehyun says, leaning in again. “what did you say?”

woonhak ignores him, pretending to be very interested in the pattern of the couch cushion.

sungho smirks. “you know, you talk about them all the time.”

woonhak snaps his head up, eyes wide. “i do not.”

“you do,” riwoo confirms. “it’s honestly impressive how much you find ways to bring them up.”

“the other day,” sungho starts, leaning back with a smug grin, “we were eating dinner, and out of nowhere, you just went, ‘y/n would probably love this.’”

woonhak groans. “so what? i just think they have good taste!”

“and yesterday,” jaehyun adds, clearly enjoying this, “we were picking out outfits, and you said, ‘y/n would look really good in this color.’”

woonhak throws his head back against the couch, wanting to disappear. “shut up.”

riwoo snickers. “it’s cute, honestly. kinda pathetic, but mostly cute.”

woonhak doesn’t even have the energy to fight back. he just prays the reader texts back soon so he has an excuse to leave the conversation.

as if on cue, his phone buzzes. he scrambles to grab it, his heart hammering in his chest as he reads the reply.

sure! what time?

woonhak barely gets the chance to process his relief before jaehyun snatches his phone.

“they said yes,” jaehyun announces, showing the screen to the others.

woonhak lunges for his phone. “give it back!”

jaehyun easily dodges him, grinning as he holds the phone out of reach. “so what’s the plan? are you finally gonna tell them how you feel?”

woonhak hesitates for half a second, and unfortunately, that’s enough time for his friends to pick up on it.

riwoo gasps dramatically. “wait. wait. you are confessing.”

woonhak shakes his head, but his face betrays him, heat creeping up his neck.

jaehyun’s eyes widen. “holy—he is.”

sungho claps his hands together. “this is a big moment. we should prepare a speech.”

woonhak finally manages to snatch his phone back, glaring at all of them. “no one is preparing anything. i just—i just wanna ask them to be my valentine, okay? that’s it. no big deal.”

riwoo grins. “oh, it’s a huge deal.”

woonhak groans, burying his face in his hands. he should’ve known telling them anything was a mistake.

“so,” leehan says, walking into the room for the first time, looking only mildly interested. “when are we holding up the poster boards?”

woonhak lifts his head in horror. “who told you?!”

taesan walks in behind leehan, shrugging. “everyone knows.”

woonhak stares at all of them, betrayal written all over his face.

jaehyun pats his shoulder. “don’t worry. we fully support this.”

sungho grins. “but we will be making fun of you the entire time.”

woonhak sighs, knowing there’s no winning. but despite all the teasing, despite how embarrassing this all is, he can’t help but smile. because later today, the reader is coming over. and hopefully, by the end of the night, they’ll officially be his valentine.

and honestly? he thinks that’s worth a little humiliation.

when you arrive at woonhak’s dorm, you barely get the chance to knock before the door swings open. woonhak stands there, looking slightly out of breath like he ran to the door. for a second, he just stares at you, blinking, before quickly stepping aside.

“hey! uh—come in,” he says, voice a little too enthusiastic.

you smile as you step inside, slipping off your shoes. “why do you sound so nervous?”

“i don’t,” he says way too fast.

before you can question him further, you hear a chorus of voices from the living room.

“they’re here,” jaehyun announces, his tone dripping with amusement.

when you look over, you see woonhak’s hyungs lounging on the couches, all looking way too entertained. woonhak stiffens beside you, but you don’t think much of it—at least, not until jaehyun speaks again.

“wow,” he muses, leaning back. “woonhak really went all out. he even cleaned for this.”

woonhak immediately spins toward him, eyes wide. “hyung!”

jaehyun grins. “what? i’m just pointing out how spotless the dorm is. not a single sock on the floor. it’s almost too clean.”

you raise an eyebrow at woonhak, who is suddenly refusing to make eye contact. “you cleaned just for me?”

woonhak shakes his head aggressively. “no! i mean—i clean all the time! i just—i didn’t want the dorm to look messy, that’s all.”

jaehyun hums like he doesn’t believe him, and you can’t help but smile at woonhak’s flustered state.

before you can say anything else, taesan, who has been silently observing, tilts his head. “by the way,” he says, looking at you. “did you know woonhak practiced inviting you over?”

woonhak makes a noise that can only be described as a dying cat. “what are you talking about? i did not.”

taesan shrugs, completely unbothered. “you totally did. at least five different versions. you even rehearsed it in the mirror.”

you blink. “really?”

woonhak turns to you, looking like he wants to melt into the floor. “no! i did not rehearse anything.”

taesan just smirks. “sure.”

you bite back a laugh. “so you were nervous to invite me over.”

