#okay sorry I will do the requests I will I just needed to get this out of my system

[enwoso]

weight of the world | part two

alessia russo x baby!reader

-> based on this request | includes some upsetting themes throughout so read with caution.

grumpy masterlist | part one here

the phone rang twice before carol answered, a breathless. "hello?"

"hi, carol, it's ella," ella said quickly, her voice shaking. "i—i'm sorry to call so late. i- i just didn't know what else to do."

there was a beat of silence. carol's voice softened instantly as if she already knew. "it it alessia?"

ella swallowed hard. "yeah."

carol's tone sharpened a little, worry laced in her tone. "what's happened?"

"nothing—no, wait- it's not nothing—i just..." ella rubbed her hand over her face, forcing herself to say it. "it's not nothing actually. alessia's not okay, carol. she's— i don't think she's eating, or sleeping properly, she's snapping at everyone, she looks so tired and she keeps saying she's fine but it's so clear she's not. she's not even close."

carol didn't say anything for a second. ella could hear the faint sound of the to playing in the background along with the clink of a mug being set down.

it was home. it was safe. meanwhile alessia was out there drowning.

"i-i've tried to talk to her," ella whispered. "but she's- she just... she pushed me away. she's trying so hard to hold everything together and it's like she thinks asking for help makes her a bad mum."

carols breath hitched so faintly that ella almost missed it. "my poor girl," carol murmured. "you've done the right thing calling me, love. thank you."

"i didn't want to betray her, but i just—" ella broke off, tears stinging her eyes. "i just don't know how to help anymore."

"you have helped ella, you always do even if alessia's not always appreciative of it," carol said firmly. "but now it's my turn."

a pause. "i'll get the train up, i'll be there tomorrow morning."

ella exhaled, a sob catching in her throat. "thank you, carol."

"no thank you for loving her enough to fight for her when she couldn't fight for herself." the call ended, the silence thick with unspoken fear. and for the first time since you'd been born, ella felt the tiniest spark of hope.

⸻

the next morning, carol was already on a train from kent, sitting rigidly upright, the seat vibrating as it raced along the tracks beneath her, heart pounding so hard it hurt.

her fingers twisted together in her lap, and no matter how many deep breaths she tried to take, none of them reached past the fear lodged tight in her chest.

every mile closer to manchester, the worse the storm inside her grew.

when she finally made it to alessia's front door, she hesitated only a second before knocking — a firm, deliberate sound that echoed down the quiet street.

it took too long for the door to open.

when it finally swung inward, alessia stood there with you glued to her hip still asleep, alessia blinking blearily, like she had been woken from a half-sleep.

"mum?" alessia rasped, her voice hoarse from exhaustion—or maybe from crying, or both.

carol smiled tightly. "hello, darling." alessia just stared at her mum for a beat, confusion flashing across her face.

"mum, what are you doing here?" alessia said, forcing a brittle little laugh that cracked apart before it even fully formed. "i didn't—"

"ella called me," carol said gently, her voice even but not apologetic. "she's said she was worried about you. and,, now... so am i."

immediately, alessia's entire body tensed. her free hand that had been resting on the edge of the door curled into a tight fist at her side. alessia's mouth twisting into something ugly and defensive before she could stop herself.

"of course she did," alessia muttered bitterly under her breath. of course ella thought she couldn't handle it. of course everyone thought she was weak.

"well i’m sorry but you've wasted a journey here, i'm fine, mum," alessia said louder now, her voice snapping like brittle glass as if she was trying to convince herself more than her mum. "i don't need anyone swooping in like i'm some—some charity case."

carol stepped calmly into the narrow hallway of her apartment, ignoring the stiffness in alessia's shoulders.

"i'm not here because i think you're broken, less," carol said softly. "i'm here because i love you. and you look like you're drowning, like you need a bit of support."

"i'm not! i- i don't." alessia snapped, the words flying out, too sharp, too desperate. "i'm coping just fine! i'm training fine, lovie is fine and healthy, i'm paying the bills, keeping the house—"

but alessia's voice cracked mid-sentence. "i don't need help," alessia said again, quieter now, but no less fierce. "i can't need help."

the way alessia said it made her mum's heart twist painfully — like needing help would be a failure so deep alessia couldn't even bear to name it.

carol didn't argue. she didn't push. she just stood there, steady, quiet, a safe harbour waiting for the storm to burn itself out.

"you're allowed to need help, alessia," carol said after a long pause, her voice just above a whisper. "you're still strong. you're still y/n's mum. you're still you. just... tired. that's all. there's been a lot of changes for you in the past few months."

alessia shook her head violently, eyes shining, but she didn't move away. she stood there frozen, you fussing lightly against her chest, and for a moment, carol saw the full weight of it—how close alessia actually was to shattering.

slowly, carol opened her arms. and alessia stood stiffly for a second longer, jaw clenched, fighting it with everything she had—fighting the weakness, the vulnerability, the terror of letting go—

—and then, finally, she stumbled forward into her own mother's arms, her whole body trembling with the effort of holding herself together.

carol wrapping alessia up carefully, one hand cradling you between them, the other bracing alessia's shaking back.

"you're not failing, darling," carol murmured into her hair. "you're just human and you don't have to do this all by yourself anymore."

alessia didn't reply. her arms instead came up shakily to clutch at carol's coat, and though she stayed stiff and tense for a long, long moment, eventually her head tipped forward, resting against her mother's shoulder.

not surrendering. just... allowing. allowing herself, for the first time in a few weeks, to not be alone.

but within the first day, alessia barely let her mum help. alessia didn't shout. but her voice was always just one decibel too sharp.

like glass stretched too thin, seconds from splintering.

"no mum, i said i've got it," alessia hissed when carol reached out for your bottle. you were screaming, red-faced and writhing in alessia's arms. your little legs kicked as alessia juggled the formula with trembling fingers. carol's hands hovered instinctively.

"i'm just trying to—"

"i said i've got it!" alessia's voice cracked mid-sentence, fraying around the edges.

alessia screwed the bottle lid on too tight. shoot the bottle too hard. spilled it anyway. your cries kept going, louder now, sharper. a crescendo of sound that made alessia’s whole body stiffen.

carol didn't flinch. but inside, alessia was already bleeding. her mum watched alessia cradle you against her chest, one hand pressed to her temple like alessia was trying to hold her skull together.

there were deep dark circles beneath her eyes. alessia's skin, pale and waxen, hung over her cheekbones like it didn't fit anymore. alessia's hands, so used to the delicate touch of a football—twitched now with nerves she couldn't suppress.

when you finally took the bottle, alessia's shoulders dropped—but only slightly. relief never came. just the next thing. always the next thing.

carol tried again after lunch. "why don't you rest for a bit? have a nap, time to yourself. i'll keep an eye on her."

"i am resting," alessia muttered as she began scrubbing a perfectly clean counter. alessia hadn't touched the soup her mum made. instead just moved the spoon around for twenty minutes and pretended to chew.

"but you've been on your feet all day."

"i don't need a break. i'm fine." the words came out like barbed wire—sharp, defensive, tired of being questioned.

carol said nothing, she knew nothing she could say would change alessia's mind, alessia needed to make the realisation herself. so instead she watched as alessia started scrubbing harder, her hands red-raw from overwashing, her movements tight with fury. or fear. maybe both.

later on the day, carol began to fold some of baby clothes which had been lying around in the laundry basket. trying to do something small. something helpful.

"i keep her sleep suits in the top drawer," alessia said from across the room, her voice too calm. too clipped.

carol paused. "sorry, less, i-"

"and then her vests go underneath. no- that's not where they go." there was venom in it. but no heat. just cold exhaustion.

carol slowly laid the folded onesie down. alessia snatching it up the second her mum turned her back and refolded it, perfectly square, as if her whole sanity depended on it.

and maybe it did.

that same night, carol sat at the edge of the bed in the spare room, staring at the dark. she could hear you fussing through the thin wall. could hear alessia pacing around again. over and over.

floorboards creaking like clockwork. alessia's footsteps, heavy and urgent. alessia hadn't stopped moving all day.

hadn't sat still long enough to breathe. cause if she sat down—if she stopped even just for a second—maybe it would all catch up to her. maybe the weight of it would bury her alive.

carol brought a hand to her chest, where her heart ached in the kind of deep, maternal way that didn't come with instruction manuals or easy fixes. she as watching her daughter disappear in real time, and there was nothing she could do but wait. wait and stay.

as what alessia was fighting wasn't just tiredness.

it was guilt. shame. a bone-deep fear that she wasn't enough. that she was failing you, her baby.

that if alessia didn't do everything perfectly, something terrible would happen—and it would be her fault.

that was the real cruelty of postnatal depression. it didn't scream. it whispered. it told her that she wasn't a good mum. that her baby deserved better. that she was just holding on—only because no one had noticed yet that she wasn't capable.

and alessia had always been capable. on the pitch. in life. everyone expected it from her. even now.

but carol knew better. her daughter was breaking—quietly, invisibly, in plain sight. and she just prayed that tomorrow... the mask might slip enough for her to reach her. because carol could survive being pushed away.

but carol didn't know if alessia could survive being left alone in this.

—

by the second day, it all fell apart.

carol had noticed the signs earlier that morning—the way alessia didn't meet her eyes, how her hands trembled even when you weren't in them, how alessia stood at the sink long after the bottle was washed, just staring down the drain like it might swallow her whole.

but her mum didn't ask questions. she just waited. waited for the moment alessia couldn't carry it anymore as it was bound to come sooner or later.

it came mid-afternoon. the house was too quiet. no television on in the background. no soft lullabies from the speaker that sat on the shelf in your room. just silence. dense and suffocating.

carol moved quietly down the hall. the nursery door was open. and there she was.

alessia, curled on the floor in the corner of the room, her knees drawn up, you tucked on her chest, wrapped in a blanket which had started to unravel.

alessia was rocking her. but not gently. it was a little erratic—almost desperate—like she was trying to calm herself as much as she was you..

alessia's lips were moving rapidly, her voice cracked and uneven. "i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i'm sorry."

over and over. each repetition cut deeper than the last. alessia's body shuddered with it. not just exhaustion—no, this was grief. guilt. panic.

a mother apologising to a baby who didn't yet understand what pain was. but alessia did. and she carried it like it was stitched onto her skin.

carol dropped to her knees beside her, her hands trembling as she reached out. "shh, baby. shh," carol whispered, and she didn't know if she was talking to alessia or you. maybe both.

carol wrapped her arms around the alessia and you—her grown daughter and her tiny granddaughter—and held them like she used to when alessia was four years old and crying over scraped knees she'd gotten while playing football with her two older brothers.

but this was so much worse.

"i don't know what i'm doing," alessia choked, her voice hoarse and hollow.

"i can't sleep. i can't think. i feel like i'm failing every second—every time she cries, i feel like i'm doing something wrong. i don't know what she wants. i don't know what she needs. and then—then i look at her and i just... i love her so much it hurts. but I'm terrified, mum. terrified i'm gonna ruin her. that i already have."

alessia hiccupped through a sob, clutching you tighter, her grip almost too strong, like letting go would break your tiny body into tiny pieces.

"what if i fall asleep and sh-she stops breathing? what if i don't hear her? what if she hates me when she's older and knows how fucked up i was?"

alessia's voice cracked on the word hate. it came out like a wound.

carol's own breath hitched. tears burned behind her eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall. because this wasn't about her pain. this was about the little girl in her arms who had grown up into a woman that the world expected to be so strong, so capable, so perfect—and who was now drowning beneath that impossible weight of everything.

"oh, alessia," carol murmured, pressing a kiss into her hair, damp with sweat and tears. "this isn't your fault. none of this is. this is postnatal depression, lessi. your body... your brain... it's in a funny place at this minute like it's lying to you. making you think you're not enough when you're already doing everything you can."

"but i'm not enough," alessia whispered, broken. "she deserves more. a mum who doesn't cry every day. who doesn't stare at the wall and forget what day it is. i haven't showered in three days, mum. i scream into my pillow just to stop myself screaming out loud. and then—" alessia wallowed hard. "i yelled at ella. she tried to help and i pushed her away. i pushed everyone away."

carol's hand cradled the back of alessia's head as she sobbed into her mum's shoulder, hot tears soaking through the fabric of her jumper.

"then maybe it's time to say sorry," carol said gently. "say sorry, and forgive yourself too, darling. you're not a bad mum. you're a tired one. you're human. and the people who love you? they aren't keeping score. they just want you back. the real you. not the one who's trying to do it all without asking for help."

alessia nodded, barely, her body still wracked with shaking sobs. she clung to her mum like she was afraid she'd disappear if she let go.

still shaking. still exhausted. still cracked wide open. but for the first time in weeks, she wasn't pretending.

for the first time in weeks, someone was holding her—and she wasn't apologising for needing it.

"okay," alessia whispered, the word thin and raw, but real.

and in that fragile, aching moment, something inside her shifted.

not fixed. not healed. not yet. but no longer alone. and that was a start.

