#okay i need to explain what happened today so i can process this

[purplethespian]

Urgent Call to Action: Call Your Senators ASAP! (Monday June 30th, 3:30 PM Eastern Time)

The Senate is conducting its final vote on the ���Big Beautiful Bill” as I type this, and we need to do what we can to let our lawmakers know that we are not okay with this bill!

The email I received from Indivisible on Thursday explains it best:

Senate Republicans want to vote on their Medicaid-slashing, billionaire-enriching reconciliation bill [today]...and that means “vote-a-rama” -- when senators can propose endless changes that their colleagues then need to vote on.

If all Republicans stick together, Democrats simply don’t have the numbers to stop the bill from passing; that’s why the GOP is using reconciliation in the first place. But that doesn’t mean Senate Democrats are powerless.

Your Democratic senators can make voting on this bill slower, more divisive, and more politically damaging than any vote these Republicans have ever taken. In fact, that’s what this moment demands of them and what we expect.

As a reminder, this bill will:

Make huge cuts to Medicaid and create new work requirements that affect who can qualify

Triple the budget for ICE

Block states’ abilities to regulate AI

Give trillions of dollars in tax cuts to the wealthy

Increase the Pentagon’s budget by $150 billion

And much, much more

So, what can you do?

First: Call or Write Your Senator

Here are two links to 5 Calls, a website that provides easy-to-follow scripts for calling your lawmakers.

Script Specifically About Cuts to Medicare and Medicaid

Script for General Opposition to the "Big Beautiful Bill"

If you are not comfortable calling your Senators, use this tool to send them an email.

If your Senator is a Republican, please please please call them and let them know how unhappy you are that your elected representative is not serving in the best interests of you and your fellow constituents. If your Senator is a Democrat, please urge them to do everything they possibly can to slow the voting process.

Second: Suggest Amendments to the Bill

Part of the "vote-a-rama" is that Senators can propose whatever amendments they want, from actual serious legislation, to random suggestions made simply for the sake of forcing proceedings to take longer. Use this tool from Indivisible to suggest amendments to Senate Democrats. My suggestion was that I think it would be fun if Senators had to wear wigs like the British parliament does. Will this actually get brought up as an amendment? I have no idea! But it gave me something to giggle about.

Third: Spread the Word!

It is vital that as many people as possible communicate with their Senators about this. We cannot let this bill get passed as-is. We cannot lie down and let the Republicans and Trump get this victory without a fight. So please: reblog this post! Share these tools with your friends and family, and encourage them to contact their Senators as soon as they can!

According to Politico, the "vote-a-rama" is expected to last into Tuesday morning. So, we still have some time to make this happen, but we need to move quickly. Please do what you can!

[gf2bellamy]

omgg could i request bubbly reader whos always smiling and giggling but one day an officer (or whoever) says shes being unprofessional and too much and it makes her so so sad so she tones it down and spencer is so upset seeing her like this bc shes the light of his life

-🦨

light — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: sunshine!reader feels insecure abt herself, mention of officer saying she's being unprofessional a/n: hii 🦨 !! hope this is what you asked for <3

"Morning." Your voice was quieter than usual, your smile smaller, just a polite curve of your lips rather than the bright grin the team was used to. You walked into the conference room, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you took your usual seat.

Morgan and Emily immediately exchanged a glance.

Normally, your entrance was impossible to miss. An enthusiastic, cheerful “Good morning!” ringing through the air, maybe even a comment about someone’s coffee choice or how exhausted everyone looked.

“Morning, sunshine.” Morgan’s voice was gentler than usual. “You good?”

You nodded quickly, forcing another smile. “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Thanks, Derek.” The words felt rehearsed, like a line you had practiced just to avoid further questions. You glanced up at him for only a second before lowering your gaze to the table.

Emily’s frown deepened as she studied you, before cutting her eyes to Morgan again. Neither of them were buying it. The door opened, and Spencer walked in, carrying two coffees. He placed one in front of you like he always did. A silent little tradition between the two of you. Normally, this would earn him that smile, the one that made his heart stutter in his chest. The one that felt like warmth on the coldest days. You would’ve reached for his hand, his hand, the one no one else was allowed to touch, and squeezed it, your fingers lingering just a little too long, just like they always did.

But today?

“Thanks,” you mumbled, barely looking up. You wrapped your hands around the cup, but nothing more. No smile. No touch.

Spencer’s spine went rigid. His fingers twitched at his sides as he stood there, processing, waiting, hoping, for a second longer than necessary. When nothing else came, he hesitated before reluctantly taking his own seat. Emily and Morgan’s eyes were already on him when he looked up, their silent concern mirroring his own. He swallowed hard.

Something was wrong. But it just got worse from there.

When Garcia called, her voice bubbled through the speakerphone. "Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite team of crime-fighting superheroes! Tell me, my loves, who needs saving today?"

Usually, you’d fire something right back, some exaggerated response about how she was the real superhero or how you were tragically in need of her brilliance. Instead, silence stretched for a beat too long before Rossi finally spoke up, filling the gap where your usual laughter should have been.

At that moment, even Hotch, who rarely indulged in team gossip, glanced at you, his gaze lingering longer than usual. A whole five seconds in Hotchner time. That was basically a siren blaring that something was wrong.

Your usual energy, the energy that kept them all going, was gone. Every word you spoke was muted, every sentence clipped.

You kept your gaze trained on files, your hands fidgeting with the corner of the page, and when someone addressed you, your responses were polite but distant.

Spencer watched you more than he paid attention to the case briefing.His mind ran through every possibility, every variable that could explain this drastic shift. Were you sick? Had something happened? Had someone said something? His stomach twisted at the thought.

Spencer caught up to you just as you reached your hotel room that night. You glanced at him, surprised. The cool metal of your keycard was still in your hand when he spoke.

“Can I talk to you?” His voice was careful and concerned.

You hesitated. You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what this was about. The stolen glances from the team, the way Spencer had been watching you all day. It was obvious. You could still avoid the conversation if you wanted to. You could brush it off, say you were tired, say you had work to do. But a part of you knew you couldn’t do that. Not to him.

So you sighed, slipping the keycard into the slot and pushing open the door. “Yeah. Sure.”

Spencer followed you in, shutting the door behind him as you plopped down on the bed. You leaned back on your hands, crossing your legs, trying to look nonchalant, trying to make this feel like nothing.

“So,” you said, offering a weak smile, “what did you want to talk about?”

Spencer didn’t answer right away. He just stood there for a moment, watching you, hands fidgeting at his sides.

A beat of silence. “You.” The word landed between you like a grenade with the pin pulled.

Spencer took a step closer, his voice dropping. “You haven’t smiled all day. You didn’t laugh at Garcia’s joke. You didn’t even—” He cut himself off, fingers flexing at his sides. “You didn’t squeeze my hand.”

Your stomach twisted. He noticed. Of course he noticed. You looked away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “I’m just tired.”

“That's a lie.”

Your head snapped up. Spencer was rarely so direct.

“You think I don’t know you?” he said, voice cracking. “You think I wouldn’t notice when the best part of my day just—just disappears?”

The honesty in his words punched through you. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. Because what could you say? That some stranger’s offhand comment had unraveled you? That you’d spent the entire day replaying his words in your head like a broken record?

Unprofessional. Too much. Annoying.

Spencer took another step forward, his voice softening. “Talk to me. Please.”

Your throat tightened as you stared at him. Spencer Reid, your Spencer, was looking at you like you’d just ripped the stars from his sky. You swallowed hard, forcing out a breath that barely made it past the knot in your chest. “It’s stupid,” you whispered.

Spencer shook his head immediately. “It’s not.”

You let out a hollow laugh, rubbing your palms over your thighs. “You don’t even know what it is yet.”

His voice softened even more, barely above a breath. “And I still know it’s not stupid.”That did it. The dam cracked, then crumbled, then completely shattered.

“Someone—someone said I was too much.” You exhaled shakily, finally putting the ugly truth into the open. “That I was being unprofessional—that I need to tone it down because I laugh too much, because I smile too much, because I don’t act like—” Your voice wavered, and you clenched your fists against the overwhelming sting in your eyes. “Like I belong here.”

Spencer inhaled sharply. You finally met his gaze and all you saw as fury. Not at you, never at you, but at the words that had managed to dull your light.He took another step closer. His hands twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if you’d let him.

“Who?” His voice was controlled, but barely.

You shook your head quickly. “It doesn’t matter—”

“It matters to me.”

God. Why did he have to care so much? Why did he have to look at you like that, like you were something precious, something irreplaceable, something he wasn’t willing to lose to someone else’s careless words? You chewed on your bottom lip, shaking your head again. “It’s not like he was wrong, Spence.” You forced a smile, but even you could feel how empty it was. “I am a lot. And maybe I do need to—”

“Don’t.” The word was firm. Gentle, but unyielding.

Spencer exhaled slowly, like he was trying to steady himself. “You are not too much,” he said, each syllable deliberate. “And whoever made you think that doesn’t understand what this team—what I—would be without you.”

Your breath hitched, tears threatening to spill over.

“You make things better.” His voice cracked, and it nearly shattered you. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to see you walk into a room and not light it up?” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “It—it hurts.”

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. You swiped at it quickly, but Spencer had already seen. And that was when he finally moved.Slowly, carefully, he reached for your hand. His fingers curled around yours, just like they always did. The same comforting touch you’d given him a hundred times before.

Except this time, he was the one holding you together.

“Please don’t dim yourself because of someone who doesn’t understand how lucky they are to know you,” he murmured.

Your heart clenched. Your lip quivered. Spencer slowly let go of your hand, his warmth lingering even as his fingers slipped away. He didn’t move far, though. Instead, he lowered himself in front of you.

His hand hesitated just inches from your face, his breath uneven. “Can I?” he asked softly, his fingertips ghosting near your cheek.

You swallowed hard and gave the smallest nod. Spencer wiped away the tear with a touch so gentle it made your chest ache. But his hand didn’t drop. It hovered there, close enough that you could still feel the warmth of him. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. His thumb traced just beneath your eye, barely skimming your skin, as if he could erase not just the tear but the weight of everything that had led to it.

His voice, when it came, was a whisper. “Whoever said that to you… they don’t know you. Not the way I do.”

You exhaled shakily, blinking at him.

“They don’t know the way your laugh makes even the worst days bearable.” His thumb barely moved, brushing against your cheekbone. “They don’t know how your energy—your light—makes all of us better. How it makes me better.”

A fresh tear slipped free. Spencer caught it before it could fall. His other hand lifted then, resting gently on your knee. Another silent plea for you to believe him.

“I don’t want you to change.” His voice cracked. You bit your lip, trying to keep the emotion at bay, but it was useless. His words, his kindness, were unraveling you.

Spencer inhaled sharply, like he was gathering courage, and then, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Your breath hitched. A teary-eyed smile broke across your face before you could stop it. And then, without thinking, you threw yourself into his arms. Spencer barely had time to brace himself, but to your luck, he held firm, his balance steady despite the force of your embrace. His arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you close.

“Thank you,” you mumbled into the crook of his neck, your voice muffled. Spencer let out a breath. His hand moved in slow, soothing strokes along your back. When you finally pulled back, you sniffled, brushing away the last few stray tears that had slipped down your cheeks. Spencer watched you, his expression impossibly soft, his own smile small but so incredibly fond.

You inhaled deeply, gathering yourself before flashing him a gentle smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back tomorrow—back to being the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

Spencer’s ears went bright red. He opened his mouth, whether to protest or agree, you weren’t sure, but all that came out was a flustered little laugh as he ducked his head.

The next morning, Spencer was already waiting for you when you stepped into the conference room. Two coffees sat on the table, one in front of his usual seat, the other carefully placed at yours. You bit back a smile.

Spencer was flipping through a case file, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration.

“Good morning, everyone!” you greeted, voice bright and chipper, just like always.

Morgan and Emily, who had clearly been watching you like hawks since yesterday, immediately exchanged a look before turning back to you.

“There she is,” Morgan grinned, arms crossing over his chest. “I was starting to think we’d lost our sunshine.”

You smirked. “Please. You could never get rid of me that easily.”

Garcia gasped dramatically through the speakerphone. “Oh, thank God! Do you know how hard it is being the only source of light in a room full of broody FBI agents? I almost cracked under the pressure.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the team, but you weren’t really paying attention.Because across the table, Spencer was staring at you.Not in the way he had yesterday, all worried and desperate to fix something he didn’t understand, but in the way he always did.

You sank into your chair, reaching for the coffee he’d placed in front of you. The cup was still warm, and when you took a sip, it was exactly the way you liked it. You glanced at Spencer, eyes twinkling. When you reached under the table to squeeze his hand, just like you always did, Spencer let you.

And just like that, the warmth returned. And Spencer knew, without a doubt, he would do anything to keep it shining.

[orimuraa]

• All alone - 西村 力 ↳ ┊: no one noticed - the marias

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆getting mobbed at the airport ⨾

۶ৎ idol!ni-ki x fem medstudent!reader┆angst, fluff┆established relationship, mentions of injuries, crying, slight panic attack, petnames, cursing, kissing┆wc 933

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: thank you to my baby rua for requesting this :3 and also!!! tysm for 1k!!!! i can’t believe how much orimuraa has grown!!

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

your relationship with ni-ki has been public for 3 months now, yet certain “fans” still weren’t over it. you constantly got hate for it but the true engenes definitely made sure to give twice as much support to you.

but today was the worst it’s been.

you were a med student, so you always carried a little med kit with you. and it was a good thing you did.

you were accompanying the members in the airport for a tour in japan, your hometown. ni-ki thought it would be a nice trip for you as you needed a break from your studies.

the flight was nice and you and ni-ki got to catch up on some much needed sleep. however, once you and the boys were preparing to walk to the vans, there was a huge crowd of saesangs and reporters waiting for you guys.

“shit…” you hear heeseung mumble, pulling his beanie down further. you gripped ni-ki’s hand a little tighter, looking up to see his reaction.

he was calm looking but you knew he was probably pissed. he hated airports for this specific reason and he had every right to.