“i wasn’t,” woonhak insists, but his ears are turning red.

sungho leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. “you know, it’s funny,” he says, voice teasing. “woonhak has been acting really different today.”

“yeah,” jaehyun agrees. “super flustered. almost like he’s hiding something.”

“or someone,” riwoo adds, smirking.

you frown, confused. “what do you mean?”

woonhak stiffens beside you. “nothing! they mean nothing.”

his hyungs just exchange knowing looks, clearly enjoying themselves.

“i just think it’s interesting,” jaehyun continues, “how woonhak has been extra… obvious today.”

“right?” riwoo nods. “he keeps acting all shy and jumpy. like he’s got something to confe-.”

woonhak groans, covering riwoo's mouth. “oh my god.”

you tilt your head at him. are you being obvious about something?”

he snaps his head up. “no!”

his hyungs all laugh, and you’re even more confused now, but woonhak is already grabbing your wrist, gently pulling you toward the hallway.

“okay, we’re leaving now,” he says quickly.

you glance back at the others. “but—”

“nope! not listening! goodbye!” woonhak drags you toward his room, muttering under his breath.

once you’re inside, he shuts the door behind him, leaning against it with a sigh.

you cross your arms. “are you gonna tell me what that was about?”

he groans. “they’re just being annoying.”

you raise an eyebrow. “they seemed pretty convinced you were hiding something.”

woonhak stiffens, but then quickly shakes his head. “they just like messing with me.”

you squint at him. “so you didn’t practice inviting me over?”

he hesitates for half a second.

“i didn’t,” he says, but it’s not very convincing.

you grin. “you totally did.”

woonhak groans, flopping onto his bed. “i hate them.”

you sit down beside him, nudging his shoulder. “i think it’s cute.”

he peeks at you through his fingers. “you do?”

you nod, smiling. “yeah. it means you really wanted me to come.”

woonhak’s face turns red again, but this time, he doesn’t deny it. he just clears his throat and looks away. “whatever.”

you laugh, nudging him again. “thanks for inviting me.”

he glances at you, his expression softening. “yeah,” he murmurs. “of course.”

for a moment, it’s quiet. the teasing from earlier fades away, and all that’s left is the two of you sitting together, the space between you warm and comfortable.

woonhak seems like he wants to say something else, but before he can, there’s a knock at the door.

“hey,” sungho calls from the other side. “we made popcorn if you guys wanna join us.”

woonhak groans. “go away.”

you laugh. “we should go.”

woonhak pouts. “but then they’re just gonna keep messing with me.”

you pat his knee. “i think you’ll survive.”

he sighs dramatically, but when you stand up, he follows.

“fine,” he grumbles, opening the door.

sungho is standing there, looking way too smug.

“have fun?” he asks.

woonhak shoves past him, dragging you along. “i seriously hate you all.”

sungho just chuckles. “love you too, buddy.”

as you settle onto the couch beside woonhak, you can’t help but smile. whatever his hyungs were teasing him about, you still don’t fully understand. but one thing is clear. woonhak really, really wanted you to be here.

and honestly? you’re really, really glad you came.

the rest of the evening is surprisingly normal. well... almost normal, if you ignore the occasional smirks from woonhak’s hyungs and the way woonhak keeps glancing at you like he’s got something on his mind.

you’re all gathered in the living room, a movie playing on the tv. you and woonhak are sitting on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between you, while the others lounge around. riwoo is sitting on the floor, leaning back against the couch, and jaehyun is half-sprawled on one of the armchairs like he owns the place.