[iovesentry]

hit me with your best shot!

robert reynolds/bob x reader

summary: you were assigned by Walker to train Bob. you thought things were going smoothly until you accidentally hit him hard. woops….

warning(s): Bucky and reader have a special platonic bond, reader is reminiscing about the avengers, you accidentally punched Bob oopsies!

A/N: hi everyone! this is the second story i’ve written. i’m so so glad you guys are enjoying “something in my eye”. if you guys have any requests, feel free to lmk! <3

you were woken up by the sound of your alarm at 8AM, remembering that you were gonna train Bob at 9AM. you immediately washed your face and changed into your workout clothes, making your way to the kitchen to get something to eat. you were greeted by the presence of Walker, also eating breakfast.

“good morning, y/n. don’t forget you have to train Bobby at 9AM. after that, you’re free to go.” he reminded you and continued to eat his bowl of cereal. “gotcha. has he gotten up yet?” you asked Walker, just in case you needed to wake him up yourself. “uh yeah, he has eaten already, i think he’s ready to go. just look for him alright?” you nodded. since you still had time to do other things, you made yourself a cup of coffee and a sandwich. you recently discovered that sparring with an empty stomach is the worst idea imaginable.

“i’m gonna go look for him Walker, see ya later!” you waved him goodbye, taking your cup of coffee and your sandwich in each hand. you pressed the elevator button with your elbow and decided to go to the Gym floor, maybe Bob was already there.

walking down the hall made you emotional, remembering your time with the Avengers here. a tower filled with memories. it suddenly made you feel very nostalgic, remembering the last time you were here, it was when Ultron happened. that night went by like a blur, remembering the time you all tried to pick up Mjolnir from the table. night filled of drinks, laughter, and bonding.

you got to the sparring room and your assumption was correct. He was by the seat near the window, a book in his hand, and a cup of coffee on the table.

“hi bob, good morning. are you ready for today?” you greeted him, sitting down on the sofa opposite him. you placed down your cup and finished the rest of your sandwich.

“Yeah, how long are we training for?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee and closed his book.

“for as long as you want. as long as we reach an hour. just tell me if you’re tired or you need a break, okay?” you knew Bob wasn’t as capable in sparring unlike the rest of the team, since he can’t really use his powers as Bob yet. You’ve seen him as Sentry and The Void— fought him as Sentry and The Void—and safe to say that he has the build and strength, just not the control.

after about 45 minutes, you decided to teach Bob how to improve his punches.

“so, to improve your punches, you gotta put in some work into your hips. don’t always rely on your arm strength only, okay?” you instructed him, facing your padded palms towards him.

“go on, try it.” encouraging him helped a lot during this session. you knew he trusted you as his training buddy, since you didn’t make fun of him for not knowing how to fight.

his fist made contact with your palm, not the best punch but he was getting there.

“okay, not bad. still need a little more improvement but not bad. you want me to demonstrate?”

he nodded so you both switched. he was now the one wearing the pads on his hands, while you with your bare hands.

“like this,” you swung at his hands too harshly, resulting to you losing your balance, and your fist making contact with his jaw instead.

“oh my goodness! Bobby, i’m so so sorry!” you cupped his face to examine the result of your punch. he looked okay, his face as beautiful as ever.

“it’s okay, y/n. i’m okay, see?” he pointed at his face, so far no bruises yet. “ack, i’m so sorry Bob. i lost balance and punched you instead.”

“okay you know what, training sesh done. let’s go to the kitchen and get you an ice pack, okay?” you told him. you grabbed your used cup from earlier, you and Bob making your way to the kitchen.

“hey sweetheart.” you were immediately greeted by Bucky as you exited the elevator with Bob. you and Bucky grew closer after the battle with Thanos. losing the same people who were special to you, especially Steve. so it was nice to have someone you knew for a while on the same team.

“hi bucky. excuse me for a sec, alright?” you grabbed Bobs arm and hurried to the fridge, opening the freezer compartment and getting an ice pack.

“you alright, Bob?” you held the ice pack on his jaw, looking at his face that looked perfectly fine. “yeah, i feel fine.” he flashed you a small smile, letting you hold the ice pack even though he could hold it himself. he liked it though, when you took care of him. but that’s something he’ll never admit outloud, he can’t let you know about his feelings.

after 5 minutes, you removed the ice pack from his jaw and grabbed a kitchen towel to wipe his face. his breath hitched, suddenly growing nervous due to the closeness of you both. he admired your face, seeing the seriousness on you. he thought you looked cute.

you noticed him examining your face, suddenly growing shy under his gaze.

“you know staring is bad, right?” you told him, keeping your voice low. you had a small grin on your face, your palm still cupping the other side of his jaw. you finished wiping his face, meeting his gaze on you that made you feel small and shy.

“can’t help it when the woman who just punched me happens to be so beautiful.” he told you, noticing the red tint on your cheeks.

“if i punch you again, will you call me beautiful once more?”

he chuckled at that, “no punch needed. i can call you beautiful, pretty, and cute anytime.”

“well… i’d love that.” you suddenly grew so shy, always feeling so small underneath his gaze. Bob was a very charismatic and beautiful guy, and you were glad to be on the same team as him.

[nyeddleblog]

SAW THAT YOU CANNOT GET BOB OUT OF YOUR HEAD MAY I REQUEST A MEET CUTE FIC WHERE READER IS A GIRLBOSS CORPORATE GIRLIE AND BOB IS WELL...BOB

Yes, but since I'm at work in a 10 hour shift, we'll forget about the cutesy aesthetic shit I usually do for my fics.

Warnings: Female presenting reader, use of reality warping powers, in a probably inaccurate way, written from my phone and not proof read.

--

You liked your job. Well, kind of. You liked getting paid for something that you actually did pretty well, and you liked that you could live from it. Yeah, it was a annoying having to walk around New York City taking care that your tights weren't ripped or that your high heels wouldn't give out for the next few blocks. Skirt always impecable, just below the knee. Blouse silky and not revealing too much cleavage. But the paycheck... Oh, the paycheck. And your boss was an okay guy!

You've dealt with all kinds of people before; the annoying ones, the narcisistic ones, the perverts... For someone your age, it was difficult to achieve the tranquility you had.

So you entered the coffee shop, mindlessly looking through your phone. It was a bit more expensive than others, usually empty around this hour. The cashier gave you a nod, urging you to just take a seat. You had paid a bit extra last time, since they didn't have any change; that meant, coffee was on the house. It made you smile, making a mental note to tip them well when you left.

Your heels guided you through the usual path, too invested on the screen to look up as you sat down. Your boss wanted something urgently, something you could actually do through your phone. It took you around five minutes to write down the email you needed to send to an investor, and another one to communicate that it was done. Only then, you looked up.

There was a guy sitting there. Considering his half eaten muffin and the stains on his cup, he had been sitting there before you even arrived. And he looked so troubled too, face flushed as he tried his best not to look at you. You blushed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry—"

But you looked around and frowned. This was usually where you sat and it shouldn't have mattered if it weren't for the amount of people around. Why the fuck was it so full? This had never happened before.

Your eyes reached a table were one of your colleagues sat. You wrinkled your nose; he was probably going to talk to you about work, so your eyes went back to the guy in front of you, softening.

"Is it okay if I stay here? If only until they bring me my coffee, then I can just take it to go."

He looked at you then, pink cheeks and a bit unsure if you were talking to him. You maintained eye contact, an easy smile on your lips as you awaited his answer.

"Y-yeah, no... No problem"

Your smile widened then, but you didn't say more. You knew how annoying it was when someone talked to you while you were minding your own business. It was the reason why you stayed there and didn't go to your colleague's table, after all.

Then the usual waitress brought you your coffee, in a mug. You let out an apologetic sigh, knowing that you'd have to ask her if she could change it to a plastic cup, probably ruining all of the barista's work in the process, but right before you spoke, he interrupted you.

"It's... It's okay. You don't need to, uh, leave." It came out awkwardly, almost strangled. The waitress looked at the both of you with a smile as she came back behind the counter, absent-minded of the position she just put the both of you in, "I don't mind the company. I'm about to finish anyways."

"Oh, well thank you" you answered politely. He truly didn't seem like he was about to finish, considering how slowly he was eating his muffin. And he was kind of cute, you realized. Messy brown hair, and adorable blue eyes. But you wouldn't stare.

You let your coffee air for a little bit, not wanting to burn your tongue. He was reading a book, you noticed; he looked invested. It was probably why he didn't mind your presence, despite being an obviously shy person. His fingers picking at the muffin and slowly dragging the bite into his mouth.

You brought the mug to your lips as you stared at the pastry. You should have asked for one of those, really, it looked tasty. Red velvet, your favorite, fuck. You were oggling at the muffin then, drinking your coffee and slowly zoning out. So many things to do, the meeting that afternoon. And tomorrow, too. Oh, how you hated meetings.

Your eyes slowly brought you back to reality as they slowly came up to his face. He was staring at you, probably because you were pondering to the reality where his muffin was yours. Either way, it startled you and a small drop of coffee fell into your impeccably white blouse.

Shit.

You let the mug on the table immediately, assessing the damage. It expanded quickly on the collar, leaving an ugly stain that you wouldn't be able to get rid of before the meeting. You groaned dramatically, covering your face with your hands.

It had to be the meeting with the one investor that always stared at your tits. That one unfiltered asshole that fucking humilliated women when they had chipped nails or a run on their stockings.

He'll say something, and you'll answer, and he'll find you rude, and then you'll show him how rude you can actually be and... You'll lose your job.

"They say putting some sugar on it may help get rid of the stain" he stuttered out, in front of you. You frowned, almost forgetting that he was still there in the first place and barely understanding what he was talking about.

"What?"

"T-The stain..." He pointed at your collar with a packet of sugar in his hand. Your frown losened as he left it on the table, near enough for you to reach, "It may be worth a shot?"

"It may be" you repeated in a murmur, staring down at the packet.

It sounded like bullshit, but you were desperate and the sugar couldn't possibly make it worse than it already was, so you opened the packet and poured it on the stain, looking defeated as it clinged to it. You rubbed it for a few seconds, unable to see how the eyes of the man in front of you briefly lit up bright golden. Then, the sugar turned brown and you wiped it away, amazed by the result.

"Hey, it worked!" you exclaimed in excitement, looking up at him, "I can't believe it!"

Your bright smile made his cheeks heat up, and he avoided your eyes as he gave you a sheepish smile back, shrugging.

"That was ama...! What was your name?" you interrupted yourself to ask. As he replied, you continued "That was amazing, Bob, truly. You saved my job and made my day!"

"I-It's nothing."

You braced yourself, for what you were about to say, unable to hide the smile of awe in your lips, "Well, Bob. It's everything to me," Maybe a bit of an exaggeration, you were dramatic like that, but it was honest nonetheless "So, could I buy you a muffin sometime?"

His pink cheeks turned red as he stuttered over his reply, and by the time you finished your coffee, his number was already saved in your phone.

You stood up, giving him sweet smile and putting the promised tip in the jar before leaving.

He stared at you until you were out of view and you didn't know why, but it made your heart beat a tiny bit faster.

[pomefioredove]

hi i really like your writing its very good and i think youree really cool

would it be alright if i requested a sugar cookie w #1 dried fruit and sprinkles pleas?

ofc ofc! happy birthday to epel, the silliest serious guy there ever was

order #1, sugar with dried fruit, sprinkles

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ troublemakers

summary: after a particularly rough day of VDC training... tropes: first kiss, hurt/comfort characters: epel additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu, kiss obvs but barely, vil moment! not proofread

Every part of you hurts.

Your shoulders, hands, neck, lower, middle, and upper back. Your feet ache with every step, your knees feel as if they might buckle in a breeze, your sides are sore from panting.

Your throat stings with each tight swallow.

And, worst of all, you hadn't even finished your punishment.

You have three more laps to run tomorrow.

Not even daily spelldrive was so tough- had Leona taken it easy on you? Or was Vil picky with his punishments, like he was with everything else?

You're pretty sure that being chased by a bear would be less painful of a sprint. Your own doing, of course- you just had to tell Grim that the VDC training regimen didn't look "that bad" ...and Vil had given you a taste of your own poison, making you swallow your words and your woes with seventeen laps around campus.

You're careful to step around the creaky floorboards as you drag your weak, battered body up the stairs to your room- waking your temporary dormmates would be a dreadful affair. You just need some sleep. You slow more at the thought of Grim, likely already in bed, mumbling about tuna and biting his thumb in his sleep. He'll be happy to see you survived.

Crap.

The toe of you shoe catches on a stray nail, and you stumble, catching yourself before you can collapse on the floor.