“alright let’s go. the quicker we go, the quicker we’re done with it,” jungwon sighed, adjusting his mask.

ni-ki squeezed your hand to comfort you, giving you a small smile of reassurance.

“ready?” he asked softly. you nod hesitantly, nervous for the crowd.

before you can process things, you’re all out in the crowd, hiding behind security who is pushing through the people.

there’s so much shouting and some people are even getting past security, shoving you away from ni-ki. he can’t even see where you’ve gone because saesangs filled your spot immediately, he just trusts one of the members or security is keeping you close.

but unfortunately, you were getting further and further. at some point, you were cut by someone’s keychains, causing your arms to sting and bleed slightly. you felt bruises forming on your arms as well from all the pushing and shoving, making you wince. your breathing started to become uneven, tears pricking at your eyes as you lost sight of your boyfriend.

it all happened so fast. one point, you were in a hectic crowd, being shoved around like a ragdoll, and the next, you were sobbing into your knees on a bench, bandaging up your cuts and bruises. did ni-ki even notice you were gone? he was probably still pissed so if you called him, you’d only be more of a burden.

so instead, you called your older sister, explaining the situation briefly. she immediately agreed, rushing to get to you.

meanwhile, when ni-ki realized you weren’t in the van with them, he was fuming. he started panicking, not sure where you were and if you were okay. he knew that saesangs went to extremes and he was trying so hard not to let his thoughts go there, but it was hard. he was just too worried for you.

“hey, it’s gonna be okay. i bet she’s in one of the staff vans right now,” jake reassured, patting ni-ki’s shoulder.

“no! she’s probably so scared…god- i should’ve never trusted that security could handle it,” ni-ki groans, rubbing his face in regret.

his hyungs don’t know what to do anymore, they’re all worried for you but they’re also worried about ni-ki. they know that he will beat himself up for this forever and they’re scared for that.

ni-ki quickly pulls out his phone, shooting you a text to see if you’re okay. no response. he sends 4 or 5 more texts before shutting off his phone and sighing.

when they arrive at the hotel, ni-ki send you yet another message, making sure you knew how to find him.

the rest of the boys were relaxing and calming down from the flight and crowds, but ni-ki was pacing his room back and forth.

finally, he gets a call from you after what felt like an eternity. he picks up on the first ring.

“baby??? are you okay??? i’m so sorry security left you like that. fuck- i’m so sorry that i left you- i just- i trusted the security too much and then you got separated and-” he rambles, running a hand through his hair.

“look outside dum dum,” and then you hang up, making ni-ki run to the door, scrambling to open it.

and there you are, a couple bandages on your arms and a scratch on your cheek—yet you’re still the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen.

“little love- oh my god,” he gasps silently, pulling you into his arms. “are you okay my angel?” he whispers into your hair, resting his chin on top of your head.

“i’m okay kiki..better now that i’m here with you,” you reply softly, breathing in ni-ki’s scent. he gently kisses the cut on your cheek, traveling down to the injuries on your arms as well. he kisses the bruises that show on your hips and rises back up, kissing your lips.

“let me make it up to you my angel,” he pouts, still feeling bad. “cuddles?”

your eyes light up at the offer, nodding excitedly.

“there’s nothing to forgive my kiki. you did the best you could,” you smile softly, interlocking your fingers with his.

“i’d spend the rest of the night cuddling you if it makes you feel better—or the rest of my life,” ni-ki says, kissing your nose once more before scooping you up in his arms, bring you to the bed, careful not to hurt you more.

“i love you to the moon and back.”

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @cheruphic, @woniefication, @melodiessvy, @soona-huh, @kiwicup, @yuuuraaa, @manariee

[delicioushottubpeanut]

♡ babysitter

oneshot - inspired by that one edit

fandom: five nights at freddys (movie)

paring: mike schmidt x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw 18+, dry humping, sexual tension, kissing, friends to lovers, cumming in pants, submissive mike, foul language, teasing, smut, riding, dom reader, consensual sex, age gap, minors dni..

You've heard a lot about him from Abby, mainly bits and pieces that she's told you, but nothing really about him and the only thing he really says to you is that he's eventually going to pay you back. But you always refuse.

The old couch squeaks softly as he sits beside you, a gentle hand goes to reach your face but hesitates.

He’s been very busy for a while now that he has started his new job at a security guard that was shut down ages ago. When he comes home he's always so tired, like he's a different person. As if he cannot relax. You hear the door open and slam back as it he closes it.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't hear you come back.." You whisper, groaning whilst you move out of the position you had been in for a while. Yawning as you gently wipe your eyes.

Mike looks at you, half-smiling as he leans against the cushions. He's tired, you can tell. "Sorry if I woke you, you looked exhausted, so I just wanted to cover you," he whispers back, stretching his arms. "Did Abby go okay for you?" he asks.

"I told her it's bedtime an hour ago, but you know how it is with little ones." You joke.

"Abby was great, she missed you, though.." You smile sheepishly, shifting on the coach to face him. "How was work?" You ask, seeing the slight bags under his eyes.

Mike chuckles softly, leaning his head back and letting out a deep sigh as he stares up at the ceiling.

"It was long," he sighs. "I mean, I've gotten used to it, of course, but god, it's draining..." He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, looking off to the side and fiddling with his fingers, trying to find the right words to explain what just happened at work. He seems hesitant to say.

"You okay? You can talk to me if something is bothering you." Hesitantly placing your hand on his shoulder, slowly forcing him to look at you. You've known him for years due to babysitting Abby, but he's never opened up.

"Well... it's just..." Mike sighs again, still not meeting your eyes. "...Abby asked me some questions about stuff today."

He rubs the back of his neck, shifting in his seat as if he's about to say something and then thinks better of it. He leans back against the coach, letting out a frustrated grunt as his eyebrows pinch in frustration. "I... I just can't tell her."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" You whisper, staring at him, waiting for a response.

Mike's face softens a little, looking over at you before he sighs, shaking his head. "It's nothing. Abby asked about the job, and... well, it got me thinking..." He shrugs his shoulders again, still looking off to the side.

"Look, I'll tell Abby about it myself, I don't... I shouldn't put it on you..." He sighs one again, staring at the floor.

"If you need me, don't hesitate." You place your hand on his thigh, squeezing it for reassurance. Gaining confidence, you slowly move your body off the couch and sit on his lap.

"Oh..." Mike says quietly, his face turning bright red as you place your hand on his thigh. He looks down at you, his expression of uncertainty on his face changing as his eyebrows rise.

He's speechless, frozen in shock at your touch, and his entire face is practically bright pink. He's suddenly a lot warmer, his chest heaving as his heartbeat picks up speed. "... Y- you're..." he says with the last of his breath, his brain having trouble finding the right words to say.

"Is this okay..?" You grind against his lap, whispering against his ear.

"Shit..." He stammers, his brain desperately trying to process what you're doing. He looks confused, his eyes drifting down to you as his mind races.

"What... what are you... n- no, it's... we can't..." Mike stutters, trying to find a way to reject you. But the longer you're in his lap, the harder it is for him to say no.

"Just relax, Abby is fast asleep in her room.." You grind harder against him, using your index finger to tilt his chin up, making eye contact when you suddenly hear him whimper.

"T- this isn't the time..." he mumbles in response, his eyes closing at the sensation and his whimpers becoming more noticeable.

"W- we shouldn't be doing this..." he whispers, his arms hesitating in the air for a moment before they eventually wrap around your waist. He's still torn between going along with it or saying no, his heart racing as he gazes at you.

"Beg for me to continue." You stop moving your hips, feeling his arousal throb against your ass. Wanting to see how he would react.

"P- please... God.." he whispers, the breath catching in his throat and his voice turning raspy.

He looks at you, his eyes pleading, his body quivering under your control. His heart is pounding out of his chest. He swallows, looking up at you as his entire body screams for you to keep going while his mind fights back.

"You can do better than that.." You tease, breathing against his neck, gently creating bruises as you feel his slightly breath hitch.

Mike whimpers loudly when he feels your bites, his muscles tensing as he tries to relax.

"H- I- please, don't stop..." he murmurs hoarsely, sounding completely different than you've ever heard before. He whimpers again, his head tilted back as he tries to hide the pleasure in his face. He can't believe what he's doing, but he can't turn away.

"Good boy.." Slowly reaching to take off your top, revealing your covered breasts as you start to grind against him, pushing your panties to the side, creating a wet spot on his jeans.

Mike looks down at you, taking in the view as your top is removed, his face getting even pinker as his heart races.

He swallows nervously in response to your wetness, his eyes trailing down your body before they eventually turn back to your face. His cheeks are bright red, his breathing heavy as he glances back down at you, looking into your eyes as you look into his. He takes a long, drawn-out breath, his entire body quivering with anticipation.

"Just take what you want, Mike, no one is stopping you.." You tease, eagerly watching his reaction.

"I- it's..." Mike starts to say, but he can't say no to you, not right now. He leans back, pushing himself deeper into you like he can't help himself, the breath catching in his throat as he takes in the sensation. His eyes are closed as he tries to ignore his own morals.

His eyes snap open, his lips parted as he whispers, "More.."

"You close?" Whispering seductively, moving harder as you feel your climax coming fast.

"Oh, god..." Mike breathes out, his face red, and his eyes roll back into his head. He moans, bucking his hips up against you, feeling himself come close to release as he cums in his pants, feeling you come down from your high.

[ilikerafayelwaytoomuch]

How the LADS men help their gf with anxiety

The LADS (separate) girlfriend has been feeling anxious lately, what do they do to help?

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, vague mentions of 'something' happening that triggered the gf, fluff, comfort

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Rafayel 

She had been extra anxious all day, all week really. It had been building and she didn’t know why. She kept it from Rafayel, not wanting to bother him with something she wasn’t even sure she could talk about. But it was beginning to be too much, her body shaking, mind racing, glancing in every direction. She felt impending doom, whether that be something about to happen to her career or her relationship with the artist. Speaking of, the artist himself, Rafayel, hadn’t come home yet. That pushed her anxiety even further, checking her calendar and seeing he had nowhere to be at this time. Had he been upset about something? She hadn’t even seen him yet though. Was he struggling? Was he second guessing their relationship? 

She wasn’t given too much time to entertain her thoughts of where her boyfriend could be, as he came through the door, face brightening when he saw her. “Hi Cutie! I didn’t expect to see you today,” he smiled at her, arms full of shells. She smiled and nodded at him, not wanting to burden him. “I was down at the beach getting some supplies,” he explained, walking over and plopping down his pile of shells, rocks, and whatever else he deemed a useful supply. “Those damn seagulls were about to fight me for some too. I swear they have something against me, like they think I’m food. Stupid birds. All they can do is be annoying and squawk or beg for food. I suppose they also pester humans too. Anyway, I almost lost an arm getting some of these,” he sighed. 

“Are you okay?” she asked him, not even catching onto his dramatics. Alarm bells rang in Rafayel’s head. She usually would reply with a snarky comeback, not seem genuinely worried about him. Something was off about her. 

“Of course,” he answered, moving to sit next to his girlfriend on the couch, immediately wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “They couldn’t catch a slippery fish like me.” 

“That’s good,” she muttered. 

“Everything okay?” Rafayel asked her tentatively. She nodded her head, but he didn’t believe her. “You sure? You seem off today especially. Did something happen? You know you can tell me anything and I won’t judge you, right?” 

“I know,” she took in a breath. She had never really talked about her anxiety to him. It used to be much more of a problem, but she had been doing much better in the past few years, not struggling with it as much. This week was the exception. How would he react? Would he change his mind and believe she was too much to deal with? Too emotional? “I’ve just been really anxious today,” she eventually answered, looking towards the floor. 

“About what?” he asked, curious. 

“Dunno,” she shrugged. “It’s not the first time. I never really told you, but I do have anxiety. I had been doing really really well, but for some reason this week I’ve just been so on edge and it’s been piling up. It’s bad today.” Rafayel held her a bit closer, noticing that she did seem more jittery than normal, her mind not fully present, almost. 

“It happens. Things can’t always get better and better. Sometimes we have bad weeks, that doesn’t mean you are going to be back at square one. Anxiety sucks,” he breathed. She looked up at him with her head tilted. He said it as if he had experienced it. “I also have anxiety,” he answered her before she could ask the question. “Or did? I’m not sure if I still qualify as having it, but there was a long period of time where I really struggled. I’ve been quote unquote, stable, for a while now, not needing any medication or anything. Is there anything I can do to help? For me painting always helped, duh, but we can do whatever you want.” 

“Honestly? Painting doesn’t sound too bad right now. Can you maybe walk me through the process? It’ll maybe help me focus on something,” she agreed. Rafayel smiled at her, excited to paint with his girlfriend. But since this is Rafayel, he started by getting out his paint making supplies so they could make paint together and then paint together from start to finish. He had put some background music on, as that was what he always wanted when he had felt anxious and began to walk her through the process. They grinded up various shells and things Rafayel gathered from the sea, then mixed it in with the binding ingredient, tested it and began to paint. Y/n was mostly silent, focusing on the process and Rafayel’s instructions or jokes. It did help. She no longer felt quite as anxious. Rafayel had suggested they work on the same canvas and create something together, which she agreed to. At first, Rafayel had been helping, giving instructions on what to paint. Of course acting out his cliche fantasy, moving behind his girlfriend, placing his hand over hers and guiding her strokes. It made her laugh, so he deemed it a success. Eventually, as time went on and their painting became more and more alive, their conversation died. They grew into a comfortable silence, focusing solely on the canvas in front of them or the music softly playing. 

“It’s stunning,” Rafayel said when they finished, admiring their work. “I didn’t know my Cutie was also an artist.” 

“It’s not like I did that much,” she argued. 

“I think you did. We made the paints and created this together. Hmm, I would say this needs to be hung at an exhibit, but I think I like it too much for that. Above my bed will do,” he decided. 

“That seems like a bit much don-”

“Hush. I’ll hang it when it’s done drying. Have you eaten already?” he asked, standing up from the stool he was sitting on and stretching his sore limbs from having sat in the same position for so long. 

“Technically,” she drew out the word. He raised a brow at her. 

“Craving something?” 

“So much junk food. Any and all kinds you can get.” 

