#is this gonna mess up the order of my drafts

[bellysoupset]

Halloween Part 2 - Lucas

Halloween was Bella's favorite time of the year. She started shopping for it early, often buying things that she had no intent on using to "spook" people, but just as regular decor year around. So it was much to her pleasure when she got a text from Wendy asking if she could tag along the latest Halloween haul.

"Jon said what?" Bella asked, lazily pushing the stroller around wallmart and browsing through the spooky themed pillows.

"That I have to throw a Halloween party for Leo," Wendy repeated, hurrying up to catch up. This always happened whenever they went shopping together, Bella walked far too fast.

"Leo's birthday is in April," Bell frowned, then grabbed a pillow shaped like a pumpkin, throwing it inside the cart.

"It's not a birthday party, it's just... A costume party. He's upset that they don't get trick or treaters in their neighborhood."

"Okay, so Jon could throw a party, no?" Bella shrugged, continuing to walk, "it's not like they don't have the space. Way more than you do, to be honest."

"Leo can't know it's for him," Wendy rolled her eyes, "look, it's just Jon babying Leo. So are you gonna help me or not?"

"Sure, sure, no need to get harsh," Bella giggled, inspecting some cute mugs covered in skulls, "what do you need from me?"

"Well first off, to help me buy the decor-" Wendy dug through her purse, then raised a black credit card, "Jon's paying."

Bella let out a whistle, "alright, now we're talking!"

Wendy chuckled, putting the card back inside the purse, "and I need a band, you're the biggest music nerd I know... Can you get us a band?"

"What type of band?" Bella turned around, resting her back to the bar of the cart, "metal? Grunge?...Pop?" Her voice dripped with disdain at the last word and Wendy snorted at her unbiased reaction.

"Well, something people can actually dance to, Bella," Wen poked her side, "alternative rock?"

Bella wrinkled her nose in distaste, turning back around and starting to push the cart again, "let me think."

"Okay... Oh this is very cute," Wendy held up a plug-in lantern, with little ghosties drawn on the side. Bella agreed, barely paying attention now that she had been put on a mission.

Wen was right, she was a music nerd and participated enough in the local music scene to know bands...But an alternative rock band?

"Oh, I know that guy..." She mumbled, fishing her phone out of her jacket's pockets, "what's his name..."

Wendy raised her eyebrows, watching Bella go through her contacts list, with a laser focus, "that guy?"

"I only saw him play once..." she wasn't paying attention, "he had this long, super pretty hair..." Bella gestured to her own head, mimicking a long flowy hair, "he had a tattoo with his band's name... Something -shee..."

"Do you remember the name of the party you met him?" Wendy asked, pulling her own phone out. Bella thought about it for a second, before shaking her head.

"No, but I must have the post saved here..." she clicked around quickly, scrolling through multiple posts and then lighting up, turning her phone so Wendy could see the screen, "here!"

"On A High Note," Wendy read out loud, typing the name in her own instagram and going to the concert's page, "let's see... Cipher of Lies?"

"Nope," Bella circled her, so she could see the poster Wendy was reading the names from, "no, it ended with a shee..."

"Inferno Banshees?" Wendy guessed, clicking on the profile and then scrolling down. The main guy had long hair, like Bell had described, black with red tips.

"Yeah! That's him!" Bella pointed at the screen with such force that Wendy accidentally liked the post. She rolled her eyes, deleting the heart.

"And he's any good?"

"From what I remember, they were decent. Here, listen to this-" Bella scrolled up again, until they landed in a video post of the band performing. Wendy frowned, they were good, indeed. More than "decent", but she guessed Bell's ear was more nitty picky than hers.

"They're probably preeetty expensive to book," Wendy worried, as they moved further inside the candy aisle and she started to load up the cart. Bella let out a scoff.

"Don't worry about that," she fumbled with her own phone, checking the guy's name again in the insta bio, before switching to her texting app and Wendy squinted, noticing there was almost no text history there. Before she could say anything though, Bella was pressing the little mic icon, holding the phone close to her mouth.

"Hi Julian, it's Bells from the High Note party, do you remember me? I forgot my wallet in your room and we had lunch at the Pavillion?" she released the icon, sending the message and Wendy let out a huff.

"So he's an ex-hook up," she deduced and Bella's cheeks turned red as she shrugged.

"Don't look at me like that," she pouted, "you saw his hair!"

"I did," Wendy snorted, chuckling, "are you sure about this? I mean Luke-"

"Is a big boy and he knows I had hook ups while we were on break. Hell, I bet so did he-" she cringed at her own words and Wendy grimaced too. She doubted Lucas had slept around, "besides, that's not the point. We're married, he's an adult, he'll be fine."

"I guess," Wendy shrugged, agreeing, "but maybe tell him before hand-"

They were interrupted by Bella's phone buzzing with an income voice message and she smiled smugly, clicking on it. Julian's voice was deep from sleep, despite it being late in the afternoon, "oh hi ginger, you completely ghosted me, that wasn't nice," he said playfully, "what can I do for you, beautiful?"

"Beautiful," Wendy repeated in a mocking deep tone and Bella elbowed her side, bringing the phone back to her mouth.

"I might have a gig for you."

--------------

Lucas was not feeling well. He was having a pretty shitty week - his supervisor for Poli Sci had asked him to rework the last 30 pages of his thesis, he had to hand in extra credit in one of his History classes if he wanted to graduate alongside his class and the team had flunked hard the most recent game. It didn't disqualify them, yet, but it made their odds pretty bad for the future.

So it had been already on a very shitty mood that he had gotten the news that the lead singer of the band that was going to play in Wendy's Halloween party, the one Luke knew damn well was more of a Wendy-and-Bella shenanigan, was Bell's ex-hook up.

He had already been sulking during lunch, jamming his fork in the food while Vin and Leo chatted, but he had practically sent his filet flying when Leo said "I don't think I'd be cool if it was Jon's ex playing tonight, that's all."

"Jon doesn't have any exes," Vince rolled his eyes, "you're the only lunatic willing to date him."

"You mean I'm the only lucky one to land him," Leo squinted at Vince and Lucas glared between his two best friends.

"Whatever are you talking about? Whose ex?"

"Bells, duh-" Leo's face suddenly turned red and he cringed, interrupting himself, "oh shit, you didn't know."

"Bella doesn't have exes," Luke rolled his eyes, ignoring the throbbing behind them. He dropped his fork back down, glancing up in time to catch Vince glaring at Leo, as if reprimanding him for speaking up, "what?"

"Nothing!" Leo squeaked, still red as a tomato, "so uhm, what's gonna be your costume tonight...?"

Luke let out a huff and turned to Vince, levelling him with one cold glare, "who said Bella's ex is playing tonight? Wendy?"

"I don't know anything," Vince shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes, "ask your wife."

"Jonah and I are gonna be matching," Leo continued to speak, attempting to change the subject. Lucas let out a scoff, turning his attention back to his plate.

If he was already thinking of ditching the party, his desire now all but doubled. A wish that was promptly squished when he arrived home five hours later and found Bella already hunched over the bathroom sink, doing her makeup while sporting just panties and a strapless bra.

"I thought you said you'd be home sooner today," Bella pouted, spreading grey body paint all over her face, "get in the shower, I still need to do your makeup."

"I don't wanna go," Lucas leaned on the bathroom door, crossing his arms to his chest and scowling. Bell raised an eyebrow and he realized she had painted them a dark brown, almost black.

"Why not?"

He shrugged, not quite managing to put into words the fact his head was throbbing and his humor was soured by the prospect of her ex being the lead singer and Bella not telling him.

"I just don't wanna go," he repeated and Bella rolled her eyes, grabbing the thin eyeliner and leaning in so close to the mirror she was almost touching it, drawing fake stitches on the side of her face.

"You can't be serious, you know it's my party as much as it's Wendy's," she said, squinting to her reflection as she focused on the drawing, "get in the shower."

"So it was your idea to hire your ex and not tell me?" Lucas blurted out and Bella was so surprised by his bitter line that she missed a line. She let out a frustrated groan, putting down the eyeliner.

"What are you talking about, Luke?"

"Your ex," he repeated, "the guys told me."

"You mean Vince told you," Bell rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, "I don't have exes, you know that, babe. It's just some dude I hooked up with, it's not impo-"

"Why didn't you tell me? It was fucking humiliating to realize Vince and Leo all knew about this before I did," Lucas glared at her and he knew his headache was exacerbating his temper. He wanted to shut up, but he also just really didn't want them to go to this damn party.

"Honestly I didn't think it was important and I kinda forgot," Bella's voice had an icy undertone, "it's literally just some dude, Lucas, c'mon. You're not the jealous type, what's up with you?"

He rubbed a hand over his face, "I don't know, I don't like you lying to me."

"Lying to you," she repeated, brows raised, unimpressed, "okay, I don't know what the fuck is going on, but there was no lying. Now, I've been looking forward to this party and you know it, so if you wanna sulk home over some random ass guy I hooked up with once, then be my guest. I'm going," Bella turned back around, once again starting her make up.

Luke snapped his mouth shut, rubbing his neck. He really didn't want to go anywhere, but the prospect of Bella going alone was even less appealing. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, he simply didn't want her there at all.

"Fucking hell," he grumbled, entering the bathroom and stripping his shirt. Bella didn't spare him a glance, but she did let out a pleased noise at getting her way, which only annoyed him more.

He was not gonna let her paint him like a clown, Luke decided, when he shut the shower off ten minutes later, the hot water having dulled the headache just a bit, but the quiet minutes only making him more annoyed.

Bella was now in their bedroom, putting on the stockings that were covered in fake stitches. Her hair was down now and Luke did a double take, noticing her curls were all gone, flat ironed away.

"Alright, your costume-"

"I'm not wearing a costume," he interrupted, grabbing a random array of black items in his closet and throwing them on the bed, "this is good enough."

Bella's eyes, decorated with purple eye shadow, scanned him up and down, "you cannot be acting this childishly over a hook up," she said slowly, "we are literally fucking married, Lucas, grow up."

"I'm already going to the stupid party, I'm not gonna dress like a clown too!" he rubbed at the side of his head as the throbbing started back again and Bell rolled her eyes at him.

"You can be such a dick when you want to," she said quietly, grabbing the patchwork dress that was stretched on the bed and putting it on, "I'm leaving in ten minutes, if you're not dressed, I'm going without you."

"And I'm the dick," Luke scoffed, slipping on the black track pants.

They didn't talk at all during the fifteen minutes long drive to Wendy's place. Twice Lucas opened his mouth to apologize, twice he snapped it shut when he noticed Bella with her arms crossed and glaring out of the window.

The party wasn't in her apartment, but in the last floor of her building, where there was a conventions ballroom. Lucas had to give it to both Wendy and Bella, they had done a spectacular job decorating. It was fancy and beautiful, Wendy's job, but still spooky, with a fog machine and bats glued to the windows. All Bella.

"Looks nice," he said, hoping it was apology enough, squinting at the blue and purple lights of the room. Bella let out a scoff, ignoring his compliment.

"Bell!" Wendy rushed to her, skipping from across the room. There were some people already inside, people Lucas did not recognize at all. Other med students, maybe?

Wendy was dressed in a green mini dress, with wings coming out of her back and Bella let out a giggle, "oh hello, Tinkerbell!" she teased, pulling the shorter woman into a half hearted hug, "you look great!"

"Not as great as you do!" Wendy smiled brightly, covered in glittery body paint, "It's from that Tim Burton movie, right?"

"Nightmare Before Christmas," Bella grinned, turning around to show off her outfit and Wendy nodded in approval, then turned to Luke and frowned.

"And you are... No, let me guess, Jaso-"

"Not in the mood," Lucas cut her off swiftly and Wendy raised her eyebrows, taken back by the curt manners.

"Alright, Debby Downer himself," she rolled her eyes at him and Luke was about to snap something he knew he was going to regret, but was luckily interrupted when someone wrapped an arm around Bella's waist and twirled her around, causing her to let out a squeal.

A man dressed like a vampire put her back on her feet, smiling at her, "give me your bloood," he said in a creepy voice and Bella chuckled, stumbling back on her feet.

Luke started to feel a steady, lancinating pain behind his right eye, "Isabella?"

"Hi, sorry-" she snapped her head, then gestured between them, "Lucian, this is Luke-"

"Her husband," Lucas interjected, forcefully, offering a hand and Lucian pouted at Bella.

"Uhm, it's Julian, beautiful," he said, squeezing Luke's hand, before doing a double take, "oh wait, husband?"

"Yes, beautiful," Lucas mocked and Wendy let out a snort, planting both hands on Bell's shoulders.

"Awkward... Anyway, bye guys, we have party stuff to figure out. Julian, I need you on that stage in twenty minutes. Where are the rest of your buddies?"

"Fuck me if I know, Tink," Julian shrugged, eyes glued to Bella, so Lucas squeezed his hand a little harder in his.

"Well, figure it out and get them on that stage," Wendy said, then proceeded to push Bella forward, mixing them with the small crowd of strangers and introducing her around.

Julian dropped Lucas' hand hastily, mumbling a "excuse me," and vanishing into the crowd too, although in the opposite direction.