taesan is on his phone, not even pretending to watch the movie, while sungho and leehan are quietly making jokes under their breath, barely paying attention.

woonhak, however, is suspiciously silent.

you glance at him. “you okay?”

he blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to ask. “huh? yeah! totally. i’m fine.”

you narrow your eyes at him. “you sure? you’re acting kinda weird.”

he quickly shakes his head. “nope. not weird. totally normal.”

jaehyun snorts. “yeah, he’s so normal right now.”

woonhak shoots him a glare but doesn’t say anything.

you let it slide, deciding not to push him. instead, you focus back on the movie, though every so often, you feel woonhak shifting beside you, like he can’t sit still.

after a while, riwoo stretches his arms above his head, groaning. “okay, i’m bored.”

“same,” taesan mutters, putting his phone down.

sungho glances at woonhak, raising an eyebrow. “should we do it now?”

woonhak’s eyes widen, and for a second, he looks like a deer caught in headlights. then he quickly clears his throat. “uh—yeah. let’s—let’s do that thing.”

you frown. “what thing?”

woonhak stands up way too fast. “nothing! just—me and the hyungs have to go do something real quick.”

you blink, looking around as the rest of the group suddenly gets up as well. “all of you?”

jaehyun nods. “yep. very important. super urgent.”

“but we’ll be back,” sungho adds. “so don’t go anywhere.”

you stare at them, completely confused. “...okay?”

woonhak nods firmly, like he’s trying to convince himself. “great. we’ll be right back.”

before you can question it any further, they all disappear down the hallway, leaving you alone in the living room.

you sit there for a moment, staring at the now-empty space around you. something is definitely going on. woonhak has been acting weird all night, and now all of them are in on something?

you sigh, sinking back into the couch. whatever it is, you’ll find out soon enough.

minutes pass. the movie continues playing in the background, but you barely pay attention.

then, just as you’re about to go looking for them, woonhak suddenly appears in the doorway.

he looks nervous.

“come with me,” he says.

you sit up. “what? why?”

“just... trust me.”

you hesitate but eventually stand. “okay?”

woonhak doesn’t say anything else. he just leads you down the hallway, back toward the living room.

when you step inside, you freeze.

standing in a row in front of the couch are sungho, riwoo, jaehyun, taesan, and leehan. and in each of their hands is a giant poster board with a single word written on it.

“will” “you” “be” “my” “valentine?”

woonhak steps forward, standing in front of them, shifting on his feet.

“uh,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck. “so… surprise?”

you stare.

woonhak looks like he’s about to pass out. “okay, i know this is kinda dramatic, but i—I really wanted to ask you in a special way, and the hyungs wouldn’t stop teasing me, so they made me do it like this, and now—”

“yes.”

woonhak freezes. “...what?”

you smile, feeling your face heat up. “yes. i’ll be your valentine.”

there’s a beat of silence. then—

“LET’S GOOO!”

jaehyun and riwoo start cheering, holding up their signs like they just won a championship game. sungho claps, nodding approvingly, while leehan and taesan just grin.

woonhak, meanwhile, looks like he short-circuited. “wait... really?”

you laugh, stepping closer. “yeah. really.”

he blinks, processing, before breaking into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

the next thing you know, he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping tightly around you.

his hyungs erupt into whistles and teasing comments.

“aww, look at them!” jaehyun coos.

“this is so cute,” riwoo adds. “i think i might cry.”

taesan smirks. “we should make them wear matching outfits now.”

woonhak groans, burying his face in your shoulder. “i hate you guys.”

you just laugh, hugging him back.

honestly? you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

woonhak is beaming.

after you say yes, he doesn’t stop smiling. not even for a second. it’s like his whole face is stuck that way, and honestly, it’s kind of adorable. you can feel how happy he is just by looking at him, and it makes warmth bloom in your chest.

but of course, the moment is far from over, because his hyungs are still in the room.

“our baby,” sungho suddenly sniffs, clutching his chest dramatically.

riwoo nods, pretending to wipe a tear. “he’s all grown up now.”

woonhak groans, pulling away from you just enough to shoot them a glare. “oh my god, stop.”

