#it doesn't feel like I celebrated in any way (only maybe being happy about all the stuff I will be doing soon)

[mondscheinprinzessin]

congrats on the good grade in therapy! 🥳🥳🥳

here, to celebrate 😌

i might just join you in yelling here, because honestly, why use fondant, it tastes like nothing but the texture is... weird

I am already sitting in bed without glasses on so I didn't immediately analyze the picture and was like awww I've got cake🥰 But then the colour combination ckecked in and I realized what the decor was (Weißwurscht really?) and went -.-

Well, cake is cake, I will take it nevertheless (except for your birthday Lebkuchen, it's still hanging unharmed at my closet).

[inkskinned]

you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.

you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.

he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.

a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.

he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.

you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.

people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.

wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.

also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.

he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."

you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.

"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."

he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.

you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.

is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?

you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.

[captain-huggy-bear]

"Can- Can you come over please?" (I believe prompt list 1 number 80?) with whoever you're inspired for please 😊 thank you! - em

Em, it was giving soft boy Luke who's maybe feeling shitty after a bad game, so I hope you like it. First time writing Luke so I'm super sorry if it doesn't feel right for him (as we think of him because obvs we don't know him but still) Also I like how I was like let's write something short and then...just kept writing...😂 Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You'd been friends with Luke Hughes for almost as long as he'd been in New Jersey, both of you new to the city at the time had stumbled into each other quite literally one wintery afternoon. Your coffee going all over his hoodie, his doughnut squishing chocolate icing over your sweater. You'd expected him to yell, instead you learnt that day how utterly sweet and kind Luke Hughes was. He replaced your coffee and refused to let you buy him a new doughnut, but did let you invite him over so you could put some stain remover on his hoodie.

You might be thinking, 'are you crazy? Inviting a strange man to your apartment?', but you can only explain your risk through two pieces of information: 1) You knew roughly who he was. You weren't a fan of his by any means but you followed Hockey and had heard about the newest addition to the Devils, so you at least knew he wasn't a criminal, 2) Luke Hughes had been wearing snoopy socks and something about that had screamed 'non-threatening'.

Looking back it was probably slightly insane on your part, but it bagged you a close friend who you may or may not have had a massive crush on, so you couldn't really say you regretted risking it.

It wasn't unusual for Luke to phone you after a game, more often than not you got a quick phone call or a few texts sent through while he was out celebrating or commisserating with the team, often being invited out even when he knew you weren't much for late nights out on the town.

It was unusual though for that phone call to come in at 1 in the morning while you were sleeping.

You're groggy and half awake, hand patting the bedside table until you grip your phone, Luke's ringtone blarring through the speakers only because he was one of your few exceptions. One of a handful of people who could call you after 11pm without being sent straight to voicemail, the others being your family.

"Lukey? It's..." You stop to squint at your alarm clock, "1:41 in the morning, what's wrong?" You knew the game had ended late, but Luke should have been in bed by now or he should have been out partying with Jack and the boys, definitely not phoning you. You half expected him to be drunk on the other end of the line, maybe having phoned you while out with the team.

Instead his breath is shaky on the other end of the line, voice raspy like he's been crying and that's what has you sitting upright and swinging your legs out of bed before he even finishes his question.

"Can- Can you come over please?" His voice is scratchy and strained, a rasp that sounds defeated. You don't even considering getting changed from your pajamas, you just throw a jacket on from your closet.

"Yeah, yeah, of course, what's wrong?"

"Just...just come over please, angel" You're quick timing it as you shove your feet in a pair of shoes and grab your keys off the side, locking your apartment door behind you. It didn't matter to you that it was nearly 2am or that you hadn't brushed your hair or that you were half-asleep, all that mattered was Luke and the way he sounded like the world might be just a little too much for him right now.

"Okay, okay, want me to stay on the line?"

"No, just...drive safe?" You pause in the hallway, heart hurting at his concern, that even now when he's begging for your help he cares that you're safe.

"Yeah, course, Lu, i'm leaving right now, sweetheart." He lets out a shuddering breath on the line, right before he hangs up and you're certain you might cry because God, Luke shouldn't sound like that, so utterly defeated, so fragile.

You do your best to honour his request on the drive to his and Jack's apartment, even as you want to break a hundred traffic laws just to get there sooner, but you don't. It doesn't take long, but ten minutes feels like one hundred when all you want is to be see Luke and make sure he's okay.

He's at the door from the first knock and you don't say anything, just take him in. His tall form hunched at the shoulders like he's trying to hide within his hoodie, hood pulled over his head and eyes red rimmed, blotchy. There are dark, deep circles beneath his eyes and his lip is bruised and split, a few neatly placed stitches holding it together.

You don't say anything, just step forward and wrap him in your arms as best you can, tiptoeing to press your chin to his shoulder, arms tight around him as if you can protect him from whatever is going on in his head.

He grasps as you like you're a lifeline, fingers digging into your jacket, face pressed so tight to the crook of your neck that you're certain he'll fuse there.

He doesn't protest when you pull him into his apartment, door slamming shut. Doesn't protest when you pull him to his room, asking where Jack is, only to get a short clipped reply of 'club'. Doesn't protest when you sit him on his bed and join him, shoes being kicked off. It's not until you try to pull away from him that he really seems to come to life, hands grasping you firmer, pulling you back, "Don't go, please don't go..."

"'m not going anywhere, Lu, it's okay..." You pull back just enough that you can pull his hood back, fingers carding through his brown curls gently like he might break. "What happened?"

"Just needed you..." His face presses back into your shoulder as your fingers work through his hair like it's a perfectly normal thing to say to your best friend, like he didn't call because he had a shit game, because he doesn't want to talk about it."

"Lu...talk to me, baby"

There's a stark silence, broken only by a shaky breathe that comes from Luke as if the idea of talking is enough to make him cry for the second time that night. "I'm...i'm not good enough for the team, did a shit job tonight and we lost...it's my fault. Played like shit."

"What did Jack say?" You're gentle with it, soft voice, soft fingers on the nape of his neck. It's silly, he knows he's being dramatic, he also knows that it's not a friend thing to do. Knows he wouldn't call any of his other friends at near 2am because he needs them, knows he wouldn't beg for their fingers in his hair to sooth him or feel better just by the smell of their laundry detergent and shampoo. Luke knows he called you because he loves you, pretty sure he loved you the moment you excitedly showed him you'd gotten the coffee stain out of his UMIC hoodie.

"I was being too hard on myself, that it wasn't the 'Luke Hughes show'." He immitates Jack's voice, a pouty sort of tone riding his voice because he knows his brother is right even if he refused to sit moping with him and went out drinking instead.

"He's right. Hockey is a team sport, Luke, you aren't even on the ice the entire time! You do not get to decide that you're the reason a game is won or lost, you don't get to shoulder that."

"But.." Your palms cup his face, pulling him up to look at you. Your face is dead serious brows furrowed, lips pursed.

"No, you're a good hockey player. They picked you to play for them because of what you bring to the table and maybe you didn't play your best tonight , but you deserve to be on the team. You can't always be at 100." Your thumbs brush his cheeks under his eyes, like you might be able to wipe away the dark bags there. He looks worn, exhausted, tears just welling in those green eyes of his.

You're not entirely sure he believes you, "If I said I wasn't good enough because I had a bad day at work, what would you say to me?"

"To shut up and stop being mean to yourself..." Luke frowns at you like you're insane for even suggesting something like that, and it's what makes you smile for the first time that night, as if to say I told you so.

"Exactly, so stop being mean to yourself, Lu. You're amazing, i'm always in awe of how you skate..." You brush a curl from his eyes and watch them flutter closed slightly, throat tightening a little because you know this isn't the way you're supposed to feel about your best friend.

"Really?"

"Really..." You watch him carefully, the way he just leans more into your hands like he trusts you entirely to hold him up, the deep swelling of his lip, the beauty marks across his cheeks. "What do you need from me, right now?"

He takes a moment, like the words are stuck on the tip of his tongue whether unsure of how to ask or worried to make things weird. Both of you always toeing the line between friends and something decidedly more romantic.

"Can...can you just hold me? Just stay the night?" He blinks up at you with such big sweet eyes that you're not sure anyone would be able to refuse him, so you don't.

"I can do that."

You treat him delicately, like he's not a nearly 200 pound hockey player that regularly gets body slammed against boards and ice, who's covered in bruises and currently sporting a split lip. You pull him to lie down with you, curling around him like a protective blanket, pulling his face back into the crook of your neck, legs twisting with his. It's definitely not what friends do, but it's what he needs, so he grips you back tight, presses his face firmly into your neck and pulls your leg over his hip to be as close as possible.

You don't move more than the brush of fingers through his hair or down his arm, across his back. Even when you can hear soft snores, the sign of him having fallen asleep, you don't move because as much as Luke said he need this, you kind of need this too.