“On it,” he answered, getting his phone out and placing an order. When the food arrived y/n had been very cautious at first, afraid that her boyfriend would think she was eating too much. Rafayel thought quite the opposite, believing that she was holding herself back and should eat more. So he brought it upon himself to ensure that she would eat what she wanted, offering her more and more and making sure to eat just as much or even more as her. The food was comforting, but so was the time, just getting to sit and eat with Rafayel as they chatted. When they finished up, Rafayel insisted that she stay the night. He was unaware that she was hardly sleeping because of her anxiety, but y/n wondered if that wasn’t the case. Why else would he suggest she sleep there with him to get a good rest? He had to know she hadn’t been sleeping well. Rafayel had also insisted that she wear his favorite pair of comfort sweats and shirt, saying there was no possible way to feel anxious wearing them. Of course, she went along with it, the smile on Rafayel’s face irresistible. In his bed, Rafayel spooned his girlfriend from behind, engulfing her with his warmth and holding her more tightly than normal. The pressure and warmth was comforting and y/n felt more relaxed in his arms than she had all week. “Thank you for opening up to me. You can let me know when you’re feeling anxious and I’ll help any way I can. I’ll listen to you, paint with you, cook for you, sit in silence for you, give you a massage, cuddle you, kiss you, fuck you, anything really as long as it’ll help,” he told her. She laughed softly as he had brushed over the last suggestion, saying it quickly. 

“Thank you. I’ll try to be even more honest. Today really helped though,” she said through a yawn. “I feel a lot more relaxed.” 

“Good. Now get some rest,” Rafayel instructed, placing a kiss to the back of her head as she fell asleep in his arms. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Sylus 

“You’ve been sitting there staring at the wall for over half an hour now, is everything okay, sweetie?” Sylus asked his girlfriend. She had indeed been sitting on the couch in his office, saying nothing and not moving for half an hour. 

“Hmm?” she hummed, turning to him. His brows furrowed in concern and he stood from the chair at his desk, walking over to her. 

“You seem more distant,” he pushed. She nodded, saying nothing. Sylus sat next to her and placed his hand on her thigh, the feeling grounding her. “Is this about what happened the other night?” She nodded and he nodded back, understanding. Ever since that night she had been feeling more anxious and distant. Worried that at any moment, she would be back in that situation. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“I don’t,” she immediately answered. “I don’t want to remember it, I want to forget it.” 

“I understand that, really. But this isn’t healthy. If you don’t want to talk to me, I won’t push it, but I do think you should talk to someone about it,” Sylus admitted. She closed her eyes, biting her lip as her hand moved to scratch her thigh. Sylus’s hand blocked her movement, as he had noticed it was a habit she began to pick up when feeling this way. 

“I’m scared and I don’t know what to do about it. I always figure shit out on my own, so why is this affecting me so much?” she said. 

“Because it’s a lot. Even the strongest person in the world has to lean on people sometimes. We’re meant to lean on each other. You’re so unbelievably strong, but it’s okay to lean on me when you need to,” he comforted her, squeezing her thigh softly. She nodded, unsure what to even say. “How about I finish up work early and we can go wash up? Then we should eat and we can read a book?” he suggested. 

“That sounds nice,” she agreed. Sylus stood up and reached for her hand. She took it and he guided her to the bathroom where he slowly helped her undress, making sure that she was still completely comfortable. He made sure the water was extra hot for her, even though he thought she was insane for preferring the water to be almost boiling hot. He watched as she stepped into the shower and visibly relaxed more, the tremors in her hands stilling slightly. He got in behind her, hugging her from behind and saying nothing. It was more comforting than y/n had thought it would be. Despite what had happened, she felt okay in Sylus’s arms. They stayed like this for much too long, Sylus moving to help wash up. When they were done, he pulled out the new robes he had gotten. A new design from a luxury brand that promised ultra comfort in their robes. He ordered it as well as a few other things since that night. She had been staying with him and he watched as her anxieties had grown. She had barely slept, and he was determined to change that. When she was more well rested, she could process more and hopefully agree to talking to someone. 

After eating, they headed to Sylus’s bedroom. He put on one of his records before choosing a book and sitting on his bed, back against the headboard. Y/n stood by his bookshelf, not really wanting to start a new read. She wasn’t sure she could focus enough to read. Her fingers brushed across the spines of the books, her body saying to pick one but her brain unable to say anything but “watch out” or “run”. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Sylus called to her, inviting her to sit after seeing her internal conflict. She took his invitation, sitting between his legs with her back against his chest. Sylus held the book in front of them, arms caging his girlfriend. He read the pages silently before asking if y/n was ready to turn the page. When she didn’t respond, he decided to take matters into his own hands, starting over and reading the pages aloud. He kept his voice soft, hoping to lull her to sleep. His story choice wasn’t random either- he made sure to choose a book that had a message of comfort behind it. He hoped she would get the message- that she was safe here with him through the book. 

At first, y/n could barely get what was happening in the story, unable to focus still. So instead, she focused on her boyfriend. The rise and fall of his chest as he breathed against her back. The slight rumble she could feel as he spoke. His arms wrapped around her, but not suffocating as he held the book in front of them. The warmth from being so close. The sound of the record playing softly in the background- words of comfort being sung- mixed with the sound of Sylus’s voice, deep and comforting. She focused on these things first, allowing herself to feel safe. When she was able to focus on the story more, she realized everything about this was meticulously planned. Sylus had chosen a vinyl that had a soothing melody with words of comfort on purpose. He had chosen this book to give her a message- that she was safe with him. She had never felt so seen and cared for in her life, tears being brought to her eyes. When she sniffled, her boyfriend noticed immediately and stopped reading. “Are you alright?” he softly asked. 

“Yes. Thank you Sylus. For all of this,” she answered. 

“Of course, sweetie. I want you to not only know that you’re safe with me, but also that you feel safe with me. I’d do anything to protect you. If I could fight this anxiety away from you, I would in a heartbeat.” 

“I know you would,” she chuckled. “Keep reading.” Sylus did as she requested, continuing to read the book. Around ten minutes later, Sylus felt y/n’s body relax fully into his. He peeked down to see she had fallen asleep on him. He smiled softly, having nothing but love for the woman in front of him. He wished he could protect her from everything- the world, the bad feelings, the hard problems she was sure to face. If he could, he would take it all for her, leaving her with nothing but happiness, safety, and peace. But for now, he would continue to read to her as she slept in his arms, ensuring she’d feel safe even in her dreams. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Zayne 

Zayne could tell his girlfriend was anxious. Having known her even before they began a relationship, it was easy to spot. She hadn’t even noticed how she was feeling quite yet, but he saw the signs. It was why he had suggested going on a walk at a park. Zayne had scoped out all the parks nearby, finding which ones were the least crowded, but also the most scenic- the perfect place to walk if you’re anxious. Y/n had agreed, getting into his car and ready to walk. She had been stressed lately about work, things piling up. And on top of that there was a lot of drama in the office. So she was happy to spend time with Zayne. 

They walked through the park relatively slow, taking their time to take everything in. Their hands, stuck together, swung beside them. Though they didn’t speak much, Zayne kept a close eye on his girlfriend. At the beginning, she seemed more neutral. Stressed. Trying to hide it of course, but he could tell. Now she had a soft smile on her face, a genuine one. He guided her to a small pond at the park and her face lit up. “Look over there!” she exclaimed, letting go of his hand to jog over to the pond. He smiled and caught up to her. “Aww, they’re so cute! The little babies are even following,” she cooed. In the pond, there was a duck swimming, her small ducklings following close behind. She squatted down at the water to get a closer look at their cuteness, Zayne following. Upon hearing a crushing sound, she turned to her boyfriend, who was pulling out a bag of frozen peas from his coat. She laughed. “Where were you hiding those?” she asked. 

“That’s a secret,” he smiled at her, opening the bag and handing it to her. The ducks had also heard the noise and began to swim over to the couple. Y/n’s excitement grew the closer they got, sticking her hand in the bag and offering some peas to the ducks. They swam quicker, diving into the water to eat. The couple watched as they fed the ducks peas, laughing whenever a duckling would flop around, still unsure how to work its new body. Eventually, the ducks swam off, leaving the couple behind as they stood and watched. Y/n stood and took Zayne’s hand in hers, sighing. “It would be nice to be a duck sometimes,” she admitted.

“It would,” he agreed. 

“Just swim around all day eating peas people throw at you. They don’t have to worry about work. Maybe they still have to deal with drama. I don’t think I’d like a duck taking away my duck boyfriend,” she smiled. 

“If we were ducks I’d be just as dedicated to you. No other duck would sway me,” he mused. 

“How romantic,” she chuckled. “You knew how I was feeling, didn’t you? That’s why you brought me here.” 

“I did. I could tell you were stressed and likely anxious. If you weren’t anxious already, I knew you would be. Figured the fresh air and ducks could help.” 

“They did. But something else helped even more,” her eyes glimmered. 

“What’s that?” Zayne asked, wanting to know so he could help more next time as well .

“Getting to walk around with my handsome doctor boyfriend,” she smiled, making him chuckle. “I’m serious!” she insisted. “You always know how to make me feel better. Just being with you makes me feel better, we could have been at the stinkiest place right now and I’d feel better.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” he teased. 

“Okay, maybe not if it was stinky and gross. But you get the point,” she sighed. 

“I do,” he agreed. They began to walk again, this time back towards Zayne’s car, hand in hand. Y/n swung their hands happily, smiling more now and feeling lighter, ready to go home and end the night in his arms. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Xavier 

When Xavier woke up from his nap, he walked into the living room mto find his girlfriend on the floor in front of the coffee table, her head resting on the laptop in front of her. At first, he thought she was asleep, then she let out a groan of frustration. “Everything okay?” he asked carefully, grabbing himself a glass of water. 

“No,” she answered, exploding. “There’s too much to do and I’m so fucking tired. I don’t know how I’m going to do any of this. And all week long my coworkers have been staring at me, like daggers into the back of my skull and I don’t know what I ever did to them. Because of that I can’t focus at the office and when I’m here I’m either thinking about that or about how much shit there is to do that I can’t get done.” Xavier set his glass down gently and walked over to the living room, sitting on the couch behind her and looking over her shoulder at her laptop. 

“Want me to help?” he offered. 

“I would, but that’s technically illegal,” she sighed, looking up at him with a pout. 

“Then how about a break?” 

“I don’t have time for a break, Xavie,” she warned. 

“If it’s all making you this anxious, it won’t matter,” he argued. She sighed, knowing he was right, but not knowing what to do to calm her racing mind. “Would talking about it help?” he asked. 

“I don’t know? It’s like what I said. I don’t know what I did to them, but they just keep glaring at me. And I know I’m not imagining it before you ask that. I’ve tried thinking about everything. I don’t think I said anything rude or offensive, I haven’t thrown more work onto anyone, and I don’t think it was anything about me physically. I don’t know what I’ve done,” she shrugged. Xavier’s hands made their way to her shoulders, massaging them gently. 

“It could be nothing. Maybe they just felt like being dicks,” he thought aloud. “Have you asked Tara about it? She’s chill from what I’ve heard from you.” 

“I haven’t. She wasn’t at the office today, but she would know. That’s a good idea, thank you.” 

“Of course. Now about this work you got, any way of making a plan so you don’t feel so overwhelmed and anxious? What all do you have to do?” he asked. She went through all of the tasks she had to do and when they needed to be done with him. Xavier was weirdly good at organizing and breaking things down, so he took all the information she gave him and did just that. He broke down all of the things she needed to get done into smaller tasks and then organized them day by day, making a to-do list for her. It left her with just two more small tasks to do that day. “Thank you, Xavie. That helped a lot,” she thanked him, resting her head on his shoulder as he had moved to sit next to her. 

“Mhm,” he hummed. “Now I’m not rushing you, but get these done so we can go get some hotpot. I’m hungry.” 

“Yes sir,” she saluted him, getting to work. Before that, she sent a quick text to Tara, asking if she knew what was up. She didn’t get an answer until they were deep into their meal. Y/n suddenly began laughing, Xavier looking at her confused. They had just been eating. Was there something on his face? “Tara answered,” she told him. 

“Oh? What did she say?” he asked. Y/n sighed. 

“It’s dumb, are you ready for this?” she warned. He nodded. “Remember Monday when I forgot my lunch and you came and brought it to me?” He nodded again, confused as to what this had to do with anything. “Apparently, one of my coworkers thought you were cute…so they stopped you in the hall?” His face dropped. 

“I didn’t do anything. She just flirted and asked for my number, but I told her I was happily with you,” he informed her. She nodded. 

“I believe you fully. She must have been pretty offended though. She started a dumb rumor about me being a whore and cheating on you, which I’m not by the way. She starts drama all the time, Tara said she’ll take care of it,” She told him. 

“Ah, well, that’s good? Still not cool of her to cause so many problems,” he muttered, putting another piece of meat in his mouth. Y/n nodded in agreement and the two finished their meal, her anxieties being lessened knowing Tara would stay true to her word. It wasn’t the first time a nasty rumor had gone around and Tara easily smashed it in its place. When they finished, they returned home and washed up, Xavier yawning and barely making it to bed. His girlfriend got in next to him, facing him. “Thank you again for everything today. I feel a lot better now,” she told him. 

“Of course. I don’t like seeing you stressed and anxious. I’d do anything to help,” he told her, yawning again. She laughed at him. 

“Even though I was on an emotional rollercoaster today, you still seem tired.” 

“I’m always tired. Only time I’m not is when I get to spend the day with you.” 

“I was home today though, so doesn’t that mean you shouldn’t be tired?” 

“I wasn’t home all day, so I am tired. Tomorrow though, is our day off, so I’ll be wide awake,” he smiled, eyes already closing. 

“Whatever you say, sleepy. Goodnight,” she pressed a kiss to his nose, making him scrunch it up a bit. 

“Sweet dreams, starlight.” 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Caleb 

All it took was a single text for Caleb to visit his girlfriend. Having grown up together, he was easily able to detect when something was wrong, and her replying with just a thumbs up, was wrong. She was surprised when he showed up at her door. “Caleb? What are you doing here? Don’t you have a flight?” she asked. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“That’s what I’m asking you, yes,” she blinked. 