“no, no, it’s true,” sungho insists, shaking his head. “i remember when you were just a clueless little kid, crushing on them from afar.”

“and now look at you,” riwoo sighs. “making big moves. we’re so proud.”

woonhak turns bright red. “i hate you guys.”

jaehyun smirks, casually crossing his arms. “so, when’s the wedding?”

woonhak chokes on air.

you barely hold back a laugh as he smacks his chest, trying to recover. “wh—what?!”

jaehyun shrugs. “i mean, you pulled off this big, dramatic confession. it’s only natural that the next step is a proposal, right?”

woonhak’s face is burning. “you guys are the worst.”

“i mean, it’s a fair question,” taesan adds, smirking. “do you have a timeline? should we start planning now?”

woonhak lets out a strangled noise. “shut up.”

but before he can suffer any further, leehan suddenly steps forward, holding a piece of paper.

“here,” he says, handing it to you.

you blink, taking it. “what is this?”

taesan leans in. “a contract.”

you look down, reading the words written in messy handwriting:

"by accepting, you agree to endure woonhak’s clinginess forever.”

you burst out laughing.

woonhak, on the other hand, groans, snatching the paper out of your hands. “oh my god, seriously?”

“yep,” leehan nods. “it’s legally binding.”

“where did you even get this?!” woonhak exclaims, waving the paper around.

taesan smirks. “we prepared it ahead of time. just in case.”

“just in case?!”

you’re still laughing as you reach out, gently tugging the contract back. “i mean… i don’t mind.”

woonhak freezes, turning to look at you. “...you don’t?”

you shake your head, smiling. “nope.”

woonhak blinks. for a second, it looks like his brain completely short-circuits.

then, slowly, his lips curve into the softest smile.

his hyungs erupt.

“oh my god,” sungho gasps, clutching his chest. “they really like him.”

riwoo fake wipes his eyes again. “this is too much. i’m getting emotional.”

jaehyun just grins. “guess we really do need to start planning a wedding, huh?”

woonhak whips around, pointing at all of them. “if you guys don’t leave right now—”

they all laugh, clearly having the time of their lives.

you watch the chaos unfold, still smiling. despite all the teasing, woonhak is so happy. you can see it in the way his eyes shine, the way he keeps glancing at you like he can’t believe this is real.

and honestly? you feel the same way.

maybe the teasing will never stop. maybe his hyungs will never let him live this down.

but if it means being with woonhak?

you don’t mind at all

- ty pookies for reading :) -

~ bnd taglist - @bxnedo

~ perm taglist - @s0shroe

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

MVP

Pairing: Tom Brady x Daughter!Reader, Gronk x Reader, Julian Edelman x Reader

Summary: As the daughter of Tom Brady, she has always been in the public eye—but now, she's stepping into her own spotlight. A chart-topping musician and the most sought-after woman in the NFL world, every player wants a chance with her, but she’s focused on something bigger: headlining the Super Bowl Halftime Show. On Dudes on Dudes with Gronk and Edelman, she opens up about her new rock album, growing up in the NFL, and the relentless rumors surrounding her love life.

She knew stepping onto Dudes on Dudes podcast would be an event, but she didn’t expect the intro to be this ridiculous.

"Alright, people! We have the most sought-after guest in NFL history—" Gronk bellows into the mic.

"The legend herself, the icon, the one every single NFL player is losing sleep over—" Edelman chimes in.

She shakes her head, laughing. "Y’all are ridiculous."

Gronk grins. "But are we wrong? I mean, come on, half the league has gone on record saying you’re their dream girl."

"And the other half is just too scared to admit it," Edelman adds.

She sighs, sarcastically. "Should I start charging them for wasting my time in interviews?"

The guys erupt in laughter. "Honestly? Might be the smartest business move you could make," Gronk says.

The conversation shifts to her music. "Alright, so let’s talk about this album," Edelman leans forward. "You went full rock star mode—what inspired the sound?"