"Great, just great," Luke sighed, walking towards the bar.

He was nursing a lukewarm drink and trying to ignore the painful pulsing behind both his eyes, when the microphone let out a feedback noise and then Julian's voice came in, "good night, everyone," he said, smiling, "we are the Inferno Banshees, let's rock this place."

"I fucking hate musicians," Luke whispered, chugging the rest of his drink and then flinching when the alcohol hit his stomach at the same time the band started to play and the noise made him feel like he had just been punched.

The drummer was going all in and Luke could feel every beat of the song. It didn't help that the lights were strobing now, flickering between red, blue and UV lights. He let out a loud groan and scanned the crowd in search of Bella.

More people had arrived, half the football team and a bunch of people Lucas hadn't ever seen. He squinted, tugging at the roots of his hair, the vague pain doing barely nothing to distract him from the migraine.

It took him a moment to find Bella, the lack of her signature curls making him completely miss her even when she was directly in his line of sight. She had her back pressed against a blonde girl's, whose long blonde hair was styled in a voluminous blow out, clad in a sequined jumper.

Vaguely he recognized her from somewhere, he just had no idea where. Luke stumbled forward, feeling dizzier the closer he got to the loud noise. It didn't feel like music was playing at all, but rather someone stabbing him right in the temple.

"Bell," he grabbed her wrist and she looked up, blue eyes sparkling for a second, a tentative smile springing up. She thought he was going to apologize? No way.

"I'm leaving, I'm not feeling well!" he yelled over the music and Bella frowned, getting on her tip toes, not hearing him.

"What!?"

"I said I'm going home!" Lucas repeated and she frowned, pulling back.

"It's not even been an hour!" Bella yelled, just as Julian started a guitar riff and the lights all flickered red, "at least try to have some fun-"

His stomach churned, the lights throwing him for a spin. Lucas rubbed a hand angrily over his face and shook his head, "stay, I don't give a crap," he scoffed, even though he did give a crap. He really didn't want to go home alone, not when his head hurt this much, not when the singer on stage kept looking at his girl like she was his next meal.

Bella's frown deepened, "you're acting like a teenager," she said calmly, leaning in and not bothering to raise her voice, so he had to really strain his ears to hear, "I'm not leaving."

"Suit yourself," Lucas groaned, turning around and stumbling over his feet. It was getting difficult to make out which way was up and his stomach was making known just how done it was with this whole night.

He wasn't gonna make it to the bathroom, Luke realized quickly. Instead, he made a detour to the balcony area of the party, stumbling towards the railing, only to slam against someone.

His stomach jumped to his throat and as Vince exclaimed "Hey, don't run me over!" Lucas let out a sick belch and bent in half, bracing against his knees and throwing up on the space between them. He missed Vin's black boots by a couple inches, the man jumping back.

"Jesus, Luke!" Vince exclaimed, circling him and it was a good thing he did, because Lucas swayed forward and only his best friend grabbing him by the arm stopped him from face planting the puddle of sick.

"What the hell did you drink?" Vince asked, thumping his back and Lucas let out a whimper, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Nothing... Migraine," he groaned, closing his eyes and leaning against Vin's side. The other man let out an unhappy noise.

"Can you sit here for a second? I'm gonna get Bella-"

"No," Luke reached out blindly, squeezing Vince's coat. He blinked, trying to situate himself. Vin was dressed as Captain Hook, with eyeliner and all, "I don't want Bell."

Dark eyes measured him up and down and Vince let out a huff, "you two are fighting over the stupid fella? This is ridiculous..."

"Can you just drive me home?" Luke sighed, leaning in and planting his forehead to Vince's shoulder. At least he managed to conceal the lights, but that did very little to his raging migraine. Lucas knew he had only a couple more minutes sounding coherent in him and he was too proud, he really didn't want Bella now.

"She's going to tear me to shreds," Vince groaned, but then tugged on Luke's hoodie, looping one of his arms around his neck, "okay, keep your head down."

He could've cried from relief at the change of tone in Vin's voice. Luke buried his face on his best friend's shoulder and allowed him to be steered around, feet stumbling over each other, Vince's arm around his waist the only thing keeping him from keeling over.

They stumbled outside the party area and Lucas muffled a sob, swallowing against the persistent nausea, "m'hday"

"What?"

"M-head..." he groaned, pressing his forehead with more force against Vince's chest, feeling the impatient vibrations of the other man tapping his foot as they waited for the elevator, "grends"

"Green?"

"Nuuh-" he squeezed his eyes, "grenade."

"Oh," Vince let out a sigh, a hand coming to shield Luke's exposed ear, further muffling the noise, "you'll be lying down soon..."

Lucas let out a heavy sigh through his nose, gulping down the bitter spit pooling in his mouth. He was starting to feel detached from his body, head too heavy to lift it up even when the elevator stopped on their floor and Vince shuffled inside, stumbling a little with his weight.

"Mgonuke..." Lucas whined, daring to open his eyes and staring at Vin's black leather boots, "sry..."

"What?" Vince pulled back and good thing he did, because Lucas gagged again, unable to stop the mess. A dribble of bitter, watery vomit fell on the space between them and Vin let out a scoff, "are you hell bent on fucking up my boots, dude?"

"Sorry..." Luke groaned, swaying on his spot, "I'm- I'm sorry-"

"I'm joking," Vince pulled him back in, wrapping both his arms around him, mess on the ground be damned, the fact that he knew everyone in this building be damned. His best friend was hurting. Lucas sank into the hug, muffling a sob against his shoulder and Vin bit down his lip, praying the elevator came to a stop sooner.

As soon as it stopped, Luke undid Vince's hold on him, staggering forward and collapsing down with a heave.

"Luke!"

A retch answered him, followed by a whimper and more sobs. Vince closed the small distance between them, crouching down next to his friend and rubbing his back in a reassuring manner, "hey, breathe, man..." he whispered softly, supporting Luke's forehead with a hand, "take a deep breath for me."

Instead of breathing in, Lucas fell back on his heels, ass meeting the cement of the parking lot and then he slammed his fists to his forehead, causing Vince to let out a surprised gasp.

"Luke, don't do that!" he whisper-yelled, rushing to grab Lucas' wrists before he could try punching himself again, "this isn't gonna help, bud."

"Hurtsssss," Lucas cried, eyes bloodshot and his nose all congested.

"I know, I know, c'mere-" Vince grabbed his arm, pulling Luke up, "Uhm- Ah fuck... Okay, do you have your keys?" he didn't expect to get an answer and he didn't. Vin let out a heavy sigh, shoving his hand in his friend's pockets and praying he had his car keys with him, otherwise things would be tricky.

His bike was parked next to Wen's pink car, but her car keys were upstairs in her own apartment and well, he didn't feel like leaving Luke...

"HA!" Vince let out a victorious shout when he managed to fish out Luke's keys from his hoodie' front pocket, only to make the other man whimper and curl on himself, "sorry, sorry, sorry!"

He carefully maneuvered them around, getting to Lucas' green car and forcing him on the passenger seat. No sooner he had shut the door, he rushed to the driver's side and got in just as Luke was once again thumping his head, hard, against the window.

"Luke, you're going to give yourself a concussion on top of the migraine," Vince berated him lightly, pulling him away from the door, "close your eyes."

"I feel sick," Lucas answered instead of obeying, not bothering to muffle a sick belch, "Vince..."

"Shhh, eyes closed, c'mon," Vince pressed his hand over his best friend's eyes and felt him lean forward with more force, "deep breaths."

"It's like I got fucking shot in the head," Lucas slurred, before a new heaving fit caused his tears to start back up. Vince flinched in sympathy.

"I really think I should go get Bell-"

"Nuhhgh..." Lucas mumbled, bracing against the dashboard, "no, fuck no. Let her be with the fucking vampire."

"You are an idiot," Vince sighed, starting the car and keeping a hand on Luke's nape, "lean back, you'll just make it worse."

It took him a second, but then Lucas' obeyed, leaning back with a sigh, eyes squeezed shut. He wiped the tears off his face, sniffling again, "thanks, Vin."

"Don't thank me, I still haven't decided if I'm not just gonna drive you to a hospital."

TBC

[hummingbutter]

I forgot about photo limit so part one

Ppaarty 222 :3

[katsdynam1ght]

i am too burnt out to be a person i think today i need to be a dog

[laiiaaa]

Your writing is stunning! Can I request injured!reader and Carmy rushing to be by her side? god the idea of that man dropping everything to be with you....

this has been in my drafts for probably a year now. i forget why i was hesitant to post it. so here’s something for you all :)

“Hey, Cousin—”

“I’m in the middle ‘f something, not now, Richie—”

“Hey.” He raises his brows, gives that serious look that has Carmen’s head peeking over his shoulder because it’s so sharp he can feel it. “It’s your girl. You wanna take this.”

He gets nervous, then, heart beginning to race. Where’s his fuckin’ phone?

“Give it here,” he says, arm extended. Richie hands it over and slips out the door, shutting it to leave Carmen by himself in the office; it only makes hurt stomach lurch harder.

He lifts the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“. . . Carm?” Your voice is broken and wobbly, wrought with tears.

“Baby?” He doesn’t even think before he’s jumping out of his chair, tucking the phone between his jaw and shoulder while he scrambles to find his keys. “Baby, you there? Where are you?”

“I-I’m at the hospital, I tried calling you—”

“The hospital—?” His mind goes back to New York, back to that morning. “What—” He takes a deep breath. His jacket. Where the fuck is it? “Okay, you’re okay, I’m comin’ now, alright?” He storms out of the office toward the lockers, finds everything right where he put it, including his phone. Dead. Fuck. “I gotta hang up, okay? I’m sorry, I know, I can’t take the phone with me. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“O-Okay.” A shuddered breath rings through the line, and it kills him. “I’m okay, Carmy—”

“I know,” he says, shimmying into his jacket and feeling for his keys. “I know, baby, but I’m comin’ anyway, you hear me? Gonna be there in ten.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. I love you.”

He doesn’t put the phone back properly, just slides it across the counter and hopes it doesn’t break again, shouting out orders over his shoulder on his way out the door.

The ride there is the longest ten minutes of his life. He doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t know anything at all, really. Are you hurt? How bad is it? What happened? Is it a burn, a broken bone, just a flu that got out of hand? Will you need surgery? Did you get in an accident? Did someone try to hurt you? He doesn’t want you to be alone right now. He needs to be there with you. You were fine this morning. You were fine this morning, all beautiful and groggy when he kissed you awake, still cozied up in bed when he left early as the sky turned blue after sunrise. You were fine. You were fine, and then he left, and suddenly you weren’t.

The fluorescent lights make him nauseous. They’re too bright, and a disgusting color, and too different from all the gentle lighting you insisted upon at home. Made the place homey, you said, and he agreed. The nurses at the station must think he’s out of his mind, all wide-eyed and asking for you.

“What’s your name?” the one asks him.

“Carmen, I’m her fiancé, I was—I was just on the phone with her—”

“Okay,” she nods, softening. “She’s doin’ alright now, she was askin’ for you, though. Still gotta get her wrapped up, but you’ll be outta here soon.”

He’s too busy wondering What the fuck does that mean? to properly answer.

When he’s finally brought to your room, his nerves subside—only a little. There’s no blood, no bland hospital gown to say you’re headed off to the operating room. Just a pillow over your tummy, with your arm—your swollen, bruised arm—resting on top of it.

“Hey, hon,” he says, coming to your bedside and smoothing a hand over your forehead to press his lips to your temple. “You alright? What happened?”

“They—” you sniffle when you look up at him, lip quivering— “They had to take my ring off, Carmy—” he nods along to your rambling with a concerned brow— “I-I told them not to, but they said my hand was too swollen—that-that it was gonna mess up my finger—. . .”

“What’s that, baby?” He smiles into your hair and exhales through his nose. So typical of you to get upset about something cute like that, he knows you’ll be okay. “Your arm’s all black ‘n blue, and you’re worried about your ring—?”

“But it’s special—”

“Shhhhh . . . I know, I know . . . ‘m just askin’ you to ease up.” Another kiss lands on your forehead before he asks, “Where’s it at, baby? I’ll fix it for you.”

You pout and look somewhere behind him. “On the table, but you’re not gonna be able to—”

“Just take a breath ‘n relax f’me, yeah? I got it.”

He stands upright again, turning to check that the ring is there—that beautiful, beautiful big diamond for his precious girl, before reaching toward the nape of his neck to unclasp his chain. Carefully, he threads it through the ring, silently urges you to sit up so he can hook it around your neck, icy-cool on your smooth skin, admiring the way it sparkles like your eyes.

You’re still pouting when he’s done, and he kisses your soft lips anyway while he wipes away stray tears. “Better?”

“. . . yeah,” you admit through a murmur.

“Good,” he huffs, pulling the visitor’s chair right next to your bed. With your good arm, you reach for him, just any part of him, and he holds your hand as he kisses your dry knuckles. “You gonna tell me what happened now? What’s got you all banged up?”