“I’m fine, but you’re not. What’s going on? Vibes are off too,” he raised his brow. Y/n sighed, moving aside to let him in. They sat on the couch, Caleb looking at her expectantly. Their relationship had been complicated. When they were growing up, they were as close as close can be, relying on each other and having no secrets. Then, Caleb had essentially disappeared, harming the relationship. At first when he returned, she had mixed feelings. Anger, relief, frustration. But eventually, it worked out, the two getting into a relationship. Despite how they were before, his disappearance had changed their dynamic, and going to Caleb for everything was harder than before. Y/n tried to keep more secrets, not big ones of course. Just ones like this one, not telling him how anxious she felt and that she had a panic attack the night before, causing her to call in for a sick day. “I don’t know where to start,” she told him. 

“How about why you’re not at work? What happened?” he asked, growing more concerned. “Do I need to beat someone up? Give you a million dollars?” 

“No, none of that,” she smiled, then sighed. “I had a panic attack yesterday so I called in to work. Still kinda anxious today.” 

“Oh,” he slowly said, processing. She used to always come to him when she was panicking, but this time she hadn’t. Of course, he knew things were different now, but it still sat uncomfortably in his chest. He didn’t even know she still struggled with them. Would what he used to do comfort her? He didn’t know what to do. When they were kids, she would just talk to him about it all. Did she no longer want to do that? Did she not trust him? 

“Stop overthinking over there, we don’t need both of us anxious,” she half teased. “I didn’t tell you because it’s embarrassing now. I can handle them myself, this one was just a bit much and I was exhausted. I’m feeling better today.” 

“Can I ask what caused it?” 

“You can. It started at work, a supervisor had some words to say to me. It was maybe a bit out of line, but obviously for most people they wouldn’t have been sent into a panic attack. It thankfully was at the end of the day so I just held it together until I got home. I already emailed and took care of it all, so no need to go hunt them down,” she explained. 

“I’m sorry that happened. And I suppose I won’t hunt them down, just because you said not to,” he smiled. “Well, since we have the day off, is there anything I can do to help?” 

“I mean, I was just going to nap the day away, eat junk, and chill,” she trailed off. 

“But?” he finished, urging her. 

“There is one thing that would be super fun.” 

“You gonna make me guess Pipsqueak?” he asked, exhausted. She grinned. 

“Take me on a flight?” 

Caleb had agreed and the two headed to the nearby private airport. He had gotten his pilot license and flew people around mostly privately, but he also had bought a small, old airplane, big enough for just the two of them. When they arrived, he got his gear on, letting the staff know they’d be in the air, and then got y/n her gear. She didn’t need much, as she wasn’t flying the plane, but he made sure to give her a helmet so they could talk. Y/n watched as he did all of the standard checks, ensuring everything was good and they were safe to fly. When he finished, he helped her into the plane, offering a hand. Soon enough, they were in the air. Y/n watched as they went through the clouds, looking down below at the world. It seemed so small from up there, like nothing really mattered on it. It was just a small rock floating through space. She yelled in half fear- half excitement when Caleb decided to make the flight more interesting, twisting and turning the plane. It was freeing to be up in the air, adrenaline rushing through their bodies as their worries were left on the ground. For Caleb, it was the best thing in the world to hear his girlfriend's screams and laughs in excitement. 

After landing, the two went back to her place. There they did as y/n had suggested earlier. They ate junk, though Caleb was sure to force in a few nutritious things, then watched a show. The two were cuddled up on the couch, face masks on while they munched on popcorn and watched the show they loved when they were kids. It was comfortable. Y/n had fallen asleep first, unable to stay awake after everything that happened since the day before. Caleb had taken her into his arms and carried her to bed, getting in beside her. He smiled softly as he looked at her, happy he was able to make her feel at least a bit better. In the morning, he would make sure that she was better, and if she wasn’t, he’d do anything she wanted to help her feel better.

[pineconepie]

Can you write more with Vincent? Maybe about the reader adjusting to their new life with him?

TW: Parental yandere, infantilization, forced age regression

...

When you wake up, you're in the same bed.

You're not sure whether yesterday was a dream or reality.

But looking around the room, it sure seems real enough.

It takes a few moments to process everything that happened before, however.

Yesterday, you got caught spying for Vincent's rival group. Instead of killing you, he decided to adopt you as his child, bringing you back to his home where he treated you like his own kid. He made you dinner and put you to sleep.

You still think its a little bizarre, if not completely insane.

Who the hell does that!? Surely this must be a joke!

Its early morning when Vincent comes in to check on you, opening your curtains to let light shine through.

He's smiling widely. "Hey there, sleepyhead. Ready for breakfast?" He doesn't wait for your reply, just picks you up and carries you downstairs, placing you back down in one of the kitchen stools. "We are gonna go shopping today."

"What for?" you ask hesitantly.

"You don't have any clothes besides those, and there's no way you're keeping that outfit you were wearing yesterday. It needs to go," Vincent explains, rummaging through the cabinets. "Also need to buy you things for your room." He pours juice in a cup and sits it down in front of you. "Also need sippy cups, bottles, coloring books... maybe even pacifiers, if you want them. There's tons of adorable designs out there nowadays! Oh, and stuffies too!"

You blink at him owlishly. "That seems a lot to shop for in just one day."

He chuckles. "A lot of your stuff I'll just order online, but I'd like to take you clothes-shopping because its more fun that way. And if you're good during our trip today, we can go to the toy store."

For a second, you almost forget this is a grown man that murders people for a living. Because right now he seems like a normal father, going out with his child.

Its strange how well he switches between this and acting like a mafia boss.

"What does being good exactly mean?" you decide to ask.

"Hmm... No running off alone, staying close to me, using your manners, stuff like that. Basically just following orders," he elaborates. "Not difficult stuff."

"Will I have a choice in what clothes I get?" you inquire.

He smiles at you. "You'll get a say, but I still make the last decision."

That makes sense, since you assume you're probably expected to act young. So most likely your choices will be restricted. But that's okay, at least he isn't forcing you to dress only the way he wants.

After breakfast is finished, Vincent dresses you in an overly-puffy jacket that makes you resemble a marshmallow, along with mittens, boots, and a beanie. And a scarf wrapped tightly around your neck.

Once he deems you properly bundled, he holds your hand and heads downstairs.

In the limousine, he helps you sit next to him, giving you some fruit snacks. You're thankful for that because it keeps you from needing to speak, since you have no idea what to even say in this situation.

"Where to?" the driver asks.

"The mall," Vincent answers simply. Then he smiles down at you. "You excited, pumpkin? Getting you new clothes is going to be lots of fun."

You don't respond immediately, still lost in thought about everything that's happened within the past twenty-four hours. You manage to snap yourself out of your daze enough to nod weakly. "Yeah..." you say softly. "Lots of fun..."

The driver nods, and drives you and Vincent there without another word. You lean against him tiredly. You still don't understand what happened yesterday.

Everything just happened so fast, and the next thing you knew you ended up living with a literal mob boss. This is all so insane.

When you arrive, he walks you through the massive building, holding onto your hand firmly to keep you close. There's tons of different stores to choose from, all kinds of brands and sizes and styles.

You've never been inside a mall like this before — you were always too busy, and couldn't afford to come here anyway.

This would usually excite you, if your circumstances were different.

"Mr. Brewer," a woman greets upon seeing you both enter the shop connected to the mall. "What can I help you with today? It's been a while since we've had the pleasure of your company."

"Oh yes, it certainly has," he responds pleasantly. "I'm here to pick up some clothes for my kiddo here." He pinches your cheek.

She grins. "Ah, okay. I think I have some selections you both might like."

The woman begins showing Vincent various articles of clothing — all of which are way more expensive than you can ever imagine affording yourself.

You don't care for many of them, but Vincent seems happy whenever she shows him another item.

Vincent holds at least one of every major designer brand's latest creations in his arms. Valentino, Givenchy, Burberry, Gucci, Prada, Versace, Louis Vuitton... It goes on.

In the end, he chooses several outfits from each label, ranging from formal wear to casual everyday attire, even swimsuits, footwear, sleepwear...

He grabs things left and right as they walk around the store. Soon, he hands off his haul to his personal shopper so she can tally up the total price.

"You don't need to buy all this, you know?" you whisper to him nervously. "I mean... a shirt is a shirt."

"Nonsense," Vincent replies. "Only the best for my baby, hmm?" He boops your nose. "Now lets get out of here and find you some stuffies at the toy store." And before you can protest anymore, he escorts you out the door, hauling the bags with him effortlessly. He carries the shopping bags with ease, despite you knowing it has to weigh several pounds.

The drive to the toy shop isn't far, luckily. Inside, everything is colorful and bright, with aisles upon aisles of stuffed animals, board games, dolls, action figures... everything one could possibly think of.

Its honestly overwhelming for someone who has rarely stepped foot inside one such establishment.

You follow Vincent to the plushie aisle. "Choose anything you like," he tells you.

With a bit of hesitance, you pick up a random plush toy and show it to Vincent, who inspects it. After deciding it passes his standards, he adds it to the basket hanging off of his wrist.

He repeats this process for several more minutes, letting you choose different ones, while rejecting others based on appearance or quality.

By the end, he must have bought well over three hundred dollars worth of soft toys. You wonder how much money he plans on spending on you...

Finally, once Vincent finishes picking out items, you head towards the checkout line, where he pays for your purchases without batting an eye. Once everything is paid for, he thanks the cashier politely, handing her his credit card.

After putting away his wallet, he offers you his free hand. Hesitantly, you accept it.

He walks you outside. "Let's go home, sugar cube." And he opens your car door, gesturing you to sit down and buckle up your seatbelt.

As you fumble with the buckles, Vincent puts your newly acquired plushies inside their individual shopping bag, loading it into the trunk. Once done, he enters the car himself, and the driver takes off.

"How much was all that?" you finally muster up the courage to ask after a few minutes of driving in silence.

Vincent shrugs. "I wasn't counting." He pulls up his phone and into his bank account. "About fifteen thousand dollars. Thought it would've been more."

Fifteen thousand. For just a shopping trip.

How rich is this man?

Before you can voice your question aloud, you arrive home.

The limousine parks itself on the side of the street near his penthouse complex.

A valet opens your door and helps Vincent out first, before helping you as well. He grabs your hand after grabbing the bags, leading you towards the main entrance.

"Welcome back, sir," August greets again from the front desk. "Anything you need assistance with?" His gaze lands on the bags in Vincent's grasp.

Vincent shakes his head. "Nah, don't worry about these. We're headed straight upstairs." He pushes the button to the elevator, ushering you inside once it arrives.

After all that today, you're exhausted. You rub your eyes and yawn widely. Shopping wore you out more than it should've. You just want to crawl into bed now and nap forever.

"Is my baby sleepy?" he coos.

You open your mouth to answer him, but it gets cut off by another loud yawn.

"Thought so. You're falling asleep on your feet." He scoops you up, cradling you close to his chest. The smell of his cologne is oddly soothing, causing you to relax further against his chest. "We can have a little naptime after lunch, I suppose. Dad could definitely use a nap, too." He gives your forehead a kiss, as the elevator stops, and he carries you to the apartment.

It amazes you how strong he is. To carry you around like it's nothing is incredible, like you're actually a baby.

And yet, you feel safe enough in his hold not to struggle, even if you don't want to admit it.

He sits on the couch with you in his lap, turning on an kid's movie.

"Can we watch something other than kid stuff?" you mutter.

He scoffs. "But you're a kid, silly."

"But—"

"Shh."

As soon as it starts playing, you don't know if its due to exhaustion, but your eyelids begin feeling heavy.

You rest your chin against Vincent's shoulder, nuzzling his neck. Along with his cologne, he also smells like spices, coffee grounds, and a bit like gunpowder. Its a surprisingly pleasant mix, not overpowering or unpleasantly fragrant.

"Did you have fun today?" Vincent asks, petting your hair.

"I guess," you murmur. "I don't wanna do anymore shopping, though."

Vincent hums. "It is exhausting, isn't it? We can stop for now and pick up the rest online." He tickles your side, chuckling at your immediate reaction, and peppers kisses all over your face, eliciting a squeal from you. "My sweet baby, all tuckered out..." He grabs one of the teddy bears out of the bag. "What will you name this one?"

"T...Teddy?" you stammer. Its the first name you can think of, and it sounds reasonable.

Vincent presses the bear close to your chest, which you happily cling to. "Hello, Teddy," he murmurs, "nice to meet you."

You sniffle, hiding your face in the crook of his neck again.

"Aww," Vincent giggles, rubbing your back. "My little cuddle bug. Get some sleep now, kiddo. Don't worry 'bout a thing."

[bradleysass]

Toad - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 658

James Potter was many things—Quidditch star, insufferable flirt, and self-proclaimed Charms prodigy. However, if today had proven anything, it was that he was also a complete and utter menace with a wand.

“James,” Sirius said, staring at the small, unimpressed toad sitting on the floor. “What the absolute hell?”

“I—I don’t know!” James flailed, running a hand through his already disastrous hair. “I was just trying to disarm him, but something went wrong—”

“Something went very wrong,” Sirius deadpanned, crouching to pick up the toad. It squirmed furiously in his grasp, making an indignant croaking sound. “Reg? Is that you?”

The toad responded with what could only be described as an aggressively judgmental ribbit.

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, that’s him.”

James groaned, pacing the room. “Okay, okay, no big deal! I’ll just—uh—reverse it! Yeah! I’ll just… um.” He hesitated. “I don’t actually know how to reverse it.”

Sirius turned to glare at him. “You mean to tell me you turned my little brother into a bloody toad, and you don’t know how to fix it?”

James winced. “To be fair, I didn’t do it on purpose!”

The toad—Regulus—hopped out of Sirius’s hands and landed on the floor with a tiny, disgusted plop. He turned his beady eyes up at James and let out a croak so deeply unimpressed that James felt the judgment all the way to his bones.

“This is fine,” James said, mostly to himself. “I’ll just go to the library and—”

“No need,” Sirius interrupted with a lazy smirk. “I know exactly how you can fix this.”

James brightened. “You do?”