She leans back, considering. "Honestly? I just wanted to make something that felt real to me. No filters, no expectations—just raw, loud, and unapologetic. I grew up in a world of structure and pressure, so this album was my way of breaking out of that."

"And it slaps," Gronk says. "I’ve been blasting it in the gym. I think I set a new personal record the other day because of track three."

"That’s ‘Maybe (Live),’ right?" Edelman asks. "I knew that one was gonna hit."

She nods. "Yeah, that one’s about longing, regret, and the hope of reconcilliation. It expresses a deep sorrow and a desperate with to undo past mistakes. Very deep Gronk."

"Speaking of desperate," Gronk smirks, "How does it feel knowing every single NFL rookie is hoping they run into you at a game?"

"Oh my god," She laughs, rolling her eyes. "I mean, it’s flattering? But I don’t really think about it. They're just a bunch of horndogs anyways."

"So you’re saying there’s zero chance for any of them?" Edelman teases.

She grins. "I’m saying I decide when and if there’s a chance. And right now? I’ve got a halftime show to prepare for."

"Respect," Gronk says, nodding. "But just know… the entire league is still gonna shoot their shot."

"Let ‘em try," she smirks. "I like watching them sweat."

Gronk suddenly claps his hands together. "Alright, we gotta do this. We’ve seen the debates, we’ve heard the rumors, and now we need answers. It’s time for… Rate That Quarterback!"

Edelman cackles. "Oh, this is gonna be good. We’ve got a lineup of NFL’s finest, and we need you to rank them on pure attractiveness. No football skills, no contracts, just vibes."

She groans, shaking her head. "Oh my God, you two are impossible."

"It’s the content the people want!" Gronk insists. "C’mon, first up—we got Joe Burrow."

She rolls her eyes but smirks. "Okay, I’ll give Joe an 8.5. He’s got that cool confidence, and people say he dresses well but I don't think he does. He knows he’s good-looking, he knows he's Joe Shiesty, which takes him down a little."

"Ooooh, Burrow loses points for self-awareness," Edelman laughs. "Alright, next—Josh Allen."

She hums, thinking. "Josh is a solid 9. He’s got the big, goofy golden retriever energy, and he has a pistacio farm, I respect it. Plus, he’s tall."

Gronk shakes his head. "Brady’s gonna kill us for this."

"Next up, TJ Watt," Edelman continues, rubbing his hands together.

She smirks. "TJ gets a 9.5. Dude looks like he could throw me over his shoulder and walk through fire, and that's the kind of energy I need in my life."

Gronk pretends to wipe a tear. "I’m so proud of you for saying that."

Edelman pulls up another picture. "Okay, last one—Dalton Kincaid and Dawson Knox. You gotta rate them as a duo."

"What are they testicle left and right?" She bursts out laughing. "Fine. Together, they’re an 8. But if they keep sending me Bills merch trying to get me to go to a game, they might move up."

Gronk and Edelman are howling with laughter by now. "NFL Twitter is gonna explode after this," Edelman says, shaking his head. "We might’ve just ruined the locker rooms."

She grins, leaning back. "Well, that’s their problem, not mine."

"Alright, we gotta ask—what’s your favorite NFL or Super Bowl memory with your dad?"

She leans back, a nostalgic smile crossing her face. "Oh man, there’s so many. But if I had to pick one? It has to be Super Bowl LI. I was on the verge of a panic attack the whole game and I ended up on the sidelines when the Pats pulled off that historic comeback against the Falcons. The energy in that stadium? Unreal. And after the game, my dad found me in the chaos, hugged me, and said, ‘Told you never to count us out.’ I’ll never forget that."

Gronk grins. "That’s a good one. I remember seeing you running around on the field after, looking like the happiest kid in the world."

She nods. "Yeah, it was surreal. But honestly, some of my favorite memories aren’t even on game day. It’s the little things—like throwing the ball around in the backyard, or sitting in the team box watching him do what he does best. I grew up in this world, but those moments made it feel personal."

Edelman smirks. "Okay, but real talk—who gave better post-game speeches, your dad or Coach Belichick?"