[hannieehaee]

how svt would react finding out their gfs like girls too

their s/o liking girls too

content: established relationship, bisexualism, fluff, f!reader, etc.

wc: 594

a/n: just as a note, when i say they wouldn't care i mean that your sexuality wouldn't affect how much they like you! wrote this as a bi girly myself btw<3

masterlist

seungcheol -

as a fellow bi girly, he'd probably just be like 'me too.' but really, i don't think he'd care much about your sexuality, he just likes you for you. maybe he'd be the type to sulk if you were affectionate with girls, but that's just the jealous nature he has with anyone lol

jeonghan -

he'd somehow flirt with you over it. would tease you about it, pointing out any girl you happened to eye for a second too long and asking if you wanted him to get you her number, laughing when you scolded him for it.

joshua -

he's from la you're probably not his first gay s/o lolol. it's not shocking to him, he probably clocked you at some point when he saw your lockscreen of some female celeb or when he saw you pay a little extra attention when your fave actress was on screen. chuckles at your celebrity crushes but doesnt really react to your sexuality much.

jun -

great, more competition ... lol but really i don't think he'd care. maybe he'd get a little more sulky when you paid more attention to your girlfriends than to him, but he wouldn't distrust you nor see you any differently.

soonyoung -

silly boy would now just feel kinda jealous when you ditched him to hang out with your girlfriends or any time you were too touchy with them. he wants to be the only person you're touchy with!!

wonwoo -

he'd be the type to thank you for telling him and just be happy you trusted him with it. he has a very reassuring nature so he'd probably even make sure to reassure you he doesn't see you any differently and loves you blah blah he loves you more than anything!!

jihoon -

hums distractedly when you tell him (as he does any time you speak to him while he's working, which is most of the time). a very deep kind of perverted part of his brain would find it hot, but other than that he wouldn't have any opinion about it, just happy you trusted him by telling him.

seokmin -

okay, cool!! doesnt react much to it. he's a happy little guy nothing phases him much, especially just his gf being into girls. as long as he's your one and only he's just happy to be there!!

mingyu -

he gets it. he thinks girls are very pretty so he cannot blame you for agreeing with that assessment. it'd be all fun and games to him until a pretty girl talked to you, maybe thinking you were single, only for him to awkwardly interrupt and let them know you were taken.

minghao -

happy that you're in terms with your sexuality and tells you as much. doesn't really mind much beyond that. he's very monogamous so as long as everything stays that way, he's just happy you trusted him enough to tell him.

seungkwan -

he's a queen he's got lots of gay friends it just makes sense that his s/o is one of them! wouldn't mind nor care that you're into girls. would just want reassurance that you're into him the most, boys, girls, and everyone else damned!

vernon -

can't really see him having any type of reaction to this. he's super chill so he'd probably just be glad you told him but that's it.

chan -

hi-fives you. he too likes girls. maybe he'd get slightly more possessive but other than that he's pretty chill about it. if you ever complimented a girl around him he'd sulk and want a compliment for himself too.

[steddieas-shegoes]

it's not ever what it looks like

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is saying you're sorry'

rated m | 3,299 words | cw: language, implied sexual content | tags: angst with a happy ending, arguing, established relationship, hurt/comfort, rock star eddie munson, teacher steve harrington, modern au, steve thinks eddie is cheating on him but HE ISN'T I PROMISE, marriage proposal

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

It wasn't the first time Steve woke up to pictures and articles about Eddie being seen with some model or actor, but it was the first time he'd actually been worried.

Eddie had been distant lately. Usually, when he was on tour, he'd call Steve on his lunch break and text him when he got off of work, and he'd try to Facetime him after his show if it wasn't in a different time zone.

But for the past week or so, he had excuses. They sounded legitimate until one of the afternoons he said the band was caught up in an interview so he couldn't call and Jeff called him ten minutes later to ask where Eddie was. Even with that, Steve hadn't assumed he was cheating.

Steve figured maybe Eddie was just tired or his social battery had run out. Those kinds of things happened before occasionally.

But not daily for over a week.

He was barely even responding to texts, and the ones he did respond to were hours later and hardly adding to any conversation.

And now this article.

There was a picture of Eddie standing with his arm around some guy who was taller than him, both of them laughing, looking at each other like...well. Steve knew that look because it'd only ever been pointed at him, but now he was seeing it pointed at just some guy.

The headline read EDDIE MUNSON GIVING UP HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART FOR SUPERMODEL SUPERSTAR?

Steve decided the only way through this was to read the entire article. At least then he could probably convince himself they were wrong.

Except the article went on to explain how Eddie hadn't brough Steve to any shows yet this tour, and how he'd been flirting more with the crowd after the show instead of just during it, how he was seen at two bars over the last week when he usually doesn't go out after shows.

It went on to say that these pictures were taken shortly after they'd been seen sneaking away from a group of people they'd been hanging out with and that they seemed very close for the entire night. The article said the guy was a male lingerie model who made it big posing for Gucci last year. He'd just landed his first film role as a supporting actor and was looking to land a lead role soon.

Steve hated him. And he was getting a terrible feeling in his gut about what was going on.

He had 26 unread texts, most of them from Robin, Dustin, and Gareth.

All of them had said mostly the same things:

I can't get ahold of Eddie.

He wouldn't do this.

Something else is going on.

Call me when you can.

The last one was Gareth, and it's not that he and Gareth weren't close, but they never talked on the phone.

He tried not to think about he didn't have a single message or missed call from Eddie.

Steve called Gareth.

"Steve. Shit, I'm glad you called."

"What's going on?"

Gareth sighed. "Ed's kinda losing it. But before you call him-"

"Why would I call him? Shouldn't he be the one to call me? If he wants to be with some supermodel, he should probably be the one to break up with me, right?" Steve could feel tears gathering in his eyes, stinging the back of his throat. "I'm not sure why I have to be the one to hurt and do the breaking up."

"Steve-"

"Is there something you needed Gareth? Or were you just trying to defend your friend?"

"There's nothing to defend! I swear-"

"Yeah. Well. Tell him to call me if he wants to explain anything, I guess."

Steve hung up just before a sob ripped from his throat.

He never had to worry about Eddie being a famous rock star, spending 6-7 months of the year gone, meeting all kinds of flashy celebrities. Eddie loved him so much, he never had any doubt that he'd always be his first choice.

Until now.

It was a shitty feeling and he had to be at work in less than an hour.

No time to wallow.

He sent a quick text to Robin to let her know he was okay, but needed to focus on getting through work, then shut off his phone.

"Is everything okay?" the art teacher, Mrs. Phineas, asked him on their lunch break. "You seem out of it today."

"Just a migraine," Steve gave a half-smile, hoped it was enough to convince her to leave him alone. He still hadn't turned on his phone, and at this point, he didn't really want to.

She tilted her head to the side. "When are you off to see your man?"

"Don't know," he shrugged, ignoring the tug in his stomach, the sudden weight in his chest.

"Ah," she said, turning back to her soup. "Something happened."

"Nothing happened!"

"You look two seconds away from crying," she gave him a deadpan look. "Did he hurt you?"

Mrs. Phineas was a little older than Wayne, close to retirement, and had been his closest friend from the moment he started teaching at this school nearly six years ago. He'd told her everything about Eddie, their relationship, his hopes of Eddie taking a longer break after this tour so they could have some time just the two of them, maybe make a real plan for their future.

Steve nodded once.

Her hand covered his and she squeezed his fingers in her own. "I may not know him half as well as I know you, but I know that boy loves you. You two will get through this, whatever it is."

"I dunno if we will," Steve whispered, scared to speak louder and risk the tears falling. He'd been doing so well today.

She patted his hand and went back to eating, saying nothing else about it.

His students had caught on early that he wasn't quite his usual self, and the group of second graders had been on their best behavior because of it. As the dismissal bell rang and he started calling for bus riders to line up, someone walked through his door.

Eddie walked through his door.

He bit back the anger, knowing his students loved Eddie and wouldn't know he was here for any reason other than to say hello.

"Mr. Munson!" A few of them yelled as most of them ran up to him instead of getting in the line Steve asked them to.

"Hi kiddos!" Eddie was faking it, but luckily the students couldn't tell. "Sorry, but you guys have to listen to Mr. H right now. I promise I will come say hi again tomorrow."

The students grumbled about it and Steve took in his appearance.

He had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept the night before, his hair was in a messy bun instead of perfectly arranged to fall on his shoulders, and he was wearing Steve's hoodie that had suspiciously gone missing the last time he'd been home.

The fact that Steve's first thought was how badly he wanted to pull him into a hug was not a good sign.

He checked names off the list as they filtered out the door and then called the car riders to line up. He went through the list and made sure everyone made it into the hall where they'd be called when their parent pulled up before turning back to Eddie.

He closed his door and made his way to his desk, ignoring the way Eddie awkwardly stood by one of the student desks in the front.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, signing off of his work email and organizing tomorrow's lesson plan.

"I needed to explain-"

"Right."

"That article wasn't supposed to come out yet."

Steve's jaw dropped. So he wasn't going to deny it, he was just gonna act like it was the media's fault for releasing it before he could talk to Steve.

"Yeah. So you decided to come break up with me in person because you got caught cheating instead of doing it over the phone right before the article hit online. Got it."

Steve was not going to cry about this. Not in front of Eddie.

He was going to go home, shower, try to eat something, and then he was going to cry for the next 10 hours.

"No, Steve, you don't understand."

"You're right, I don't. I don't understand how you could throw away a 10 year relationship for a model who doesn't even know your middle name. I don't understand how you can fly all the way here and interrupt my day at my job to try to explain to me why you were so cozy with a guy who doesn't even know that you like your hot chocolate with Bailey's instead of regular milk. I really don't understand how you couldn't even bother to text or call me one single time since the article to even try to explain anything." Steve wiped his eyes furiously, angry that his tears were betraying him. "I don't understand why you would expect me to care for reasons."

Eddie wordlessly picked Steve's phone up off the desk and powered it on. He set it down in front of Steve and waited.

Texts and calls and emails came through all at once, hundreds of notifications lighting up his screen.

Many of them from Eddie himself.

"Go ahead. Open them," Eddie didn't sound mad, he just sounded resigned.

So Steve read through the texts, many of them different renditions of 'please Steve, call me' and 'I love you sweetheart I'm sorry.' Not promising.

But then he started playing the voicemails.

"Stevie, it's really not what it looks like. It's never what it looks like. You know that. Please call me as soon as you can. I love you."

"I can explain everything if you call me back. I promise you it isn't anything more than a business thing. Everyone in the band can tell you. I swear. Just. Please."

"I'm getting on a flight to you now. I'm gonna keep trying to call you even when I land. I need you to know what's going on."

"Just landed. I'm on my way to you. The guys are a little pissed, but you're more important than the show tonight. I'm not doing my own thing until I know you understand."

Steve looked up at him, tears still falling down his face.

"Well?" He asked, broken.