Sirius’s grin widened into something outright devious. “Of course. Haven’t you ever read The Princess and the Frog?”

James blinked, then frowned. “…No?”

Sirius huffed. “Alright, well, in the Muggle world, there’s this story where a princess kisses a frog, and poof! He turns back into a prince.”

James recoiled. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on, Prongs, do you want to fix this or not?”

James turned to the toad, who was still glaring at him, and he swore to Merlin that if Regulus had arms, they’d be crossed. “There has to be another way.”

Sirius shrugged. “Suit yourself. But unless you want to explain to McGonagall why my brother is now Hogwarts’ newest amphibian resident, I suggest you pucker up.”

James groaned, rubbing his face. “This is blackmail.”

“It’s a perfectly reasonable solution,” Sirius corrected, grinning. “Besides, it’s just a little kiss! What’s the worst that could happen?”

James squinted at Regulus, who looked positively murderous despite his tiny form. He sighed, kneeling down. “If I get warts, I’m blaming you forever.”

He reached out, picked up the toad—who squirmed in protest—and squeezed his eyes shut. “Alright, alright, let’s get this over with.”

With the most dramatic groan known to wizardkind, James pressed the lightest, briefest kiss to the top of the toad’s head.

There was a loud POP, followed by a very human thud as Regulus Black reappeared in all his furious, tousled glory—right on top of James, pinning him to the floor.

James barely had time to process the sudden weight before Regulus grabbed his collar and scowled down at him. “If you ever turn me into a toad again, I will hex you into oblivion.”

James blinked up at him, face burning. “Uh. Noted.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes, then—completely unnecessarily—grabbed James by the front of his robes and kissed him again. Hard.

Sirius, still watching from the sidelines, gagged. “Okay, yeah, I take it back. This was a terrible idea.”

Regulus pulled away, scowling. “You suggested it.”

“I was expecting suffering,” Sirius muttered. “Not whatever this is.”

James, dazed and completely overwhelmed, turned his wide eyes to Regulus. “So, uh… you’re not still mad?”

Regulus smirked. “Oh, I’m still mad.” He leaned in just a little closer. “You’re making it up to me later.”

James gulped. “Oh.”

Sirius groaned. “Never again.”

[fishermanshook]

ASK: Hi:) if you feel like it how do you think ganji norton and naib would react to reader saying they feel safe with them?

“TRUST IN ME!”

( batter , prospector & mercenary ) + gn!reader

occ , angst in naib & ganji’s part , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

To fall in love is a risk not all are willing to take. Putting your heart on the line could result in rejection and heartache instead of love and happiness.

To fall in love in a place like this is out of the ordinary, but not exactly uncommon. And as you find yourself sinking more into your lovers embrace, you can’t help but whisper the words;

“I trust you.”

꒰wc꒱ 1.3k

✦— THE BATTER

You say it to him after a match where one reckless move could’ve killed you.

It’s night when the Batter, Ganji Gupta, holds you tight in his arms. Maybe a little too tight for your liking, but you did put him in a frightening situation earlier today. You recall shoving him out of the way in order to save him from a blow to your head. You don't remember much after that. Just blurry memories of being in Emily's office and then, returning to your room with Ganji.

“Ganji,” you sigh, clawing at his arms in an attempt to free yourself from his grasp, even if it’s just a little bit. “You’ve gotta loosen up a little bit, please. I’m really sorry I did that earlier, but you needed to get out…”

Ganji is quick to stop your rambling by holding you (somehow) even tighter than before. “[name], you got hit on the head with an axe. None the less, a Detention hit. If I—“ Ganji sucked in a deep breath of air, letting it fall from his mouth before speaking again. "If I hadn't used my last ball I don't think you would've struggled out in time. And I don't want to think about having to leave you behind because that was your last chair."

Immediately, Ganji stiffens and sits ups. he seems to have finally processed what just happened.

"[name]. you could've died. And for what?" Ganji repeats the question while shaking you by your shoulders, tears pricking at his eyes threating to fall.

You cup his face and put your forehead to his, allowing his to fulling chompreheand the choice you made during the last match.

"I understand it was stupid of me," You start, closing your eyes. "But I don't do things without reason."

The Batter quickly wipes away at his falling tears, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "Then why did you do it? You said it yourself, it was a stupid choice."

"Yes, but I did it for you. I did it because I have put more trust into you than anyone else in this wretched manor. And I knew, that even if I didn't make it out during that last game, that you would still be okay. Surviving another match means surviving another day. And for you, I'd do that again."

"God," Ganji wipes at his nose. "I hope you don't."

✦— THE PROSPECTOR

You say it to him when you’re tired and vulnerable. when anything can happen.

It was early in the morning when the Prospector, Norton Campbell, snuck into your room to pry you awake from your slumber. With your bedroom key in hand (you gave it to him in case of an emergency), he tip toed into your room. He couldn’t help but silently laugh as he peered at your morning appearance. Hair a mess with a side of droll staining your pillow. Cute, but he can stare more later.

The Prospector is quick to shake you awake, pinning your arms to your side so you don’t land a hit on him in fear of being attacked. As he hovers above you, he explains that there’s something he wishes to show you.

“But Norton,” you whisper into his ear “the sun isn’t even up yet.” You hoped the darkness of your room could conceal the light blush on your face.

“Exactly why I want you to come with me. I promise it’ll be worth it.” Norton mumbled, pulling you out from under the covers. Sliding on a pair of shoes, you drag your achy body behind him and follow the Prospector outside the manor.

Fresh dew covered the grass outside, making it a bit wet and chillier than usual outside. Fortunately, Norton had came prepared. Set up outside was a big fluffy blanket with more than enough pillows to spare. Two mugs of coffee residing inside.

“Ever seen the sunrise?” Norton asks, already knowing the answer based off your shocked expression.

You shake your head no as the Prospector reaches to grab your hand and lead you towards the spot. It didn’t take long to get settled, and when you did, you found your head in the core of Norton’s lap.

“Oh? What’s this?” Norton teased “cold aren’t ya’?” You shiver in his arms as a response. Before grabbing his face with your hands. It’s a weird position, but Norton doesn’t mind. Instead he leans into your touch. A soft smile on his face.

“Have I ever told you how much I trust you?” You ask with genuine curiosity.

“I’m not sure, have you?” Norton questions, brushing your hair to the side of your face.

“No, I’m being serious. Stuck in a place like this leaves everyone fending for themselves. But because I have you, I have someone to watch my back. I really appreciate that Norton. I trust you more than anyone else in this manor.”

Norton looks at you with sad eyes as he bends down to place a gentle kiss upon your forehead.

“I trust you more, doll.” He says as the sun starts to rise. Showering you in its warmth and light, a feeling he now resonates when it comes to you.

✦— THE MERCENARY

You say it to him during a particularly risky match where everything seems to be on the line.

There are time where a match can go inexplicably well, where everything goes absolutely perfect and you survive the game with all your limbs intact and the egotistical pride that comes with it.

Those aren’t all the time though, and when both sides are fighting it out until their last breath, it turns into a messy and an undoubtedly long match.

This seems to be one of them, and you’ve collected more than enough scars and bumps and bruises to prove it. You’re more than sure you’ll have to make a stop by Emily’s offfice, but now’s not the time to think about that. You must stay focus on your current task: stitching up Naib.

Sangria got him good this time as a long scar has taken shape on his back. Naib bites down on his bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the whimpers of pain he feels. He thought he was better at this. Better at pretending he wasn’t hurting. You know him all too well though.

“m’ sorry, ‘m sorry I know it hurts. I promise I’ll be done in just a second.” You say in attempt to comfort and reassure him. All he does is nod his head and sucks in a breath of air in order to steady himself.

The Mercenary is off the second he feels you tighten the last of his bandages. You’re quick to jump onto a cipher machine as well to catch up on the progress that was lost.

—

This match has been nothing short of a living, breathing disaster.

You still can't shake the ear piercing scream Fiona let out as she was hit down again minutes later, and you won't forget the horrible cut that now runs across Naib's stomach. You’d stich it up but you don’t have the time for it. Not when Fiona needs rescuing.

“Naib, take over the last cipher. I have to go in.” You tell the Mercenary, racing past him. He stops you, grabbing—no, shaking you by the shoulders.

“No, please, [name] don’t go in there. It’s not worth it we can, we can get—“ he continues to trip over his words out of fear and desperation. “please [name], I don’t wanna lose you.”

“Naib, I promise I’ll be out soon. I trust you, I wouldn’t go in if I didn’t.” And that’s that. You place a quick kiss on his forehead before dashing off towards Fiona’s chair. You hear him scream your name out afterwards.

note: KILLS MYSELF THIS IS ACTUALLY TERRIBLE [crys]

© fishermanshook — no stealing , translating , plagiarizing or reposting my work on other any other sites + reblogs adored !!

[tweetybaird]

Hey! I noticed you needed some inspo, so here’s a request!

JJ Maybank x female reader (smut!)

Take this wherever you’d like, but the reader is lounging somewhere reading her book when JJ makes his own plans. He loves her nipples, and plays/sucks/fucks them while she’s reading <3

🍯Nectar 🍯

a/n: omg yes. i am the biggest advocate for mamas boy jj and i just KNOW that after a bad day he’d come home and go straight to you to suck em. UGH anon i love you

none of my works are proofread!!

cw: boob play? idk what the proper term is, titty fuckin!, bsf! jj, i think that’s it

nobody remembered when it happened exactly, but it was part of the normal now for the pogues. jj would inevitably have at least one breakdown a week, and you were always there, waiting with open arms (and bra.)

nobody really remembers, but maybe it started two summers ago?

~~~

the rumble of jj’s bike filled the otherwise quiet atmosphere, popping the bubble of peace and yet rebuilding another. you lounged in the hammock, one leg hanging off to keep it rocking, as you reread your favorite book for the nth time. your eyes stayed on the page in front of you as your best friend stomped over. finally, his heavy foot steps came to a stop, right beside the hammock.

you took your time to finish the sentence you were reading, before calmly raising your head to look at jj. “hey, honey,” you softly mumbled, spotting the tears on his cheeks and immediately changing the reading tone you’d originally brought forward. “rough day?” the blonde just dropped his head, shaking it silently. “wanna..,” he mumbled, his voice so quiet the rest of the sentence was unintelligible.

“what, j? i can’t hear you sweet boy.” he grumbled, frustrated hands tugging on his hair. “i can’t say,” he said, voice just slightly louder, “it’s embarrassin’.” you were quick to scold him for this. “jackson james maybank, i have known you my whole life. we used to take baths together as kids and we’ve been each others first everything. nothing you say could ever be embarrassing, not with me.”

after taking a deep breath to compose himself, the blonde spoke up. “can i like, lay with you?” appalled by the question you immediately cut him off, “jj we cuddle all the time wha-�� but he wasn’t having it. “not like that,” he spoke up, “i meant like, i wanna, ugh.” his head dropped once more, frustration running in his veins, “can i just show you?”

your eyebrow raised with suspicion, but you nodded. jj slowly laid himself on top of you, snuggling close in the hammock. “i wanna,” he mumbled once more. jj rested his head on the left side of your chest, as his left hand slowly moved up your shirt. you were confused, but laid still nonetheless, letting him explain himself.

eventually jj’s hand snuck its way into your bra, cupping your chest gently. a soft sigh spilled from his lips when he felt the warmth. “wanna do this,” he whispered, “but, but with my mouth.” it took a moment for you to respond, processing his words. “you wanna suck on my chest?” relief visibly flowed through the boy when you understood, his head nodding quickly.

“um, okay,” you mumbled, hesitance evident in your shaky voice. if jj could tell you were nervous he didn’t comment on it, simply sitting up enough that he could lift your shirt past your chest. something dawned on you, your hands covering his, “wait!” jj’s head snapped up, worry coating his features. “j, honey, we’re still outside,” you spoke softly, not wanting to worry the boy in his vulnerable state.

jj whined, wanting nothing to do with the idea of removing himself from you right now to go inside. “i can go under your shirt?” his whiny tone had you giving in immediately, just like he knew it would. you’d do anything for him. so you nodded, and jj excitedly pulled your shirt back down before sliding under it.

~~~

today, you and jj are resting on the couch outside the chateau, your shirt and bra long since removed. jj snuggled closer under the plush blanket, tongue swirling around your nipple before he latched on, sucking softly. his left hand held your other boob, the fingers on his right squeezing your hip every few seconds.

john b walked out of his home, eyes searching before they locked onto yours. the brunette came closer, crouching down beside the couch when he reached you. “he under here?” john b’s voice was quiet as he grabbed the blanket, you nodding in response. slowly, he pulled the blanket down just enough for jj’s head to be revealed. “hey bubba,” john b whispered, “i’m gonna go get supper, you wanna ride along?”

jj hated that idea actually. despised it. he was half asleep and you’d just gotten to the good part in the book you were reading aloud. so in response, jj simply closed his eyes, continuing to suckle. john b sighed at the silent denial, shaking his head with a chuckle before covering you with the blanket once more. “okay, i’ll be back.”

the brunette walked out as cleo and sarah were walking in, both giving you a smile and chirpy “hey!” as they went. eventually, when jj fell asleep, you removed him from yourself, knowing you’d have to show face at home before your parents reported you missing. giving the pogues a hug and a kiss each, you left, leaving a very angry jj behind.

which brought you to now. to be fair, you should’ve told the boy what your plans were instead of just leaving him, but you didn’t think it would warrant such a response. your plush comforter was warm beneath you, your hands shaking in their position above your head.

the only sounds filling the room were jj’s grunts and the slick sound of his dick sliding between your tits. his hands kept your tits pressed together, the only restriction keeping your hands pinned being his threat to ‘spank your ass raw’ if you moved them. “jay,” you whined, desperate to feel some stimulation after him abusing your chest.

“shut up,” jj’s gruff voice huffed, his breath hitching at the end. he was close, whines slipping through his lips solidifying the fact. you stuck your tongue out to help, his tip pressing against it with every thrust. “oh fuck!” the blonde cried out, release spilling across your chest and lips.

after taking a moment to catch your breath your hands finally moved, coming down to rest on jj’s thighs. “feel better, honey?” he just laughed, breathless, before collapsing next to you. “love you so much,” he mumbled, sleep soon taking over.