She laughs. "Oh, my dad, hands down. Belichick is legendary, but let’s be real—he’s not giving us emotional monologues. My dad, though? He knows how to fire people up."

Gronk nods. "Respect. Alright, we’ll let you off the hook—for now."

Edelman leans in with a smirk. "Alright, but what about us? What’s your favorite memory with me and Gronk? And be honest—we know we were probably a nightmare at some point."

She laughs, shaking her head. "Oh, absolutely. But I think my favorite memory has to be one of those team parties after a win. Gronk, you were leading some ridiculous dance-off, and Jules, you were trying to teach me how to trash-talk properly. My dad was just standing there, shaking his head."

Gronk claps his hands. "That’s right! And don’t forget—you crushed it. Future Hall of Fame-level trash talker."

Edelman laughs. "She learned from the best."

Gronk raises an eyebrow. "Alright, real talk—how hard is it dating now, with the entire NFL openly thirsting after you?"

She groans. "Oh my God, it’s exhausting. It’s like I can’t go anywhere without someone bringing it up. My DMs? A disaster zone. Every game I go to, there’s at least three guys trying to shoot their shot."

"And?" Edelman presses, grinning. "Any prospects?"

She smirks. "Well I can't kiss and tell."

Gronk leans back, whistling. "Man, she’s keeping the league on their toes. I respect it."

The podcast ends in laughter, but as the cameras stop rolling, she knows the headlines will be everywhere by morning.

[theongreyjoyyyy]

.

[skrunksthatwunk]

just finished s2 of kaiji and it was good i really liked it but i hope i never see that fuckass pachinko machine again!!!

[grimalkinmessor]

Contemplating finally fleshing out my Kaminari hate fic disguised as a Toga In Class 1A fic because my levels of repressed rage are incredibly high atm and it needs a new safe outlet 🙏

[spicyliumang]

Found out one of the cats we feed in the neighborhood passed away earlier today 😞

[mooodyblue]

venting abt unimportant things in da tags ignore me

[gonzodangerfeels]

Comes back with fries.

Looks like grimace comes with this happy meal.

[medicinemane]

Never think that I've stopped talking about Ukraine or that I've forgotten

I follow things every day, every day hoping for some kind of miracle that means the fighting is over, russia will leave every inch of Ukrainian soil, no more bombings... but... I know it's probably some time off... I'm not stupid, I just hope people can stop dying

I follow it every day, hear all the horrible news, keep up to date with things like the Kursk counteroffensive where Ukraine has taken a great deal of russian territory (which shows russia has no red lines)

I just don't share most of what I see on here because I don't want people to get fatigued... there's so many horrible things going on in the world, I don't want to burn people out

I'd rather someone be active and able to do a little than having to just turn off and disengage with everything to avoid losing it

All I ask is that you support Ukraine, they're just trying to exist. Just trying to live normal lives. I just hope you can support the "no civilians deserve to be bombed" platform, and say they don't deserve to be bombed by russia

If you've ever got any questions, it's not like I'm an expert, it's not like I'm living it, but I do follow things every day and it often seems like I know stuff other westerners haven't hear about... so ask away

Anyway, just never think that just cause it's been a bit since I mentioned Ukraine that they're not still on my mind

You hear less for your sake, but I keep coming back every day, and even I don't remotely see the true scale and horror of it, only snippets of... photos, videos, stories people share online

[homeofthelonelywriter]

“That’s it. I’m done.” Simon, who had been laser-focused on his phone - he might or might’ve not been looking at engagement rings online - glanced up, frowning as he watched you walk to the kitchen. Your back was turned to him so that he couldn’t see your facial expression, but your tone suggested you weren’t happy. He quickly stood up and followed you to the kitchen, where he watched you turn on the kettle.

“What is it, love?” You didn’t turn to look at him, instead furiously searching the cabinets before trudging back to the bathroom, where you had just come from. “I’m sick of it, Si. I’m gonna go to the doctor and have them rip the whole thing out.” Realization dawned on the soldier. It was time again.