"His name is Wyatt. He's trying to make it in the acting world and he was pretty much told he was the top choice for playing lead in a movie that's in early stages of development," Eddie spoke quickly.

"Great for him."

"It's actually great for all of us. The movie is a biopic of Corroded Coffin. He's expected to play me."

At any other time, Steve would be proud, he'd be jumping up and down at this chance for them, and he'd be kissing Eddie without a care in the world.

But he still saw that picture and that article, and no matter how much "business" was going on, it was pretty clear that wasn't all that was going on.

"So you thought sleeping with him would help him get into the role? Or did you just wanna get into him?" Steve bit back.

"The article was wrong! The picture was just really conveniently timed! You know the media are vultures, Stevie. How many times have they written about us breaking up? How many times have they said Gareth and I have secretly been married for the last two years? How many times have they tried to post shitty things about your relationship before me to prove that you can't possibly be queer?" Eddie pulled Steve to his feet and cupped his face in his hands. "I've been spending the last two weeks talking with him and the producer and the guys to see what might work best for production. They want us involved in as much of the writing and filming part as possible. And he had time in his schedule to come to a show last night, so we all took him out after so he could get a taste of what it's like for us. He's really excited for the role and all of us are really excited for the movie."

Steve felt stupid. Well, maybe not stupid. His feelings were valid and he wasn't dramatic about what he'd seen.

But he did feel a little shitty about doubting Eddie.

Eddie, who had literally flown across the country to explain in person so that there was no way Steve could misunderstand him. Eddie, who once Doordashed him soup from his favorite restaurant when he was sick even though he was in Europe. Eddie, who sent letters to the kids in his class once a month to talk about how important music is and following your dreams. Eddie, who loved him for ten years and wouldn't have let anyone get in the way of what they'd built.

Steve fell against Eddie, buried his face in his neck and his hands in his shirt. Eddie's arms wrapped around him, his voice saying something against his shoulder. Steve couldn���t hear him, but he didn’t think he needed to.

He just needed to feel him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said against his neck. Tears soaked the hoodie under him, and Steve could feel tears against his own button down. “I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone until the article hit, but I was still gonna call you and warn you but I didn’t and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. This is part of the whole lifestyle. I should be used to it,” Steve shuddered as Eddie’s hand scratched at his scalp. “I should’ve reacted better.”

“We both didn’t treat this the way we should’ve.”

Steve snorted, nodded as he found the spot Eddie had tattooed on his neck a couple years earlier. He pressed his lips over the tattoo of his lip print.

“You flew across the country over this,” Steve pulled away and looked at Eddie, vision blurred from crying. “Just to make things okay.”

“I needed you to know. I needed to hold you. I needed to have you in front of me. And I wanted to celebrate the fact that we’re getting a movie about our lives,” Eddie smirked. “I wonder who will play you. Someone with a nice ass is a must. Their hair will have to defy gravity. Don’t know if they’ll find anyone with that smile, though.”

“Me? Why would they need anyone to play me?” Steve played with the string of the hoodie. “That might be kinda boring.”

“How would they make a movie about me and not include you? You’re the reason I ever made it past Hawkins, sweet thing,” Eddie leaned in to kiss his bottom lip. “Maybe they’ll just cast you. No one else could pull it off.”

“Eds-“ Steve blushed. “Wait. Okay, I trust you, but what were you doing in the picture?”

Eddie laughed. “He had just finished telling me about his boyfriend who lives in Italy. He’s apparently just a regular guy in finance who has no interest in the whole fame thing. Sound familiar?”

“Sounds like you two have a lot in common.”

“The picture was me asking if we could crash at their home in Italy next summer on our honeymoon,” Eddie said casually.

Steve froze. “Honeymoon?”

“I’m open to other places, but you still haven’t been to Italy and I know how much you wanted to see Rome and Florence,” Eddie was smirking.

That bastard.

“You are ridiculous, you know that? I’m over here planning how I’ll survive a breakup with you and you fly across the country to propose with a honeymoon planned before I’ve even said yes! You know how crazy that sounds, right?” Steve shook his head. “You’re lucky I love you. You’re lucky I’m not interested in big romantic gestures.”

“Damn. Hold on, let me make a call,” Eddie reached into his pocket for his phone.

“What?”

“I gotta cancel the big romantic gesture,” Eddie explained as he typed furiously on his phone.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It was a whole thing. Robin was involved. There may have been 500 flowers ordered. I think it’s too late to cancel the singing telegram though.”

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re being serious,” Steve wouldn’t be surprised if at least some of that was true.

“Oh, I’m serious. The ring was being set on the bed in the middle of a heart made of rose petals. I didn’t half-ass a fucking thing, angel.”

Steve pulled his phone out of his hands and set it on his desk. “Don’t cancel anything. I changed my mind. I am very much into big romantic gestures when it’s you doing them.”

“It was a team effort. I mean, I had to move it all up unexpectedly, but this was all gonna happen next month when I came home." Eddie pulled Steve into a long kiss, tongue tracing his lips. He pulled away to rest their foreheads together. "I'm not doing this just because of what happened, but I need you to know you're it for me. You've stuck by me through failing senior year, through being broke trying to book gigs all over the midwest, through the stress of our first album being released and the unexpected overnight fame, every album and tour since then, every time I've had to miss things that matter to you because of the band, all of it. You love me anyway. I don't always deserve it, but I'm grateful."

Steve's lips pressed against Eddie's again. "I love the life we have. I love you."

"I'm not asking you without the ring. I made so many plans. Robin will murder me in my sleep if I don't go through with them," Eddie laughed. "So can we get out of your classroom before I do something inappropriate and get you fired?"

"I mean," Steve glanced at the clock. "Technically all the students should be gone. We could lock the door..."

"Steven Harrington! How dare you suggest I fuck you over your desk in a school! I can't believe you would tell me to unbutton your jeans," he said as he unbuttoned his jeans. "And get on my knees." He got on his knees. "And suck you until you can't stand anymore."

"Eddie!" Steve chuckled, shoving his hand in Eddie's hair. "We should at least lock the door."

"So you're not saying no?"

"Why would I say no?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Eddie got back up and ran to the door, flipping the lock and turning back to Steve with flushed cheeks. "This is like, maybe three of my biggest fantasies in one, so I may actually come in my pants."

"You're ridiculous."

"Baby boy, my hand is my only friend on tour, you know that. How can I possibly hold myself back when I've got your dick in my mouth?" Eddie dropped to his knees again, looking up at Steve with something close to reverence.

"It's not in your mouth yet," Steve smirked as he tugged his waistband down enough to free his cock.

"Oh, I missed you," Eddie said directly to Steve's hard cock. "Steve, I want you to fuck my mouth until I pass out."

"I'm not doing that."

"Okay, well I'll settle for until I have to tap out."

"Fine. But it's not gonna be long for me," Steve shook his head. "Missed you, too."

"The sooner the better, sweetheart."

[starless-nightz]

Could you maybe do Wednesday, Enid and Bianca (seperate) with a S/O who is uncomfortable with physical affection, at least at first??

Wednesday, Enid and Bianca with a S/O whos uncomfortable with physical affection

note -> MY FAVORITE GIRLS AHHHH, I absolutely love the Wednesday girls like they are all so beautiful and silly, I need to write something about Yoko and Divina.

warnings -> none.

content includes -> fluff, all three are very respectful.

Wednesday Addams

Wednesday immediately picks up on how uncomfortable you are with touch; she's observant, and she finds it rather fascinating how you will stiffen or pull away whenever someone gets a little too close. Most people would prod or push, but she does none of those things—she keeps her distance.

She's not the type to demand constant physical affection herself, so the dynamic doesn't faze her. As a matter of fact, she enjoys being with a partner who knows not all affection needs to be loud and physical for it to be honest.

Instead of hugs or kisses, she'll give you silences shared, a book she thinks you'd like, or even a especially macabre location for a date. The way she looks at you-sharp, attentive, as if you're the only thing worth focusing on—is her own unique way of expressing her feelings.

Words are where she'll get a bit softer. She's not above giving you a small, dry compliment when the two of you are alone. They might sound weird, but from her, it's practically a declaration of love.

If you ever feel bad about not being able to offer more physical affection Wednesday will shut that thought down fast. "It's not a problem," she'll say without inflection, "It's just who you are. And if anyone has a problem with it, I'll deal with them accordingly." There's that slightly threatening glint in her eye and you know she means it.

Enid Sinclair

Enid adores being extremely affectionate—naturally so—hugs, cuddles, and holding hands. But once that clicked in that it makes you uncomfortable, she readjusts. The initial instinct might be to feel concern, she doing something wrong? Once she gets it, she is all for your boundaries.

She's really patient and soft about it all, she will talk with you about making sure that she's not crossing any boundaries, and always be open to work out what's best for both of you. Enid might feel a little sad that she can't show her love physically the way that she is used to, but she'd rather you be comfortable than anything else.

She masters all the non-physical touches: baking your favorite treats, sending you cute texts throughout the day, and leaving little notes or doodles in your locker. She will go out of her way to make sure you feel loved in a way that doesn't involve touch.

You'll often catch her bouncing in place with excitement when you have been away for some time. Rather than running up for a hug, she will flash a brilliant smile and wave until you're ready to approach—at your own pace.

On days when you feel all right with physical contact, Enid is quite happy to accommodate, though she'll always ask. "Can I give you a high-five?" she says with a grin, as though the question were a small celebration between the two of you.

She's your biggest cheerleader, always making sure you know you are perfect just the way you are. "You don't have to change anything for me," she'll say with a ring of sincerity in her voice. "I love you just as you are."

Bianca Barclay

Bianca has an instinct for observation, and she will easily notice that something is bothering you about displays of physical affection. She may start trying to test these boundaries with light touches or hands on the shoulder but instantly retreats the moment she perceives flinching or pulling away.

She's confideng enough in herself and in your relationship that she doesn't take it personally. If you ever try to explain or apologize, she'll cut you off with a gentle but firm, "You don't have to explain yourself. I get it.".