The cold walls of Ramshackle cradle you, protecting your pathetic, trembling body as you pry yourself up again. Damn nail. If your bones didn't feel like overcooked noodles, you'd fix that. Maybe you'll bother the Headmage about it in the morning- knowing him, it'll take a full day of nagging to get him to cough up the funds to fix it. And thank goodness for that- that means no VDC practice for you. You've never felt more grateful for Crowley's incompetence in your life.

Snnff... snfffff... ACHOO!

Someone's sniffling down the hall. Great. So help you, if Grim had caught something...

a...ACHOO!

...But that was the sound of someone blowing their nose into a tissue. Grim wouldn't do that. You have the snot-stained lab scrubs to prove it.

You follow the sniffles to a door, not your own, but the one next to it, the one that never fully closes because of a warped frame. Who had this one, again?

Ah.

Epel Felmier is sitting at the end of his bed, sobbing and hacking into a silk handkerchief that certainly wasn't his own- the initials R.H. embroidered on the creamy cusp.

"Epel?" you whisper, and he stiffens, like a frightened cat.

"Prefect! Ah- ah didn't mean 't disturb you-" he hurriedly wipes his eyes on his sleeve and tucks the snotty handkerchief in his pocket. "Didja do your laps?"

"Seventeen of them, I'll do the rest tomorrow," you should ask him why he's crying, but he doesn't seem too happy to talk about it.

"Vil won't like that. Yer supposeda do them all at once," he sounds stuffy. He sniffles again.

You sigh. "Please don't tell him,"

"I wouldn't,"

You fumble to the furthest end of the bed, as if he might bite you (really, you just didn't want to disturb him, but your legs were about to give out). "Did something happen at practice? After I left?"

Epel wipes his nose on his sleeve. You notice, for the first time, that he's still wearing his school clothes. How long has he been crying here?

"No,"

Which is obviously not true. But you'll let him have his lie as long as he lets you have yours.

"Okay," you say. "I'm sorry."

Epel looks at you, finally, his puffy eyes still wet and round cheeks sticky with tears. It's a pitiful sight.

"What? Don't apologize 't me! What's the matter with you!"

It is no longer a pitiful sight.

You stare. "I-I just meant that you're taking on a lot of responsibility that you didn't ask for, and I know what that feels like,"

Epel scowls, crossing his arms over his chest, as if he had the right to rebuff your bare-bones attempt at comforting him after he was sobbing like a child.

"Crowley?" he asks. You suppose rumors reach Pomefiore, too.

"Well, yes, but... I meant my friends,"

He tries to look cold and uninterested, but the depth of his eyes betray him. "How's that?"

"Well," you start, "I have certain expectations, as a prefect. A lot of the time, I have to take care of my friends and their problems while I'm also... you know, everything else."

Epel makes a face that looks like he'd just bitten into a particularly sour apple. His nose scrunches. There's a scowl on his lips and a spark in his eyes.

"Why dontcha tell 'em what for?"

"Because they're my friends," you say. "And I have responsibilities... whether I like it or not, being at Night Raven College means I have to sacrifice a lot for... for everyone. It doesn't mean I don't love them, or this school. It just means... sometimes, I gotta stick it out."

"But that ain't fair!" he exclaims. "You shouldn't gotta 'stick it out', like some kinda pushover!"

You'd never seen someone so... so... like him. He'd completely changed from the miserable little boy you walked in on to an infuriated force of nature, his fist furled around the delicate silk of his uniform, freshly-cut nails snagging the fabric.

"You gotta take what you want! You can't just keep 'waitin for things 'ta get better! Nothing'll change if you just sit around moping about it!"

Your brow furrows, and you bite your lip. You'd stand if you could, but your feet stay on the floor. "Sometimes you do have to wait, though. Sometimes it's better, no, best, to stay where you are with your head down. You can't do everything impulsively!"

"You can't live yer life as a pushover!"

"You can't fix everything with a fight!"

"You can't fix it by falling in line with what people expect of 'ya, either!"

"You have responsibilities!"

"I didn't ask for 'em!"

"Neither did I!"

You both breathe. Epel collapses on the bed behind you, panting, and you look at the vanity, covered in crates of apples that obscure the mirror, your voice hoarse from yelling.

Some moments pass. Epel sits up, the firm mattress unyielding under his small frame.

"Did Rook putcha up to this?"

This boy is exhausting. "No? Why would he?"

"Cuz ya ain't got no other reason to be so nice,"

You blink. Nice?? The boy is... miserable. "Why not? Am I not allowed to like you?"

He doesn't have an answer for that. He sits, stiffly, fleeting features of discomfort and doubt written across his face. Finally, he puffs out his chest, and fumbles through some things that almost resemble words:

"I think I- well I- don't tell no one, anyone, I mean,, but I think I'd like 'ta kiss y...you,"

"Uh?" you blurt out, taken aback. "Okay?"

"Okay," he repeats. "Okay!"

Epel leans closer, ever closer, his face red and features spelling out some combination of fear, carefulness, and-

No sooner had his lips grazed against yours, as soft and plump as they looked (thank you, Pomefiore dorm) had the door flown open and a pallid figure in a long nightgown appeared.

Pointing a pale, perfectly-manicured finger at him, the ghostly spectre spoke, and:

"EPEL FELMIER! PREFECT!"

Epel covers his mouth and screams into the palm of his hand. You don't even have the time to react before a furious Vil Schoenheit takes you by the scruff of your neck.

"Of all the things! It's eleven at night!" he exclaims. "You, Prefect! I thought you had more sense in your head- shall I lock you in your room to make certain you're behaving?"

"No, sir," you say.

"And you! Epel! I expect better of my underclassmen,"

Epel shudders. "Sorry, sir,"

"Both of you- behave yourselves- no, don't behave yourselves! Behave as the exact opposites of yourselves! Just! AH! I'm going to break out at this rate,"

Vil sighs, his shoulders slumping and his shouts dying in his throat.

"I suppose it can't be helped. Troublemakers like you two will always find each other, no matter what I say. Say good-night. If I hear another peep coming from your rooms, I'll poison you both,"

You and Epel exchange a brief look, a silent promise between the both of you to never speak of this again, and you nod.

"Good night, Prefect," Epel says.

"Good night, Epel," you agree.

Despite the grip Vil has on your back, despite the epic reprimanding you'd both received, despite the way that Epel had shrieked, shrill and hysterical... he's smiling. Well, trying not to, considering that you're still victim to Vil's meticulously-manicured nails. But he is.

You smile back.

"You two," Vil sighs, closing Epel's door as much as he can. "I am not ready to start graying, you know. I have a few years of youth left in me yet."

"Sorry, Vil,"

"Stop being so agreeable!" he hisses, taking you to your room.

"Troublemakers, both of you. I'd add ten laps to your punishment for tomorrow- but something tells me that you'll never learn. Five laps it is."

Your knees buckle and ache at the thought. But, worth it.

[elliespassagerprincess]

hii!! I was wondering if you could maybe do Ellie taking care of an overwhelmed and overstimulated reader? in an anxiety attack context!

Quiet Room - ellie williams x reader

Hi anon!! I hope you enjoy:)

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Reader

requests are open, send me your thoughts and ideas:)

Warnings: Sensory overload, panic, anxiety attack symptoms, soft physical touch, protective!Ellie

Summary: in which you needed comfort

Masterlist

“Too much.”

It started with the noise.

The clink of silverware, someone’s loud laugh, the fireplace crackling, babies crying in another room.

Then the lights felt too bright. The air too thick. Your shirt too tight.

You tried to hold it in, to smile when Maria offered you pie, to nod along when Jesse joked about patrols.

But Ellie noticed.

Of course she did.

She always does.

She touched your arm—gentle, grounding.

“Hey. Wanna get some air?”

You nodded, maybe too quickly.

She didn’t say another word. Just grabbed your coat, your hand, and walked you out the back door without anyone noticing.

The moment the cold air hit your face, you exhaled like you hadn’t breathed in hours.

But it wasn’t enough.

Your chest still felt tight. Your skin itched. Your heart wouldn’t slow down.

You pressed your hands to your temples.

“I can’t—I can’t shut it off,” you whispered. “It’s too loud in my head.”

Ellie didn’t try to reason with you.

She didn’t say "you’re okay,” or “calm down.”

Instead, she nodded slowly, took both your hands in hers, and said:

“Okay. Then we’ll make it quiet.”

She led you to the stables, where it smelled like hay and saddle leather, not perfume and stress. Where the only noise was a soft whinny and your own uneven breathing.

She pulled you into an empty stall, sat you down, and knelt in front of you.

“Hands on me,” she said gently.

You hesitated.

“C’mon. Just... hold onto my jacket.”

You gripped the soft fabric, trembling.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Breathe in for four. Like this.”

She exaggerated her inhale, slow and deep.

You mirrored her.

“Now hold it... three... two... and let it go.”

You exhaled.

“Again.”

She did this with you for five minutes.

Every time your eyes darted to the shadows, she squeezed your knee.

Every time your breath hitched, she whispered: “With me.”

She didn’t leave you in that storm.

She sat in it with you.

And eventually… the waves calmed.

You opened your eyes. The buzzing was gone. The weight on your chest was lighter.

Ellie smiled softly.

“Hey. There you are.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “For ruining the night.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t ruin anything. You just needed space. That’s not a crime.”

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to hers.

She stayed perfectly still—quiet, solid, safe.

“Next time,” she whispered, “we skip the party and hide in the barn from the start.”

You laughed, weakly. But real.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

butterflygirl738 (3)

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, sickness, medical bills, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You love butterflies and your mother, but life isn’t that simple. As life gets complicated, and expensive, you find yourself in need and an unexpected miracle presents itself.

Characters: Steve Rogers (CEO/Sugar Daddy)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You stand behind the dumpster. Frozen. The world stacks on your chest. The bills, the doctors, your managers, the butterflies... Everything, from big to small. All of it feels insurmountable. You don’t think you can go on much longer. Not like this. Not on your own.

This is something. Help. Are you too hopeful? Too desperate? So what if you are. This isn’t about your life, it’s about your mom’s.

How many nights have you laid away dreaming of an easy out. Of any crumb of help. Of some sort of relief. This might not be it but you can’t just wave it away.

You click the link. It prompts you to install WhatsApp. You pace in circles as you wait for the pubic wi-fi to download the app. When that’s done, you’re redirected to add a contact; ‘S’. Hm. Mysterious.

You accept and a message blips up.

‘Can I call?’

Your heart jumps. You’re doing this. Doing what? It’s a call. You shake your head and send a thumbs up. Stop shaking.

The call pops up, chiming from the speakers. You fumble and answer, mindless noises squeaking from your throat. You steady the phone and peek out around the bins. Another car draws up to the window.

“Hello? Everything okay?” The deep voice startles you.

You grip the cell and clear your throat, “sorry, I... I never used this before.”

“Hm, that’s alright,” he assures. His timbre is calm and even. That’s so soothing.

“Uh, hi?” You say awkwardly and retreat to hide again. “Um...”

Silence radiates from the speaker. He sniffs.

“Um, how are the butterflies?” He asks.

You blink and look back and forth. “My butterflies?”

“Sure, they come out yet?”

“Oh, uh... no...”

You chew your lip. He doesn’t sound like your typical watcher. You get those aesthetic blogs with girly moodboards or crafting how-tos. He’s a man. And he sounds older. Not old, just older than you.

“Right,” he takes a deep breath. “Look, I’m thinking right now and I don’t think this is something we should talk about over the phone.”

“Huh? Oh?” You sputter in confusion. “Sure. Erm. Thank you.” You put your hand to your chest. “You’re very generous but if you changed your mind--"

“No, I haven’t,” he says firmly. “What I want to say I would like to say to you. In person.”

You laugh, more out of surprise than amusement. “Well, uh, that’s... no, I don’t know. I live... in the middle of nowhere. That’s not possible.”

“I’ll come to you.” He insists.

You stop shuffling around and hum. He’s quiet as you think. Obviously, it’s not smart to meet strangers on the internet.

“You pick the place. Neutral ground.” He suggests.

“Well, you know, I have two jobs and I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” You wiggle your nose awkwardly and cringe. “I should really give you that money back.”

“Keep it.” He says. “I’m willing to negotiate. I’ll give you access to my location so you know where I am. Everything’s on the up and up.”

“Oh, oh,” you eke out nervously. Your mom would be screaming at you. What did I tell you about the internet? But that was when you were young. Just a teenager. You’re an adult now.

“There’s another ten on the table if you just talk.” He offers.

You nearly trip. You let out and oop and catch yourself on the dumpster. The smell of the contents adds to the roiling of your stomach.

“Ten?” You murmur.

“Ten grand.”

“How-- oh, that’s a lot of money.”

“I’d pay more.”

That statement takes your breath away. You look down at your beaten up sneakers. You ground your heel into the ground.

“But why?”

“Like I said, I want to discuss it face-to-face,” he says. “It doesn’t feel right like this so... you send me the location where you want to meet. Send me a date and time. And check the chat.”

“Pardon?” You utter.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says abruptly as something scuffs on his end. “I gotta go.”