Confused, he pulled up the menstruation app on his phone and checked on your cycle. You were a few days early this month, which explained why he hadn’t received a notification yet. With a deep sigh, he followed you, finding you in the bathroom, once again searching through cabinets. Without a word, he opened one you hadn’t looked into yet and pulled out the fuzzy hot water bottle you were looking for. You turned to look at him, tears in the corner of your eyes, and your lips jutted out in a pout.

“I know, love. Come, let me help, yeah?” You nodded, holding up your arms, until he picked you up. Without even as much as a grunt, he lifted you into his arms, carrying your bridal style to your bedroom, where he laid you down and tucked you in. “I’ll be right back, darling.” After pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, he disappeared out the door and rushed down to the kitchen, where he prepared your hot water bottle just the way you liked. He also grabbed a mug and made you your favorite tea, knowing that the warmth would help with your cramps.

Before leaving, he grabbed your favorite snacks and a soft blanket from the living room. Then he made his way back to you. In the bedroom, you were curled up on one side, cradling your cramping stomach. After setting the tea down on your nightstand, Simon gently made you uncurl and pressed the hot water bottle against your abdomen, over a blanket, where he knew the cramps always were. “There you go, love.” The snacks were dropped beside the bed as he wrapped the extra blanket around you. “I’ll just grab some more stuff, and then we can spend the day here, cuddling, okay?” You nodded, still pouting and slightly wincing when another cramp hit.

Simon hated seeing you like this, so he rushed around the house, grabbing something cold to drink, pain meds, and anything else you liked to have nearby when you were hurting before returning to the bedroom and jumping into bed. The moment he had crawled underneath the blanket, you latched onto him, your very own heater, and he wrapped his arm around you, holding the TV remote with his free hand. Already knowing all your comfort movies and series, he put one of them on, before relaxing and pulling you closer.

A comfortable silence fell over you two as you watched whatever was playing on TV, Simon’s fingers absentmindedly massaging your stomach, trying to ease the cramps, when an idea came to you. Suddenly, heat started to pool between your legs as you glanced up at your boyfriend. “Si?” He grunted in response, surprisingly focused on the TV. “Si?” You repeated yourself, this time capturing his attention. He was already halfway out the bed, thinking that you’d ask him to get you something, but you pulled him back. “Give me a baby, Si.” He stared at you, all wide-eyed and confused for a second before he pounced on you. Let’s just say it didn’t take you long to get your wish.

Part 2

A/N: Definitely not projecting. Definitely not writhing in pain rn.

[sttoru]

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dad!toji x wife!reader. fluff, just pure fluff. reader gets called ‘doll’ once.

toji sits on the edge of megumi’s bed, arms casually draped over his knees, watching with an amused grin as you fuss over your son. you’re lecturing him about being more careful when playing with the other kids at daycare, replacing the bandages on his arms that had gotten scuffed from a tumble.

megumi sulks, his little face scrunched up, but he doesn’t dare to say a word. his gaze is cast downward and he knows better than to challenge you when you’re in your ‘mom’ mode.

toji chuckles to himself. the little brat—just like his old man, he thinks. neither of them ever have the guts to talk back when you’re laying down the law.

with a lazy smirk, toji reaches over and ruffles megumi’s hair in an affectionate and teasing way. “it's fine, doll,” he says in attempt to reassure you, “shit happens. ‘n it toughens up the kid.”

you shoot him a look over your shoulder and toji just shrugs. “he’s just like you, ya know,” you mutter as you brush a stray lock of hair from megumi's face. indeed, the little boy resembles his father in looks but also in personality. “stubborn, hard-headed. thinks he can take on the world without a scratch,” you sigh.

on one hand, you’re worried that megumi will get in real trouble one day because of it. but on the other hand, your son got an overprotective man as father. you know he will never let any harm befall either of you.

toji raises an eyebrow at your comment. oh, he knows and he’s proud of it. proud of his son, of the family he's created with you. “i mean—he needs to learn to take a few hits if he's gonna survive this world.”

you scoff before hugging megumi one last time. “mm, mama,” the toddler snuggles up to you, small hands clutching your shirt tightly. you feel the weight of his tiny form press against you while his cheek rests against your chest.

there’s something about the clingy way he holds you that melts something deep inside you. you press a gentle kiss to his messy hair, brushing a hand down his back as you breathe in the sweet, comforting scent of his shampoo.