Bianca seeks other ways to connect with you, and the conversation often drifts into intellectual discourses and deep discussions. She loves to debate and hear your viewpoint; thus, those nocturnal talks become a form of closeness that she values just as much as physical closeness.

She'll often act very loving with acts of service. Someone's got to help you study for a test? She's there, with a set of notes perfectly organized. Got a tough situation you're trying to work through? Bianca will take care of it, no questions asked.

This is her way of trying to ensure you are safe, secure, and will never feel smothered; watching from a distance whenever she feels you are overwhelmed but never stepping in unless you need her.

Of course, when you do initiate even the tiniest of physical gestures—brushing your hand against hers, say—Bianca never overreacts. She will flash a slight smile on her lips, seeming to acknowledge it but not making it larger than it need be, for your discomfort. The smile does stay with her all day, though.

[sgiandubh]

No lies last forever, part 2: the (over)due confirmation

With the Happy Sad Confused Tenth Anniversary Live Special being made available online, I think all doubts have now been lifted about the entire Intergalactic Bullshit this fandom has been deliberately fed for years and years in a row, by a cheap, sad troll and his accomplice. Both imbeciles' determination being only matched by the cast's complete indifference to fandom drama and, as I already wrote (https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/764711074507390976/no-lies-last-forever?source=share), ***'s incompetent, tone-deaf PR.

You can watch the entire recording here, by the way:

The part where S specifically addresses his (non-existent) 'friendship' with William Shatner has been explicitly planted by the end of Jack Quaid's dedicated segment. That it has been discussed and planned prior to the show is obvious. And this time, Josh Horowitz wasn't even subtle - he announced the topic way before it 'spontaneously' popped into the conversation (39:42):

Transcription follows:

Josh Horowitz (JH): 'So, what's the dream for further voiceover roles, do you want a Pixar movie, do you want Outlander -the cartoon, what do you want?'

[laughter throughout the panelists]

S: 'Oh, I'm a Star Trek fan, actually' [women in the audience boo and shout - I wonder why, seriously], 'I am a Star Trek fan, I grew up watching Next Gen, so maybe Below Decks is... come on, guys.. '

[Note: yeah, he's such a fan, he has no idea the correct name of the cartoon spin-off, in which Jack Quaid has a voiceover role, is Star Trek: Lower Decks]

JH: 'We'll get him out in a second' [note: Jack Quaid], we'll talk some Star Trek, amazing...'

See? Not even subtle, if you ask me. I think this is something S wanted out for a good while now. It doesn't erase or even ease the pain and the trauma brought to so many people in this fandom by a pair of idiotic bullies, but I think it was very brave of him and, at any rate, it's better later than never.

And so, I waited. And waited. And waited. And then, here it went (01: 02: 54):

JH (consulting notes):' Um, we also should mention Star Trek: Lower Decks, we talked Star Trek a little bit earlier...'

Jack Quaid (JQ):'And, by, the way, this is the last season of Lower Decks, but we would have loved to have you! What the fuck, I didn't know you watched the show! [inaudible, if someone caught it properly, something like 'that was so close', I'd love to know more and especially who said it - thank you] Unbelievable!'

S: ' That is so cool, man!'

JQ: 'Oh, thank you, dude! Oh, yeah, hey, let's get rendered (?), let's do this, we keep going, let's get him on, let's do it!'

JH: 'Isn't...isn't William Shatner a big Outlander fan? I feel like he is...'

S (very uneasy): 'Ah... erm... yeah... (scratches back of his head)...I hung out with him once, we went to his stables and I watched him like riding a horse and stuff.... And, I don't know, it was really weird, cause sometimes I wonder if I am speaking to him via messages and stuff, or if it's actually his assistant [JQ: 'oooh!'], I don't know...'

JQ: 'Does his assistant look a lot like him?'

S (chuckles): 'Kind of...Yeah, you can't tell them apart. Yeah, no, but I believe he was a fan, until he saw me ride'.

Despite the jocular tone, I think everything is pretty much clear, here. Definitely a prepared conversation, despite Horowitz's efforts to make it sound playful and spontaneous. Something he even took prior notes about and made sure to include in the panel - nothing more serious than that, in fact. As for the sad cretin mentioned there, what would be left to say... S sent the guy to Coventry in barely two phrases and actually poked fun at his appearance and demeanor ('you can't tell them apart'). So long for the fictional 'friendship' and 'communication' between S and The Assistant, so long for the braggadocio that horrible little man exhibited all the way, pretending he actually had a personal relationship with S (well, as we all see, he actually doesn't: he doesn't even have a name, in S's book, as acquaintances, let alone friends, do). His only claim to fame was what, in reality? Answering some X DMs sent by S to his employer? Hello? How about his threats, then? How about his repeated calumny of people he didn't even know, calling them 'crazies', 'in need of medical attention', etc?

And please, don't come after me with that sorry excuse that 'it's S's humor'. There was nothing humorous about it and I have proven it already.

I will leave you draw your own conclusions about the non existent friendship with Shatner, something that has probably been 'encouraged' ex nihilo by *** and taken to dramatic cheapness and conflict with and within this fandom by The Assistant himself, mainly, and his friend, the OG Troll. I do not remember hearing/seeing Shatner himself saying all those horrible things (please correct me if I am wrong), so until I am proven the contrary, it's only logical to have many thoughts and questions about these people's strange, very strange obsession with OL and its two main co-stars.

Not to mention the most idiotic threat I have ever read in this fandom. Something I fell upon by absolute chance this morning. I mean, I couldn't even believe people actually bought such primitive, kindergarten bullshit:

[July 29th, 2017]

' Do you still want OL to continue or not, people?'

Empty, illogical threats: why would *** cancel its actual cash cow show, just because two co-stars had something SO obvious, that people realized there was more than the official narrative to it? And what about the crazy story about Albrecht & co. investigating and allegedly menacing fans with going to court? Has this cretin ever realized the potential media scandal would have far outweighed the inanity of such a claim? That it could very well have a serious impact on ***'s company profile and future projects, even?

I really, really think both of these Unsavory Clowns should find another playground and another obsession to cling on (wasn't the first, would not be the last). Elsewhere. In a galaxy far, far away.

PS: Thank you, regular attendee who bravely spilled the tea and thank you, old shipper who came forward and confirmed. And many heartfelt thanks to all of you shippers, old and new, who also bravely stepped forward with their personal take on everything these two have done to this place.

Dare we hope this is the beginning of the end? What is sure, is that no lies last forever. Or as we say in Romanian: minciuna are picioare scurte și adevărul o ajunge/'a lie's got short legs and truth will always catch up with it'.

[Later edit]: edited to add a new, improved clip that actually does include the entire conversation.

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Because I think I might get around writing for most of the men at some point for the future au I wanted to see or already arrange how many kids they would have

Jin would have two kids in complete accident, he was very happy by his father's discontent at his heir's lack of kids but things happened, the person who celebrated them the most was the grampa. Maybe two boys or a boy and a baby girl.

Thoma screams girl dad, doesn't he? Just imagine him braiding her hair for evening tea and being a menace to any boys she brings home with Alan if they break her heart, he is still a delinquent at heart.

For Luca I'm split between wanting him to have two boys to mirror him and his brother or a spoiled girl he plays knight for, sigh, such a hard decision...

Kaito, how did he reproduce?

Alan, two kids, one of each, no hesitation, he has a ‘little princess’ who he is nervous of hurting accidentally when he holds her but is as much of a wild beast as his brother. They like going hiking and getting chased by their dad when they get too close to a lake or too far away from the path.

In Leo’s scenario i see him with a daughter that managed to soften out his meanness (while she is around so she doesn't pick up on much of his sass, kids don't make miracles) and left him with another on the way that I also feel would be another girl. He is just a bit annoyed he doesn't have to redo the nursery for content but whatever.

Sho I KNOW that in his fic I said ‘nephew’ but imagine a baby girl that was playing with her family before she was even born and had you two scattering to find a girl's name at the hospital. It's just the beginning of her mischievous streak. Sho thinks it's his karma from being a thug as a teen.

I don't know why but I can see Romeo having three kids? Maybe because Gucci had like five kids or it's to a certain degree to assure himself the MC wants to stay with him and wouldn't leave out of the blue 💔 attachment issues bb.

Ritsu originally only wanted one child, he was an only child and was happy getting all the attention, but not everything went as he planned so he got twin boys.

Taiga, why would you do this to yourself??

Haru already has a son, peekaboo, but when he grows up he accidentally has a boy who he starts giving some minor tasks around, separating some leaves for the animals, brushing peekaboo’s hair, plucking weeds, etc etc. Don't look at him like that! He need all the help he can get.

Towa has girls! They like fairy tales with happy endings and always bother their dad to tell them your love story. When they become toddlers they go through a vegan phase to mimick him and will cry if they have meat or egg on their plate.

Ren was 99% sure he was going to die a virgin. He ends up with a girl he plays games with everyday after work. Borderline ipad kid.

Can grandpa Ed even have kids? Lol if he has I think I could see him with just one vampy baby that sits next to him and drinks tears off a sippy cup while his dad watches iceberg videos. Another ipad kid.

Rui (if somehow you broke his curse) is someone who I don't think would have kids, or at least not planned jajs but maybe one girl that he ends up overprotecting from playboy men like him in his youth.

Lyca I want to say they have a litter just for the joke of him being a werewolf but he doesn't seem to have any siblings so the joke doesn't get far :(

I see Subaru with only one child if any. He loves the little thing but feels he is intruding on their privacy, whenever he touches his preteen/teen kid he feels sorry enough to apologize.

I see Haku as someone who would be pretty chill with his life after Darkwick and go along with it as it happened. If you two had a child, great; if you didn't, great too. Very go with the flow parenting too.