And you groan and roll your eyes, insisting that it’s too embarrassing to tell, and he lets you drag it out just because he thinks it’s cute when you’re stubborn. The doctor comes in with the x-rays to confirm that, yes, indeed, you’ve got yourself a broken arm, and after you’re splinted and discharged and given a sling and the next day’s protocol, Carmen holds your good hand on the way out the door.

“Oh,” you start, pausing before he opens the car door for you, “I forgot to tell you.”

“Hm?”

“I drove here.”

“You what?”

“I told you, I was embarrassed, Carm—”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby,” he grunts, laughing and shaking his head with fingers running through his hair as he helps you into the passenger’s seat. “You’re killin’ me today, y’know that?”

And it’s not the last time. When he unlocks the front door and sees the laundry spilled all the way down the stairs, with a basket flipped upside down at the bottom, he can put the pieces together. He kisses you softly, doesn’t say a word about it, takes you to the bedroom, and tucks you into bed to let you rest now that your adrenaline is wearing off and the pain meds are making you sleepy.

He fixes up the mess without a second thought, and once he’s done he slips right under the covers next to you, thanking whatever God there is that you’re okay, and that he’s got you back in his arms.

(And tomorrow, when he takes you into the doctor’s office for a proper cast, he has Natalie and Pete pick up your car. He still hounds on you about it weeks later, how you drove yourself to the hospital with a broken arm. You insist it makes for a good story, and to that he can’t deny.)

[noirscript]

Inked Possession | part one

pairing: yandere artist x erotic book writer!reader description: Eleazar wasn’t meant to find your draft—but now that he has, he’ll make sure you never imagine another man again, not even on the page. warning/s: Yandere behavior, possessiveness, dubcon undertones, explicit sexual content, bondage (restraints), jealousy, emotional manipulation, rough sex, obsession, degradation, implied coercion. note: this is gonna sound really funny but i've been writing this series while working in a space that's VERY sfw. i don't think i'll do it again hahahahahahahaha it's too risky. by the way the pre-order for Callixto's ebook will end next week (Monday) so make sure to reserve a copy of the ebook PLUS the exclusive freebies that comes with it! The freebies will only be available during the pre-order period. ← Masterlist | Next →

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You didn’t expect him to find the draft.

The document was nestled deep in a folder you were sure you’d renamed months ago. It wasn’t even meant to see the light of day—not yet. Just a concept. A fleeting thought that bled too easily into your fingertips after too many sleepless nights. You didn’t even give the male lead a name—just him, faceless and safe in your mind. Or so you thought.

You come home to the smell of turpentine and oil paints. It clings to the air like sweat and fury. The lights are off, save for the faint glow of his studio down the hall.

Your pulse stutters. There’s a silence in the apartment that shouldn’t be there. No hum of music. No clinking of his brush jars. Just the tick of the grandfather clock in the corner and your own breath, catching in your throat.

“Lee?” you call softly.

There’s no answer, but you feel it—his presence. Like a panther in the dark, crouched and ready.

You slip out of your heels and step onto the cool hardwood floors. The hairs on the back of your neck rise. Something isn’t right.

The studio door is ajar.

Inside, Lee sits with one leg over the other, your laptop balanced on his thigh. The screen glows white against his pale skin, casting stark shadows on his angular face. His dark hair is a mess—longer than usual, curling behind his ears in disarray. He’s still in his paint-streaked black shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, veins visible as his hand clenches the edge of the desk.

You try to speak, but the words catch in your throat when you see what’s open on the screen.

Your draft.

Your smutty, half-polished, dirty draft.

The one with another man pressing your fictional self against the wall, whispering sweet nothings into her ear before dragging his mouth down her neck.

“You’ve been busy,” Lee says, voice cold and syrupy, like poisoned honey. His obsidian eyes flick up to you, and for a moment, all you see is calm. Too calm. “Tell me, darling… who is he?”

“I—he’s not real,” you stammer, stepping back. “It’s fiction. It’s just for the plot—”

“Plot,” he interrupts with a sneer, rising to his full height. “Yes, of course. Because stories require you to imagine some stranger touching you in ways you’ve never asked me to. Some man who isn’t your husband fucking you so hard you’re crying for more, isn’t that right?”

Your face flushes with humiliation. You look away, but his steps are slow and purposeful, his boots echoing against the wood. A predator circling. You try to retreat, but he grabs your wrist—gentle at first. Just enough to hold.

“Lee, it’s not what you think—”

His grip tightens. “Then tell me what it is. Because to me, it reads like a fucking fantasy. Not the kind you write for others. No. This was personal. Intimate. Not even the male lead in your books ever got this much attention.”

“I didn’t mean—”

He yanks you forward, and your body slams against his chest. You feel the thrum of his pulse, erratic, thunderous. His other hand slides up your back, gripping the nape of your neck.

“Let me be perfectly clear, my sweet wife,” he hisses into your ear. “I will not allow you to imagine yourself with anyone else. Not in ink, not in dreams, not in your goddamn drafts.”

You whimper as he bites down on your earlobe—not enough to draw blood, but enough to bruise.

“Writing smut about another man… does that excite you?” he growls. “Does it make your fingers itch to feel someone else's hands on your skin?”

“No—”

“Liar.”

In one swift motion, he drags you toward the bedroom. The door slams behind you, and you’re thrown onto the bed. The force isn’t violent—yet—but it's enough to shake the mattress, enough to scatter the pillows like prey.

“Take it off,” Lee orders.

You blink, wide-eyed. “What?”

“Your clothes. Strip. Now.”

You hesitate, but the look he gives you—possessive, deranged, feral—makes you obey. You pull off your blouse with trembling fingers, then unfasten your skirt. Every inch of skin you expose feels like a confession. You’re down to your underwear when he growls, “All of it.”

You do.

He watches you like an artist studies his canvas. His gaze is obsessive. Not just hungry, but starving. The moment the last scrap of fabric hits the floor, he pounces.

He pushes you down, wrists pinned to the sheets with one hand while the other cups your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“Let me remind you,” Lee whispers, kissing the underside of your jaw. “Exactly who you belong to.”

His mouth trails down your throat, harsh and claiming, teeth scraping as he bruises your skin—painting marks only he is allowed to leave.

You arch beneath him, breath catching when he hooks your thighs open with a knee, then binds your wrists together with the silk belt from your robe. He pulls it tight—too tight—but doesn’t stop. Your fingers twitch in protest, but his voice soothes, “If you can write about being tied, you can take it.”

You gasp as he spreads you apart with calloused hands, thumbs pressing into your inner thighs. His tongue slides across your skin, tracing every inch, slow and deliberate. You expect softness—he gives you fire.

“This mouth,” he snarls, biting the inside of your thigh, “will never say another man’s name again.”

Your breath stutters. “I never said—”

He cuts you off by sucking hard on your clit, dragging a broken moan out of you. Your hips jerk, but he holds you down. Devours you.

When he rises, his mouth is slick, chin glistening. “No more stories about faceless strangers,” he growls, unbuckling his belt. “You want to write filth? Fine. Let it be about me.”

You don’t even have time to respond.

He thrusts into you in one brutal stroke, knocking the air from your lungs.

The stretch burns, and you cry out. But he doesn’t pause. His hands grip your bound wrists, pressing them above your head as he drives into you, fast, hard, claiming.

“I’ve let you wander too long in that pretty little head of yours,” Lee snarls. “From now on, you write what I give you. You think about me when your fingers type. Only me.”

“Lee—ah—”

“You asked for this, didn’t you?” he pants against your neck. “Your filthy little book was practically begging for punishment.”

Tears slip from your eyes from the overstimulation, the tight grip of his hand around your wrists, the merciless rhythm. But your body betrays you—slick, needy, clenching around him.

He feels it.

“God, look at you,” he groans. “So fucking wet. You love being corrected.”

You hate that he's right. That your mind is hazy, spinning with every possessive word he spits.

He pulls out without warning, and you whine.

“No,” he murmurs, flipping you over like you're weightless. He yanks your hips up, presses your face into the sheets. “You're not done yet.”

You scream into the pillow as he thrusts back in, rougher, deeper. His hands leave bruises on your hips, fingers digging as if he could mold you into obedience.

“I’ll paint you in bruises if I have to,” he growls. “So no one forgets who owns you.”

You don’t recognize your own voice when you beg—broken and raw. “Please…”

“Please what?” he snarls, leaning over your back. “Please stop? Please more? Or please fuck the other man in your book?”

“N-no—I want you,” you cry.

“Say it again.”

“I want you!”

“Louder.”

“I want you, Lee!”

He growls like a beast. And in that moment, you don’t know where the man ends and the monster begins—but you welcome both.

He finishes inside you with a groan so guttural it shakes your bones. You collapse, trembling, sweat pooling beneath you.

Silence.

Then he pulls you into his arms, still fully sheathed inside you, cradling your trembling form. His touch is gentle now. Worshipping.

“I’m the only man who will ever touch you like this,” he whispers into your hair. “Write it. Carve it into your pages. Ink it on your skin. You’re mine, Mrs. Vittorio.”

You’re too wrecked to argue. Or deny the possessive warmth spreading through your limbs. Or the terrifying comfort of his embrace.

The next morning, he kisses your bruises with reverence… and sets up a new document for your next book.

The title?

“Eleazar”

Just that.

And you don’t dare write about anyone else again.

TBC.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans @ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

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[raevpng]

mine, always

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

masterlist

summary: azzi helping paige pack up her dorm, and maybe an exchange of jewelry for a much needed pick me up

a/n: azzi wearing that 5 necklace yesterday ACTUALLY made me crash out, you know i needed to write about it 😵‍💫 i hope you guys enjoy this short and quick fluffy one shot and once again let’s all say thank you to azzi for once again single handedly shutting down the bsf allegations 😻

—

the dorm looked strange half-empty, like it couldn’t decide if it was still paige’s or already a memory. boxes lined the walls, some open and overflowing with uconn jerseys, shoes, old team posters—and others half-sealed, a chaotic reflection and reminder of the last five years paige has spent making this place her home.

azzi pushed open the door, keys jingling as she stowed away her keychain with paige’s spare key. she remembers when she had gifted it to her – azzi in her freshman year still trying to settle in the uconn dorms, sifting through different boxes trying to find her belongings. paige, still her best friend, was helping her unpack and build shelves. she remembers paige whining for a break to order some food, she remembers how her heart fluttered unfairly at how hot the blonde looked with her sports bra and casual pajama pants, shaking away those thoughts like they were dangerous, a threat to her familiar life. she remembered them sitting on the floor, surrounded by cardboard and mess, when paige suddenly perked up, remembering the weight in her pocket.

“i got something for you,” paige smiled, her statement raising suspicion from the brunette as she raised her eyebrow in a silent question. “it’s nothing big, but i just wanted you to have this.”

paige pulled something silver out her pocket, taking azzi’s hands gently to place the key on her palm, skin tingling where they touched.

paige almost looked shy, a light pink spreading across her cheeks to her neck, “i just thought, now that we’re together again and clearly, my persuasive recruiting paid off–” she smirked earning a fond eye roll, “i thought it would be nice to give you a key to my place. something to say we made it here, together.”

azzi remember how everything fell into place for her then, the oh moment when she realised she wanted to spend her whole life seeing paige with that pretty pink blush, to be this close to her she could smell the aroma of paige’s laundry detergent on shared hoodies, and to just be with her – the cause of the fluttering in her stomach and the unbearable desire to pull her closer. it all made sense now, those cheesy storylines in all those romance novels she read, the lyrics in the love songs she blasted. it was always paige. always was and always will be.

and now here she was, helping her girlfriend pack her life in boxes once again. and this time, she was gonna be gone, far away from her, and azzi didn’t know if she could do it.

she padded over to paige’s room, the soft hum of her playlist playing over her purple speakers, and azzi couldn’t help but pause at the sight– just for a second, to watch. paige was kneeling on the floor by her bed, hair in that messy bun and glasses combo, sleeves pushed up, tongue poked slightly out in concentration as she battled a stubborn drawer. azzi’s heart fluttered at the sight of her now girlfriend, so casual and so hers.

“need help?” azzi called lightly, leaning on the doorway.

paige startled, almost smacking her head on the bed frame. “god– baby! you almost gave me a heart attack!”

azzi dropped her bag on the floor with a laugh, sauntering over to kick the drawer with a light smirk, “so you win a natty, and managed to be the top pick in the draft, and disassembling ikea furniture is where you draw the line. cool.”

“okay first, rude.” paige rolled her eyes in faux annoyance, but standing up anyways to pull azzi in for a quick kiss, “second, bro i swear. ever since i got this in freshman year it wouldn’t open or shut properly. it hates me.”

azzi laughed loudly, leaning in to kiss the pout away from paige’s lips who instantly perked up at the affection, “well now i’m here sooo, what do you need me to do?”

they got to work— sort of.

azzi got to work handing paige some folded shirts, deciding to steal a few to herself, making the blonde roll her eyes fondly. azzi claimed they were hers, but she knew they weren’t, she just needed more of paige’s scent and belongings in her closet, and she tried to ignore the slight pain in her heart that reminded her this was all fading away scarily fast. paige tried to be on task, clearing out her desk of her little momentos – an old wristband from one of their team events, a photo booth strip of her, kk, and ice, a basketball squishball a fan had gifted to her in one of their games, but she too got distracted by all the memories and got distracted reenacting the silly but heartfelt memories to her girlfriend.

azzi laughed and teased and tucked herself closer to paige every chance she got, but underneath it all, she couldn't help but feel the sting in her heart grow, and the creeping weight in her chest feel more noticeable. every box taped shut felt heavier, every poster and photo stripped from the walls felt more painful, and every empty corner of the room felt like a goodbye inching closer.