He hangs up. You stand stunned in silence. You pull the phone away from your face and look down at the screen. Another link. You tap it without a second thought. Shoot, you probably shouldn’t have.

The browser opens a page; a notice at the bottom that says the app work better. Just another thing to download. Above the banner is a map and a flashing dot. You squint and zoom in.

Your brow furrows. You make a goofy face and scoff. New York? Oh wow.

You quickly exit out of all the windows and put your phone away. You inhale and let it out slow. You slink out from behind the dumpsters and head towards home. You’ll take your time and think. You always enjoyed a nice walk, especially when your mom came along.

🦋

“Whatcha thinking of, pie?” Your mom asks suddenly.

You lift your head and open your eyes. You barely remember sitting down. Even just getting home. After back-to-back shifts, you’re worn out. You feel like a sheet hanging in the sun. Each day that hollowness grows.

“Oh, nothing,” you lie. You think of the only thing you’ve been able to think of for the last day.

She nods but you can see she doesn’t buy it. You shrug and clasp your hands together. “Just work. They’re cutting back on labour for the summer.”

“That’s too bad,” she says. “I’m sure you’ll still get hours.”

But not enough...

“I put out an application at the computer reseller,” you say. “But he didn’t seem very impressed. Maybe the coffee place? Couple hours in the morning.”

“Oh, honey,” your mom frowns. “You need a break. You’re always working.”

“I’m fine, mom,” you say.

No, you’re tired. You’re exhausted to the bone and yet when you lay down at night, you can’t sleep. All you can do is lay there and think about doom. About how it’ll be your fault when she dies.

You stand up suddenly at that thought. You try not to let it in. You shudder and cross the room.

“Pie?” Her voice piques with alarm.

“Sorry, mom, I don’t know... I just... I feel like I forgot something,” you shake off the tension. Or try to.

“Ha, I know that feeling,” she says. “While you’re up...”

“Tea?” You offer. She nods. “Alright.”

You go into the kitchen. You flip on the electric kettle and grip the edge of the counter. You lean on it and hang your head. You suck back a wave of tears. You will never forgive yourself if you don’t do everything you possibly can to save her.

You wait until the click. You pour hot water over the ginger and lemon tea bag and take it out to your mom. “It’s hot.” You put it on a coaster. “I remembered what I forgot.”

“Oh?” She wonders.

“I didn’t talk to the building manager about the water. The bathroom sink is still spitting out rust.”

“Ah, right,” she nods.

“I won’t be long,” you say. “I’m just going to fill out a form and leave it in the slot.”

“Be safe,” she calls after you.

You swipe up your phone and hurry to the door. As you step into the hall, guilt scalds around your neck. You don’t lie to your mom. Ever. She doesn’t need anything else to worry about.

You head downstairs. It’s not really a lie if you make it true. You grab one of the forms from the building office and take it with you outside. You fold it up and tuck it in your pocket. You’ll put it in tomorrow morning before work.

You follow your phone signal down the street. Finally, a network pops up. The overpriced knick knack boutique has free wi-fi, who would have guessed?

Self-awareness sets in. You look around the dark streets. You open up WhatsApp. You think, biting the tip of your tongue as you do.

It has to be somewhere far from home but not too far that you can’t get there. And it has to be between the appointments and work. Ugh. Okay. You got it.

You type in the place and time. A week isn’t too soon? He’s probably busy. He sounds important. You can only guess. You don’t know anything about him. That’s a sobering realisation but you already hit send.

The reply chimes loudly in the quiet night. That’s quick.

‘I’ll be there.’

Simple. To the point. A complete answer that answers nothing at all. What are you doing?

🦋

You place the coffee on the table and sit. You stare at the dark brew. It’s the cheapest size and roast, but that flicker of guilt remains. You could use that two bucks for something better. Even after that generous donation, you’re still in the red.

You check your phone quickly. The last message was about an hour ago. ‘We’re still good?’ and you confirmed. ‘See ya then’.

You cross one foot over the other, your toe wiggling anxiously. You watch the brim of the cup. You put your phone next to it and look out the window. A woman passes by with her stroller and another child dancing around at her side. You smile.

You sit back and check the clock above the counter. Each number is a coffee bean. It’s cute.

The place is busy. The door jingles between the voices of customers and employees. The grind of the machines and puffs of steams are near constant.

You chose the place deliberately. Partly out of embarrassment. You didn’t want to meet him at a chain place. You thought he might judge you for that. Well, you are begging for money online. It doesn’t really matter.

You put your hands on the side of the mug. The warmth does not comfort you. Your stomach is tangling in on itself. You should have got tea. You don’t know if you can handle caffeine right now.

The clock ticks past the hour. He’s late. That’s alright. He doesn’t know the town. He could be lost. You could check his location... no, you haven't dared to do that. It feels like a violation.

Or this could all be a cruel joke. You cringe. Did you just waste your own time?

It’s only two minutes.

A kid jostles by your table and your chair jerks as their toe catches. They sprawl over the floor and their mother shrieks their name. You get up and kneel by the lanky third grader.

“Woah, you okay?” You ask as he sits up and rubs his elbow.

“Oweee,” he grimaces.

“Are you bleeding?”

“No,” he pouts. “I’m okay.”

“Here,” you offer your hand.

You help him up. His mom comes over in a huff. “Liam!”

“He’s okay,” you say. “Just a bruise.”

“Oh, thanks. I’m so sorry about him.” She sends him the mom eyes.

“It’s fine. He’s just a kid.”

She harrumphs and grabs Liam by the arm, “come on. You can wait to have your cookie.”

You back up and turn to the table. Your coffee sloshed in the chaos and a puddle surrounds the base. You go to grab napkins from the counter. As you mop up the mess, a chair scrapes. You look up as a blond man stands. He picks up the tall mug and heads in your direction.

“Here,” he opens his hand as he approaches. “I’ll throw that out for you.”

You stare at him in confusion. You recognise his voice. You hand over the wadded napkin dumbly and gape. He brushes by and goes to toss the bunched tissue.

He returns and gestures to your seat. You sit and he puts his cup across from yours. “You need a refill?”

You shake your head. He sits and pushes his shoulders wide. You watch him. You remember him coming in. He’s hard to miss. Tall, broad shoulders, neat hair, and a pair of dark aviators. He wears jeans and a sage linen button-up.

“I’m sorry,” he begins. “I was watching you.” He looks around. “Can never be too sure who you meet on the internet.”

You nod. “Wait... how do you know it’s me?”

He looks down and points at your wrist. “You wore that in a video. You were showing of that monarch and I remember the bracelet.”

You look at the charm dangling from your wrist. You blink.

“Right,” you say.

“You know, most people wouldn’t have been so helpful with that kid.” He says.

“Oh, uh, stuff happens. No one was hurt,” you shrug and twine your fingers together. “Um...”

“So...” he fills the void. “Do I call you butterflygirl738 or do you prefer something else?”

You give a tight-lipped smile. You’re here. He’s here. No going back now.

[for-your-modesty-dude]

Valentine pt. 3

Part 1 … Part 2

A/N: Y'all I am so freaking sorry it's been so long. I literally showed up, started writing fics, and then disappeared forever. I'm not gonna lie, life has been absolutely insane recently. There's been so much going on, and my family is dealing with some stuff that is way far out of our control. Am I panicking? Maybe. Am I also fine? Yes. I don't know how it works. I'm sure my therapist plays a part in that LOL. Anyway, here it is. Part 3 of Valentine. I'm not going to lie to you, it really did not turn out nearly as good as I'd hoped. But I really really wanted to finish this so I could maybe get back into writing again. I need to fall in love with my hobbies again. I hope it's not too crappy. Please send in requests or fic suggestions. Maybe one of them will inspire me. I love you all forever! - Hy <3

Summary: Eddie finally makes his move!

Warnings: None that I can think of. Maybe some gross fluff, and like... subpar writing.

Word Count: 2k

Gareth and Jeff gave him the best advice they could. They tried, really. But they were hardly the romantic type, so Eddie took some of their advice- but the rest he let fly out the other ear. He eventually grabbed his backpack and ran out to his van, driving home as quickly as he could without getting himself another traffic ticket. 

He ran inside and threw his backpack onto the couch and kicked his boots off before sliding in his socks to his phone, picking it up and dialing your number. 

“Hello?” You picked up with a yawn, and Eddie wondered if he’d woken you up. 

“Heeey, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Did I wake you?”

“God no,” you tell him. “I was rereading the same page of this book for the fourth time. Can’t keep my focus, ‘m just bored. How was D&D? You’re home so early. Wait… Did you kill them?” You ask with a breathy laugh, imagining the night ending with Eddie decimating the party. 

“It was good! And- nah. The guys were restless, had places to be,” he lied, and there was a pause of comfortable silence. “But honestly, it was alright. Not the same without you there, don’t worry,” he smiled to himself. His kindness made your cheeks go pink. 

“Oh, please,” you scoffed with amusement evident in your voice. “Like you don’t love not having me around to bother your boys’ club,” you mostly joked. Eddie did not find it funny. 

“What? Don’t say that. We love having you around. You know that,” he said seriously. The seriousness of his tone made you smile. 

“Okay, okay, Ed. Thank you,” you tell him softly. “Gimme the rundown, then.”

He started to tell you all about how far they got in the campaign, having to make some stuff up to not give away how little they’d actually played. You seemed satisfied, and you believed him. “So… any fun plans tomorrow?” He asked. 

“Nah. Commiserating. Wanna join?” 

“I can come over?” He asked, hopeful. 

“Course you can. I’ll make room on the couch. I’ll even push aside the stale bag of chips for you to sit down next to me,” you joked. The two of you kept sharing jokes and silly comments until you got too sleepy to go on, so you hung up and headed to bed. 

The next morning, Eddie got up - way earlier than the Munson boy ever woke up on a Saturday - but he had so much to do. He first packed a duffel - necessary for his date, later - and then freshened up as much as he could. 

When he was finally ready, he dialed your number and chewed on his lip as he waited for you to pick up. 

“Mornin’,” you greeted, sleepy but awake. 

“Hey sweets, it’s me,” Eddie said, full of nervous energy. “We never decided on a time last night. Do you wanna hang now, or…?” He twirled the phone cable around his finger and back the other way. 

“Oh, that’s right. Honestly, now’s totally fine. I’m just finishing my coffee now. Wanna stop at the Family Video for us? I’ll pay you back when you get here.” You offered him. 

“I’ll stop by there, yeah. And no need, keep your cash, doll. I’ll see you soon, then!” He hung up before you could even respond, leaving you to laugh to yourself. He was so easily distracted. 

It gave you just enough time to prepare for his arrival - you changed into nicer sweats and actually styled your hair a little, fighting the urge to put on some makeup. This was just Eddie. You knew you wouldn’t make him fall in love with you with some mascara, not after he’d seen you at your worst so many times before. You just needed to accept that he was always going to remain a wonderful friend and nothing more. 

When Eddie showed up, he looked nicer than he usually did for movie dates at your place, but you didn’t think anything of it. You would just secretly admire him from across the room. Better him here with you than out with another girl, you supposed. 

The day started off normally enough. You had some snacks and watched a couple of movies, but Eddie seemed to keep checking his watch. Something about it was weird, because he didn’t seem in a rush to leave, but almost like he was expecting someone. It got to be too much when he checked his watch for the third time in less than 5 minutes, so you kicked him lightly with a socked foot from your side of the couch. 

“Why do you keep checking the clock, you weirdo? Did you invite someone to my house?” You ask with your nose slightly scrunched in displeasure. 

“What?” He blinked, “no- no. I wouldn’t- no. Uhh… you probably wanna go get ready, sweetheart,” he let his head fall back against the couch cushion lazily, making your brows furrow. 

“Get ready? For what?” You sat up, eyes searching his face which was- unfortunately unreadable. Damn DM instincts. 

“Do you trust me?” He turned his head to look at you, and something about his gaze in that moment made you blush, and you nodded. “Then go get ready. Wear somethin’ nice. I’m going to make use of the bathroom here. Let me know if you need any help,” he pushed himself up off of the couch and grabbed the duffel bag he’d packed himself, and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you to stare at him with a bewildered look. It took you a moment to shake off the surprise, but you managed to, and dragged yourself up the stairs to shower and get ready. You styled your hair in your usual favorite going-out style, not knowing just how dolled up you were supposed to get but figuring more was always better. You’d rather be overdressed than underdressed. 

And of course, because Eddie would see you in this outfit, you couldn’t help but to choose a dress you’d been secretly saving for just this kind of occasion. It fit like a glove, but you’d never actually gotten the opportunity to wear it out before. Wearing it now felt foreign, but looking at yourself in the mirror helped your self-image considerably. This dress looked good on you, and you hoped he’d think the same. 