Zenji he is dead wth jajajaj

Yuri NEEDS a little child that is always so impressed with their papa and he gets to brag about being the best or something. Please just don't let him be a strict teacher so your kid will follow his steps, he thinks it's for the best of their future but you can coerce him into just giving a very lengthy lecture about anomalous medicine without tests.

Jiro HAS to have a boy that is so similar to his uncle 🥹 always cooing since he is able to vocalize and chasing his dad around to get uppies while he tends to the backyard filled with herbs.

[hiskillingjar]

hiii!!!! longtime fan of your writing and i was just wondering what my beautiful btd babes would do (if anything) for MC’s birthday! (self indulgent ask bc it’s my birthday ^^’) THANK YOU!!!!

i was about to fall asleep but i would feel bad for putting this off. happy birthday, i hope you're having a good day 💓

ren 🦊

you would almost hesitate to tell him because you know he's gonna do the most

"whaaaat, you weren't going to tell me?! why nooooot, i want to make it special!!!"

like he'd go all out. decorations, wrapped presents, your favourite food, a cake! he'd throw you your own little party!

cus he's had a few birthdays as a hostage and it's no fun :(

he wants to give you the best experience he can!

if he knew before the fact, he'd want an extensive wishlist. money is no object, whatever you want you'll get 💕

i mean apart from freedom. but you're smart enough not to ask for that, aren't you?

it might be an occasion that ren let's you leave the house and go to a restaurant or maybe spend the night at a hotel too!

for plenty of birthday sex

law 🥀

law would. okay she'd do her best

you wouldn't have to tell them and maybe they'd see it on an ID for example

would get kind if flustered about not doing anything. birthdays were never that big of a deal for them, being a middle child, the only boy

they'd feel bad about making you feel that way and make an excuse to leave the apartment to get you a shitty cake from the gas station

it's the thought that counts! and at least if it's shitty, you'll both be able to enjoy it

they'd try to get you a present too, and might even find the time to make something in the forest if they had time to know

grow you a special plant, wrap some bones in some twine. it's the thought that counts 💕

strade 🔨

pretty similar to ren, he'd like any excuse to have a party and drink a bit too much

but uh. he's not so good at keeping track of it on his own

granted if you said it, he'd be like "oh happy birthday! let's do something fun to celebrate, hm?" and give you free reign of your limited space. no mind games, no manipulation, its your day!

he's just that nice a guy :)

(but if you don't mention it, he won't notice it pass by. he's scatter brained!)

would definitely be the type to give you one present that you didn't even really ask for but jesus he wrapped it and everything, you can't NOT be grateful now!

thaaaaanks...

that doesn't mean he won't eat most of the birthday cake though. after ren went through such an effort to get something for you too!

plenty of birthday sex though. ya got that going for ya

[orangetintedglasses]

Wolfwood doubts that Vash bothers celebrating Christmas, and he can't blame him. He doesn't really either, he just does the gift-giving part. Usually the people celebrating the holiday worship the two Angels, and while Wolfwood will gladly get on his knees for Vash, he'd rather not think of him as some holy deity, thanks. Angelic, yes. An actual angel? Well, he'd expressed discomfort with the idea in the past, so an angel Vash is not. Finding a gift for someone who doesn't ask for anything other than a box of donuts from time to time is harder than it seems. How's he supposed to pick out a gift that fits perfectly between the 'casual' and 'you may as well propose to the guy' categories? He hasn't even had the courage to tell Vash how he feels about him yet either, so maybe this would be a good opportunity to. Maybe. Hopefully. It'd also be a good time to give Vash a different kind of present, but that's neither here nor there. Trinkets of any decent quality are rare finds on Noman's. Rarer still are the ones without any kind of religious inspiration. Eventually Wolfwood finds an eclectic collector's shop with myriad baubles. Immediately, what catches his eye is a whiskey flask with the words "Holy Water" printed on it, so he of course needs to pick that up as a little gift to himself. It'll probably ignite one of Vash's contagious laughs—a brilliant light in an endless dark void. What in the world is worthy of being given to Vash the Stampede? He grumbles over this for some time before the owner of the shop takes pity on him and approaches, concerned. Immediately, she picks him out as a 'boyfriend getting his partner something for their first Christmas' type. As embarrassing as it is, Wolfwood relents, which leads to the present moment, when Vash convenes with him at their hotel room: "I know you… probably don't care about Christmas—I don't really either—but I wanted to get you something," he begins, nervous as all getup. Wolfwood pulls a gift bag from behind his back, then offers it to the blond. "I like to do stuff for the kids, you know? But this time I had to give a gift to you as well. You're pretty hard to shop for, has anyone ever told you that? Jeez…" Inside the sparkly red bag is an instant-print camera and a brand-new journal—oversized, presumably, to fit photos into. "I know you got a photographic memory, but… thought it might be nice to, uh, keep some, I guess. You know, in case you go forgetting stuff again. And also for the sake of those of us who don't have the ability to remember what they had for dinner 75 years ago. Might be nice, is all." He turns away to avoid watching Vash's gaze, but remembers that he's absolutely guilty of wanting to see the way those blue, glassy eyes glimmer with excitement, so he braves the fear and meets them head-on, determined. "I… have another gift for you but I still… need to wrap it. Go get us some hooch or something and come back in an hour." @forgivenpunishment

Well now! Didn't that put his little gift idea to shame?

In a funny way, of course-- Vash didn't actually think of it like that. It was just kind of a funny coincidence that Wolfwood had also gone out to find him something for the whole holiday thing, and apparently had a difficult time of it. Which was fair; he'd been told quite a few times that he was hard to get gifts for in the past. Partly because he didn't really ask for or openly want anything, and party because he was happy with anything people were willing to give him, which apparently just made that even more difficult? But even just thinking about him was more than enough--

This, though, this gift was... not only very sweet, but extremely thoughtful. Both of which had seemingly caught the Plant a bit off-guard as he looked into the bag.

"This is..." even just those two words, ushered out with the tail end of an exhale and barely audible, sounded completely awed by what Wolfwood had found. Vash lifted his gaze from the contents of the bag; summer sky blues positively sparkling with adoration as they caught the light at that angle.

Then Wolfwood mentioned having another gift, and that sent dark brows shooting straight up.

"Something else...? Y-you didn't have to-- I mean, this is more than-- I--" the poor thing blustered, flushed and a bit all over the place (and a little confused: he needed another hour to wrap something else when this had been put in a bag?) now that the situation called for his brain to be put to use. Eventually he caught himself, and just... nodded. Smiled and nodded. Beamed and nodded, really-- "y-yeah, okay. An hour. You got it~."

He did still have to set the gift down for safekeeping (no way was he risking bringing this outside yet!) and grab the rest of his cash before he set off as requested... buuut not before stealing a quick kiss from the undertaker; catching his upper lip in something sweet and warm and, again, quick--

"Thank you. Seriously, this is... really amazing, Wolfwood." he said. Decent as he usually was at withholding his lovesick glances until Wolfwood's back was sufficiently turned, the blond just couldn't help himself this time. His moony gaze drifted slowly from his boyfriend's light blue eyes down to his mouth, then back up again before he finally pulled away to get himself sorted and headed out the door.

The Plant was reluctant to part, but Wolfwood had specifically asked, after all.

"Be back later, yeah?"

[cieloclercs]

Could you do a Oscar Piastri x verstappen!youngersister

secret glances, eyes talk of love — oscar piastri

pairings: oscar piastri x verstappen!reader

warnings. started out as fluff but it sort of turned into angst along the way?? not like superrr angsty but it’s definitely sad vibes

word count. 1.2k

author’s note. hi anon! thank you so much for the request <3 i loved writing this concept! ps, i’d definitely be open to doing a part 2 if anyone is interested 👀

Decked out in a Red Bull jacket and cap, it's a wonder no one outside the McLaren garages notices you. Maybe you've grown so used to sneaking around that it now comes as second nature. It's been like this since the start of the season: the secret kisses in quiet corners, making up excuses to get away from the Red Bull garage (and your over-protective brother), and, of course, your fair share of close calls. You aren't exactly inconspicuous in the paddock. There are eyes following you almost everywhere you go — but over time, you've learnt to avoid them. You can only thank your lucky stars no one seems to have caught on yet.

Sometimes you wish it didn't have to be this way; that you could be like any other normal couple on the grid. Kiss him when he triumphs, comfort him when he falls. The feeling can grow intense, especially after a day like today. You have to watch him on the podium like any other supposedly indifferent onlooker, pretending that your cheers are only for your brother on the top step. Oscar's first top-three finish in Formula 1 (albeit in a sprint race) is by no means insignificant, and all you want to do is pull him into you over the railing and kiss him. But you can't. Not here, not with your brother and father, and the whole world watching. You've already agreed that keeping your relationship a secret is best for the both of you. Yet that doesn't stop you from wishing for more.

Instead, you’re left to sneak into his driver’s room as soon as your brother’s back is turned. He’s caught up in the media pen, chatting with Charles. Another thing you’ve learnt over the past six months is never to miss an opportunity when it presents itself – this is as good as any you’ll ever find, because Max is talkative at the best of times, but even more so when his childhood rival is around. You leave them somewhere between ‘safety car restart’ and ‘left-hand tyre degradation’. He won’t even notice you’re gone.

Oscar is halfway out of his suit when you arrive. His back faces you, covered only by his white fireproofs. You can see every move of his muscles beneath them. You murmur a soft greeting as you step into the room and close the door behind you, heart lifting to see him turn to you and grin. To the world, you know Oscar will appear calm and level-headed about his result – but with you, in private, he’s as happy as a puppy dog being given his favourite treat.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” You whisper into his shoulder as he wraps you up into a hug. “You drove so well.”

His lips curve upwards, and you feel it against the skin of your neck. Oscar’s hands fall instinctively to your hips when you pull away, rubbing slow circles that he probably doesn’t realise leave burning trails against your flesh. You loop your arms around his broad shoulders, playing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck, just as he likes. He lets out a contented sigh.