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Something Stupid

AO3

Simon is lounging at the table while you boil some water. You stared at the kettle as you waited. The electric one you had wasn't working, you didn't have the funds yet to replace it and didn't dare mention it to Simon. The last time you mentioned that you needed something he added you to his credit card. That had been a whole thing.

Flicking through the mail you found a plain envelope with your name on it. Bit odd, but might as well check what bill collecter this was from. Sliding the guts from it you are surprised when one side of the folded paper dips with weight.

Concerned now, you flatten it against the counter. Glued to the middle right of the paper is a black credit card with your name on it. Outright worried is now your level of concern.

The letter is generic, here is your card, here is how to activate it, signed from the issuing company.

Thinking this must be some elaborate scam you grab your phone and search for the customer service line of the company. Waiting on the line and dodging the automated system you finally reach a person.

"Thank you for calling *Credit Card Company*. How can I help you today?" The professional voice on the other end chirps at you.

"Hi, so I have a bit of a weird situation that I am hoping you can help me with." You pause for a breath before continuing. "I recieved a card in the mail from your company but I don't have an account with you and I am a little worried that this might be a scamming attempt. A elborate one, but still."

"Oh, that does sound quite odd. Can you give me the number that appears on the card? We will see what I can find," the gentle concern layed over customer service helps.

"Yeah," you provide the number and wait.

A moment of silence is broken by the agent.

"I'm still here, I am just double-checking what I am seeing so I give you all the correct information."

"That's fine, I won't think the call dropped if there is silence." You had a phone job once. Heaven forbid you not be filling the silence on the line or a customer would lose their minds.

"Okay, so it appears that you have been added by a cardholder with us. A Simon Riley has added you and initiated the card being sent to the address we have on file. Is there anything else I can help with today?"

"I...no..I guess that is everything I needed. Thank you for your help," you stare at the counter as you try and process what you learned.

Staring at the spotted formica of the counter you lean forward on your hands. The shock had started to wear off, you couldn't decide if what you were feeling was nausea or rage. Why the hell did he add you to his credit card? You barely knew each other!

Yes, you lived together but the man was gone 80% of the time and you hardly spoke the other 20. The only thing you could think is that you happened to mention needing deodorant and that having to wait because of when payday occured.

Calling him seemed the best option. You knew he was still in the country. Said he would be home in two days and had to finish up some overnight training at a nearby base.

Your call reaches voicemail after two rings. Calling again it hits voicemail immediately.

"Fucker you cannot avoid talking to me about this," you growl at your phone. Your case bites into your fingers where you grip it tight. "Fine, let's try John."

John picks up on the third ring.

"Price."

His work voice makes you smile.

"Hi John, is Simon around by chance?" You ask sweetly.

He must turn the phone to his shoulder as he shouts for Simon by his call sign.

"Phone's for you."

A shift in the silence tells you Simon has put the phone to his ear.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" You snap into the phone.

"'bout what?"

"The credit card?" You can't prevent yourself from slashing your hand through the air even though he can't see you.

"It's easier."

These short responses are making you madder.

"Simon Riley who does this make things easier for?!"

"Me."

"Explain that," you growl into the phone. You start to pace the length of the kitchen.

"Keep the food stocked and yourself cared for. Price, here is your phone."

Agast you can't keep your mouth from dropping open.

"What's that about?" Price's voice draws you back from the edge of madness.

"That is about Simon adding me to his credit card without talking to me about it and expecting me to use his money responsibly and keep food in the house. If he doesn't show up to his next assignment it's because I've killed him, John. That man takes too many liberties with my life and I don't know how to make him stop."

"Well, first off don't threaten him. I can almost guarantee he likes it," John muttered into the phone.

"That is not helpful John," you snap.

"Sorry, don't know how to be helpful in this kind of situation. Call me if there are more issues though." He ended the call without a goodbye.

When you stretched your jaw to work some of the tension out of it the joint popped.

The whistle of the kettle drew your attention from your memories. Filling one cup had you turning the green kettle nearly vertical and still not having enough water to finish filling the large mug.

Without thinking about why it would be a bad idea you pull the top off to refill it. A puff of boiling steam rushes up and over both of your hands. You drop the kettle to the stove with a hiss.

"Well, that was stupid," Simon comments.

Rolling your eyes you stick your hands under cool running water. "Don't you ever do something stupid without thinking about it?"

His head appears before you, lips pressed to yours. His eyes are soft as he pulls back.

"Yes."

You glare at him.

"I'm not going to take offense that you think kissing me is stupid. Nope, not taking offense at that."

You slam the water off and aggressively dry your hands, tossing the towel on the counter instead of neatly returning it to its home.

A few hours of avoiding him later you overhear a conversation on speakerphone from the living room.

"Simon you are the stupidest smart man I've ever met. And that's saying something, we both know Soap," John chastises Simon.

Simon chuckled dryly, "Still don't understand how he can do the math to blow an oil rig sky high but can't figure out a budget."

John chuckles in reply.

"Don't know how to explain to her that it was the kissing that was stupid, not the kissing her," Simon says quietly.

"Can't help you there, if she's mad at you she is more likely to agree to go on a date with me," John points out sounding smug.

Is that what they have been doing asking you on dates, trying to win? You can't decide if you should be offended or flattered.

"I could take her on a date if I wanted but I like spending time with her here."

"I like spending time with her too, but I can also get a cool activity out of it at the same time," John counters.

Okay so maybe they weren't all trying to date you, just spend time with you and only have the language to call it a date. Hmm. Looks like you will be hearing from John soon then about a date.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[fuck-customers]

i’m going to have to format this horribly and i apologize in advance, but i really need to share just how insane this lady was.

customer comes in on tuesday to place a large order for pickup on sunday at 11. no worries, happens all the time. i ring her up, cash her out, print out a second copy of the receipt. say “alright cool! i’ll put this on the calendar, hang your receipt in the office, and let my other managers know to expect you sunday at 11 :)”

and then the floodgates open. “what if my husband needs to pick it up?” yeah no worries as long as he gives us the name on the order— your name— it’ll be fine. “do you need id’s?” uhhh no. “ok what if he’s late?” yeah no worries we keep the orders behind the counter until they’re picked up. “ok how do i keep the food warm?” uh it comes in metal pans, so— “but if i need to reheat it?” uh i guess the oven would work, maybe? “you don’t have an official recommendation?” uh no not really, i would just use the oven— “i thought corporate would give you guys a way to do this.” no they don’t really, just the oven maybe? “what if you’re late?” i’m sorry? “what if we arrive for pickup and you’re not done?” oh, well we start the orders fifteen minutes ahead of time at least, if we don’t have it right on time it shouldn’t be a long wait at all. “ok the party is at noon, it’s not gonna take an hour is it?” no it shouldn’t take— “can you guarantee that?” well it’s a sunday during graduation season and you’re not our only large order at that time so i can’t guarantee anything but— “ok, what on my receipt says it’s for pickup on sunday?” uh, nothing? “why?” our pos system can’t account for orders placed today for pickup in the future, so we just— “why not?” it just doesn’t have that capability— “how is my order going to be ready on time?” so like i said earlier, i’m going to use our calendar, put a copy of your receipt in the managers office, and use our manager teams chat to make sure we’re all aware of it. (this bit i had to explain multiple times. i still don’t think she understood.) “when i was on the phone earlier it seemed like you guys had a better process for it.” well this is our process that we use for every pickup order. “hmm okay. whatever.” and then she left. i thought id be done dealing with her.

and then on saturday she called our store again and spoke to our assistant gm. was just as annoying to her. first insisted it was a mobile order— which runs off a totally separate pos system— and then got mad when my agm couldn’t find it, so she was screaming that she spoke to someone on counter. when my agm was able to find the order and confirm pickup time, she once again asked a million questions about pickup and wanted to make sure it would be ready on time. she asked for my agms name, and said “what are YOU, jane doe, going to do to ensure my order is done on time?” agm said i’m off tomorrow so i’ll let my other managers know to be ready for you. this witch had the audacity to insist she come in on her day off to “oversee the order.” agm said no. customer demands to know who’s going to oversee the order instead. agm says the gm, who’s on shift for pickup. customer asks for his name and phone number?!? agm obviously says here’s his name but i am not giving you his phone number. customer huffs and puffs about it but accepts the situation. hopefully pickup goes off without a problem i guess.

Posted by admin Rodney

[offbrandkyoya]

[6]

m.list next

Why is his crush coming to practice? Kageyama had not the slightest clue.

Kageyama is starting to freak out. He still feels embarrassed about what happened in the classroom. “Earth to Kageyama!” Hinata jumps up and down, waving his hand in front of his partner's face. “Stop thinking about milk-chan and focus on the game!”

Tsukishima overhears and scowls, ���You know it’s weird calling them ‘milk-chan’ out loud, right?” Hinata shrugs. “So?” “What do you mean, so? It’s fucking weird.” “You’re weird!” “What?” Yamaguchi stands between them with a sigh. "Hinata, don’t provoke Tsukki.”

The ginger sticks out his tongue while Tsukishima rolls his eyes. Kageyama doesn’t react to the small argument that happened and simply walks the other way. “Okay boys, get in formation!” Coach Ukai shouts, and the boys go into position.

Kageyama is going to serve first instead of Asahi. ‘Maybe hitting this spike will let my feelings out.’ He lets out a breath before tossing the ball up, running a few steps forward, and hitting the ball right across the net. He gets the point, and he goes to hit again.

Another point, and Kageyama hits once more. Nishinoya digs for it, and Tanaka goes to pass to Sugawara to set. Daichi hits the ball, and Asahi goes to dig it up. This goes on for a while before taking a break.

Kageyama huffs, exhausted from playing. He hears someone shuffling next to him, but he’s too tired to tell them to shoot away.

“Milk-chans here!” Hinata whispers in his ear, and Kageyama immediately straightens up. His eyes dart across the gym until they land on his crush, talking to Yachi about who knows what.

They notice his stare, and they wave. Kageyama's cheeks flush and stand frozen. “Wave back, idiot.” Tsukishima mutters close to his ear. Kageyama does so, and his crush smiles more than ever.

They start to walk towards him, which starts freaking him out. “You’re really good.” They say, and Kageyama stutters, “U-Uh, T-Thanks, um...” He looks to the floor nervously. “I wanted to check on you.” His heart flips and flops. “I’m sorry for showing up out of the blue.” They explain, and Kageyama isn’t processing anything at all.

“Since you were struggling with English, I came to see if you had time to study. I was worried about you.” Hearing that, steam comes out of Kageyama's face. “I hope volleyball isn’t getting in the way.” They continue. Kageyama's words are incoherent, and the rest of the boys stare in disbelief.

“Kageyama is embarrassing himself.” Hinata says it with a pout. “They seem into it.” Tsukishima snickers, and Yamaguchi sighs in response. Daichi steps forward and pats Kageyama's back with a chuckle. “Do you need to borrow him for a minute?”

Their cheeks flush, and they shake their hands. “I was just asking if he wanted to study with me! I understand if he can’t because he needs to be here for volleyball.” “I see.” Daichi’s hands go on his hips. “Unfortunately, we need Kageyama since we have a practice match soon.” “I understand.”

They smile at Kageyama. “I’ll leave you alone now. Have fun; I’m rooting for you.” Those words replay in the boy's head, and his face gets even redder if that were possible. “R-Rooting for me?” “Mhm!” They confirm, and he almost passes out. Tanaka was thankfully there to stand him back up.

“Why don’t you study at his place?” Ennoshita suggests, after walking over, making sure Kageyama doesn’t fall again. The group stared at him in awe. “Yes!” Hinata jumps up and down. “You can study at Kageyama's house! He lives practically alone.” Kageyama comes back to his senses and kicks Hinata's side. “Shut up, dumbass!”

They smile wide. “That’s great! Is that okay, Kageyama? I’d love to be with you today.” The boys stared at them upon hearing those words. The guys looked at Kageyama's reaction, and sure enough, the poor boy was losing it.

Kageyama’s mouth is wide open, and his cheeks are glowing red. “Y-Yeah…that’s…okay…” They giggle, “Great! I’ll wait for you then.” They say farewell and leave the gymnasium.

“Kageyama has a date.” Sugarawa chuckles, and Kageyama falls to the floor, startling the boys and panicking if he just stopped breathing.

im hungry

chat i wanna see sxf code white so bad or I’m JUMPING 😭😭😭😭😭😭

loid forger save me…save me loid forger…

@karma-gisa @cosmiicdust @abcdefghijklmzopqrstuvwxyz @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @xmagik @tnazips @zhochikennugget @makkir0ll

[luckymilkshakerebel]

Unspoken Love: Minho's Tender Care After Our Loss

Genre: comfort, strengthen the bond, miscarriage mention, foster connection

Cast: Lee know (minho) stray kids x female reader

---

The air in the house was heavy with silence, the kind that pressed down on your chest and made it hard to breathe. It had been days since the miscarriage, but the pain still lingered, sharp and relentless. You hadn’t spoken much since it happened, retreating into yourself while Minho, your husband, quietly stood by, giving you space but never leaving your side.

He was your anchor in the storm. You didn’t know how he managed to stay so calm and steady, but you were grateful for him. You didn’t have the energy to speak most of the time, but Minho didn’t seem to mind. He was there, always there, making sure you ate, making sure you rested, and just holding you when the sadness became too much to bear.

But today felt different. Something was wrong—more wrong than usual.

You woke up feeling sore, your chest heavy and uncomfortable. At first, you thought it was just part of the physical recovery process, but as the day went on, the ache in your breasts grew worse. By the time the afternoon sunlight was streaming through the living room window, you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

You sat on the couch, staring at your hands and trying to make sense of the discomfort. Your body felt foreign to you, like it didn’t belong. The ache in your chest wasn’t just physical—it was emotional too, a cruel reminder of what you had lost.

Minho walked into the room, his footsteps soft on the hardwood floor. He had a knack for sensing when you needed him, as if he could feel your emotions without you saying a word.

“Hey,” he said gently, sitting down beside you. “How are you feeling?”