You exited your bedroom to find Eddie’s duffel bag on your couch, and his ratty sneakers by your door, but… no Eddie. The bathroom door was open, showing it was empty, so you searched the kitchen before peeking through the blinds to the parking lot. You didn’t see Eddie’s van, but he’d left his things, so… he was probably coming back, right? You paced a bit in your heels, chewing on your lip as you considered all of the possibilities. 

Before you could decide to change out of your nice outfit, you heard a knock at the door, and hurried to answer it, finding Eddie standing there with a bouquet of black peonies and deep red tulips. Your eyes widened in surprise, and you blinked up at him, realizing he looked incredibly put together and handsome. You wanted to ask what he was doing, but as the blush reached your cheeks, you simply floundered for the words to say, and you stood there in an awkward sort of silence. 

“I uh- these are for you,” he cleared his throat and told you, wiping a clammy hand on his black jeans. You took another moment to flounder before taking the flowers and staring down at them. You eventually found your voice. 

“Oh. Thank- thank you,” you managed quietly, “what are these for?”

He ran a nervous hand through his hair and took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. It was now or never.. “Uh- well- see- you mentioned how upset you were to never have anyone interested in you, but… it’s just not true, you know? Cause I have been interested in you probably since we met, and you never seemed interested back. But I figure, even if you’re not into me, I can show you a good time and prove to you that it’s not true, and someone really does like you, like a lot. If- if you’ll be my valentine, that is. I spent so long hoping you’d just magically realize that I liked you, because the idea of actually telling you- almost killed me. I was terrified. You’re my best friend, my partner in crime, the person who knows me the best, and the one girl in the whole world who ever saw past my weird and gave me a chance to be her friend. This might be totally insane, but I just want you to know how- loved you are. By me. Romantically.” He felt he was digging himself into a hole, so he added an awkward “okay… I’m talking done now.”

You stared at him for a long while in stunned silence, and he looked anywhere but your eyes, growing increasingly restless as your silence swallowed him whole. He almost backed out and said it wasn’t actually that insane, he didn’t love you, don’t worry, but before he could, you threw your arms around him in a tight hug, wordless. He returned it with enthusiasm, squeezing you tight and burying his nose in your hair. He held you until he heard your quiet “thank you.” Only then did he pull back to look at you, your eyes a bit misty. 

“Hey, no way, don’t thank me. I’m the one who’s been in love with you, remember?” He joked, “if anything, thank you for letting me take you out and live out my dream for one night.” 

You could tell he was being self-deprecating, and couldn’t bear it. You pulled him inside, placed the bouquet on the nearest surface, and grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him down for a sudden kiss. He fumbled a moment, hands up in shock, before gripping your hips and pulling you into him, eyes squeezing shut as he deepened the kiss. If this was a dream, he wasn’t going to waste it. He was going to enjoy every goddamn second. 

Eventually, you pulled back with a breathless giggle at the way he chased your lips. “Let me breathe, Edward,” your voice was light, airy, and full of laughter. His eyes opened to watch you with the dreamiest expression. 

“Pinch me. I must be dreaming,” he said simply, making you laugh more. You pushed him away, cheeks red, still giggling. 

“Shut up. I- yes. Of course I’ll be your valentine. But where are we even going?” You asked him, picking up the bouquet to go put it in a vase. He still hadn’t shaken out of his trance, so he stared after you in silence a moment before coming to his senses again.

“Oh- uh- that’s a surprise. But you- damn- dressed for the occasion. So not to worry, it’ll be great.” He promised, following you into the kitchen and reaching up to grab the vase you liked from the higher shelf. You thanked him and unwrapped the bouquet, filling the vase before placing it into the water and placing the arrangement on your kitchen table. 

“I’ve been totally obsessed with you since, like, the day we met,” you confessed, which had his eyes nearly bulging. 

“No way. You- no way. You’re like, way out of my league.” That made you laugh, and you pulled him down for a kiss again. 

“Shut up, Eddie. And take me on our first date,” you hummed against his lips. 

“Yes ma’am,” he agreed breathlessly, pulling you flush against him. 

“And by the way, Eddie…” You started at a whisper. 

“Yeah?” He matched your tone.

“I didn’t ‘see past’ your weird. I saw your weird. And I needed it in my life.”

He nearly melted at your feet just then, but pushed forward to kiss you again, to keep from saying something stupid or embarrassing himself with getting emotional.

“I love you,” he told you. “I really, seriously, love you.”

“I- Eddie, I love you too,” you told him in return, butterflies erupting in your stomach and heart racing out of your chest before kissing him again.

You would definitely be a minute or two late to that reservation, but damn, if it wasn’t worth it.

Taglist: @am0iur @ali-r3n @hellmastereddie @ziggeddie @nojamsonmytoast @seedlingghost @loveu2themoonandsaturn @aliceheart247 @littlemissholy @daydreampending @justalotoffanfiction @midnightdragonzero @iyskgd @girlwedontcare

[grahamzcracker]

˙✧˖° 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 4 𝐮

i only threw this party for you

▸ party 4 u - charli xcx

travis martinez x popular taylor!reader

— after months of crushing on travis, you come up with a plan - throw a party, invite some people from school, but more importantly : invite travis.

w.c : 820 / c.w : fem!reader, drinking, loser!travis / request status : open !

being jackie taylor's sister had its perks — after following in her footsteps like your parents expected, you were nearly as popular as her. you could have anyone you want, yet you want your coach's oldest, loner of a son. travis martinez.

you see him around school sometimes, he's rather quiet and often sticks to himself, but you're drawn to him nonetheless. you see him occasionally during soccer practice waiting for his dad, either listening to music or sitting up in the bleachers. sometimes when you'd take a glance at him, you'd notice him looking at you as well, but you two never spoke.

after months of crushing on him, you come up with a plan — throw a party, invite tons of people, but more importantly : invite travis. you didn't give a shit about anyone else you invited, you just wanted an opportunity to talk to travis alone.

---

the following day at school, you approached travis at his locker before lunch.

"hey, travis, i'm having this party tonight at my house tonight and was wondering if you'd mayhe want to come?

"sorry—what?" he asked with a blink, dumbfounded. were you actually talking to him right now?

"i'm having a party at my place tonight, i'd like it if you came." you smiled, before heading to your next class without giving him a chance to respond.

---

now, on the day of the party, you were more nervous than ever. music was blaring throughout the house, a lot more people had showed up than you were expecting — jackie more than likely invited people she knew as well — and now your house was crowded with sweaty, tipsy teenagers.

after searching the crowd, you find travis in the corner of your living room, sipping from a red solo cup. you take a deep breath before approaching him with your own drink in hand.

"travis, hey!" you exclaim.

"oh, hey... cool party." he replied, fiddling with the edge of his shirt as he gave you a quick smile.

"yeah? i'm surprised you came, figured it wasn't really your scene."

"it's not, really... figured i could try something new, for once, though."

"well, i'm glad you came." you smiled warmly, the two of you falling into a comfortable, yet slightly awkward silence, before you spoke up again. "wanna get out of here? we can take a walk outside or something, and i could get you a beer, if you want?"

he just looked at you for a moment, then gave a slight nod. "yeah, sure. sounds nice."

you lead him out of the living room and he lingered by as you stepped into the overpopulated kitchen, grabbing two cans of beer out of the fridge, then the two of you exited the house.

you fell into step side-by-side on the sidewalk, popping open your cans of beer.

"how come you hardly hang out with anyone?" you ask him after a beat of silence.

"i don’t know, it’s kind of always been that way for me. i don’t care either way, i’m perfectly fine the way i am.”

“i get that — i just feel like it gets lonely sometimes.”

“sometimes, i guess. it’s not like i’m completely alone, though. i’ve always got javi, and, like… my few acquaintances at school. plus, dad’s always dragging me along to whatever events the team has going on, so i guess i have you guys too? i don’t know, that doesn’t really count. you’re the only one of the girls i’ve actually talked to.”

“damn, you really need to socialize more. and… yeah, you do have me, even if we don’t talk.”

“thanks.” he replied, taking a sip of his beer, then : “you know, i’ve never even been to a school dance.” he chuckled. “always figured they were no fun.”

“seriously? okay, we have got to fix that. prom’s coming up soon, isn’t it? maybe we can go together.”

he nearly choked on his drink at that — were you seriously asking him to go to prom with you?

noticing his flushed expression, you quickly added : “it doesn’t have to be a date or anything, just… as friends? it’s our senior year, you should experience at least one dance.”

“no, no—a date is fine, i just wasn’t… expecting that. i’ve always kind of thought you looked nice, i just never thought in a million years that you’d notice me, if that makes sense.“

“it does. i’ve actually had a crush on you for a while now, if i’m being honest.”

“what, really? me?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

“yeah, you. you’re… weirdly intriguing. plus, i’ve always thought you were cute.”

“…thanks,” he muttered, “you’re not so bad yourself.” he added, trying to play it cool.

“why, thank you. so, it’s a date then? prom?”

“yeah. it’s a date.” he smiled faintly.

and with that, the two of you continued walking through the neighborhood, drinking and chatting away throughout the night.

---

a/n: made this into a bot — 🔗

also,, part 2 with prom ????

[gallifreyan85]

highkey im LOVING all ur agathaxreader fics im literally in a pool of tears when i read each one and I LOVE IT SO MUCHHHHHH ILOVEIT AND ILOVEUFORMAKINGIT,,, so pls dont explode anytime in the near future i need more fics, i literally need one everyday its now a drug ts insane i have a fic req, if u could make a 'tell ur baby that im ur baby' - i bet on losing dogs, where someone gets jealous that someone else is getting more attention that them, ex agatha losing her self bc she saw u hugging ur old teacher or reader crying themself to sleep because they think agatha likes billy more than them :) PLSPSLSPLSLPSLPSLPSLP I BEG OF U MAKE ONE IM GONNA DIE ILYSM IF U DO

Hii, I'm sorry if this took too long, I was traveling and then had college stuff, so I was in a bit of a hustle. I had started writing this and then kind of got off track a little (hence the title being different), but I tried to keep it around the whole reader thinking agatha prefers billy now, and all that jazz. I hope you like it, if you're not happy tell me, it has a bit more dialogue than my usual fics, but hopefully it'll be okay. Thanks for the request!!

<3

Hurt Me and Tell Me You're Mine

summary: Summary: after Wanda closed the hex, things got complicated. Now you’re on the witches road with your mentor after not seeing her for three years, and she brought someone who you think might be your replacement (Billy.) With everyone reeling after what happened during the third trial, you try to talk to her and sort things out.

pairing: mentor!Agatha x reader

A/n: as always, more stuff at the end, this was originally supposed to be part 5 of (𝐼 𝒲𝒶𝓃𝓉) 𝒩𝑜 𝑀𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 but I have something else planned for that sooo. idk. it's my bday tomorrow i'm a bit chaotic. enjoy!!

The Witches Road was no place for the faint of heart. You’d learned that the hard way, first getting drenched during Jen’s trial, then almost burning to death because of a curse during Alice’s. When Teen had gotten hurt you caught a glimpse of something in Agatha’s eyes, the way she lingered for just a moment too long after everyone had already made sure he was okay. It had been three years since you’d last seen her and you wanted to sit down and talk, catch up for lack of a better, less normal word, but time didn’t seem to be on your side. And it seemed Agatha wasn’t either. You’d been her student, if that was what you could call it, and she was relentless and strict and sarcastic, but she’d taught you things about magic no other witch ever would. You were sure of it. Her view on magic was all control and precision, yet chaos and power at the same time.

It was a lot.

It was unique.

But you didn’t regret it.

You still wondered if maybe she did. She never told you. In fact, ever since you barged in to find her and this other boy around your age in her house, along with a bunch of witches you didn’t know, she kept quiet around you. So you came along. Of course it would be dangerous, like everything else she ever did, but you could handle it. You didn’t spend three years perfecting your magic best as you could to flake out at the slightest opportunity of chaos. Maybe you were like her after all. And then her trial came along. You were there with the rest of them, on Teen’s side when the others tried to turn on her, and then her mother’s ghost was there, and Agatha was pleading with them, pleading, not to leave her behind, and Alice stepped in, and--

You shook the memory out of your head. Tried to clear your thoughts. It didn’t really work, apart from giving your already minor headache a boost, but you sighed and tried to relax anyway. Being tense would get you nowhere.

It was then that you realized the rest of the coven, whoever was left-- had finally stopped arguing. You turned to see Jen and Lilia talking to Teen, all three of them sitting down, not sparing you a glance. Neither Agatha or Rio were in sight. You sighed. While you did wonder about Rio, who she was and why Agatha seemed to hate her so much, you didn’t feel up to going to look for her. You wanted to find Agatha. And with the others preoccupied, this was your chance.

So, quietly, unnoticed by anyone, you slipped away from the path and onto a little clearing, hoping that Agatha didn’t go far. You’d learned that the trial would be ahead of you whichever way you went, but that didn’t mean you were eager to wonder around such a place alone. You had just spotted something resembling a small pond, or maybe more of a swamp-- it was covered with weeds and tall, wet grass hanging from overhead branches from the trees-- when a voice made you jump.