“I panicked at the restart.” Oscar smiles down at you sheepishly. You roll your eyes. It’s typical of him – always so critical, even when he’s just produced one of the best rookie performances in Formula 1 for years. Sometimes you wish he could see himself the way you see him. Then maybe he’d celebrate a little harder, look a little prouder when things finally start paying off for him. It’s not that he isn’t confident – but Oscar’s confidence is the quiet, self-assured kind. Sometimes you just wish he would shout from the rooftops about how incredible he is: because if you can’t do it, then you need someone to.

“It doesn’t matter.” You tell him firmly, “No one was going to be able to hold off that rocket ship. Not even you.”

He giggles at the term. It’s such a lovely sound, you think. Your favourite in the entire world.

“D’you think you can get him to slow down a bit? Give the rest of us a chance?” Oscar asks, arching an eyebrow mischievously. You grin back, a little reluctant to shake your head.

“I wish I could, but he’s just not wired that way.” You sigh. It morphs into a giggle when he grips your waist tighter, pulling you into his chest. You look up, and he’s already gazing down at you expectantly. His hair is still a little sweaty from his balaclava, but you find you like it that way. He has the cutest little ringlet sticking out from the rest of his relatively tame curls. You fight the urge to tug on it.

“You still haven’t given me a kiss.” Oscar remarks with another cheeky raise of his eyebrows. He leans forward, puckering his lips the slightest bit, and you laugh, louder this time.

“You’re such a dork.” You snort. But you press your lips to his anyway. Somehow, they always taste like some kind of citrus fruit – what exactly you can’t put your finger on. It overwhelms you, clouding your mind and your senses, making your knees weak. They’re soft too, his lips, like pillows. You can feel him smile into your mouth, swallowing your soft sighs. It’s not fair, you think, that a person can make you feel this way with just a kiss; not fair that you’re grappling at his shoulders for support, afraid your knees are going to give out if you don’t. He never lets you fall though. His arms are always there, pulling you in, crowding you against the wall, in your hair, all over your body, lighting every inch of it on fire.

Then there’s a knock on the door, and the spell is broken.

You turn towards the sound, breathing heavily. Oscar glances at you, with a look that reads keep quiet. He clears his throat, calling through to whoever is stood outside his driver’s room.

“What is it?” he croaks.

There’s some shuffling from the other side of the door. Then: “Uh – Team meeting in ten minutes.” The person says. Oscar calls back some kind of affirmation, but you don’t hear it. That feeling is back. The one where you long not to hide in secrecy. It’s so unfair that he makes you feel so safe, so loved, and you can’t even show it to the rest of the world. You want people to know that he’s yours.

“You ok?” Oscar asks after a beat of silence. Your eyes find his, and you nod. I will be, maybe, you think. You want to tell him that you’re sick of hiding, but you’re not sure how he’ll take it. You both have a lot at stake. What if he can only love you in secret, never in front of the world?

He kisses you goodbye, and you allow yourself to believe that’s not the case. Oscar isn’t shy about his affections – he’s soft and he’s clingy and his eyes when he looks at you are full of love. They’re your own reflected straight back at you. One day you’ll walk into the paddock, and it’ll be with his hand in yours. You swear it.

But if he doesn’t want that, a life in the shadows is surely better than a life without him.

[valsverse]

𝐞𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐞 𝐡𝐜'𝐬

summary. headcanons of your relationship with edmund pevensie while dating. (gn reader)

— straight up fluff, nothing else. PART 1/?

— Edmund leaves little notes everywhere. In the pages of your books, the pockets of your pants, etc. Usually they just consist of sweet words and reminders to eat and take care of yourself as a much needed endorphin boost. He always makes sure to fill up the entire piece of paper, front and back until there's no space to write any more loving words. — Random "I love you"s throughout the day for no particular reason. — Playful arguments over the most miniscule things, I mean seriously, the two of you bicker like a married couple. Edmund can be quite argumentative, but not in the way you expect. No, usually you quarrel over the correct way to toast a piece of bread, topics such as that. None of it is serious of course, nine times out of ten it turns into a tickle fight that ends with a cuddle session anyway. — Edmund naturally smiles excessively around you. He doesn't really think about it, it just happens. Like this guy literally GLOWS when he sees you, it's not even funny. When you look at him, he smiles. When you rant, he smiles. When you talk about your interests, he smiles. No matter where the two of you are and what you're doing, he's always grinning around you, both of you in your own world. — Even though Edmund is one of the most renowned swordsman in Narnia, that doesn't mean he's immune to the occasional injury. And so, you have to tend to his wounds quite often. Sometimes you end up scolding him if the wound was the result of reckless actions and impulsive behavior, and yes he appreciates the concern, but he just thinks it's cute how your lips form into a pout whenever he comes back with a new injury to tend to. He adores how much you care for him, even if it's just through small actions. — Absolute SUCKER for when you kiss his scars. Edmund used to see his scars as a nuisance, only there to remind him of the treacheries of war and danger. But of course, life has different perspectives for different people. So when you came around, reassuring him that his blemishes were a sign of his bravery and strength from the pain he endured, he felt like he was going to cry. And the second your lips came in contact with a particular scar just shy of his collarbone, he immediately felt comfort and a sense of safety wash over him. Maybe it was the warmth of your lips, or the alleviation of your words, whatever it was, it made him feel like maybe everything was going to be okay. — Kisses on the nape and shoulder. (goes both ways) — Since we're on the topic of kissing, Edmund has a thing for tracing your jawline before or while the two of you are kissing, or just sharing an intimate moment in general. He prefers to rest one hand on the curve of your hip, and the other hand caressing your jaw, no matter what the position is. He also enjoys trailing little pecks from the side of your neck to the corner of your lips before he finally presses his lips against yours. — Chess dates!! Yeah, it doesn't sound like the most romantic activity but, cmon, it's Edmund Pevensie. He'll find a way to make it memorable. And while he loves a fair match, (who doesn't?) sometimes he just so happens to "accidentally" put his king in danger and — oh will you look at that, you won. Yeah, maybe he changed up his moves a little so you would win, but it's all worth it to him. He adores the sight of your eyes lighting up, and how you throw your hands up in triumph and shout in glee. While you're busy celebrating, he gazes at you fondly with an impossibly soft look in his eyes. One of his hands is lying on his cheek, supporting his head, while his other hand still remains on his king. Even though he "lost", his smile is wide as ever because as long as you're happy, he's happy.

— On days when he's not busy with training or just occupied with the responsibilities that come with being one of the kings of Narnia, picnic dates are a must. He cooks up your favorite meals and packs them up in a picnic box along with the traditional red and white checkered blanket, and off you go. It's kind of just a de-stresser for him. Quality time with you and a home cooked meal to go along with it. Sometimes he brings you to brings you to picturesque flower fields, or the patch of green grass directly in front of the river front. No matter where it is, Edmund has his reasons for why he chose those specific locations. They always remind him of you. The two of you watch the sun slowly disappear under the horizon as you both lay on the checkered blanket, with your head resting on his chest and his arm lazily wrapped around your waist, it looks just like a scene straight out of a fairytale.

— On days when he's not busy with training or just occupied with the responsibilities that come with being one of the kings of Narnia, picnic dates are a must. He cooks up your favorite meals and packs them up in a picnic box along with the traditional red and white checkered blanket, and off you go. It's kind of just a de-stresser for him. Quality time with you and a home cooked meal to go along with it. Sometimes he brings you to brings you to picturesque flower fields, or the patch of green grass directly in front of the river front. No matter where it is, Edmund has his reasons for why he chose those specific locations. They always remind him of you. The two of you watch the sun slowly disappear under the horizon as you both lay on the checkered blanket, with your head resting on his chest and his arm lazily wrapped around your waist, it looks just like a scene straight out of a fairytale. — Edmund is always eager to prove his love and devotion to you. He's deeply committed to you, and loves to declare it proudly. Sometimes he writes short poems about you, recounting his favorite moments the two of you shared. He describes the way your hair blows in the wind while the two of you are horseback riding, or how your smile is one of his favorite sights, he writes about anything regarding you. He just pours out his feelings onto a piece of paper. And when the stack of poetry about you piles up too high on his desk, he ties it up neatly in a ribbon and places it on your bedside table for you to wake up to. (CHIVALRY IS NOT DEAD GUYS 🗣️🗣️ ) — Edmund has a thing for kissing your hand. Like not even as a greeting, just in general. He just thinks of it as another way of showing his love and admiration for you. He brushes his lips against your palm and trails kisses up your fingertips, like HELLO??? — All in all, your relationship with Edmund Pevensie is truly one of a kind. ∙ u guys i know i havent posted a proper story since like may, and honestly i have no excuse i was just being lazy af. also my love for edmund has kind of faded but i started writing this months ago and decided i might as well finish it. ∙ so next time i post, it probably won't be edmund pevensie related, OR MAYBE IT WILL!! i still have many ideas (don't unfollow me pls im sorry LMAO) ∙ until next time, (and trust me, there will be a next time.) xx valerie.

[thatfandomslut]

The Wedding Song

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Trigger Warnings: Regina & Reader are in their 20s, Reader is about to marry someone else, Regina stops the wedding (a bit of Speak Now vibes), steam The Wedding Song by Renee Rapp

Requests:

Valentine's Day / Followers Celebration; Regina George w/ quote 54 and piece of chocolate 8. Or: "Choose me. Marry me. Let me make you happy.” w/ crushing

This was messy but it's just a silly goofy fic, so I hope you enjoy.

Valentine's / Followers Celebration Requests are closed.

Being (Y/n)'s maid of honor was a bittersweet feeling for Regina. Standing beside (Y/n) during the rehearsal dinner, she felt queasy. In high school, she would have been able to get with whoever she wanted. Now, the person Regina wanted most in the world was about to marry someone else, and Regina felt like her whole world was falling apart. She was happy for (Y/n), and she was happy that (Y/n) trusted and loved her enough to ask her to be her maid of honor out of everyone, but a bigger part of Regina felt sad and hurt that (Y/n) would never feel that way about her.