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Minho reached out, his warm hand covering yours. “What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip, glancing down at your lap. “My chest hurts,” you said quietly. “I don’t know why.”

His brow furrowed, concern flickering across his face. “Hurts how? Like... sore?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s been getting worse all day.”

Minho was silent for a moment, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Have you checked?”

You shook your head, a wave of guilt washing over you. You hadn’t wanted to deal with your body—hadn’t wanted to face what it was going through.

“Let me help,” Minho said softly.

You looked up at him, uncertainty flickering in your eyes. “Help how?”

“I can take a look,” he offered. “Just to make sure everything’s okay. If it’s too much, you can tell me to stop.”

His voice was calm, steady, and full of reassurance. You trusted him completely, and though the thought of being so vulnerable made your stomach twist, you knew he only wanted to help.

“Okay,” you whispered.

Minho gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before helping you up from the couch and guiding you to the bedroom. He grabbed a couple of pillows, arranging them behind you so you could sit comfortably on the bed.

“Just tell me if anything hurts or if you want me to stop,” he said, his voice gentle.

You nodded, your heart pounding as you lifted your shirt. The ache in your chest was sharper now, and when Minho gently touched your breast, you winced.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his brow furrowing as he examined you. “It feels like...” He trailed off, his expression shifting as realization dawned on him.

“What?” you asked, panic creeping into your voice.

“I think your milk is coming in,” he said softly.

You stared at him, your mind racing. “What? How? That doesn’t make sense.”

Minho sat back slightly, his hand resting on your knee. “It happens sometimes,” he explained. “Your body doesn’t realize yet... about the baby. It’s just doing what it thinks it’s supposed to do.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your body didn’t realize. It didn’t know. The tears came without warning, spilling down your cheeks as the weight of it all crashed over you.

Minho immediately reached for you, pulling you into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry, love.”

You clung to him, your sobs muffled against his chest. The grief was overwhelming, the pain too much to bear. Minho held you tightly, his hand running up and down your back in soothing strokes.

When your tears finally subsided, you pulled back slightly, wiping at your face. “What do I do?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“We’ll figure it out,” Minho said, his tone full of quiet determination. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

You nodded, trusting him to guide you through this.

“First,” he said, “we need to relieve the pressure. It’ll help with the pain.”

You glanced at him, unsure. “How?”

He hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I can help,” he said gently. “Manually. If you’re okay with it.”

The thought made your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but you knew Minho wasn’t suggesting it lightly. He just wanted to help, to ease your discomfort in any way he could.

“Okay,” you said quietly.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile and grabbed a clean towel from the bathroom, placing it nearby. He sat down beside you, his touch careful and deliberate as he began.

At first, the sensation was strange—unfamiliar and slightly uncomfortable—but as the pressure in your chest started to ease, relief washed over you.

“Is that better?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

“Yes,” you whispered, tears welling up again. “Thank you.”

Minho paused, his thumb brushing away one of your tears. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly. “I’m here for you. Always.”

The room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing and the occasional sniffle. Minho worked slowly, his focus entirely on making sure you were comfortable.

As the physical relief spread through your chest, the emotional weight of the situation hit you all over again. Tears slipped down your cheeks, unbidden, and Minho immediately noticed.

“Hey,” he said gently, his hand coming to rest on your arm. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just... everything,” you said, your voice breaking. “I feel so broken, Minho.”

His expression softened, and he pulled you into his arms once again. “You’re not broken,” he said firmly. “You’re grieving. Your body is trying to heal, and that’s not something you can control. But you’re not broken, love. You’re stronger than you know.”

You clung to him, his words sinking into your heart. It didn’t erase the pain, but it made it feel a little less heavy, knowing he was there to carry it with you.

When he finished helping you, he cleaned his hands and sat back against the headboard, pulling you into his lap. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you said softly.

“You’ll never have to find out,” Minho replied, his hand gently running through your hair.

The grief was still there, a quiet ache that would take time to heal. But in that moment, wrapped in Minho’s arms, you felt a flicker of hope. With him by your side, you knew you could face whatever came next.

Want to read more you can go to my MASTERLIST

[ericshoney]

Sensory overload ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: Your day doesn't go as planned, which Nick, Matt and Chris help you through.

Warnings: possible swearing, shouting, crying, kicking, punching, nicknames, reader is ADHD and autistic, fluff ending

Reader's age: 6

a/n: I know everyone with ADHD and autism don't show behaviour like this when over stimulated/having a sensory overload, but this is how the reader deals with it at her age.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had started on Monday morning.

You weren't feeling the best after having all weekend with Nick, Matt and Chris, knowing after having a fun weekend with them, you had to go school, but they promised they would be home when you finished and would do something fun.

So as you went to school, you weren't the happiest. When you got to school, you saw your best friend wasn't in either, so that made you feel worse and then to top it all off, your teacher wasn't in, meaning you had a substitute who you didn't know and upset your routine.

The teacher, whose name you didn't care to learn, planned fun stuff. Which for most kids your age was awesome, but you didn't like surprise activities that didn't follow routine or you didn't have time to process. This also meant the classroom was very loud, something else you didn't like.

So by the time you were picked up by your mum, you were already overstimulated, since you didn't have any of your stim toys. You got in the car and your mum saw your sad face.

"Oh honey, what's wrong?" She asked.

"Bad day." You mumbled.

She frowned as you started tapping your fingers on the seat. She knew what she was about to say too would upset you.

"Honey, I can tell it's been a bad day and if you want to talk about it you know you can, but if you don't want to right now that's okay. But when you get home, Nick, Matt and Chris won't be there straight away." She began saying.

"What! But they promised!" You shouted, kicking your feet against the seat. Luckily it was the passenger seat.

"Sweetheart calm down please. I know they promised, but they went to the store with your dad." She explained.

"They thought they would have been home when you got there." She added.

You whined and pulled at your hair, everything had seemed to fall apart today. Your routine was messed up, you didn't have your stim toys and your brothers wouldn't be home when you got there.

Your mum soon pulled in the driveway, letting you out of the car. You then ran inside and to your room, throwing things around. MaryLou sighed as she brought your bag in, placing it on the sofa.

Ten minutes later, your dad and brothers came home, each greeting your mum cheerfully.

"Where is she?" Nick asked, noticing you not around.

"Crying in her room." She answered.

"Why, what happened?" Matt asked.

"Bad day at school, she hasn't said what happened, I also told her you wouldn't be here straight away, she started kicking in the car." She replied.

Nick, Matt and Chris came up to your room, seeing you crying on your bed. The three frowned and walked in slowly.

"Hey bub, we're here now. We just had to help dad get some stuff at the store." Chris called softly.

"Said you'd be here." You mumbled.

"We know bub, but dad needed some extra help. It was only ten minutes, okay." Matt replied.

"Wanna tell us what caused you to be upset about school?" Nick asked.

You sighed and told them everything. They listened closely and Matt noticed you drumming on your legs. He walked over to your dresser where most of your stim toys sat and grabbed you one.

"We're sorry it was a bad day, kiddo." Chris said, pulling you in for a hug.

"Just got messed up." You muttered.

"We understand, sweetheart. When things don't go to plan it can be hard." Nick responded.

"Am I in trouble?" You asked.

"No, petal! Never, we all understand your needs and it's all okay. You wanna go to the park?" Matt suggested.

"If that's okay." You said.

"Always kiddo. I'll even race you." Chris said, making you smile wide.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: lowkey don't feel this is any good 😞

Tags:

@lgbtq-girl @mattsfavbigtitties @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @riowritesitall @sturniolo-fann

[nubiawrites]

chapter one

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Original Character

Warnings: Slow burn. Injuries.

Summary: Terry Richmond is tasked with joining an operation by an old friend: be an off the book operative working with protecting the first daughter. But what happens when he gets in too deep.

Notes: Think of this as an escape from the world we live in. I had this idea for my first Terry Richmond fanfic so be gentle with me. This is an AU. There will be some political talks but not too much. Shout out to the show Paradise cause this kind of inspired me.

The red light on the camera blinked as Terry stared directly at it. Even though he knew that the camera wasn't the only thing watching and taking notes, he wanted to concentrate on the agent across from him and the device recording him.

"Please state your full name for the record,” Agent Wolks requested.

“Terrence James Richmond,” Terry stated.

“Terrence, do you know why you’re here today?” Agent Wolks leaned against the table. Her hair pulled back into a bun that spoke all business.

“Yes, ma’am,” Terrence spoke. 

“You were assigned to the security detail of Code Name Dawn, also known as Kennedy Rose Jameson, the fort-”

“She’s more than that,” Terry spoke back calmly.

“Excuse me,” Agent Wolks raised her brow.

“She’s not just the first daughter. She’s more than that,” Terry said. “She’s a young woman, more than just a political title. She has interests and dreams. Goals,”

“We’re not here to discuss that, Mister Richmond,” Agent Wolks stated. “We just need to know what happened to the first daughter,” She asked. “And why she is currently in a medically induced coma in a hospital. What led us to that, Mister Richmond?”

Terry tried his best to stay calm, thoughts of Kennedy swirling in his mind. He wondered how she was doing, if she was getting the care she needed, and whether she hated him. He didn’t care if she did. Knowing that she could channel any energy was enough to reassure him that she was okay.

“And what happens if you don’t like what I say?” Terry asked, his defenses coming up. Having been in the Marines, he knew how things could get if someone stepped out of line.

Agent Wolks paced for a moment. There was control in her every step. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” She sat in the chair. “Let’s start at the beginning.” 

♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠

“We got a little celebrity on campus,” Mike spoke, backpack dropping on the counter as Terry pulled out a beer. The heat of summer was still rearing its ugly head in New Orleans. After a long day of showing new student workers how to process paperwork for students interested in self-defense classes, he earned the cool drink. 

“Mike,” Terry threw a glance at the backpack. 

“My bad, T,” Mike put the bag down, holding a hand up. Terry gave him a nod. “I saw her.”

“Saw who?” Terry pulled another beer out, sliding it over to his younger cousin.

“Saw the first daughter.” Mike popped open the cap to his beer bottle before failing at sinking it in the trash can. “Kennedy Jameson,”

“Kennedy Jameson?” Terry rolled his eyes before taking the cap off of his beer. “At Tulane? She doing some charity work or something,”

“She’s enrolling at Tulane,” Mike said. Terry raised his eyebrow at him. “You know that girl I was with? Tia?”

Terry rolled his eyes, remembering how he almost had a third roommate as Tia and Mike dated, their situationship lasting two months before Mike declared they were two different people. Tia seemed to be calm until she nearly took out Mike’s windshield. Thank god Terry talked her down, explaining it wouldn’t be suitable for anyone if it ended with property damage.

“Mike, I was the one saving your ass from brain damage if she got her hands on you,” Terry reminded him. “I’m surprised she hasn’t clawed your eyes out.”

“Well, I got the gift of gab. She works in admissions, and they've been gearing up for weeks. Every grad school has been on notice, but she’s following in Madame President’s footsteps. Tia says she’s interested in a Political Science Masters. Then Harvard Law.”

“So Tulane is where she wants to be?” Terry raised an eyebrow.

“Her father is an alumnus here. I guess following in both parents’ footsteps,” Mike shrugged. “But this is dope, T. Being on campus with the first daughter.”

“I hope she can last.” Terry took another swig of her drink. In his past life as an MCMAP instructor, he had the luxury of being amongst political figures and dignitaries when they visited the base where he was stationed. This was not as shocking as it was for Mike, but he wouldn’t ruin his cousin's excitement.

“You have no faith in our first daughter,” Mike teased. “Mean ass,” Mike tries pushing against Terry’s chest. But Terry was quicker, dodging out of the way. The two began slap boxing, Terry with his beer in one hand and a chuckle escaping him as his little cousin swore he had the moves to take him down. 

After a moment, Mike backed off, as he had to get started on some mixing for a club he had a DJ gig for. Terry moved to the balcony of his apartment, taking in the view of his neighborhood. It was one of his favorite things to do at the end of the day, finding his peace as he took in the sights. But his peace was interrupted when a text came through on his phone. He saw the name and sat up. 

Terry pressed the contact and called the number back.

“Richmond,” Campbell answered after three rings.

“Tyler,” Terry replied. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m in town. I thought we could catch up?”

“Your kind of catch-up leads me to trouble.”

“Trust me, I’m a changed man,” Campbell chuckled. “Remember that barbeque spot we kept in business. Meet me there at Twelve hundred hours.”

“Okay,” Terry stated. How much harm could one meal between friends do? 

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The rustling of patrons talking over their barbeque in the afternoon was background noise to Terry and Campbell as they caught up over a cold one and their meals.

“What’s crazy is even after you got hit in the face for smacking her ass, she still gave you her number,” Terry shook his head at Campbell sitting across from him.

“What’s crazier is that we’re still happily married,” Campbell tipped his beer bottle to Terry. “With a kid and a half on the way.”

“Congratulations on that, brother,” Terry held his drink up in a toast to Campbell.

“I’m not gonna even lie. I never imagined this would be my life after I left the Marines. But getting that job in the Secret Service. Made this all possible,” Campbell said, ruffling his blonde hair.

“Is this your way of recruiting me because even though you’re paying for this meal, I ain’t budging,” Terry stated. “I like my life here. I can’t do all the bureaucratic bull shit,”

“I swear. I’m not man,” Campbell stated. “But I do have a proposition for you.” He leaned in. “What do you know about President Jameson’s daughter?”

Terry narrowed his eyes at Campbell’s words. “I know enough about her through articles and the occasional morning segment. Only daughter to the first African American woman president,” Terry remembered watching the first inauguration of President Samira Jameson, her husband beside her alongside her two sons and daughter. He remembered how they walked the streets afterward, taking in their new normal, and he was in awe of their presence. It felt good to be Black in that moment. The second time around, it was even better, but it was still bittersweet knowing they could be the first and the last Black family in the White House.

“Well, she has decided to attend Tulane,” Campbell stated. “And the amount of security she needs will be well… substantial.” He leaned in, Terry pausing to take another sip of his drink. “I have a team here, but I need a man on the inside. Someone I can trust.”