“You never were very good at following the rules.” Agatha stepped out from a dark nook you hadn’t even noticed, a distant smirk on her face, not quite reaching her eyes, “But then again, that was part of why I liked you.”

You turned around to see her striding towards you in a slow, seemingly composed way, hands shoved in her coat pockets.

“Liked?” you murmured quietly.

She chuckled.

“I did share my very vast magical knowledge with you. Be a little grateful.”

You stayed quiet. Her smirk, which you suspected was fake, fell into something of a contemplative expression. She seemed… less sure of herself.

It unnerved you a little.

“Stray not from the path,” she went on, her voice a teasing lilt. “And yet…”

“I was looking for you.” you murmured.

“Still, it’s no excuse.” she huffed faintly, coming to a stop next to you, blue eyes fixed on the muddy pond. “We’re already down one person. You shouldn’t wander off unless you wanna be number two.”

“Three.” you said faintly.

She gave you a confused look.

“Sharon Davis?” you gestured around the air to no avail. Agatha frowned.

“Who?”

You sighed. “The gardening lady.”

Her nose scrunched, a vague scoff escaping her. “Oh. Right. Two people then. But the point still stands.”

And then--

“Why are you here?”

You stayed quiet. She frowned.

“Pet—”

“You used to call me that all the time.” you said softly. She didn’t look at you.

“Did I?”

“Yes. Now you just use my name. It’s…” What was it? Odd, unnatural, distant-- too distant.

You knew she didn’t care for you in any soft, affectionate way, of course she didn’t, but you felt like she was purposefully being vague and quiet towards you. Maybe it was the three years of not talking. Maybe she already forgot about you. What were you really? A student? How many of those she must’ve had over the years, dozens, maybe hundreds, and you were just one in the long line of Agatha Harkness wannabes, making yourself think she had it in her to become fond of you.

Maybe she did. Or so you thought. The hope you held had slowly started to die out from the moment you stepped into her basement. When you turned to look at her her head was held high, one hand running through her hair, the other somewhere along her side, half hidden by that blue coat, fingers grasping around nothing as if she was perfecting an invisible spell.

“Did you get it back?” you asked quietly blurting out your thoughts.

She paused.

You weren’t sure if she was expecting you to ask about Alice, or what happened, why it happened, but you didn’t. Selfishly enough, you were meaning to keep on track for trying to get her to talk to you. To bridge that gap that was somehow there no matter how hard you tried to follow her, agree to her ideas, watch her when she was watching someone else.

“No.” she said flatly. “Not all the way, at least.” she raised a hand, twisted her fingers, and you watched as a small cloud of warm orange light slipped around her empty palm, swirled for a moment, and then vanished into a puff of smoke.

She wasn’t looking at it. Her eyes were fixed on some distant spot, far beyond the forest.

“That’s still something.” you tried to sound optimistic. “Something’s better than nothing.”

She scoffed, shoving her hands back into her pockets.

“You always were so cheerful. I suppose you’re right, sure. But this is nothing compared to—” she paused. You could see the inner turmoil in her eyes, that quiet fury mixed with longing.

“It’s different.” she said, turning away. “If it had been someone like Wanda—”

“I tried to find her, you know.” you said quietly.

You thought she’d at least turn to look at you. She didn’t.

“And?”

“People say she’s dead. I’m...not too sure. They didn’t even find her body, but…”

Agatha huffed. “You could’ve done something useful.”

You frowned.

What? Was she serious?

“I did it for you.” you said, firmly, a little surprised, almost desperate, “I was doing it to help you—”

“Well a lot of good that did.” she sighed.

You fell silent. Hurt. You saw her gaze flick over your face, and something sharp softened in her blue eyes.

“What did you think you’d do? If you...found her.”

“I would’ve asked her to lift that- that spell. Whatever it was.”

She tilted her head.

“Why?”

Because I wanted to help. Because you’re the only person I can call family, the only one who-

You decided to be honest.

“Because I-- missed you.”

She didn’t say anything. You thought you saw her huff, lightly, glance away-- but maybe it was all in your head.

She was turned away from you, her head towards the faint chatter of the others, Teen talking to Lilia, their voices carrying through the thicket of the underbrush. You felt a wave of frustration course through you.

“Agatha.” you said.

She turned. Perfect posture, perfect teeth, sharp smile in place.

“Yes?”

And no words left you. A part of you maybe wanted to scream. To ask her why she was acting like this, so distant, so unlike her to be gloating so much, the lack of teasing little taunts murmured to you in passing. Instead she was just… quiet. Yes, she teased the others, but you? It was almost as if she was ignoring you.

“Are you going to stand there and gawk at me or are you going to speak?” she asked, enunciating every word with clear precision.

That felt more like her. Something eased inside of you, a familiarity, a warmth, at her voice saying things you were used to. Things you wouldn’t admit you so dearly missed in your time apart.

You took a breath. “Why are you so curious about him?” you blurted.

It wasn’t what you were meaning to ask, your preferred response would’ve been something like ‘can you let me in on what’s going on’ or ‘are you mad at me’ and now she was looking at you like that, like you just asked her something very funny and amusing and she looked smug. More like the Agatha you knew. It hurt a little as much as it soothed. You wondered briefly if you would die with her one day, just like this, meet your end stuck in some nevereding loop of running after the affection of someone who might not even want you anymore, not in her coven, not as her student, definitely not as a daughte--

“Oooh.” she smirked, tilting her head, “is someone feeling left out?”

You crossed your arms. Your insides were screaming yes, yes I am, why are you so interested in him, why won’t you talk to me, I was there first-

Instead you just said, “No.”

She smiled. “No? Are you sure, dear? I do know you very well, and-”

“All this time you’ve been watching him.” you said, looking down at the murky water below, “I want to know why. And it’s not just boredom, you don’t look like that at the people you’re not trying to figure out. So why him? Is it the sigil? Or what?”

Agatha sighed. “And you’ve been watching me, have you?”

You were. You were always watching her, even before, when she was your mentor officially, watching the hand movements, the way she countered spells, cast shields and blasted hexes and walked around with that impeccable, unflinching flair.

“I just wanna know why you’re so interested in him.” you murmured. “He’s just some kid, same as me, and I was here first.”

She paused, lips curving just a little bit upwards.

But she didn’t answer.

You sighed.

Looked down.

Took another breath.

“Okay, fine. Don’t tell me. Just-- why-- at least tell me why you’re acting like this? What id it, what did I do? Did I do something wrong, are you- are you mad at me?”

At that, her expression changed. It was almost imperceptible, but you caught it easily, a softer shift in her stoic exterior.

“No.” she said after a moment. Her voice was quiet. “I’m not mad at you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You felt something deep inside your heart unwind, relief flowing through your veins, a hope growing brighter-- “Then why?” you uttered, your own voice quieter too, slightly uneven despite your attempts at keeping your composure.

“Because,” she sighed finally, turning back to look at you, “you weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to come with us.”

You frowned.

“What?”

She pressed her lips together, frustrated.

“None of this was supposed to happen, toots. No trials, no—” she gestured blindly around, annoyed, “middle-of-the-woods cabins and ghosts and—” she met your eyes, “no Road.”

You paused, not following.

“What do you mean no Road?”

“The Witches Road, it doesn’t exist.” she said.

You stared at her. Blinked. Still didn’t understand.

“But-- it does. It does exist- we’re on it, right now. We’re here-- this is real.”

“Yes.” she nodded, something darker in her eyes. “It’s real. And the question is, who made it real?”

You followed her gaze over to the others. Stopped. Finally understood.

“You think he made the road?”

She waited. “I had my suspicions from the start, but now I’m sure.”

“You’re sure.” you tried to read her thoughts and came up blank. “So he’s a powerful witch, you mean. Powerful enough to make all of this? You think he made-- everything around us, right now?”

She nodded, quiet, and turned to meet your eye, voice low.

“Yes. That much power in someone so young,” you swallowed down a sting of something unfair, “it’s a precious thing. Needs to be handled carefully, or else…”

“Now you’re saying he’s precious?”

“I’m saying his power is precious, and that’s really sweet actually.”

You frowned.

“How much you seem to care what I think about him. I never took you for the jealous type, pet, but here we are.”

“I’m not—” you swallowed. “jealous.”

She chuckled. “No. Of course not. You’re just worried your dear old mentor might’ve found a new favourite student.”

“I’m your only student. And he’s not-- Agatha—”

“It’s alright, pet.” she murmured. “You know you’ll always be my favourite.”

You died there, maybe. Those were the words you needed to hear, however pathetic, however needy, they made something settle inside of you, the frustration-turned-desperation melting to relief, to ease, and more hope.

You hugged her.

She wasn’t expecting it, not at all, and made out a slightly startled oof- as you wrapped your arms around her so tight, holding on for dear life, face tucked into her coat.

“Why does everything have to be filled with sentimental nonsense when it comes to you, hm?” she asked, but you already felt her arms coming up around you, hands that pulled so much life out of others smoothing over your back in a comforting gesture. You didn’t know for sure when the tears gathered in your eyes, but before you had a chance to stop them they were falling down your cheeks, and into the mess of her curled, dark hair. You sniffled.

She let out a sigh, as if this exhausted her to the utmost level, and ran her fingers through your tangled hair.

“There, there.” she said, a little awkwardly, voice laced with exasperation. “You’re okay.”

And you nodded, because she was right, you were okay, and you were fine--

“I thought you-” your breath hitched, “you might be mad at me for- for not coming back so soon- I was trying- I t-tried—”

She exhaled softly, a thousand heavy regrets in her heart, and shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter, darling.”

“But it does,” you insisted, “it does matter, I should’ve found a way-- and instead he—”

“He isn’t my favourite, only student, and he’s not my-”

“Your what?” you made out quietly.

“He’s not my anything.” she said. “You are.”

That was enough. Enough to ease your worries once and for all, all the untrue thoughts your mind had conjured up about you in the dead of night, that she might hate you, might not want you around anymore, that she found someone better- easier to teach, better at learning-

She pulled away from you with a quiet look, her eyes on you, studying your tearful face.

“What?” you murmured shakily.

“You really care, don’t you.”

“Of course I do-”

She turned away a little, only slightly, like she was maybe unsure if you should see. Her eyes were pale as always, blue and set like cloudy weather, and she had the look of someone so composed on the outside yet hiding a storm on the inside. That was most of her life, you realized at some point while staying with her before. Always so distant, yet so much emotion raging inside. You looked into her eyes and wondered if you were seeing a glimmer of regret. What she did to Alice was a reminder of who you were dealing with, that she wasn’t some friendly, smiling witch or sleepover buddy, but you weren’t about to turn your back on her like the rest of them. Not now. Not here. You might not agree with her morals, but this was something you knew when you begged her to let you join her. You knew what you were signing up for. Witchcraft wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows and Agatha Harkness wasn’t a cold-blooded psycho, not like everyone said or thought. You knew her. Deep down, quietly and from the sidelines, but you did. You believed that and you hoped she knew that too.

You wiped your eyes, quiet and careful, and stilled when she rose one hand and swiped off the liquid on your cheek with her thumb.

And you asked what kept lingering in the back of your mind since you all left the last trial.

“Agatha?”

“Hm?”

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

She tilted her head. “Asked you what?”

“To give you my magic. Juice you up, whatever you call it. I could’ve blasted you with it.”

She stilled just slightly, an almost-smile on her lips. “And you would’ve let me?”

“If you asked me, yes.”

“How do you know I just wouldn’t kill you?” she asked.

The truth was, you didn’t. You hoped she wouldn’t, but it was all a slippery slope. You did trust her. Not just a little. Maybe too much. You definitely believed her when she spoke about being on the Witches Road before. And you would’ve let her take some of your magic too. Naively, maybe, you also believed she wouldn’t have killed you. That maybe, somehow, she would’ve stopped just on the brink, and it would leave you slumped over and heaving and panting but alive. You were so close to stepping in when Alice did it first. Would it have been different if it had been you? Would you have saved a life, or exchanged it for your own?

Beside, quietly, Agatha said, “You don’t know what it’s like, dear. All that power, surging into you, it’s like breathing air after being underwater for too long. It’s all you need to do until you feel better. Until you catch your breath. Some could survive that. Some couldn’t. But Alice never stood a chance. And neither would you.”

That stung.

“You think we’re too weak?”

But Agatha shook her head, the look in her eyes almost remorseful. “No. Not that. But it was three long years. Anyone to blast me with even a spark of it was guaranteed to…” she stopped. “It’s not an easy thing, this.” she said, quietly. “Most days I love it. It’s saved me more times than I can count. But it’s not always the easiest to control. Do you think you could make yourself stop breathing the second you took that first breath of air after being down for so long? For three years?I’m glad it wasn’t you.” she said, and you were surprised to her the firm conviction of her tone, “I’m not glad it was her, but I’m glad it wasn’t you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if—”

She didn’t finish her sentence. There was a gentleness in her gaze you oh so missed, that soft look she gave you after saying something far too soft and indulging you in it. Her hand gently fixed your hair, tucking away a strand gently behind your ear.