She always felt like (Y/n) was her world, she set her world on fire. But (Y/n) was standing in front of another person with a giant grin, beaming. Regina felt guilty that she felt all these ways for her. She didn't know if she should approach (Y/n) and tell her just how she felt. What would it even achieve? In the end, there was an even bigger chance that it would tear their friendship apart, and she wasn't sure she could survive in a world without (Y/n). With that said, did the long-lasting stare across the wedding hall mean nothing to (Y/n)? Their eyes were set on each other for so long, and (Y/n) was no longer grinning at her partner, she was grinning at Regina.

"Are you ready to go? It's going to be a long night. I hope you have enough party left in you after this… exhilarating dinner." Regina smirked as (Y/n) approached her. She had just wished her grandparents a good night. She looked beautiful in her white dress. It wasn't her wedding dress, but Regina would marry her in it anyway. She was stunning. Regina cleared her throat to stop herself from looking at the girl in front of her up and down. She couldn't help her eyes. They trailed without thinking of the repercussions if caught. "I think you're going to have a fun night."

(Y/n) beamed up at Regina before hugging her tightly. Regina's eyes widened as she hugged back. "Thank you for being here Regina. I don't think I could do any of this without you." She whispered into Regina's neck, and all of a sudden Regina felt like she could cry. Repressing her feelings, Regina threw on a smile as she rubbed the girl's back. Then, she guided her to the limo that she had her dad pay for in full. She worked for him, therefore; she could still use his money whenever she so pleased. She was going to make sure that (Y/n)'s last night without another's last name attached to hers would be the best night of her life. Maybe, Regina decided, she needed it more than the bride-to-be.

As (Y/n) and Regina sat by each other, despite the rest of the party dancing out on the floor, (Y/n) swirled her drink in the glass she had. Regina's head was getting foggy as the night went on. She wondered if she would remember this in the morning. "Are you doing okay, Regina?" (Y/n) questioned, gently placing her hand on Regina's thigh. That was dangerous territory, and it made the blonde gulp as she looked over to her with a nod. "I was only saying that this whole wedding is weird for me to think about. I just… I hope this doesn't ruin anything between us, but… I always thought we'd be the ones getting married." (Y/n) confessed, though it was obvious she was just as drunk as Regina.

Regina then wondered if she would remember this in the morning either. She wouldn't dare kiss (Y/n). She knew that she was taken, even if (Y/n)'s words made her lips more kissable. "If you were to tell me not to marry them, I wouldn't marry them. I would break it off right now, and I would run away with you. That's fucked though, isn't it?" She wondered out loud. To be honest, it was. But Regina was learning that she didn't care if it was fucked. The girl she had crushed on since their freshman year of college was into her, and she'd be damned if she passed up on this opportunity.

Regina's hands fell onto (Y/n)'s shoulder, and she looked at (Y/n) like the world was ending. "Then do it. Choose me. Marry me. Let me make you happy." Regina practically begged, and (Y/n) looked at her as if she were sobering up. Her brows had furrowed and she stared at Regina for a long moment. She was beginning to give up hope until (Y/n) stood up. There was a new determination in her eyes as she nodded.

"Isn't this fucked up though? What would I say to them? At least let me go to their place." (Y/n) said, feeling dizzy. She didn't know if it was the alcohol or the decision to run away with Regina making her feel so ill. Regina nodded in understanding and maybe it was because she was drunk and in love, too, that she called a cab for them. When they got to the hotel, (Y/n) knocked on the door, and went inside the hotel room. Regina sat outside the room, and she stared at the ugly carpet that was peeling slightly. She felt gross. Partially because of the carpet, and partially because she was having (Y/n) break up with her partner over a drunk conversation.

When (Y/n) emerged, she had a giant smile. "It's over, it can just be us now." Despite how crazy this was, the two girls ran. Just like that, they decided that they would marry each other the next day. (Y/n)'s partner confessed they always knew, and that they would always support her. They agreed to be friends, despite it all. "I will marry you," (Y/n) whispered softly.

[thezombieprostitute]

Dr. Hot Stuff

Summary: You're probably the only nurse who hasn't slept with Surgeon Johnny Storm and you're happy to keep it that way.

Warnings: Age gap, Implied smut, Medical setting, Talk about surgeries. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Many thanks to @bigtreefest for help with the medical terminology and more!

A/N2: Reader is 35+ years old and female. No other physical descriptors used.

You feel like a zombie, asleep on your feet after an incredibly long surgery. As much as you liked being Dr. Beck's go-to nurse for long and complicated surgeries, it still took a hell of a toll on you. As soon as you were cleaned up and in fresh scrubs, you were headed to the sleeping area.

When the doorknob doesn't turn you blink as your brain tries to process why you're not already laying down. You try a few more times but nothing. Is it stuck? It's not supposed to be locked.

Then the sounds of giggles and moans pierce through your brain fog and you put the pieces together. Dr. Johnny Storm, aka Dr. Hot Stuff, doing his regular, pre-surgery "ritual" with one of the nurses. You roll your eyes and shake your head. You should break down the door just out of fully justified spite! But you know you won't get much support. Apparently Dr. Hot Stuff earned his nickname. If there's one thing you'll give Storm, it's that his partners have no complaints, and they are the type to complain.

You slink off to the break room to find a recliner for a nap.

You're startled awake by Johnny loudly celebrating his latest successful surgery. He's proudly proclaiming his mastery over the appendectomy to anyone and everyone who will hear. You roll your eyes and start getting out of the recliner. You should be used to these kinds of things by now. Young surgeons are always so loud and proud.

Before you can get out of the recliner, though, Johnny steps in front of you.

"If it isn't my favorite veteran nurse," he smirks.

"What do you want, Dr. Storm," you sigh.

"You know you can call me Johnny, like all the other nurses, right?" he raises an eyebrow, grin never dropping. "I'm just trying to be friendly but you keep shutting me out."

"I just woke up, Johnny. And I'm still very tired. I'd be friendlier if I could've actually slept in a bed." You give him your best glare, hoping it would get him to back off, maybe apologize.

Instead his smile widens, "oh, sorry about that. Next time I'll make sure you get to join in." He winks and you scoff.

"I'm out of here," you shake your head. "I've gotta get back to work."

"Wait, please, I wanna talk to you!"

"About what?"

His facial expression changes into puppy dog eyes that your certain would work on a younger you. "Can you put in a good word for me with Dr. Beck?"

Your eyebrows crinkle in confusion. "What?"

"I'm doing so damn well with these appendectomies and cholecystectomies that I could do them in my sleep," he explains. "I want to get into doing the interesting surgeries, the ones that'll help my career, you know?"

"You haven't mastered the mundane yet," you tell him and he rolls his eyes while giving you a groan. "It's incredibly important for surgeons, especially new ones like yourself, to get experience with the variety that can come from even a simple procedure."

"What variety?" he protests. "It's all the same procedure. The same hand motions. The same instructions."

“You’re about to sever the common bile duct but your view is partially blocked by a section of hard adipose tissue. What do you do?”

"Predict where the duct continues under the fat tissue and make the incision,” he shrugs as if it should be obvious.

“WRONG," you loudly scold. "You just nicked the hepatic artery. Your patient is bleeding out.”

He starts pouting but you continue to grill him. You can tell he's studied but he's just too inexperienced and he continually falls short. Given how red he's getting, you can tell he knows it as well. When you finally let up on the questions he backs up so you can get out of the recliner but he's definitely not happy.

"Bet you'd put in a good word for me if you helped me with my pre-surgery ritual," he grouses.

"Not gonna happen, Junior."

"You sure?" he raises an eyebrow in that way you know works on the younger nurses. "I bet I could make you feel young again."

"I'm sure. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna get back to work."

"I'll get you to change your mind one of these days," he promises with a wink.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Ooo! Giving me permission to think of you next time I can't sleep?"

You facepalm. "I walked right into that one."

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[daenysx]

requesting for one 1k celebration (ik it's late and it's totally okay if you decide not to write it, congratulations on it anyway!!) but rockstar!reader with either fan or bodyguard!james??? idk, take this any way you want, i'm giving you the wheel

i loved this request so much and i tried my best so hopefully you'll enjoy!! thank you for requesting, love u♡ you can send james potter requests if you have one!

bodyguard!james potter x rockstar!reader, you and james can't keep your feelings secret anymore

brave enough

you like the hotel room but it's boring to spend all night in.

the concert was quite satisfying and it went smoothly. you know you're getting more and more popular each day; followed by paparazzi almost everywhere, interviewed by important channels that people talk about on twitter, having fan accounts on instagram. you feel a sense of joy and fear at the same time. it's scary to be famous but you enjoy sharing your songs with people, you like the way their eyes shine when you start singing. most of the time you think it's worth being a bit scared.

this is where your security team joins the picture. you are being protected by a team of bodyguards, they are silent but effective. sometimes you feel too important when you walk into a crowded space with the team covering everywhere but most of the time it doesn't feel normal. it feels so silly to be needing protection unlike a normal person. you should be past that. you should realize your position in this world as a famous rockstar and probably should be grateful to these people who never let anything bad happen to you.

shaking redundant thoughts away, you put on some comfy clothes, a pair of shorts and an oversized shirt. you only take your wallet and your phone before leaving the room, airpods tucked nicely in your pocket just in case. you check how you look on the mirror at the bathroom and the sight is just like you imagined, exhaustedly happy with a crooked smile and tired eyes.

you knock on the door across yours. you are sure james will open it in two seconds. he does that exactly but the sight in front of you makes you look at your shoes shyly without thinking- he's shirtless.

"hey." james says, casually. "something wrong?"

he's always asking that firstly, the head of your security team. he's huge, all muscles and tall, you have seen too many comments on instagram saying how hot he looks. well, he does. he really is good looking, you'd have to be blind to not realize it. he has lovely eyes and a big smile when he tries to be comforting, huge hands and a perfect chest. james potter is someone's dream guy, you are sure of it.