“you okay?” paige asked once, catching azzi’s face as she stared quietly at the now-bare walls.

“mhm,” azzi lied, quickly handing her a hoodie to pack.

but paige spent all her teenage years memorising that pretty face to be fooled, she’s seen every side, every emotion, and every facade azzi managed to throw her way. she could tell from the slight furrow in her eyebrows, the downturn of her lips, and the soft tone of her voice that something was there, and she was ninety percent sure it was the same feeling in her chest too.

by the time they collapsed on the bed– one of the only things still intact, the silence had stretched, filled with all the things neither of them wanted to say out loud. azzi lay on paige’s chest, nose buried in the fabric of her soft hoodie, trying to commit the smell, the softness of her girlfriend’s touch on her waist, the way stray blonde pieces framed paige’s face. everything she was gonna miss soon.

paige sat up slowly, running a hand through azzi’s freshly washed curls, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. her heart ached seeing azzi like this, knowing she felt the same fear of distance, of change, of missing each other in ways they hadn’t before.

“hey,” paige said gently. “stay there a second. i’ll be right back, okay?”

azzi blinked up at her as paige crossed the room swiftly to her desk. she rummaged through the top drawer, the only drawer they haven't cleared out yet, then returned, something delicate glinting in her hand. paige sat back down beside the younger, a light pink dusting her cheeks in the same way azzi remembered years ago in her, her heart stuttering the same exact way.

“i was gonna wait till later,” paige murmured, almost shy, “but, now seemed like a good time for something to cheer you up.”

she held out a thin gold chain, and hanging from it were two tiny, simple charms: the number 5 and a heart.

azzi’s breath caught.

“paige–”

“i know it’s a little cheesy,” paige rushed to explain, “a fan actually gave this to me a few months ago and i instantly thought of you.” she smiled, so shy and soft in a way that made azzi’s poor heart melt. “i don’t know, i just thought it’d be nice for you to have something near your heart. a reminder that i’m always yours.”

azzi reached out with trembling fingers, letting the necklace pool into her hand. it was small, almost weightless. but it felt huge.

“while i’m away in dallas and you’re still here, killing it as usual,” paige praised her subtly making azzi let out a tearful giggle, “you’ll have it and…well basically my entire hoodie collection.”

azzi laughed, still at a loss of words.

paige’s hand found the back of her neck, fingertips brushing gently. “turn around?”

azzi turned instantly, pulling her curls to one side. paige carefully clasped the necklace around her girl’s neck, placing a careful kiss at the expanse of smooth skin watching as goosebumps arose.

when azzi turned around with glassy eyes and a wobbly smile with her fingers clutching the charms like it was her lifeline, paige’s heart couldn’t help but practically crack open at the sight, a wave of sadness and love washing over her.

“you’re such a sap,” azzi managed, voice thick.

“yeah, but you love me anyway.”

“unfortunately,” azzi teased, sniffling through a smile.

paige chuckled and leaned in to press a kiss to her temple, but azzi suddenly pulled back with a look of faux seriousness.

“wait, i have something for you too” she said, reaching for the side pocket of her duffel bag. she dug around for a second, then pulled out a brightly colored beaded bracelet.

paige squinted. “is that–”

“yeah,” azzi said proudly, holding it up. “made it last week after the championship when i couldn’t sleep. i was gonna save it for the airport, but… fair’s fair.”

paige felt her heart soften impossibly, feeling tears sting her own eyes, “azzi, baby…”

azzi settled beside her once again, “it’s blue and green. for uconn and dallas,” she continued, slipping it around paige’s wrist delicately, “then i put a little pink heart for us.”

paige blinked, watching her fingers move.

“this feels like highschool all over again,” she laughed softly, azzi joining her in giggles.

“exactly,” azzi smirked. “perfectly on brand for us if you ask me.”

paige looked down at the little beads, now tied securely on her wrist, her thumb brushing over the knot. “i love it,” she said honestly. “you made this? for me, az?”

“yeah!” azzi beamed, “and now it’s official. anyone looks at you too long, you flash the bracelet. mine. taken by azzi fudd. very unavailable.”

paige let out a chuckle of disbelief, feeling so lucky and so in love she could burst. “you are so dangerous,” paige muttered, dragging her into a kiss.

they melted into it instantly, azzi’s hands finding her familiar place on paige’s neck, pulling slightly at the loose strands of hair paige missed in her messy bun. trailing hands found their way to azzi’s waist, her shirt that paige was pretty sure was originally hers sliding up as her fingers trace shapes on her bare back, making azzi sigh into the kiss. paige only deepened it, unbearably soft and lingering and full of all the things they didn’t say when they were busy being sarcastic. when they pulled back, they didn’t go far.

azzi rested her forehead against paige’s. “promise you’ll wear it?”

“every single day,” paige whispered, brushing their noses softly. “you’ll wear the necklace?”

“obviously. i have a number one fan position to maintain.” she teased, a surge of pride and fondness filling paige’s chest as she laughed.

they sat there for a moment longer, the light filtering in through the window, their matching gifts catching the sun in quiet flickers.

cause at the end, it’ll always be them.

and that’s all they needed.

[lovemepartly]

bf!jiyong on tour ✩ headcanons

warnings: none!

a/n: sorry if this is bad but i’ve literally had it in my drafts for months free me ⛓️‍💥

read my oneshot about night one of the ubermensch tour here!

how i imagine dating jiyong would be while he’s on tour!  ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

• despite always being tired and worn out after a show, jiyong loves staying up late talking with you. once in the hotel room, he’ll collapse onto the bed, pulling you down with him, and talk endlessly. it’ll be about the most random things, maybe about how loud the crowd was or how he accidentally messed up one word in a song.

• even while on tour, jiyong wants to make sure he has enough time for you, never wanting you to feel neglected. he’ll set up small “dates” for the two of you.

“ji, i’m going to crash into something.” you laugh as his hands cover your eyes, leading you into the hotel room.

“you won’t, jagi,” he replies as he leads you towards the sliding door to the balcony, “i wouldn’t let you crash.”

he uncovers your eyes with a smile and your lips part in surprise. he’s set up a small table outside on the balcony with a white tablecloth and one small candle. “it’s a mini-date for us, jagiya,” he says with a small smile, “we can order room service and pretend we’re at our favorite restaurant.”

• jiyong understands that you have work of your own and your own commitments so he won’t ever make you come on tour with him, but he gets so happy when you tell him you can take a couple days off work to watch him perform. he’ll get you balcony seats or barricade seats - whatever you want (although he'd probably argue that balcony seats are better so you don't get pushed around in the pit). as long as you’re there to greet him backstage when the show ends, he’s happy.  

• he loves having you around because you help calm him when the pre-concert anxiety starts. literally just your presence is enough, but he values your encouraging words and soft touches just as much. before going on stage, he wants a quiet moment with just you, letting you hold him as you murmur, “you’re gonna do so good out there, baby. and i’ll be watching you the whole time."

• definitely gets you a lightstick and one of those i heart gd shirts. he probably gets you the shirt as a joke but will be so happy if you actually wear it. "i knew you loved me, but not this much." he teases with a small wink.

[bucksaiga]

This has been sitting in my drafts for a long time but it was a random crash that copter thought lol

Helicopter crash but the 118 finds Tommy and Buck is hovering over Chim while he’s trying to treat Tommy.

“Uh…w-what are you doing now?” Buck worriedly interrogated.

“…Checking his blood pressure. Is that okay?” Chimney deadpanned.

Buck nodded as Tommy weakly squeezed his hand.

“Let him work, Evan. I trust Howie.” He softly requested.

“I do too. I just—I was so worried about you.”

“I know.”

“Pulse is elevated, BP is borderline hypertensive, pupils are dilated.”

Buck’s eyes widened as he watched Chimney take out a syringe. “Ha-hang on, what is that?”

“Morphine. For the pain.”

“Wait—Tommy doesn’t really like needles.” He looked down at Tommy. “Just focus on me okay? You can squeeze my hand if you need to.”

Tommy gave a weak nod. Chimney scoffed as he administered the morphine.

“Ive had my fair share of backseat paramedics, but you, by far, are the worst.”

“C’mon, Chim. Tommy’s the love of my life.”

“I am?”

Buck realized he hadn’t even told Tommy he loved him in the first place.

“Yeah. When I heard your helicopter went down I-I was a mess. And-and all I could think about was spending more time with you. How it hasn’t been enough and how…much I love you.” Buck smiled.

Tommy quietly chuckled. “I love you too. thank you for not giving up on me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Alright, lover boy, let Tommy rest.” Chimney ordered. “Hen, what’s our ETA?”

“5 minutes.”

“Can you let him rest for five minutes?” Chimney asked Buck.

Buck screwed his mouth to the side and reluctantly nodded. “Yeah.”

Tommy slowly drifted to sleep and Buck couldn’t keep his eyes—or hands off of him.

He caressed his bandaged cheek, combed his fingers through Tommy’s hair, swiped his thumb across Tommy’s brow—

“Hey!” Buck loudly whispered when Chimney swatted his hand away.

“Hands off my patient.” He warned adamantly. “Let him rest.”

Buck huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back.

Chimney continued to monitor Tommy’s vitals as Buck looked on.

“I know how you feel, Buck. In more ways than one. You see, after I saved Tommy’s life, we formed a bond. No matter how far, or how long we didn’t talk, we’d always show up for each other. But I also understand what it’s like to worry about the love of your life.” Chimney smiled. “He’s gonna be fine. You have the rest of your lives together.”

Buck wanted to believe that was true. But until Tommy was discharged from the hospital, he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest easily.

[lostinlovingrevery]

logan taking care of you when you’re drunk and/or sick and being such a softie

don’t tempt i will blow up your inbox

GOOOOOOD, I LOVE the idea of Logan taking care of me in my most vulnerable state. For more reasons than one ;)

I actually have several logan taking care of you headcanons in my drafts but I'm gonna go ahead and throw some out here :)

Logan Taking Care of You When You're Sick!

He loves it

I mean no, he doesn't love you getting sick and being unwell- but he loves taking care of you!!

He spent most of his life believing hes destined for violence, so being able to take care of you, make you meals, get you medicine, snuggle you- whatever you need, it gives him a new sense of purpose

He's making you the BEST comfort meals too- he's not letting you order out some nasty junk food that's only gonna make you feel worse, and absolutely NO MICROWAVE FOODS. Not that you have a microwave anyway.

Grilled cheese and tomato soup, veggie and beef soup, noodles with eggs, chives, peppers, hot chocolate, tea, chicken soup, dumplings, any type of pastas, waffles and bacon, so on so on- you're getting full meals with lots of protein, fruit, and veggies. In the beginning he probs wasn't the best cook and had a lot of basics but once he learns your taste he gets his way around the kitchen

Always checking on you- he won't hover you like you're dying, but he takes extra care to make sure you're okay no matter what you have- even if it's a lil cold

Nesting go brrrrr. Yes, he'll become a bit of a clean freak and makes sure your spot of choice to be sick in is cozy, comfy, and clean. You'll be wrapped in fuzzy blankets, your fav show/movies are put on- and of course, him. He'll be there to rub your back, snuggle you on his chest, soothe those aches and chills

He's super finnicky with medicine- it's not that he doesn't want to deny it to you, he knows it helps. It's just HE never had to take medicine so he's reading the directions and is now nervous he's going to accidentally overdose you. Writes down the times you're getting dayquil/nyquil, or other medicine of choice and is always ready on the dot to give you the next dose

He's very gentle with you too. Much more soft spoken and very caring- I mean he already is caring but he's so soothing to you, and doesn't make you feel bad for needing some support

if you're like me- who already doesn't want help when im HEALTHY, i'm 10 times worse when I'm sick and literally push myself over the limit and end up staying sick even longer- he will manhandle you and confiscate anything that you might try to get work done with, phone, laptop, and yes even that other laptop you don't use anymore but he knows you'll try it anyway.. He doesn't care about your whining on how you're "fine" (you're running a 102 degree fever) He'll tie you to the bed if he has to (hm)

he gets the most loving look while you're sleeping- practically snoring against his chest because you're congested and can't breathe through your nose. Hairs a mess, skin is sweaty from your fever, and you're drooling, but he thinks you're just the most precious thing he's ever seen.

Imagine you're stubbornly trying to fight off being sick, brushing Logan off with his concerns as you fight off your body aches with some advil and ignore the cough that's mysteriously appeared. throughout the day you're getting worse and Logans just watching you and its not until the evening where you officially feel awful- he doesn't tease you about it, just presses his lips to your forehead and gently remarking how warm you feel .Helps you undress and get into something comfy, before climbing into bed and tucking you into his side- scratching your back soothingly while you fight off the chills. He's warm, safe and while your body hurt to the touch- his was the only thing that soothed you

for belly aches, he makes sure to keep you hydrated and has crackers nearby- something you taught him since he didnt actually know himself, since he doesn't get belly pains (lucky bastard). Will very gently massage your belly to help it settle down. The warmth of his hand helps to (aka, it helps with cramps!!)