And you didn’t know what to say so you just stood there, looking at her, feeling like you might cry all over again.

“So we’re on the same team?” you murmured. “Not like, the coven, them, and you and me. I just mean, us.”

She smiled. A fragile, uncertain smile, but it was there. Guarded. Healing. Safe.

“You and me.” she said back, “I promise, kid.”

For a brief moment, neither of you said anything. You felt the moment settle. Dissolve.

“We should probably get back to the others.” she said. “The sooner we finish this thing the sooner we can get home.”

Home? You turned to look at her, but she was already strolling away, posture poised, head up, back straight, that blue coat flapping behind her like a loyal apprentice, instead of you. You watched her for a moment, walking with her back to you, no doubt rather unwelcome now with the rest of the group.

You couldn’t blame them.

But you shoved your own guilt over it down. Perhaps they’d hate you for it, but you’d stay on her side. Just like before, just like always. There were times when even people like Agatha needed someone in their corner, and you swore to yourself you’d stay though the worst of it, where so many others turned their backs on her and left.

And so, with a purposeful stride in your step, you turned away from the lake and followed her back to the others. There was another adventure to come.

A/n: this wasn't proofread, i'm sorry. title is from Diet Mountain Dew (The Flight Demo) by Lana Del Ray. send me your thoughts on agatha or anything else, I love to talk with yall!!! I had a lot of college exams these last few days and tomorrow I'll be 21 (I literally do not feel old enough) but life goes on and what can you do. Thank you for reading and I hope you're all good and have a wonderful day!

Taglist 💜 @milflovers4 @senhorita-girassol @dandelions4us @kaymariesworld @ahintofchaos @atlasimagines

[spoonfulofmilo]

The Bachelor Chapter 1

are y'all fucking ready???

also regardless of who you want to win, I would encourage you to read everything just cause a) I've put so much effort into this, b) you may find a new favourite to cheer for, and c) how can you vote for who to eliminate when you haven't read everything?

updates will be tues, wed and thursday my time at 7pm aest!

love y'all

the bachelor masterlist is here

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my masterlist can be accessed here

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

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Y/N could hear the host’s voice droning on, but the words felt distant, muffled by the sound of his own breath, heavy and uneven.

“First time… Y/N Y/L/N… bisexual… here for one reason… to find the love of his life…”

He sucked in a breath, the weight of the cameras settling on his shoulders as the lights blazed to life.

“Hey, I’m Y/N. I’m 25, an F1 driver with Aston Martin, and I’m here to find… well, hopefully, the love of my life.”

He flicked his eyes toward the camera, his teeth pressing into his lip before he forced a smile.

“I think... I’m looking for someone who can deal with my chaotic schedule,” he said, voice steady, mostly, despite the way his fingers kept fidgeting in his lap.

“Someone who can spend time with me when I’m home... but is also okay with the fact that I’ll be gone most of the year”

“Um… I’m doing this during my winter break, so I still need to stay fit. But yeah, I’m up for pretty much anything!”

“Ideally, somewhere between 22 and 30. Maybe a little older, I’m open to it. I guess age isn’t really the biggest thing for me.” Y/N winks, then immediately laughs. “Wow, that... uh, that sounded weird.”

“Okay, this is... kind of weird to admit, especially since I think a lot of these contestants will be men, but... I also want someone who wants kids. I’m young, so it doesn’t have to be soon, especially with me being at the peak of my career... but I would like a little one running around the F1 paddock. I want a partner who’s okay with that, and who’s also down to explore those options, even if they’re a guy.”

“Whoa, that was... a lot to admit. Sorry if that got a little too deep.” He exhaled slowly, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to steady himself before moving on.

“As for past relationships… well, I’ve never really dated. Girls always thought I’d go for their brother, so they didn’t want to be seen with ‘the gay guy.’ Guys... thought I was a pervert, or assumed I was cheating on them with my motorsport mates. I... dated someone in my F2 years. He was everything I thought I wanted, until he wasn’t." 

Y/N’s voice caught, a lump forming in his throat. He swallowed hard before forcing himself to continue.

"Then I got the F1 seat, and he didn’t… and that’s when things changed. We started wanting different things, or maybe we always did. It was 3 years ago that I decided to end it. We’d been together for two years. Since then, I’ve had some casual hookups on apps like Raya... but honestly? I think I’m ready for something real. Something that lasts. I don’t care about sexuality. I don’t care what someone looks like. It’s not about gender or genitalia. It’s about the connection.” 

His hands twisted together at his waist, knuckles whitening. For a moment, he couldn't stop. Then, he forced himself to. His chest rose and fell in measured breaths, one, two, three. It felt more like gearing up for a race than introducing himself to millions of viewers. He could hear the producers in his earpiece, their voices sharp, telling him to stop. Look towards where the bachelor would appear. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and followed the instructions. 

The red shirt clung to his chest, a few buttons undone in a bid to stay cool under the studio lights… though the warmth seeping into his skin wasn’t just from the lamps. It was the nerves crawling beneath his skin. He shifted on the balls of his feet, the soft leather of his shoes creaking beneath him, an uncomfortable reminder of how much he wanted to flee.

Contestant Number 1's Introduction Can Be Found Here

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Poll #1 can be found here

Poll #2 can be found here (ideally you only vote in 1, but honestly can't blame you if you vote in both)

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taglist: @barcelonaloverf1life, @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @badblondebisexualboy, @ghostking4m, @fate-posts, @evelyn-4034, @jupiter-je-taime, @redcrescentmoons, @youraveragebritishamerican, @v3lnys, @thatonesblog, @bangbangdevotee, @annegrey, @pear-1206, @alchemxx, @koalapastries, @saucy-apples, @milessunflowers, @dramaticpiratellamas, @bunnisgreen,

[cherrynailsgrl]

Breath with me.

Lottie Matthews x Fem Reader!

Angst content; you’re having a panic attack and Lottie goes to comfort you. Ty anon for give me the idea, I will be accepting requests and tips to improve my writing.

Sorry if I have some errors, english it’s not my first language. Enjoy your reading. <3

It was that same morning—when Shauna was appointed as leader—that you started feeling like this. You had to leave after that, quietly. Like you had always been. You let the others glance at each other in silence when Lottie said Shauna would be guiding them from now on.

You sat far away from them. Your chest hurt. Your breathing started to quicken—faster and faster—until it turned frantic, like you were playing the last minutes of a match again, or like you were drowning in sheer desperation.

Your hands began rubbing your thighs, anxious, then scratching at them, like something itched deep in your bones and your skin was just in the way. But it wasn’t. Even if you scratched down to the bone, you wouldn’t be able to dig out what you were feeling.

Not alone.

Of course Lottie had noticed you were gone.

She always noticed everything. Though sometimes you wondered if it was really It who noticed, and Lottie just could saw when It told to her to.

You didn’t hear her coming—she was careful. You didn’t even hear her when she called your name the first two times. You were too far gone, too focused on how bad the things were going to get.

“Hey, are you okay?” Lottie asked, kneeling down in front of you, trying to meet your gaze after her earlier attempts had failed.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Lottie had a way of understanding people just by looking at them. She didn’t just see people—she watches. Sometimes, it was eerie.

You met her eyes for a moment, and you were too lost, too scared.

“You’re shaking,” Lottie whispered. She placed both of her hands over yours, stopping the frantic motion on your legs. She laced her fingers tightly with yours—she could feel you trembling between them. “You need to breathe with me. Just breathe with me.”

At first, you didn’t listen. You were too fast, too far from anything calm. And this was the same person who had made Shauna the leader—did you even want her help?

“s/n,” she said your last name. It sounded so…distant.

Maybe you didn’t want her help. But you needed it, needed her. “Breath with me.” It came out like a command, but soft. No room for debate.

You started breathing with her. Slowly. When she finally managed to calm you down a little, Lottie brought one hand to your chest, laid it over your sternum, felt your breath rise and fall. “Do you want to tell me?” she asked gently, brushing her thumb in a soothing motion.

“Shauna’s going to make everything worse. You know how she’s been since what happened in the winter.” Your voice was low, afraid of being overheard. You looked around with quiet paranoia. “What if she wants to kill me too?”

You knew she’d wanted to kill the coach herself. That now she wanted to kill Natalie. That all she wanted was violence. What if one day she just woke up and decided she wanted you dead too?

“Oh, come here.” Lottie leaned in and wrapped her arms around you. You both rested your heads on each other’s shoulders. Naming Shauna the leader had been what stopped her from hurting Natalie. But maybe she’d been wrong. Or maybe not.

“You’re not going to get hurt,” she whispered. “I won’t let her do anything to you.”

She couldn’t let it happen. It was the only one allowed to decide over their lives—but more than that, she wouldn’t bear the guilt if something happened to you because of Shauna. She was the one who had put her in that position. But that wouldn’t stop her from protecting you now.

[smallestapplin]

Have you tried asking nicely?

This turned into tfa Optimus x dragon beastformer reader, but also we shitting on tfa Sentinel today cause fuck that guy.

For my moot @rabotimagines for the silly suggestion, love you bro.

It was clear as day to anyone that you hated Sentinel, you hated his cocky attitude, how he breaks the rules just to get a leg up, and most of all his treatment of every bot around him. You loathe having to interact with him, but you don’t make it easy on him much to the amusement of your team.

“Optimus, recall your oversized rust bucket!” Sentinel yells trying to stand his ground, which shakes beneath him at your heavy steps, your claws digging into the dirt below as a low guttural growl rumbles from your chassis

“Sorry, Sentinel, I don’t have command over them. Honestly, my words are just suggestions for them. Maybe if you ask reeeeal nicely they might step back.”

Optimus shrugs, trying to come off as more sympathetic in front of Ultra Magnus, who merely stares at the sight with a fed up expression.

“I am not sure why he thought kicking them was a smart move, but he is a Prime, he should be able to handle himself.”

Optimus and Ultra Magnus share a knowing glance with the same tired sigh before returning to the topic at hand, and while Optimus informs Magnus of the collection of All-Spark shards along with any Decepticon activity, you stand in the background in your towering form, glaring down at the cocky bastard before you.

“Go on you dumb flying mech thingy, I have far more important matters to deal with than you.” He tries to shoo you away with his servos, but you tilt your helm as if his actions were supposed to do anything so you simply ignore it, keeping between him and Optimus, ensuring he can’t get close to the other Prime.

“Optimus!” Sentinel tries once again, “I know being a good leader must be hard for someone like you, but you could at least try-AH!”

You swiftly take one of his pedes in your jaw and start swinging him around, slamming him down to the ground breaking the crust below with violently thrashing. With Bee and Sari’s laughter accompanying Sentinel's shrill screams as he’s whipped around.

Optimus stifles his own laughter until he sees Ultra Magnus look at him with an expecting gaze, sighing, he rushes over to your imposing form.

“Hey now, calm down there, spitfire!” The nickname was spoken with the affection you adored from your leader.

Optimus pats one of your large claws, getting your attention. You stop swinging your helm around, but you refuse to open your intake, keeping your denta clamped firmly on Sentinel's pede. Optimus chuckles at the sight of your draconic form holding the other Prime like a chew toy, even with said Prime looking dizzy, dazed, and dented from your thrashing.

“I know how you feel, but I need you to put him down, okay?” He smiles even though you narrow your optics at him, letting him know good and well he is going to be hearing about this when Sentinel and Ultra Magnus leave.

His spark, however, sinks when he sees a look of realization flash in your gleaming optics, with a deep huffed chuckle rumbling in your chassis.

“Oh no.”

Is all he could manage to get out, watching you whip your helm around for good measure before opening your intake, letting Sentinel go just as your leader had asked of you, and sending the other Prime flying in the opposite direction right into the sea.

You purr, looking very pleased with yourself, so pleased you transform into your robot mode to sure that pleased grin. Looking down at your Prime, your purr grows louder as he crosses his arms and gives you a disapproving look.

“I let go of him as requested, my Prime.”

“Yes, you did, but you know good and well that’s not what I meant.”

You tilt your helm, feigning innocence.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Optimus huffs, only to yell out in surprise once your arms wrap around his waist and lift him up, holding him to your chassis and nuzzling your helm against his like an oversized cat offering affection.

“My apologies, Ultra Magnus, but I’m sure Sentinel is fine! He wasn’t too injured.” How embarrassing, he’s being snuggled in front of his boss who does not look that impressed with him right now.

“Sentinel should be fine, if he’s not back within the hour I’ll send Jetfire and Jetstorm to search for him, since your beast seems not too fond of him to aid in such a search.”

The older mech takes his leave, allowing Optimus a moment to ex-vent with relief.

“I know you don’t like him but did you have to do that?” He leans his helm against yours, trying to sound stern in his questioning, but it’s hard when it was kinda funny.