"no." you say, eyes still looking anywhere but him. "nothing, i just- i got bored, thought maybe we could go out. you can put on your shirt- if you want, i can wait."

james takes a step back to let you in. you follow his lead, the room smells like his cologne and hints of aftershave. it's making your legs shaky, you sit on the couch as he takes his shirt from the bed and puts it on.

"you wanna go out?" he asks with a gentle voice. things with him has always been this sweet, not like a regular boss-employee relationship. you know he cares about you, he's like a friend who's always been around, who you can always fall in love with if you ever take that dangerous step.

you nod at his question. he puts on his glasses and looks like himself again. "i wanted some fresh air, and i'm a bit hungry. maybe we can get chicken nuggets from the place in the corner?"

james thinks about it for a moment. it feels weird, like you're asking for his permission to go out but it's far from the truth. you need james's opinion before leaving a secure place because he knows the best. he knows the danger, the press, the paparazzi. if he says you should stay in, you probably should listen. still, you're hoping he'll say yes to going out with you.

"i'm sorry, sweetheart." he says. "i think we should stay at the hotel tonight."

"yeah?" you ask. you can't help but feel a bit upset, you are tired because of your busy schedule but you want to hang out sometimes. you want to be anywhere you want any time without worrying. it would be so nice, to be out with james, just eating and drinking. you could tell him all about your new album. you could tell stupid jokes to him, you could make him smile. now that your voice sounds sad, james flinches just a little bit. he comes to your side with a few short steps.

"i'm really sorry." he says. he kneels in front of you to make an eye contact. "you just had a show and i think it's better if we stay out of sight for now."

you nod, give him a smile to let him know it's okay. "i'll go back to my room then. you should get some rest, you've been working all night long."

you stand up to go but james is quicker. he holds your hand, your fingers go lax in his palm. he is on his feet again, looking at you with a promising pair of eyes.

"do you want to stay here? we can order chicken nuggets and sit in the balcony."

the idea is tempting but you really don't want to waste james's resting time. "it's okay, james. you probably should get some sleep before we leave tomorrow morning."

"sweetheart." he says, his voice is so soft you could crumble under it. "please. would you like to spend some time with me?"

you nod this time, how could you resist his sweet voice? james orders take out as you go sit in the balcony, the night air is chill and you can see a few stars. it's quiet and nice, you close your eyes to the breeze you feel on your skin.

james comes in, wearing a hoodie. he has one in his hand too, he gives you the hoodie, hoping you'll accept. you take it, thanking him silently before wearing it. he sits next to you, comfortable silence fills the air as you wait for food. you look so pretty in the hoodie, james almost doesn't hear the knock on the door. he is quick to leave the balcony, shaking his head as if he's trying to stop thinking something he shouldn't.

he comes back with the food and two huge paper cups of iced tea. you help him settle the paper bags down on the little table, he ordered nuggets and different kinds of sauces he's sure you like. you take a sip from your drink, coldness of it gives a relief to your throat. james does the same, you both start eating silently.

maybe it'd be uncomfortable if it were someone else, just sitting and eating without saying much but this is james you are here with. no matter what the situation is his presence is always comforting and warm. you adore how cool he is, how kind.

"so," you start, breaking the silence. "did you enjoy the show tonight?"

james smiles. "of course i did. you know your way around that stage, you know? i always enjoy seeing you sing."

"thank you, james." you say with a soft voice.

"you are-" he starts, "you really are something else."

you stop drinking for a second to see his eyes. he sounds like he's confessing a big secret but it's not the first time james has complimented you, so you are not sure why his voice comes out like that.

"jamie?"

"everything stops when you sing, when you dance on the stage like you always do. i see people's faces, how they admire you, how they follow your every step. my face must look like theirs i believe, just- like your biggest fan."

you give him the loveliest smile you can manage, how dare he says such a beautiful thing? he smiles back, it's full of admiration and pride. he's proud of you, you realize. he's always been around, always been there for you. he's been fierce and brave, faced every little thing that bothered you like the strong man he is. your chest fills with something you can't identify.

"well," you wander around the words. "you're my favorite fan and that puts you in the most special place."

james chuckles, you are losing your mind. you forget everything for a second, who you are and who he is.

"james, i-"

"angel." he says. "it's okay."

he has no right to do that. he has no right to make your heart beat faster and say that it's okay. you feel like you should do something, say something to end this misery. you both stop eating, the wind passes through your hair. james still looks at you with an undeniable affection.

"i'm not trying to mess with your mind, i promise." he says quietly. "but i'm not strong enough to keep everything in me, i just- i'm sorry if i'm making you uncomfortable."

"no, no, of course you're not." you say quickly. "it's just- i don't want to be delusional, james. i don't want to imagine things."

james reaches for your hand. the short distance between you disappears as he leans for your cheek. he gives you the softest kiss, you can't breathe when he does that. he leans back into his chair, your hand still in his hand.

"you're not imagining things." he says. "i don't know if i should be brave enough to tell you something i can't take back."

your fingers move a bit, but james doesn't let go. "you should." you say, firmer than ever. "you should be brave. i believe it's in the job description."

he pulls your hand to himself, makes you stand up and fall back to his lap. your heartbeat goes faster, he holds you gently.

"i'm mad for you." he says, looking deep into your eyes. "i'm willing to take any risk if you want me to. i'd do anything to protect you, and it's not only because i'm your bodyguard."

you settle down on his lap, holding one of his hands and stroking his knuckles. "can i kiss you?" you ask, not too shy but a bit hesitant.

james nods, and he cups your cheek. his thumb rubs your jawline, you cover his lips with yours. the kiss is better than you imagine, he is the only thing in your mind. suddenly, you feel how dangerous he is; you can write hundreds of songs about this kiss, about james. he has the power to invade your mind and he isn't shy about it. he is a fierce kisser, uses his hands and lips in a way that makes you melt.

his tongue meets yours and it's the best thing at that moment. james sucks your bottom lip, he doesn't break the kiss until you pull yourself back. you press small kisses on his cheeks, his sharp jaw is prominent under your mouth. he breathes faster, the tip of his nose rubbing on your cheek.

"what if someone sees us here?" you ask, playfully. his hand around your thigh tightens.

he pushes your hair back. "it's too dark here for anyone to recognize us. do you think i'd put you in that kind of situation?"

his tone matches yours. "i think you'll have to put me in that kind of situation eventually." you say, kissing his lips again. "i'm not worried, james. i like you too much to be worried."

"i'll protect you." he says, so serious and so lovely. "i won't let anybody hurt you."

"i know, baby." you say, and james visibly loves the word baby coming out of your lips.

he can only kiss you more after that. the night is long and it's full of promises, you are both so tired to think. it will be okay, you know that. it should be okay when he kisses you like this, like you are the most precious thing in the world. you kiss him back, trying to be brave enough for his heart. for now, it's good. james will make sure it'll be better.

[nightlyrequiem]

How would Valeria deal with a significant other who is a pop star? How would the two navigate a relationship like that considering that one of them is in the spotlight?

Oh there is lots of potential for angst here.... but I have to reel myself back and keep things happy.

What an interesting dynamic too. In the real world, I feel like Popstar!Reader would be in hot water for dating such an awful person.

Valeria x Popstar!Reader

I don't see Valeria as the type to listen to pop. A few songs here and there but I think she prefers 90s rap or even dramatic classical music. She had heard some of your songs playing on the radio and liked them enough to give your name a little search. She found you pretty. You had a few scandals, as comes with the job. The music industry is cruel after all.

Maybe it was drug related, relationship drama, you being 'rude' to paparazzi even though you were only standing up for yourself. Her interest in you starts off as not much. She likes some of your music and thinks you're pretty but then she slowly starts lurking about on your socials. She doesn't follow you but she regularly checks to see if you've made a new post or a new story. Then she starts saving pictures of you. Any kind that catches her eye but a lot of them are you in more revealing outfits.

She feels frustration and jealousy whenever she sees you with friends. You posted one story where you were side hugging some guy and she was in a foul mood all day. She firmly believes that if you and her had met that she'd have a chance with you.

And meet you she did! Maybe you live in Mexico or maybe you're on tout there. Either way, by some stroke of luck you wind up in Las Almas. You were at a club, and Valeria was also at the club. The rest is history.

Valeria did in fact have a chance. Surprising to no one really. She is one fine specimen. After a few drinks you two ended up in bed together. it turned from a one night stand into something more.

It wasn't like she thought though. You're famous. You preform. You're a goddamn popstar. Which means you're on social media a lot. Which means you receive a lot of attention. You have a lot of people in your DMs. Not that you really see or answer them. There's just too many for you to do that. But Valeria sees them. You had also posted a story of the two of you cuddled up on the couch. Now everyone wants to know who she is. What she does, and she doesn't like that so much. It's not good for her line of work after all.

It's also a bit of issue for you. Cancel culture isn't real and I stand by that, but some people are unnaturally obsessive and critical of everything a celebrity (Specifically women) does. See Chappel Roan. You feel nervous that someone will somehow figure out what Valeria does for a living.

There's also the matter of you leaving constantly. Going off on trips and tours. It puts a bit of strain on the relationship. Valeria is irrationally worried that you're cheating on her. You've come to an agreement though. Every night, after every show you either call her or send her a text. Just to make sure you two are communicating. Sometimes the time zones are too different and one of you is asleep by the time the other responds but it works. You also send her videos. Of the crowds or of you in your hotel room. Sometimes though, she’ll join you. Not on stage of course but she’ll put on a hat and attend a concert or two to support you. Amazed at how monolithic you seem.

You two also decided that you won't post Valeria at all. and when you talk about her you have to be as vague as possible. For the safety of both of you.

In short, it’s kind of difficult for you two. There’s a lot of issues that need to be resolved but Valeria likes you enough to actually fix them with you.