Thats about what I got so far but I'll have more with variant scenarios in the future <3

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Imagines

illumoria | sjy.

pairings: sim jaeyun x reader

synopsis: a playful promise to be together for the rest of your lives by two children could be a cute thing. it was part of growing up and this type of promises often doesn't get fulfilled. but not with jake sim because he never break a promise.

word count: 4k

warnings: yandere themes, mention of murder, enhypen being obsessed, obsessive love, dark love and abuse of power & money. (let me know if i missed some)

note: this is jake's entry for the yandere series. this is aligned with jungwon's insolitus, heeseung's limerence, jay's lacuna, sunghoon's missing and sunoo's again fic. jake's version is still currently rotting in my drafts so please be patient.

fic mood board - read here.

eeunoia 2025 © all rights reserved.

You flinched a little in your sleep after hearing a muffled sound. With furrowed brows you tried hard to sit up from lying down as you roam your eyes around the whole room.

You were greeted by darkness since its late already and as far as you remember, everyone in your family went to bed early because you have a morning flight tp catch tomorrow.

You kept still and tried to catch the sound that pulled you out from sleep. Seconds passed and you started to think it was all just a dream. Convinced that it was nothing, you're about to lay back down when you heard yet another faint thumping sound coming from downstairs.

You didn't wait another second and threw your blanket off from your body. You felt your skin shivers at the lost contact of the warm cloth. With hesitant steps, you struts closer to your door room and slowly cracking it open.

The whole house was dead silent adding to the chills you're already feeling. For some reason this slightly felt like a bad idea, but you're in your house. Nothing bad will happen, right?

As you slowly walk down the stairs, you can notice the small light emitting from somewhere. Probably the living room.

"Mom?" you called out in a faint voice, hoping that your mother will manage to hear it from the deafening silence. Your feet are starting to feel cold as you forget to put on a house slippers.

When nobody responded, you inhaled heavily to pull every courage you have to continue walking over the living room. You kept on convincing yourself that nothing's bad is gonna happen to you and this bad feeling are all just you overthinking.

With light and careful steps, you revealed yourself from hiding at the wall separating you from the living room.

Your mouth hanged open and words failed to escape from your lips as you stare at the gruesome scene in front of you. It was like stripped straight out from a thriller book. The whole place was a mess. Broken things all over the floor and blood... there's a lot of blood.

"M-Mom?" your voice cracked and panic lingers through your tone.

Its probably a bad idea to talk since you aren't sure if whoever did this is still in the house, but you can't even think straight anymore. Your heart's racing so bad like it will burst out from your ribs any moment now, your breathing is rigid and hands trembling terribly.

"Dad!" you called, and once again nobody answers adding to the frustration.

Your eyes started to pool with tears as you finally pushed yourself to walk, knees slightly losing its strength. It was a nightmare, but you're not even ready to see your own Mother lying face down on the center of the living room... showering over her own blood.

If only you didn't know that she slept on her white nightdress tonight, you would've mistaken her clothes as red because of the amount of blood on her body right now. You almost collapsed on the cold floor but you hurried on her way.

"Mom!" you cried and reached out on her.

She felt so cold that made you so scared. "W-What happened? Mom! T-Talk to me..." you whispered and roamed your eyes to look for the house telephone to call for help in order to save your mother.

"W-Wait, I will call for help Mom!"

You quickly grabbed the telephone and frantically tapping on the emergency number, but froze after realizing that there's no dial tone. Tears rolled down your eyes nonstop as you pulled the telephone cord that was cut off.

Without wasting another second, you went back to where your Mom is and leaned down.

"Wait for me, Mom! I will find Dad! I will be back, I promise!" you were hesitant to leave her at that state but you know she will be in more danger if you don't do anything.

Your eyes dropped at your hands and it's now filled with blood. When you're almost at the staircase, your steps halted as your heart drops. On the corner of your eyes, you noticed that the hallway towards your Dad's office is open.

If it's a normal day, you would probably not think oddly of it. Since your Dad usually work at home, he spends a lot of time in his house office. But you're very certain that he didn't stayed late last night to work because your parents went to sleep early.

Tomorrow is suppose to be your flight to New York. It has been your dream to get in one of the famous universities there and after receiving a letter from them last month, you didn't hesitate on moving across the globe to chase your dreams.

"D-Dad?" you called out with trembling voice.

You take slow and hesitant steps, each of it feels heavier and heavier as you approach his office door closer. A small faint lights emits from the gap below his door and you can see that it's slightly open.

"D-Dad, Mom needs help!" you said, sounding so frustrated. You grabbed whatever you can just in case you needed something to protect yourself.

You can feel your hands and feet feeling so cold, stomach hurting so much and tears still streaming down your face nonstop.

Once in front of his door, you slowly pushed it open and the first thing that greets you is your father's body lying down on the carpeted floor of his office. And just

like your Mother, his whole body is full of blood and unresponsive.

Your hand lets go of the thing you're holding and the sound of it crashing onto the floor echoed around the whole room.

"D-Dad?" your voice so faint that you're sure he won't even hear it from this distance.

Your mind felt like it's short circuiting and it can't process everything that is happening at the moment. It's too much to even take it at the same time. Your Dad is unresponsive, not even making a slightest move and the thought of having both of your parents dead crushes every bits of you.

Your eyes then slowly lifted up to his swivel chair when it moved and your heart drops at the sight of a very familiar face. Even if the room is a bit dark, you can easily tell who it was. From his wavy slicked back hair, beautiful face structure and nose so pointed.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Did I wake you up?" his sweet voice ringed over your head and he opened the lamp on your father's office table that revealed his face completely.

Your stomach churns seeing Jake's face with a bit splashes of blood all over it. His eyes looked dead cold, almost making it look foreign for you. You've never seen him like this. You know him very well, in fact, you've known him your whole life.

He's your childhood friend and your ex-boyfriend.

"J-Jake..." his name managed to make it out from your lips.

Your eyes traveled from his face down to his body and your tears bursted after seeing how he's showering with so much blood as well. Only, unlike your parents you're very much sure those aren't his blood. None of this makes sense and your mind is a whole mess, but one thing's for sure. Jake is the danger.

Jake grinned slightly and clicked his tongue, "You aren't suppose to wake up, baby. You shouldn't have seen any of these." he stated and his eyes darted at the body of your father still lying down on the floor. His eyes are emotionless, like as if your Father isn't someone he's very close with.

"Well," he lets out a heavy sigh before standing up, revealing the rest of his body which is filled with blood as well.

He's on his usual clothes. Sweatpants paired with his comfy hoodie.

"Sometimes things can go against your plan." and your eyes dropped at one of his hands.

Your whole body froze at the sight of a knife. Bloody knife. He plays with it and even rest the pointy tip of it at your Father's table, stabbing it to the expensive wood.

"W-What did you do to my parents, Jake?" it was honestly a dumb question because the answer is already in front of you.

He shrugged his shoulder off before lifting the knife and checking it out. He pursed his lips and like a psycho, the corner of his lips lifted up.

"They were trying to separate the two of us. I have to do something, right?" he says and stared right into your eyes.

You can't stop yourself from crying even more, chest hurting from the sudden outburst of emotions. He took a step and your feet took one as well, backing away from him.

Jake's eyes darted down at your feet as he remained silent for a while. He pursed his lips then clicked his tongue before gazing back at your eyes.

You're so confused, hurting and scared. All these emotions are trying to fit into your system all at once and it's not a good feeling. You feel like throwing up and at the same time you wanted to just cry even more.

It was odd. The Jake Sim in front of you seems like a stranger. Not your childhood friend nor the ex boyfriend you've loved, and still loving.

Ever since you two were young, Jake has been nothing but the sweetest. He's the most gentle around you. Always flashing you that charming smile. The kindest person you've ever known. You haven't even seen him get mad at you. That's why seeing him right now, standing in front of you while showering over your parents blood is a complete nightmare. You refused to believe this is true.

"You look scared, baby." he stated nonchalantly.

You slowly shake your head and without a word you tried to run for your life. It was a bit hard as your vision starts to be blurry from all the tears and feet felt a bit heavier due to the lack of oxygen from difficulty of breathing. It was too much, everything doesn't feel real.

Even before you can reach for the door a pair of strong arms grabbed you by you by the waist and lifted you up. You screamed at the top of your lungs, throat hurting.

"Let me go!" you screamed and tried hitting Jake wherever your fist can hit.

He remained unbothered and kept you restrained. While busy trying to get free from him, you failed to notice how he secretly pulls out a handkerchief from one of his pocket and covered your mouth and nose with it.

You fight back, wiggling harder and even tried bumping your head to his, but it was no use.

"Shhh, it's okay sweetheart." he whispered beside your face, lips grazing over your ears.

"J-Jake..." you're slowly losing consciousness and arms losing all its strength. Your eyes loses its focus and started to feel heavy.

He wrapped his arms more securely around you to prevent your body crashing down the floor. He kissed the side of your head as he continues cooing you with comforting words.

"I'm here, baby. I'm right here." he says under his breath.

Your eyes looked at his and you can still see that his eyes are stone cold. Dead and left with no emotions.

Even before you can say something else, your own body gave up on you and everything went pitch black.

You wished this was just a dream. A very bad dream.

The familiar creaking sound of the door pulled you out of trance. Without taking a glance, you're pretty sure another hospital staff entered to hand your medicines.

Just by thinking of it makes you feel sick to the stomach. It was horrible. The medicines and the staff. They were all sick to their heads for doing this to you.

"Miss, it's time to drink your medicine." she announced using her sweet voice.

You've always hated whenever they do that. They're treating you like as if you're some kind of glass. Very fragile and can be broken any minute.

Slowly, you looked over your shoulder to look at her. Wearing their usual hospital uniform and holding a tray of drugs that you're pretty sure will mess more in your head, she stood by the door with that stupid looking smile.

"Drink it yourself." you rudely spat at her.

Instead of looking offended, she lets out a heavy sigh and pursed her lips while staring at your eyes. The way it reflects pity makes you want to shove that tray straight to her face. How dare her show that kind of emotion when in fact, they're one of the reasons why you are stuck in this awful place.

"Mr. Sim will pay you a visit later. He asked me to take good care of you."

The moment she said that name, your heart sank. Fear quickly takes over, fist balling and panics rushed through your veins.

"P-Please, no..." the sudden change in your behavior were evident.

"I am doing all right. You said I was being good!" you raised your voice and she looked surprised.

"Yes, mainly why he wants to come. It's his time of the week to visit." she announces that almost made you yell again at her.

You've never left this room or this facility ever since he admitted you here. It's been a year since he killed your parents and falsely diagnosed you of anxiety and craziness. You're already aware that he's sick in the head the moment you saw him that night in your house, but you never thought he's this crazy to actually put you in an asylum. Locking you in and making everyone else believe that you had lost your mind after that night.

You're not sure how he managed to pull whatever he did that day. He manipulated everything and everyone. Making them unaware that the main reason of that terrible crime was the one they're labeling as your savior.

"Miss Y/n?" you snapped back to reality after hearing the nurse calling your name.

This happens more often these days. You space out a lot. Maybe one of the side effects of the medicines they kept shoving down your throat. You tried to resist it. Every way you can think of, you've already gave it a chance but none of it works. Jake Sim had planned everything very meticulously that none of them suspected anything. Or maybe they're really that powerful and influential.

"I don't want to take that." you kept the stern look over your face.

She stared at you for a while then flashed yet another pitiful smile. "All right. I will just inform your doctor about it."

It made your jaw clench after she said that. Whenever they report something like this to your doctor, things just get more worst. You're already tired. Nothing left for you already. Your family is dead already. You are all alone.

Your head lifted up towards the door when it opened again after a few minutes that the nurse left. When you saw the familiar uniformed guys, you already know what's waiting for you.

"Mr. Sim is here to visit you, Miss Y/n." one informed a bit cheerfully.

You gave no reaction to it and just kept your placid expression. They walked near your bed and gently reached for your arms to secure it. It's so painful to be treated like this. Like you're losing your mind. Maybe you are really losing your mind already.

Once satisfied with how they restrained you, they guided you out of your room. Others may think you live much more normally compared to the other patients here. Your room was perfectly designed just like your old one.

Yes. Like how your old room looked like. Except the picture frames of your parents and some other stuff that reminds you of them. The only picture inside that room was the one with you and Jake in it. It's just a photo paper since objects that can be harmful are strictly prohibited inside your room.

You found yourself again entering this special room that looks nothing like an asylum would have. They said Jake personally requested this place so he can have a private room where he can spend time with me comfortably. It was sickening in the stomach. You honestly can't even look him in the eyes without being scared and disgusted.

Jake was already there when you arrived. He turned around facing you with that warm smile. He's wearing his uniform neatly and as he walk closer, you stopped walking. He ignored that and quickly eyed your tied hands.