“good night, sweets,” you murur, your voice barely above a whisper. “i love you.”

megumi’s small fingers tighten once more on your shirt as if reluctant to let go. his breathing is steady and you know he’s almost asleep. but then, your son shifts lightly. he pulls back from the hug enough to look up at toji, who’s leaning back against the headboard of the bed. he doesn't say a word, but there’s a clear look of expectation on his face, as though he's waiting for something only his dad can give.

toji meets his gaze with a blank expression that doesn’t give away a thing. he's clueless for a good couple seconds before picking up on what megumi wants.

your husband murmurs something incoherent before relenting. “yeah yeah, c'mere buddy,” he hums, his tone softening. he can't help it—even if he tries not to show the vulnerability in his demeanour.

“yay,” megumi's face brightens up a little and he eagerly reaches up with those tiny hands. toji pulls the kid into his arms, hugging him tighter than expected. the action is a little awkward, but there's no denying the warmth in it.

your heart melts as you witness the adorable scene before you. your son doesn’t seem to mind the tightness as his small arms encircle his father’s neck. it’s a simple moment between father and son, but it’s enough. enough for both of them.

toji pulls back after a little while. his eyes are softer than usual as he pinches megumi's button nose. “good night, kiddo,” he mutters, the words rough but warm, “don't let the bedbugs bite.”

megumi grins sleepily at him as he rubs his eyes. “i’ll kick their ass, papa,” he declares proudly, looking and acting more like his dad with the second. you roll your eyes and stand up from the bed. toji simply snorts, realising his son has picked up on the phrases he uses.

“tha’s right,” your husband nods after standing next to you, “you tell ‘em bedbugs to eat shi—”

“toji ,” you shush him with a swat to the bicep.

megumi lets out a small giggle in reply before laying back on his pillows. you pull the covers up to his chin and watch as his eyes slowly close, his body beginning to relax. the quiet rhythm of his breathing is the only sign of him settling down for the night.

toji lingers by the door and is simply content to watch you. you're always like this—so nurturing. he follows your every move as you leave a final kiss to your son’s cheek. the warmth that radiates in your presence, your affection, the simple yet tender moments are all things that make him fall in love with you over and over again.

you straighten up and turn towards toji, catching him staring. you can see the warmth in his eyes, the way his shoulders are completely relaxed, how that signature smirk of his seems more like a smile in that moment.

you chuckle to yourself before stepping out into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar. toji follows with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. the silence hangs between you two for a bit. it’s comforting and. . . secure.

“y’know, you’re a real softie, toji,” you comment to break the quiet atmosphere. you tilt your head back to look at the dark-haired man who’s now next to you. you know he still struggles with being vulnerable around your son. the sentimentality is still an aspect he's working on.

however, you see it; the emotional side of him. the warmth in his eyes, in his touch, in his words - even if he’s not all that soft spoken.

you can see right through him.

“don't worry though. your secret's safe with me,” you tease with a soft grin.

toji doesn’t say a word for a few seconds before he chuckles under his breath, “just keep that between us, aye?” he responds to your teasing. he’s just glad that he’s married a woman who understands him and accepts him as is.

you both head to the living room. the weight of your day finally seems to lift. the quiet house and the soft breaths of megumi drifting from his room, feels like the calm after a storm. there are challenges ahead, no doubt, but for now everything is alright.

toji wraps his muscular arm around your shoulders as you both sink into the couch. the television playing something in the background, but neither of you pay it much attention. you lean against him and sigh, eyes closing slowly.

“you think he's gonna… turn out okay?” you ask softly. you’re not really sure how to word your worries. your voice holds an uncertainity that causes toji to hold you tighter.

your husband doesn't answer right away. instead, he glances down at you and strokes your hair with his free hand. he nods and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

toji leans his head back afterwards, closing his own eyes. no matter what the future holds, he's sure megumi will grow up to be a strong young man.

“yeah. that kid’s gonna be alright.”