“I’m not about to be some glorified babysitter,” Terry stated. “I’m not saying that. Listen, T,” Campbell said. “All these secret service agents are yes men. You say jump. They don’t even care how high. They just do it. And even if I’m the head of this team, I need men who can make their own choices. Not just follow blindly.”

“But isn’t that the job of the Secret Service? To follow blindly, making sure the First family is safe?” Terry retorted.

“Yes. But these kids they got in this agency now aren’t thinkers like us. Sometimes, in the moment, I see the flicker of hesitation in their eyes. I need someone trained not to hesitate.” Campbell took a sip of his water.

“So, what do you need from me?”

“Someone who is outside of it all. She’s starting school in a few weeks, and we need the extra eyes. It would be off the books; the Government would have you on a codename. The money would be good. You still helping Mike with his school payments?” 

Terry nodded, knowing that working at the school afforded his cousin an education at a discount, but student loans were a bitch.

“Consider his year paid in full.” Campbell grabbed his phone, opened it, and showed Terry an account with many zeros.

“Why do you need me, Campbell?” Terry asked. “There are others from the MCMAP program you could ask to take on this.” 

“There’s no one else I would trust with this job,” Campbell stated. 

Terry rolled his shoulders, thinking for a second about the proposition.

“What can I do more to convince you?” Campbell asked.

A thought popped up in Terry’s head at the words, Campbell already seeing the gears turning in his head.

“What do you have going on in that head of yours?” Campbell stated. Terry leaned back in his chair. 

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Kennedy Jameson was used to the eyes of the world on her. Her mom rose to prominence in the political world, and from a young age, she had to learn to adapt. This meant headphones were plugged in, blocking the noise and prying eyes. She knew her secret service agent was following behind her at a respectable distance, one they had figured out from years of working together. Some were stationed at the entrance and throughout the stacks, giving her the peace and privacy Kennedy wanted when trying to find a book in the university library.

The term hadn’t started, but Kennedy knew the university library would become her home away from home. She found refuge there during undergrad, knowing that at least books were always there.

Kennedy turned down an aisle, a few books in hand, as she scoped the shelf, searching for something that caught her eye. But she nearly had to jump out of the way when a book fell from a shelf in front of her, missing her by a few inches.

Iriye removed her headphones and saw a man with beautiful caramel skin and bluish-gray eyes bounding into the aisle.

“My bad,” The man spoke to her. “I was trying to put a book back and winded up pushing one in.”

“No, you’re fine,” Kennedy stated, trying to remain calm. He was too handsome; it unnerved her somewhat. Her secret service agent approached, and she raised her hand. "It’s okay, Campbell,” 

Kennedy turned to Campbell and nodded her head. Campbell eyed her for a second before giving her some space.

“Sorry about that,” Kennedy stated, returning to the man, taking him all in. Low taper fade. Long sleeves bunched around his forearms that showed a spatter of tattoos—a simple watch on his wrist.

“Terry Richmond.” He offered his hand to her. She placed her hand in his and calmed herself as the rough skin touched hers.

“Kennedy Jameson,” Kennedy gave him a polite shake and pulled away, not wanting to linger too long. “You come here often?”

“Hm,” Terry raised his brows at her. She pointed at the books he had under his arm. “I try to. Perks of working on campus,”

“That would be the best part of the job. The books and all,” Kennedy chuckled softly.

“I agree with that sentiment. It has one of the best library collections here, in my opinion. It even has a book section for the giant books. The best seats are available as well. Not many people go there, so it’s always quiet. It’s the perfect place to read and study,” Terry admitted, seeing Kennedy’s smile brighten with every word he spoke. He could tell she sought solace in quiet places, something he could relate to.

“Well, I will have to check it out then,” Kennedy said. “You wouldn’t mind showing me where it is?”

Terry should have been thrown off by how quickly Kennedy was willing to go with him, a mere stranger, to a part of a library alone. But seeing the security around her, he figured she thought she was safe enough.

“Follow me,” Terry said, walking forward. Kennedy saw one of her newer agents step forward between her and Terry.

“Thank you,” Kennedy stated, even if she wasn’t thankful for the distance put between her and the handsome stranger named Terry. They shuffled towards the aisle, her security details scanning the area. She moved out of their way, stepping closer to Terry, him becoming aware of how close the first daughter was to him.

“This an everyday thing?” Terry attempted a joke, but his deep voice made him sound a bit dry when using humor.

“Only on a good day,” Kennedy admitted, her thinking he was serious about the question. She was used to explaining the need for security, even if everyone knew who she was. 

“It was a joke,” 

“Oh, right,”

Kennedy and Terry stood silently beside each other, one of the agents telling her it was clear.

“You can go if you want to,” Kennedy said, already trying to give Terry an out, her parents’ words about wanting to go to their alma mater playing in her head.

“Like I said, this is the best seat in the library. And since I’m here, I’m not planning on leaving until it’s time for me to,” Terry commanded as he moved to sit in one of the plushier chairs. 

“You said it was the best chair only after you sat in it,” Kennedy chuckled, looking at the books on the shelf. Terry looked up at her from his book.

“Well, it’s also my favorite chair, so,” Terry stated. 

“Right. Sorry, I didn’t know the king of the giant library books had a throne,” Kennedy deadpanned. Terry chuckled at her words, a soft smile stretching over her face. It just made her cheekbones higher.

“Kennedy,” Campbell said. We gotta get a move on.” Kennedy nodded at him, seeing him reach for her books. She handed them to Campbell, and he walked away.

“I’ll see you around, Terry Richmond,” Kennedy stated. Terry nodded and watched her as she walked away. He let out the breath he had been holding, watching her walk away. 

♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧���♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠♠♧♠

Terry had finished finalizing the time cards for his school gym employees, knowing they would be ready to be turned in during the morning. 

He rolled his neck momentarily, wondering if he should head on out as his assistant manager was already there for the night shift or at least spend some time hitting a bag or two.

Terry found it hard to relax after running into Kennedy, his brain already absorbed by her enigma. He had tried to avoid speaking about her when Campbell texted him, asking for a chance to debrief, but Terry had found an excuse in payroll handling. 

Now it was done, and his phone sat at this desk like a harbinger of doom rather than an escape. He decided to get this over with. Rip it off like a bandaid. He had been through worse. By memory, he dialed Campbell’s number and waited two rings before Campbell picked up.

“Damn, payroll that intense,” Campbell asked.

“It is when you have college students needing weekend money. These kids don’t play nowadays,” Terry explained.

“Nickeling and diming. I get it,” Campbell replied. “So… what do you think?”

“About?” Terry asked. He heard what sounded like Campbell shuffling somewhere.

“About Kennedy,” Campbell asked.

Terry tapped his finger on the desk, attempting to figure out how to convey it to Campbell. He had it all worked out in his mind. She’s a flight risk. She’s too unpredictable. Easily impressionable. Too trusting. Beautiful. It was all ready to slip off the tip of his tongue. But he thought about her. How being in her presence… felt like being close to greatness untapped. Could he give that up?

“Listen Campbell-” 

“You’re really turning me down? If you’re not gonna do it for years of friendship. Come on. Do it for the money,” Campbell joked.

“I wasn’t going to. Listen. If we do this. We do it my way. And I walk away at any time. No if, ands, or buts,” Terry stated.

He heard a long silence, checking if Campbell hung up on him.

“You got yourself a deal, Richmond,” Campbell stated. “Check your doorstep tomorrow at eight hundred hours. There will be a burner there for communication between us,”

“Good deal,” Terry stated.

“Thank you, man. I appreciate this,”

“Just know anytime I want barbecue, it’s on you,” Terry chuckled.

“I’ll become a Pitt master just for you. Night,” Campbell said before he hung up. Terry tapped the phone against his chin, wondering if this was a bad idea. 

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“So Campbell reached out to you with an offer. One that he stated was off the books,” Wolks repeated, her voice reverberating into the room behind the two-way mirror.

“I’m assuming that off-the-books thing was a lie,” Terry tsked, and a shaky laugh came to Samira’s ears. A cough followed, and Samira was already reaching out to help the source with a sip of water.

“I’m fine, mom,” Kennedy stated, swatting away her mom’s help. 

“You’re not fine. We almost lost you,” Samira said softly.

“But I didn’t die,” Kennedy replied back.

“Kennedy-” Samira stated, being caught off by a hush. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Doing what?” Kennedy asked. Samira gave her a stern look. One that spoke concerned mother rather than leader of the free world. “I have to know, Mom. I have to know if any of it was real,”

“Baby, I know you’re trying to think logically,” Samira spoke. “But you need to rest. You shouldn’t be here,”

“I will rest when I know the truth,” Kennedy said. “Please, Mom,” 

Samira saw the pouting on her daughter’s lips and sighed. 

“Okay… we’ll keep going. But you need to listen to me,”

“I will,” Kennedy promised. It sounded good on her lips at the moment. But she just knew she would get more than she wanted, especially when the man she loved was being interrogated.

[disneyprincemuke]

woke up, blamed it on the vodka

max stares at the ceiling of his room, eyes narrowed into a squint as he vaguely tries to remember what had happened the night before. he refuses to move from his position — the different types of alcohol he had willingly consumed catching up to him with a nasty hangover to go with the god forsaken nausea.

then his body freezes. his heart skips a beat in his chest and he jolts to a state of woke that he wasn’t in until now.

oh, god.

someone needs to sedate him. he can remember it — the one thing he had said to you as you escorted him into his bed with his arm over your shoulder. you had pulled the blankets over his body and gave him a gentle pat on his arm.

he can remember before he closed his eyes, muttering that he loves you, and goodnight. he fell asleep the minute he closed his eyes so he doesn’t even know if you had said anything back.

he’s royally fucked up this time, for sure.

suddenly it feels like every bit of hangover has dissipated from his body. he shoots up from his position on the bed and pats around his duvet from his phone. he has to see what you said to him; if you’ve even addressed his words.

hopefully, you were just as intoxicated as he was when he blurted it out. surely you don’t remember it right?

he’s only been seeing you for about 5 weeks since lando had introduced you to him. he jumped the gun and asked you out on a date. you’ve hung out several times, seemingly in that phase of the talking stage where you simply can’t get enough of one another.

while he knows how intensely he feels for you, even he’s not quite sure that it’s love just yet. he’s smitten, yes, he admires you, yes — but that is hardly considered love at this point.

nothing from you yet. is it that you’re still deep in your hungover state or are you ghosting him from the events of last night’s party? he has never really the type of be able to read between the lines between what girls say, which has led to many several failed talking stages.

which is also why he’s completely tried to avoid dating for a while. but you made him want to dabble in the cruel games of push and pull, made him giddy with smiles after good pickup lines and hoping — badly wishing — that he doesn’t mess this one up.

yet here he is.

max should have spent the rest of his afternoon nursing his hangover. he doesn’t, though. he can’t stop thinking of you and what you’ll say to him eventually when you come over to stay the night.

he’s only ever said ‘i love you’ to one other person he’s dated. it didn’t end well, which would explain the anxiety over your inevitable presence later in the day. he can only list out your possible reactions to him.

will you call it quits the moment you come over? perhaps you’re too generous — you’ll distance yourself over time until he’s got the time to process your separation? will you even show up today?

he rolls out of bed when the doorbell rings and his heart dropping to his stomach when he looks at the time. he wraps his duvet over his shoulders, grumbling as he dragged his feet along the floor to open the door for you.

he opens the door, revealing you with a smile on your face. you’ve got your overnight bag over your shoulder and a plastic bag in your hands.

“hi!” you beam, leaning in to press a kiss on his cheek. you pull him in for a quick hug, which he reciprocates hesitantly as he wraps one arm around you.

you immediately sense the lack of energy, prompting you to pull away with an eyebrow raised as you stand out in the hallway. “is everything okay?”

he barely gets a word out before you’re speaking again. a gasp escapes your lips as you wave him off nonchalantly. “oh, how rude! of course, you must be having the worst hangover. i made you chicken soup.”

“thank you.” he watches in confusion as you walk into his apartment, as you usually would when you agree to spend the night.

he closes the door slowly and walks over to you. the apartment is silent as he watches you walk in and out of the kitchen to prepare him some food.

“um, have you got anything to say?” max asks softly as you step out of a kitchen with two glasses of water in hand.

you look at him, confused, as you walk to the table. “what do you mean?”

max presses his lips together. was he hallucinating when he said it? genuinely, he really thought he was dying after getting egged to drink more than he wanted to. he can vaguely remember the way he was barely able to stand in the elevator without leaning on you for support.

he remembers being in fits of giggles as he watched the numbers on the display change faster than he remembers it going.

“last night,” max stares at you blankly, tightening the duvet around his shoulders.

you have a small grin on your face as you look at him. he looks very cozy wrapped in the duvet, the fabric sitting on his head as he sways slowly side to side.

“what about last night?”

“i,” he trails off, looking at you with an eyebrow raised. “i told you i loved you… did i imagine that happening?”

you drop your head, your body shaking with a small grin. “oh, that.”

he furrows his eyebrows. “yeah, *that*. well, you see… i was so drunk from the vodka cranberry i drank like juice.” he watches your face contort into something indescribable: pursed lips and a raised eyebrow. “not that i don’t like you — i *do*, trust me — and i royally fucked up blurting that out. i do like you, i swear! but, god.”

“max.”

he looks at you with parted lips and raised eyebrows. “yes?”

“i knew you were drunk out of your wits last night.” you put the cups down on the table before you walk over to him. “realistically, i barely remember hearing you say it as well.”

actually, you lied. you do remember hearing max say it. as clear as the day. you stayed up all night thinking of it and hearing his voice echo in the back of your mind. you were hoping and praying that he wouldn’t bring it up at all.

while you really liked max, it’s simply too early to tell with things like these. you were afraid that he would remember and that he would double down and say that he means it.

you’re way more glad that he took it back rather than him saying he means it. you’re simply not ready and neither are you sure of your own feelings.

“oh,” max sighs exasperatedly, dropping his head with a soft laugh. he looks up when you hold the duvet and wrap it around his body slightly tighter. “so we’re okay?”

you nod. “we’re okay. now, join me for some chicken soup?”

@cashtons-wife @darleneslane @happy-nico @nikfigueiredo @namgification