His face formed a frown, "Why did you tied her hands like this? I told you not to do that." he said firmly, talking to the nurses who walk you here.

"We're just following the protocols, Sir." one answered.

He licked his lips once before tilting his head on the side, "If I said don't tie her like this, you follow my rules." he said and you saw how fear reflects over the nurse' eyes before he nodded his head.

The other one hurry himself to untie your hands while Jake placed both of his hands over to your face to cup it gently, making you face him.

"Does it hurt, baby? I'm sorry. It won't happen again." he assured you.

He sounded so assuring and his tone was so soft like how he's usually is towards you before. But that doesn't bring warmth or comfort to you anymore. For you, he isn't the same Jake Sim that you loved. He's a monster. He's a psycho who killed your parents and ruined your life.

He guided you on one of the chairs and he sat across of you. The two nurses left you for privacy and you can feel your heart races after that door closes.

"Do you have something you want to eat? Are you craving for anything?" Jake asked excitedly as he reaches for your hand that was resting on the table.

Your eyes dropped over it and you wanted so bad to shove his hold away, but you know that ain't a good thing to do right now. Multiple times you've reacted that way around him and he just snaps back at you. Yes, he hasn't hurt you physically but mentally, he will end up torturing you again.

When you didn't respond to his question, Jake kept his smile and caress your palm using his thumb. His hand felt so warm.

"I heard you've been doing so well lately. I'm so proud of you, baby. I'm sure if you kept this behavior, we can ask your doctor's permission to finally—"

"Can you cut it out, Jake?" you interrupted him when you couldn't take how normally he act around you. This is what you hate the most whenever he visits.

He doesn't even show any remorse over his eyes. Not even once did he even ask for apology about what he did to your parents. It's like he's living with his made up lie that somebody else killed them and he saved you that night from danger.

"What do you mean y/n?" he asks, still using that annoying soft voice of his.

You clenched your jaw and bravely looked at his eyes.

"Stop acting like as if you aren't the reason why I'm here in this hell."

He let out a sigh, "Yes, I put you here. But this is for your own good. You're hurting yourself and I don't want that for you. I just want you to get better and get over about what happened."

Your blood boils at what you heard. How dare him say those words like as if it was a very easy thing to do? You just lost your family, your dream, your freedom and yourself. After that night you don't feel the same anymore. You don't feel like you anymore and you know you will never go back to your old self.

A tear left your eyes as you angrily pulled your hand away from his touch and you saw how his eyes dropped at it, looking at his hand that was left resting at the table.

"Fuck you!" you screamed right at his face.

"You're the reason why I'm here! Why do you keep on acting like as if you didn't do anything bad?! Is your conscience haunting you right now that you can't even swallow the fact that you're the one who killed my parents?!" you exploded.

He kept silent and it made you even angrier. That eyes of him that shows no regret. Like it doesn't have any emotions left in them, like it is not a human's eyes.

"Murderer!" you said with all the rage you've been keeping inside you.

Jake stared at you blankly for a few more seconds before you saw how his shoulders fell and slowly eyes turned dead. It made you shiver on your seat. Those same eyes... the same eyes he has the night he mercilessly killed the people you love.

"Yes, I killed your parents." he said in a low voice but was enough for you to hear.

Your face grimaced while tears still streaming down from your eyes. That's what you want. That's what you've wanting to hear from him. You've waited for this moment. For him to acknowledge what he actually did instead of acting dumb about it.

But why does it make you feel more uneasy? He said those words too casually. While his eyes stared at you with coldly.

"So what? They're taking you away from me."

You looked at him unbelievably.

"I decided to go, Jake! I wanted to go. I was the one who applied for that university! You knew how much I wanted that ever since I was a kid!" your body leans forward, both palms resting on the table as you say those words while looking him straightly in his eyes. Hoping that you can knock some sense into him.

"They're manipulating you into it. You're okay here. We're okay, we are happy. Why would you want to go far away from me—"

"Because you're suffocating!"

You rest your back and hands covers your face as you cried heavily. You loved Jake before, there's no doubt in that. People around you witnessed the beautiful love that bloomed between the two of you. It was wonderful. They always thought that you two are meant for each other.

Not until Jake started to be more controlling over you.

He's the perfect boyfriend. He loves you so much, maybe a little too much that leads him to be very possessive of you. He wanted to be involve in anything you do or everything about you. It's not wrong. He's just being a caring boyfriend who just wants to look after his girl and plan your future together.

Only not. He starts to meddle with your life decisions and you can feel that it upsets him every time that you try to dismiss his opinion on anything. And you hate upsetting Jake. Maybe it was the guilt because you kept on telling yourself that all he did is be good towards you and that he's the good boyfriend everybody dreams of having and you'll just gonna hurt him?

You refrain on telling that these things on his face because you don't have the guts to. He's the sweetest person you know, but it turns out he's hiding something deep down in him.

"Then you deserve to be here."

Your sniffs halted and you lift your head slowly to meet his dead eyes. With furrowing brows you gave him a shameful look, but he was unbothered.

He heaved a strained sigh before he stood up and head towards the door. You can't believe he will just leave you here again after rubbing salt into your open wounds.

"You can't keep controlling everybody, Jake." you mumbled, doesn't have any more strength to argue with him.

"I don't need to control everybody, y/n." he started while his back is still facing you.

Your eyes stared at his wide back then he turned to face you with that warm eyes once again.

"I just need you." he stared right into your eyes before he pursed his lips.

With that, he left the room without another single word. You're left crying hardly and wondering where did the man you've loved before. You felt illumoria, thinking of what more is hidden behind Jake Sim's angelic face.

main master-list - here

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[ink-n-shadow]

Hey boo

I noticed you don’t often write for soap, so don’t take this as pressure to write for him if you don’t want!

but would you write about Soap getting back from deployment, pent up and in need of release? And his poor darling, in the middle of making dinner, keeps trying to tell him to wait, and the poor guy gets needy :(

no pressure, and keep up the good work 🫶

honestly, i need to write more soap stuff because he's really itching something in my brain— (also apologies for the shitty ending. this has been sitting in my drafts for so long and i just wanted to finish it)

PENT UP

𝜗𝜚 the one where soap gets back from deployment and just needs to be inside of you

𝜗𝜚 pairing: john "soap" mctavish x gn!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), slight dub con? (idk if it qualifies enough for a warning but i’d rather be safe than sorry), kitchen sex, unprotected sex (pls wrap it before you tap it/get tapped), oral (reader!receiving), implied cum play, unedited

soap couldn't even remember the last time he had felt your naked skin against his—and that was the fucking problem. he had been wracking his brain ever since you guys had gotten back from the airport, desperately trying (and failing) to envision the last time he had his hands all over you as his eyes followed you flit around the kitchen.

"are you even listening to me, johnny?" soap heard you huff out softly, spinning around on your heel and crossing your arms over your aproned chest as your narrowed eyes met soap's hazy ones.

of course soap wasn't listening—he was too busy trying to decide whether to bend you over the kitchen counter and fuck his cock into you or carry you over to the already set dining table, spreading you out on your back before pushing his tongue into you. but the frustration pinching your brows together had soap trying to swallow down his pent up need, arms wrapping around your waist as he murmured his apology into the nape of your neck.

"y'just look so pretty, bunny," soap all but whined against your skin, unable to help the way he inhaled your scent deeply. "take a break from makin' dinner, yeah? lemme fill you up."

and you would be scolding soap, chastising him for being the reason why dinner was currently burning in the oven as you tried halfheartedly to squirm out from under his arms.

but soap would be haphazardly shoving your sweatpants halfway down your thighs, one hand palming your arousal through your already sticky underwear as the other worked to free his cock from his jeans.

"shhh—s'alright if dinner burns," soap breaks away from breathing filthy words down your neck long enough to let a wad of spit drip down between your bodies, watching it splatter over your twitching entrance before running his leaking tip through the mess to lube both of you up. "i'll order somethin' instead, yeah? treat you to some of that take out y’like after i fuck ya stupid.”

soap doesn’t even give you a minute to breathe out a snarky retort before stuffing his leaking cock into you, an almost animalistic growl ripping from his chest as he feels your gummy walls sucking him in deeper and deeper and deeper.

and god does it feel like taking your virginity all over again, soap's cock having to carve its way through your insides once more to nestle against the spongy spot he remembered would have your legs trembling. it's only been a few jagged strokes, and your walls are already milking soap for everything he has.

"r-relax, bunny," soap pants into the crook of your neck as his fingers grip tightly around the fat of your hips, pulling your ass flush against the front of his thighs to prevent himself from spilling his cum too quickly. "y'feel like a f-fuckin' vice—gonna make me cum already."

it probably wouldn't even be three strokes after he says those words that soap feels his high crash over him, hunching over your body as he feels ropes of his spend spilling inside of you. he would feel his softening cock twitching at the feeling of it dripping down your thighs, landing on the kitchen tile with a soft plit, plit, plit.

and soap wouldn't even give you time to breathe before he's pulling out of you, dropping to his knees carelessly to bury his face between your thighs and lick you clean until you cum. "told you i'd get you that takeout you like, right? just gotta have my meal first, m'kay?"

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[anincompletelist]

STUCKY RECS | part i

hi all! i've been consuming my fair share of stucky fics lately (in part thanks to all of your lovely recs!) and as per usual, I worry I'll lose them in my mess of ao3 bookmarks if I do not compile them somewhere else as well. I hope some of you might be able to find a few as well in the process!

I'm still working my way through plenty, so this is only one installment. :)

↓ recs below ↓

(these are in no particular order, and feature a range of topics, ratings, and possible warnings. as with any rec, please be sure to also double check for any triggers yourself before reading. however, I will not rec MCD and very rarely unhappy endings.

if you read one and enjoy it, please be sure to leave a comment or support! if you don't, just move on. be kind!)

☆ CIVILIAN ☆ by CoraRochester, with (BEAUTIFUL) art by alby_mangroves | E | 71k

“Do you want to go somewhere more… private?” The blond man, after a long silence, had agreed. “My room is just up the block,” he said, jerking his head at the bar’s door. * In 1937, Steve Rogers joins the army, and by 1945, he’s back in Brooklyn, dishonorable discharge in hand and nothing to show for years in the Pacific. In 1947, a seventeen year old Bucky Barnes meets Steve Rogers in a Brooklyn gay bar, and Steve Rogers finally comes home.

warnings: underage sex (bucky is 17 in the beginning), possibly non-con (not between steve and bucky)

☆ IF THE BAD TIMES ARE COMING LET 'EM COME ☆ by suzukiblu | E | 9k

“I think I’m gonna have to hurt some people,” Steve Rogers says, voice tight with rage. The asset assumes that will be him, then laughs at himself for the thought.  He’s not people.

warnings: dehumanization (due to winter soldier!bucky)

☆ MAGIC FINGERS ☆ by lillupon | G | 6k

“Kinda hard to wash your hair if you don’t take your hat off,” Steve says, amused. Hesitantly, Bucky reaches up to pull his cap off, revealing a matted mess of hair. Steve lets out a barely audible, “Oh.” Somehow, Bucky managed to catch his quiet exclamation and his shoulders round up protectively. “Sorry.” Bucky’s voice is tight with shame. Steve feels like a complete unprofessional and a grade A asshole. Steve is just a simple hairdresser.

warnings: none

☆ AND THE NEXT ☆ by mcwho | E | 12k

They have him in the common room of all places, and they won’t let Steve see him. or: a time-travel glitch lands 1936's bucky right in 2025 steve's lap

warnings: underage sex (16 y/o bucky time travels to 2025's steve)

☆ THE CARE & FEEDING OF STEVEN G. ROGERS ☆ by greenbergsays | E | 8k

Bucky takes care of Steve.

warnings: none

☆ BETWEEN THE TIDES ☆ by the1918, with super cool art by britbrit99! | E | 52k

“This isn’t the kind of story I usually read.” Bucky Barnes, beta, is a high-strung workaholic in the publishing industry. When he’s suddenly forced out onto vacation by his boss, much to his chagrin, he gets in the car and heads north out of Brooklyn for a month-long stay at a vacation rental on Maine’s mid-coast. His host—a mysterious omega named Steve Rogers—is an idle and lonely romance author with a shelf full of unsubmitted manuscripts and a pocket full of secrets he’s finally ready to share. “I know,” Steve calls back. All around them, the salty sea air rushes off the ocean, tangling itself with gold and crimson leaves in the surrounding tree line. “That’s why I wrote it.”

warnings: alternate universe (a/b/o, untraditional dynamics)

☆ ART NOUVEAU ☆ by voluptuous_panic | E | 12k

Steve's on the worst date of his life. At least the bartender's cute.

warnings: none

☆ NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN, I'LL CRAWL HOME TO HIM ☆ by ara_the_jedi | E | 32k

1917; James "Bucky" Barnes is born. 1918; Steve Rogers is born. 1936; Bucky Barnes bonds Steve Rogers. 1941; Bucky Barnes is drafted. 1943; Steve Rogers becomes Captain America. 1945; Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers die separately. 1972; the Winter Soldier is recovered by SHIELD. 2011; Captain America is recovered by SHIELD. 2012. The Winter Soldier is asked to care for Captain America during subdrop.

warnings: alternate universe/different dynamics (dom/sub & a/b/o), check notes and tags for all kinks and dynamics*

☆ DESPITE THE THREATENING SKY AND SHUDDERING EARTH (THEY REMAINED) ☆ by praximeter | E | 71k

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips. Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions— “Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.” Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

warnings: the aftermath of non-con body modification, drug withdrawal, medical procedures

.

OKAY!

that's all for now! will be working my way through some more soon :) I hope you're all well, and happy reading!

x

[lavenderprose]

WIP Whenever

This has been sitting in my drafts for awhile. I was playing with it again this week and I have no idea what it is or where it's going, but I'll drop it here for the Intrigue. Have fun!

--

Elgar'nan dies, Solas walks into the Fade. The first order of business is to get Bellara to Antoine and Evka. Well, actually, first order of business is to get everyone down the Blight tendril somehow. This involves a lot of held breath and a few carefully-applied spells to make sure everyone makes it down safe. Then they find the Wardens.

"We don't know what's happening," says Evka, because Antoine is losing it a little bit from how he CAN'T, for the first time in several years, hear the Blight whisper to him.

"We don't know either," Rook says. She thrusts Bellara into Evka's arms. "Please, please make sure she's alright. You're Wardens. You know the Blight. Please help her."

Neve's heart visibly rips in two as she watches the Wardens leave with Bellara, but Minrathous is a mess, even with the Blight dying, and she has people she needs to check on. Lucanis goes with Neve because there's a little invisible thread connecting them now and he needs her to feel a little bit okay with everything that's happened. In a way, this feels very obvious and normal. In other ways, it's insane, but no more insane than anything else that's happened this month.

Davrin, of course, goes with the Wardens.

With two thirds of the remaining Veilguard rushing towards Lavendell or Dock Town or Where The Fuck Ever, Rook turns to Emmrich and Taash and says something like, "Someone else please make a decision."

"Food," grunts Taash. "You should eat. You'll feel better. Can someone find Rook some food?" This is shouted to the surrounding crowd--a random conglomeration of allies and bystanders.

Someone, a random Shadow Dragon, appears in less than a minute with potato balls wrapped in a napkin. Multiple someones have shown up to the staging area for the burgeoning search and rescue operation with full sacks of potatoes and flour and corn meal and cabbage and they're cooking them in whatever way is quickest and easiest.

The three of them--Taash, Rook, Emmrich--sit directly on the ground and eat. Rook presses the side of her head against Emmrich's back and mashes the potato against her face with one hand while the other wraps so tight around him that she can feel the shape of his ribs when he breathes. Absolutely nobody mentions that this is a deeply impractical way to sit or eat.

"Emmrich," she whispers. "I'm gonna fucking lose it."

All Emmrich says is, "Here?" and it's a genuine question. He's more than willing, she realizes, to let her have whatever kind of screaming crying episode she needs to have right here, in the middle of blighted Minrathous. She wouldn't even be the only one within earshot.

"I want to go home," she hisses into his shoulder. "Can I go fucking home?"

The answer turns out to be kind of. The Eluvian is miles away, in the burnt out husk of the Shadow Dragons’ safehouse, and both walking and a carriage are out of the question. It will be perhaps several days before the roads are clear and safe enough to mount that particular expedition.

Upon realizing this, a determined look crosses Emmrich's face and he vanishes for quite awhile. Rook sits on the ground with five different people's blood on her, Taash hovering in a protective stance and, after a little while, Manfred at her side. He comes to her like an animal or baby that can sense his parent's sadness. He gifts her a stub of chalk from his pocket, a flower he'd found poking out of the pavement somewhere nearby, and another potato ball that some confused but well-meaning volunteer had handed him.

Emmrich returns with Dorian Pavus and Inquisitor Lavellan echoing his purposeful strides.

"I keep an apartment in this district," Dorian tells her, crouching beside her. “The building is undamaged, as far as we can tell. It isn’t one of my official residences.”

“You can recover there, darling,” Emmrich says. He’s on one knee beside her, hand on her shoulder. He smells like Blight and blood, like all of them.

“Nobody will know,” Inquisitor Lavellan says. He is standing very close to Dorian’s shoulder, and Rook thinks about the conversation she overheard before the final push of the battle. There’s an assumption to be made there, about why Magister Pavus would maintain a secret residence.

“Fine,” Rook says, because it isn’t home, but it isn’t the Blighted shell of the Divine’s manor.

Dorian Pavus’ secret apartment is not, strictly speaking, close. They walk for over an hour. The scarred over Blight is a consistent sight on the way, though it begins to wane as they move farther away from the city center. The apartment is on a stretch of road that would probably have once been quiet and idyllic—but here, as in High Town, there is the evidence of Elgar’nan’s evil.

By the time the door to the apartment is opened, via a small silver key that Dorian presses into Emmrich’s hand like a secret, Rook can do nothing more but take a handful of steps inside, press her body against the wall and sink down into a relieved, shuddering crumple. Emmrich collapses beside her only a second later and removes the outermost, heaviest layers of her armor in an only slightly frantic scramble. Once she is lighter, her breath seems to come a little easier. Emmrich, both hands glowing, smooths his touch along every part of her.

“Hey, is she gonna be okay?” Taash asks, hovering in the doorway.

“She used a great deal of mana in her defeat of Elgar’nan,” Emmrich says, speaking succinctly. Rapidly. “Her abilities are intensely fatigued.”

“I’ve seen that kind of mana sickness kill people,” Dorian mutters.

“Yes, but she will recover,” Emmrich says. “Taash, a favor?”

Taash draws close, grunting in question, and Emmrich gives them a seemingly endless list of things he needs. His hands are still scouring over her body as he does so—chaste as any healer’s, but gentle. Comforting. The incantation lighting his hands is a diagnostic tool, and he pauses over a rib she can feel is broken, and that tricky wrist of hers, and the gash on her forehead from the initial stages of the battle as they were fighting through High Town—what feels like weeks ago, but is in reality only about twelve hours in the past.

Maker, she’s tired.

His hand passes over her stomach and he pauses, frowns, knits his brow and licks his lips.

“That everything?” says Taash, with a kind of intense focus on their face that tells Rook they’re cataloguing the information given to them. They can rival Emmrich with their mind for lists and detail, when they set themselves to it. Other information they allow to trickle uncaught through their mind, but only that which they consider unimportant. Vashedan.

He clears his throat. “Dorian. Is there a butcher near?”

“Yes,” Dorian says, with an open tone of skepticism. “I doubt he opened shop today, what with the—situation.”

“You would be surprised how little effect calamities have on the day-to-day operations of a butcher shop,” Emmrich says. There is something so intense about him in the moment, and utter beauty in his competence. He has taken and ran with Rook’s request that anyone else make a decision. She can do nothing but watch, half-drifting, from her spot next to him on the floor. To Taash, he says, “Go to the butcher. Pound on the door, make a nuisance of yourself until someone answers. We need the reddest meat they have available, preferably organ meat. We’ll pay any price.”

“Okay,” Taash drawls. “But like…why?”

“Iron,” Emmrich says promptly. “Her use of mana and…other circumstances have made her severely deficient. We must replenish it or risk blood sickness.”

“No meat,” Rook mutters. “I don’t—”

“Our vows make allowances for health, my love,” Emmrich coos, his entire demeaner changing suddenly as he leans over her, presses cool fingers to her forehead. “I only need it for the iron. I’ll prepare it into a tincture. You won’t taste the blood.”

“Red meat, got it,” Taash says, and all but flees the apartment.

“I must take my leave as well,” Dorian says, albeit reluctantly. “High Town is a holy shit show and I can’t leave Shen—that is, the Inquisitor—to fend for himself in that bag of cats. I should tell you—you won’t have very long to hide your faces. A few days, at most, before people start expecting someone to speak out about this whole mess. The Inquisitor and Morrigan can only answer so many questions. And people will have questions.”

“Yes, thank you, Dorian,” Emmrich mumbles. The first time he says it, it’s with annoyance coloring his tone—and Rook would laugh, if she wasn’t floating in a haze of residual panic and what she’s beginning to realize is mana sickness. The second time he says it, however—very softly, big hazel eyes turned to Dorian as he pets Rook on the cheek, is genuine. “Thank you. Dorian.”

“Of course,” Dorian says. Stiffly, like he isn’t a man very comfortable with gratitude or genuineness therein. He clears his throat. “I’ll hold the wolves at bay for as long as I can, professor. At the very least, they won’t know you’re here. Maker guide you.”

“Be safe, my friend,” Emmrich replies.

When the door closes, they are plunged into grey darkness and utter silence. Even the grand clock on the far wall doesn’t tick. Rook wonders how long it’s been since the apartment saw regular use; the very air around them seems dusty. Perhaps there’s no necessity in it these days; Dorian’s relationship with the Inquisitor is, she’s discovered, something of an open secret. That’s about to get a lot more complicated for them, she thinks.

“We’re in the Inquisitor’s secret Tevinter love nest,” Rook mumbles.

Emmrich warbles out a snort—a sound which seems to take even him off guard. For a moment, they dissolve into laughter together, and Rook doesn’t feel the panic or the pain so distinctly.

“Come, my love,” Emmrich murmurs, and brings them both slowly to standing. “I’ll heal your injuries, and then you’ll rest while we wait for Taash to return.”

[taeaura]

The Hewitts are Hypocritical Religious Cowards - Minor Character Study :)

{Literally just these three but y'know - Monty's sleeping as usual with his lazy ass}

I think Luda Mae fears God; Hoyt doesn't..at least not as much. They were both raised the same, by the same people, in the same environment, of the same religion. But Hoyt was - is, a product of sin, in my interpretation. Hoyt was born of sin and will die of sin; Born to commit the sins of his father. Because of his "predestined" behavior, I think Hoyt views what he's doing as either a form of redemption {for himself and his mother} as well as a final 'fuck you' to God. {Inconsistent ahh religious relationship}

its seems almost as if Charlie views himself as someone who's predisposed to hell. "I was born of sin, I'll die of sin - Might as well have some fun." His experiences in the world most likely drove him away from religion and weakened his faith in God overall - Further fueling this mindset.

In some individuals, religion can develop into a form of psychosis.  I don't think Hoyt has that {on the surface}, but Luda definitely does. I doubt God is going to make you burn for fucking up, Jesus didn't care as long as it was genuine mistake. If he did, everyone would be in hell right now. The only reason Eve was punished is because she prioritized herself and her pleasure over the boundaries of God. That's not the same as messing up, people forget that. But in the case of the Hewitts - They chose the same path as Eve - Just more viciously.

The Hewitts {Hoyt more specifically} prioritized family pride over the lives of other people. They'd rather stay on their land than move away. They'd rather be forgotten by society - Kill and consume outsiders, instead of adapting to another town.

Remember the dinner scene in TCM: The Beginning? Just before Bailey dies, as Chrissie's insulting the family. That right there is the perfect example of the family's philosophy.

C: "I have a question for you, it involves the family tree - the lineage, if you will; So I guess this one's for the table: You guys fuck all your cousins or just the ones you find attractive?"

H: "You blasphemous bitch! This is redemption, lady, that's what this is! Oh, you're all gonna pay for your sins, that's right! And especially you."

Hoyt knows what they're doing is wrong - they all do. Yet they reframe it as "cleansing the world of sin." The mindset "we do what we have to in order to survive."

H: "You starve to death, or survive."

Hoyt views what they're doing as means of survival. They were starving to death - which he explicitly says in the 'first supper' scene

H: "Thanks to the good sheriff here, we ain't gonna go hungry tonight. Matter of fact, we ain't never gonna starve again."

____

Dean deserved to die because he failed his country. His fellow soldiers. Morgan, Kemper, Pepper, Andy, Erin, they all deserved to die for their possession of weed and their disrespect towards the family. Chrissie and Eric deserved it for the same reason. Bailey was with those 'disrespectful draft dodgers.' She was a whore, too - Just as sinful in the eyes of the lord.

stfu Hoyt as if you haven't done worse

Erin and Bailey disrespected Thomas - This would set Luda Mae off so bad. SHE LITERALLY SAID "Get her out of my sight" to Thomas in reference to Erin. She's disgusted by them - Disgusted by anyone who insults her, Thomas, {anyone in the family really}, or God.

L: "I know your kind - Nothing but cruelty and ridicule for my boy, all the time he was growing up. Does anybody care about me and my boy? Huh?"

--

E: "What's wrong with you fucking people?"

H: "Nothing wrong with us..?"

L: "Tommy; Thomas Brown Hewitt, you get in here right now! Get her out of my sight."

--

None of them deserved a second chance. As soon as they stepped onto the property, they solidified their fate. The Hewitts view themselves almost as a necessary evil - Angels of Death, if you will. They kill who they do based on how 'sinful' they are. That includes how they treat the family. {Which I doubt is based on 'respect' being one of God's values - I think it's because of how prideful these people are.}

____

Luda fears God. She fears The Rapture. When Jesus walks the Earth to gather his sheep. The day he waltzes into the Hewitt household taking the form of a 'helpless draft-dodger.' When the molded wallpaper and dusty lace tablecloth aren't enough to hide the rotting carnage, seething beneath the decaying floorboards. As he takes his place at the table, looking down at the family -

"This is redemption, lady, that's what this is! Oh, you're all gonna pay for your sins, that's right! And especially you."

You.

The wailing. The begging. The prayers falsely spoken by your forked tongue.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, honey."

Liar.

A shepherd? No, - Vicious wolves clothed in the skin and cloak of the fallen guardian. Harboring the sheep to their intemperate slaughter - You selfishly feast upon.

Did you feel it?

Do you feel it now?

Whilst the blood spilt from between her legs; Staining your sheets - The same ones Mama's washed over and over for the same selfish reasons.

Rewarding, was it not?

Did the screeches of pain exhort you? - Ravish you. It feels good to take what you deserve.

Except you didn't deserve it; Did you, Charlie.

Not by my teachings - and certainly not by your mother's.

"You poor thing; Sweet mourning lamb. There's nothing you can do - It's already been done."

But she deserved it.

She sinned - Did she not?

And sinners don't deserve patience - Nor do they deserve mercy.

They're vessels possessed by the Devil - You were only doing what's best.

Clearing them out.

And the cowardly - I didn't teach my children to be cowardly, did I? No, I did not. You're not a coward, are you, Charlie? Most certainly not - Not with what you've done to serve your country. No; You're a hero.

Heroes don't rape

Our Hero.

Heroes won't yield

My Hero.

Coward.

And cowards heroes like you deserve a special place in hell Heaven.

____

this is so ass 🙏 #yapville

[letthelightshinein]

There's too many thoughts in my head I want to process about 20/21 so I'm just gonna do it in kinda chronological order. So this is something of a series I guess...

JITD is a well written show with amazing actors so there are multiple valid interpretations of their actions - this is all v subjective. I'm probably thinking too much about it but I don't bring my analytical brain to the table for every show, usually she's taking a well earned break when I'm not at work. But this show is good and complicated so here we go.

SPOILERS AHEAD

Part 1

We're gonna talk about The Watch.

I fear I may develop some kind of PTSD where I get an overwhelming sense of sadness whenever I see any kind of timepiece. Someone catch me if I have to walk by some kind of clock tower.

It's actually been on my mind so much because the more I think about it the less it made sense.

When I saw it I thought the same as what Pei Su said, that Luo Weizhao didn't trust him and was testing to see if he has been in his office, and whether that's how he's been accessing the information. And that hurt him (and me - did he think of us at all???).

But the more I think about it, the more I feel like that can't be right, or at least that can't be everything.

Their motivations are hard to figure out because both Pei Su and Luo Weizhao are extremely smart and observent and they know that about each other. So you end up in a bit of a cycle of what did each of them know and what did they think the other knows, and then how did they interpret it, and how they think they interpreted it. It's frankly all a bit of a mess.

When Pei Su pulled out that slip of paper, he wanted and expected Luo Weizhao to notice. So at this point they both know that Pei Su has been in his office. They both know that he wants that information, and that Luo Weizhao is not in a position to give it to him. Luo Weizhao doesn't know what Pei Su's aim is, and Pei Su doesn't want to share. They're at stalemate.

But if Luo Weizhao really doesn't trust Pei Su not to peek on his own, why doesn't he just lock his office, he could also not work there, or at least disconnect with the SID intranet which, as his father warns him, is common sense.

When Luo Weizhao asks him the question, he's not doing it under any delusion that Pei Su won't realise that he been set up. And there's no way that he's not going to be upset about it. Luo Weizhao doesn't seem surprised at the answer, he doesn't have any big reactions at all.

The only logical explaination to me is that Luo Weizhao is sending a message and he's almost looking for a confrontation. He wants to talk about the fact that Pei Su is snooping and he wants to know how much he knows and how he got it. It's somewhat about trust but it's not the betrayal that it seems to be at first glance. Instead he is trying to force a conversation.

I asked then, why does he not just push for them to talk about it instead? Well I think that's in part 826 in my draft box somewhere. But in short I don't think he knows what to do with Pei Su. He's confronted him before, at the Late Night Red Wine Summit, and didn't get anywhere. Now Pei Su is leaving him little clues, and I think he's trying responding in turn. Maybe he thinks it'll be more effective.

Well he never got to explain and we'll never really know, because, spoiler alert, things escalated...

But what does Pei Su think? Why is he so angry? He's the one that pulled out the paper, why is he surprised? Let's move that to part 2 (when I get there)...

[adorethedistance]

First I Love You - Jamie Drysdale x Reader

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, mentions of anxiety, sexual references.

Words: 1677

Summary: First I Love You - After a day that gets increasingly worse, Jamie plans a date night to indirectly celebrate your two-month anniversary.

A/n: Cherry is back with a fic after a month of radio silence in typical aodre the distance fashion lol. Anyway! This has been in my drafts forever and I hate it, I can't proof it due to writer's block, and I'm honestly just done staring at it so here ya go!

You can read part 1 of the series of firsts here. The next and final first on the list is first time which is of course gonna be a lil smutty. I might write some Trevor pieces in the interim just depending how I'm feeling.

Today is just one of those days. My class ran much longer than usual and I had to stay after to ask my professor questions before the midterm that night, then I didn’t have time to make myself lunch so I grabbed the pizza rolls from my freezer to heat up at work, then I burned the pizza rolls beyond consumption and did not have any back up food, then I was starving and stressed and unable to use my time at work to study for the exam. I was crying in a puddle of stress and tears. And Jamie didn’t miss a beat. 

Upon hearing how horrible my morning and afternoon had been, he ordered my usual meal from In-N-Out and brought it to me at work so I wouldn’t starve. Then, he offered to make me dinner after I finished my midterm and I tearfully and appreciatively accepted. These little actions of consideration are what have made me fall deeper and deeper in love with Jamie. 

We reached our two months anniversary today but I didn’t make a big deal about it. I feel weird about potentially being one of those couples that celebrates every tiny little milestone like it’s the biggest thing in the world. Still neither of us have said “I love you” yet. But if Jamie continues caring for and about me like this, I’m not sure much longer I can hold it in. That’s why I decided I would tell him tonight.

After cooking dinner for the two of us, and pouring a congratulatory glass of wine to celebrate the 95 I got on my midterm, we laid down on the couch together. Happy and fed, I rest my head on the expanse of his broad chest. Jamie presses a kiss into my hair, bringing his left arm to drape over my shoulders.

“God, 2 months already?!” Trevor asks Jamie incredulously, making me roll my eyes at the playful jab.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Zegras.”

“You’re just mad cause you can’t pull.” Jamie’s accusation makes me laugh at the offended look on Trevor’s face. 

“Don’t get it twisted, I can pull.”

“You just can’t get them to stay?” I ask innocently, absentmindedly messing with Jamie’s fingers. Jamie laughs heartily. He interlaces his with mine to give my hand a gentle squeeze. “But to answer your original question, yes, it’s been 2 months already.” 

The scruff of my boyfriend’s 5 o’clock shadow brushes the back of my hand as he kisses the flat part of my knuckle. Trevor, observing the entire action, leans over the kitchen trashcan and pretends to throw up. Jamie merely laughs and I roll my eyes once more, “Shut the fuck up! You are so dramatic.”

“And for what?” Jamie chimes in which makes me smile to see he’s been picking up some of my mannerisms and phrases as well. That’s been my favorite part of dating him so far. The way his music taste slowly infiltrates mine. The way he now keeps a trashbag in his car after realizing how useful the one in mine is. The way he’s wearing the soft blue hoodie he lent me, for the reason that it now smells like me, which is why I had stolen it from him in the first place.

“I’m happy for you guys, really,” Trevor grabs his car keys from off the granite kitchen counter, “Thank you for rubbing salt into the open wound.”

“Oh my god-” Jamie starts.

“Get out of here!” I finish for him, urging Trevor to leave. 

“I’m gone!” He obliges. Then, Jamie kisses my head again, prompting me to sit up. 

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Mmm… no, actually. If I had to guess, he’s probably going golfing with the guys.”

“No way, he was dressed way too nice for golf…” I trail off, racking my brain for where he could have possibly been headed. Shrugging off the idea, I straddle Jamie’s hips, and look down at him. I smile. Overcome with the warm sensation of staring at my boyfriend. Jamie nudges me with his hips, indicating he would like me to lay back down. Before I comply, I pull my hair back tying it out of the way so I’m free to kiss Jamie as much as I please. He watches my every move, eyes flooded with adoration.

“At practice this morning, McT said he…” Jamie trails off mid sentence. As he was talking, I finished tying my hair back and then leaned down as he had wanted me to. He’s looking at me with eyes slightly widened and lips parted in surprise. 

“What?” I ask, concerned as to why Jamie stopped talking. He simply says,

“You’re really pretty.” The seemingly arbitrary declaration makes me laugh but does nothing to aid my confusion.

“Okay?”

“You’re just so pretty I think I short-circuited.” The earnest confession makes me smile and giggle, so I press a soft kiss to Jamie’s lips.

“You’re cute. So what did Mason say?”

“Oh yeah, he said that he wants to meet you.”

“Really?” I ask, rubbing my thumb over Jamie’s cheekbone. He kisses my palm before responding,

“Despite how much you and Trevor bully each other, he’s told everyone on the team about how cool you are. He kinda took the liberty to do it himself since I do gush about you, but I get shy about it.” Jamie is uncharacteristically speaking out loud his stream of consciousness, and I take a back seat to admire how talkative he can be when he’s with me. A stark contrast to the shy, almost silent boy I’d had my first date with. Noticing how much he’s talking, Jamie ends his rambling but I smile softly, encouragingly,

“It’s unfortunate that the ‘cool girl’ is seemingly the only archetype that consistently receives approval from men, but it is true nonetheless.”

“Yeah, like, it’s not that I need his approval, but it is nice when your boys like your girlfriend… Well, it’s what you said, you just said it better. I’m mansplaining aren’t I?” He asks, bashfully. I roll my eyes and appreciatively kiss his lips once more.

“Get out of your head, Drysdale. Do you have anxiety?” 

“Shut up. I think you’re the only person I’ve ever met who can always tell when I’m overthinking.”

“Maybe I’m just the only one with the audacity to comment on it,” I playfully propose, smiling when I succeed in making Jamie laugh. 

“I don’t think so.”

“We’ll agree to disagree. It’s unlikely, but not impossible.” Dropping the bit, Jamie and I smile at each other, melting into a comfortable silence. He looks at me with soft eyes, pink blush creeping across his cheeks the longer I continue to stare. I rest my left hand on the side of his face once more. I brush my thumb over his cheekbone again, and rub the top of my fingers repeatedly against the stubble adorning his jaw. Jamie lifts his eye brows before saying,

“What, do I need to shave?”

“No. I just like the way it feels.”

“Oh, hey, you said you’re done with school by mid december, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“My mom asked if you were coming to Christmas this year.”

“Did she really?” Jamie hesitates a moment before his brows furrow in sincere disapproval.

“You’ve been my girlfriend for two months now. She will not shut up about meeting you.”

“What? Why?” He then blushes fiercely and cowers his head into the large hoodie he’s slouched on. Jamie doesn’t meet my gaze as he talks,

“I told her all about you the other day.” I bite back the giant smile that prods at my features before replying,

“What did you tell her?”

“Just stuff about you!”

“What stuff about me?!”

“I told her you’re a student and what you’re studying. I told her where you’re from and what your family is like. And I told her about how I stare at you between red lights when we’re going somewhere.” The last piece of information makes me laugh and I tilt my head in confusion.

“How did that last part come up?” It was a simple question, really. One that I hadn’t even bothered to put a lot of thought into; one that came from my basic stream of consciousness. And certainly not one that I imagined would ellicit such a reaction from Jamie. His eyes widened and softened all at once, his blush glowing brighter across his cheeks, and his lips parting to allow the irregular pace of breathing he had now adopted.

“I guess… I called her because I was unsure of what I was feeling…? I was kinda freaking out about it. As I told her about our first date, she said that just talking about you made me visibly happier. She noticed that, even though I wasn’t aware of how happy I’d gotten. Then she demanded to meet you as soon as possible…” Jamie sheepishly looks up at me after finishing his mini monologue. The traces of endeared happiness immediately vanish and Jamie looks at me horrified. In describing how happy I make this boy, I felt tears welling up on my lashes, relieved to be experiencing something so thoroughly mutual.

“Oh my god, please don’t cry I’m sorry!” I laugh through the tears and playfully smack his chest.

“Jamie…”

“You make me really happy, Y/n. Like, really really happy-”

“I love you,” I blurt out. I’m a bit stunned and honestly scared of how quickly this confession escaped me. But I know it’s true. And isn’t that the scariest part?

“I love you too.”

“Really?” I ask through unrelenting tears.

“Yes,” Jamie rests his hands on the tops of my hip bones, “I kind of lied by saying my mom said I looked happy… She said I looked very in love, but I didn’t want to be too forward and say that if you maybe didn’t feel the same way.”

“Bro, you worry so much, are you sure you don’t have anxiety?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

***

a/n: copy pasting tags is the best thing that has ever happened to fic writers I think.