“Maybe he shouldn’t speak to you like that, he’s lucky I allowed him to keep his pedes.” 

“Yeah, chill out boss bot, they were just doing what everyone’s been thinking.” Bee chimes into your defense, not that it was needed with how the majority aren't fond of Sentinel either.

Optimus tilts his helm back with a groan, he knows Bee is right but in front of Ultra Magnus, really? Not that he can blame you, not when your first instinct is to defend him, he’s an easy mech. What can he say?

[itsgiovanna]

playing for love (chapter 11)

pairing: fem!character x mason mount

summary: injured and lost, mason mount begins his recovery with the help of adeline alderidge, a tough yet brilliant physiotherapist with secrets of her own. he becomes determined to break through the walls adeline has built around herself. but some wounds don't heal easily, and the closer they get, the more mason realizes she might need saving just as much as he does.

notes: hi, guys! hope you're having a great week. this is a little emotional so buckle up :(

word count: 9.5k

warnings: mentions of panic attack and anxiety.

next: chapter 12 (soon)

tag list: @avalentina @a1leexxa

Mason was at home, half-heartedly sorting through emails his agent had forwarded — requests, upcoming interviews, club appearances — when a message from one of United’s liaisons caught his eye.

Subject: Photos Circulating Online.

He opened it, heart thudding a little faster than he wanted to admit.

The pictures were grainy but clear enough: Adeline and Lily, stepping through the lobby with grocery bags in hand. 

And another one, later that day — him, in his cap, heading inside.

Mason swore under his breath.

It wasn’t like he didn’t expect it — paparazzis were a given in his life — but this wasn’t just him anymore. It was them.

Adeline’s face, Lily’s tiny hand tucked into the crook of her elbow. Exposed in a world they didn’t choose.

He dropped his phone onto the table, running a hand through his hair.

Would Adeline be mad? Upset? Scared?

The thought sat heavy in his chest.

He didn’t care what they said about him. He’d survived headlines before. 

But Adeline? Lily? This wasn’t fair to them.

The door buzzed and Mason flinched, startled out of his head.

He checked the clock. She was a little late for their session. Not by much — just enough for him to have started worrying more than he should.

Adeline stepped inside, her expression unreadable — not cold, not angry, just… quiet.

“Hi.” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She didn’t meet his eyes right away.

“Hey.” Mason swallowed hard.

She toed off her shoes, dropped her bag next to the door, and took a slow breath, arms crossing over her chest. “I saw the pictures.”

“I figured.” He nodded.

“They’re everywhere, apparently.” She glanced at him then, finally. “Stella sent them to me.”

Mason shifted his weight, leaning his shoulder lightly against the wall. “Yeah. I got a heads-up from United’s consultancy team.”

Adeline gave a small, dry laugh. “Of course you did. Big star and all.”

He smiled a little, but his chest tightened. He didn’t want her thinking she was caught up in something she couldn’t handle — or worse, something she didn’t want.

“Are you okay?” he asked carefully.

She hesitated, then nodded. “I mean... I’m not thrilled my daughter's picture is floating around online. But — it’s not like it’s scandalous or anything.”

“No, it’s not.” Mason’s voice was firm. “And I’m sorry it even happened.”

Adeline offered a half-smile, but there was something thoughtful in her expression.

“We knew what we were doing, though.” she said. “At least... I did. Borrowing your flat. Being around you.” She paused, chewing on her bottom lip. “I just didn’t think people would care this much.”

Mason pushed off the wall and crossed the space between them, not touching her, just wanting to be closer.

“They care about anything I do.” he said, voice low. “It���s stupid.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “So now... what? They think I’m your—” She didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t need to.

Mason shrugged, giving a small, almost sheepish grin. “Maybe. I mean… could be worse.”

“Why?” Adeline arched an eyebrow.

“They could’ve caught me doing something actually embarrassing.” He chuckled under his breath.

That earned a real laugh from her — soft, surprised — and some of the tension eased between them.

“But seriously, Ady.” he said, a little more carefully now. “If you’re uncomfortable... we can figure something out. I don’t want you feeling trapped in anything. Especially not because of me.”

Adeline’s expression softened at that, her arms uncrossing.

“I don’t feel trapped, Mase.” she said. “I just…” She trailed off again, searching for the right words. “It’s not like we ever said, you know, what this is.”

“No, we didn’t.” Mason felt his pulse pick up, but he kept his voice even.

"And I’m not... asking you to.” Her voice was quick, almost defensive. “I’m not trying to pressure you. I just — it’s a lot, seeing it out there before we even had a chance to really talk about it ourselves.”

He nodded, understanding more than he could put into words.

“I get it.” he said quietly. “I do.”

For a beat, they just stood there — two people who cared, maybe a little more than either of them knew what to do with.

Mason flashed a cheeky grin, stepping closer. "Also, if you keep getting photographed looking like that, I’ll need to start fighting half of Manchester."

Adeline rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto her face. "Yeah, right. I’m not exactly a headline-maker."

"Well, you should be, Alderidge." Mason said, voice light but full of warmth. "I can’t even keep my eyes off you."

"What am I gonna do with you, Mount?" She gave him an exaggerated sigh.

"Keep me, obviously." He shrugged, casually reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft but deliberate.

Adeline laughed quietly, her heartbeat picking up just slightly. "You’re a troublemaker."

Mason leaned in just a touch, his voice teasing. "Admit it, you’re secretly enjoying this."

"Don’t get too cocky, Mount." She arched an eyebrow, pushing against his chest in a mock effort to create some space.

He grinned, completely unbothered. "I’m not cocky, just honest. But look, if you want me to tone it down, I’ll try."

"Please. I don’t think I could handle it if you got any less charming," she teased back.

"Well, I could always go for a full disguise next time, though." he said, straight-faced. "Bit of a fake mustache, hat, sunglasses…"

"God, that’s terrible. And I thought I was the one with bad ideas." Adeline chuckled, shaking her head.

"I can’t help it if I’m a walking disaster." Mason said, smiling as he took a half-step back, hands resting in his pockets, looking almost endearingly sheepish. "But for the record... I’m glad you’re here."

"Me too, Mase." Adeline met his eyes, softening.

(...)

The session had ended, but Mason still felt the rush of adrenaline from the exercises, the satisfaction of knowing he was getting stronger. His knee felt incredible, far better than he’d expected after such a serious injury. He flexed it, testing the movement, and turned to Adeline, who was sitting across the room with a relaxed smile, arms crossed as she watched him.

"You’ve been killing it, Mase." she said with a soft laugh, her eyes sparkling. "I think you’re just about ready to give me a run for my money."

Mason grinned, catching her gaze. "I wouldn’t be getting anywhere without you." His voice had a smooth, low quality now, something different than before. There was no rush to speak, no sense of professional distance. They were past that. And truth be told, he liked it better this way.

She tilted her head slightly, studying him. "I don’t know, Mount." she teased. "You might have a secret talent I don’t know about."

"Maybe you’ll have to find out, Alderidge." he said, his voice dropping an octave. He stepped closer, a playful glint in his eyes.

Her heart fluttered at his words, that familiar pull drawing her in. It was strange, how quickly things had changed. Less than two months ago, they had barely spoken outside the sessions, each of them maintaining that professional, almost cold dialogue. Now, every time they were near each other, it felt like something was always hanging in the air — that unspoken energy, thick and undeniable. And after that kiss... after that night, things had shifted. Neither of them seemed to be able to ignore the way their bodies reacted to one another anymore.

She swallowed, her mind still a little hazy from the way his lips had felt on hers. "You’re in a teasing mood today." she said, trying to keep things light, though the heat rising in her chest told her otherwise.

Mason stepped even closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body, close enough that it made her heart race. He grinned, the kind of grin that only someone who knew exactly how to make her feel this way could have. "You bring that out in me."

Adeline took a breath, trying to hold it together, but the playful smirk on his face and the way his eyes softened when they met hers was almost too much to resist. She couldn’t help but let her gaze drop for just a moment — not to the floor, but to him, to the way he stood there, looking at her like she was something he couldn't quite get enough of.

"Well..." she started, her voice a little shakier than she meant it to be. "I guess it’s a good thing you're healing so well, then. I wouldn’t want to be the one who slowed you down."

Mason chuckled softly, his hand moving to rest lightly on the back of the chair she was sitting in. His eyes never left hers, and the air between them seemed to thicken with each passing second. "Oh, I’m pretty sure I’ll be keeping up just fine."

Then, as if unable to resist, he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her skin. "And just so you know, you’ve been keeping me on my toes for a while now."

Adeline's heart skipped, and she let out a small laugh, though it was nervous. "We've both changed a lot, haven't we?" She said softly, her voice quieter now.

Mason's expression softened at her words. "We have." His voice was low, sincere, the teasing replaced by something more intimate, more real.

For a moment, they just stood there, close enough to feel the electricity between them, both of them knowing that they weren’t just talking about his knee anymore. There was something else in the space between them — something neither of them could ignore.

Finally, Mason broke the silence, his tone light and a little teasing again, as if to ground them both. "Well, whatever happens next... I’m pretty sure it’s going to be hard to top this session."

Adeline’s lips curved into a smile, her hand reaching up to touch his arm, her fingers brushing lightly over his skin. "You think?" she replied, her voice soft, but with a challenge beneath it.

"Absolutely." he murmured, leaning in just enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek. "But I think we’ll figure it out. Together."

Adeline stood there for a moment, feeling the heat of the moment, the space between them thickening in a way that made her heart race. Trying to shake off the lingering effects of their closeness, she cleared her throat. "I’m just going to grab some water." she said, stepping toward the kitchen with a little more urgency than necessary.

Mason raised an eyebrow, a smirk creeping onto his lips as he leaned back against the wall. "You sure it’s just water you need?" he teased, his voice light and playful. "You look like you could use something stronger after that knee talk."

Adeline chuckled, shaking her head as she opened the fridge, trying to distract herself. "Right." she replied with a grin. "Maybe I should go for something a little stronger, but you know, I’ve got to stay professional."

Mason chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Professional, right. Maybe I should start taking notes on how to stay as ‘professional’ as you, Alderidge."

Adeline poured herself a glass of water, glad for the brief moment to breathe. She took a long sip, letting the coolness calm her down, though she still couldn’t shake that fluttering feeling from earlier.

The way he had leaned in, his voice dropping low — she tried to brush it off, but it was still there, lingering in the air.

Mason’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. "About the event tomorrow." he began casually, though there was a certain curiosity in his tone. "Got a fancy dress and everything?" He joked.

Adeline turned to face him, leaning against the counter. "It’s for a good cause, so I couldn’t back out." She smiled.

Mason raised an eyebrow, that playful spark still in his eyes. "You sure you don’t need a plus-one? You know, just in case you need someone to carry your awards around or look good next to you."

Adeline rolled her eyes, setting the glass down. "Oh, yeah, I’m sure I’ll be fine. But actually… Elliot asked me to go with him last night."

Mason raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk curling at the corners of his lips. "Elliot, huh?" he said with a light chuckle. "Well, I hope he knows he’s got some competition for your attention."

"You’re not worried, are you, Mount?" Adeline laughed, rolling her eyes.

Mason shrugged nonchalantly, though his gaze never quite left her. "I mean, I can’t exactly be there to give him the proper ‘don’t mess with her’ speech, can I?" His tone was teasing, but there was a spark of something deeper underneath.

Adeline couldn’t help but grin, leaning a little closer to him. "I think I can manage without a ‘don’t mess with me’ speech."

"Well." Mason said with a playful glint in his eye, "I just hope he knows he’s up against some stiff competition." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate pitch. "I mean, after all, who could possibly top the guy who’s spent the last week making you laugh and, let’s be honest, turning your knees to jelly?"

Adeline’s cheeks flushed, but she fought the urge to smile too widely. "You’re something else, you know that?"

Mason grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "Yes, I know." he replied, tapping his chest dramatically. "But seriously, just… don’t let him think he can outshine me too easily."

"Outshine you, huh? Not sure anyone can manage that." Adeline raised an eyebrow, amused.

Mason winked, leaning back, his usual playful confidence returning. "That’s what I’m hoping for. Keep him on his toes, alright?"

The exchange made her smile, but the feeling between them was different now — lighter, warmer, but also just a little charged. The thought of Elliot didn’t seem nearly as important anymore.

(...)

The daycare’s front steps were buzzing with chaos — toddlers clutching artwork, parents balancing backpacks and snack bags, a few siblings running in zigzags across the pavement.

Adeline spotted Lily immediately, her little pink trainers kicking back and forth as she sat on the low wall, happily chattering away to none other than Stella, crouched beside her.

“Sweetheart!” Adeline called out, lifting a hand.

“Mommy!” Lily shot up and ran into her arms, wrapping herself around Adeline’s legs.

Stella straightened up, smirking. “Told you she’d come back for you eventually.”

“Thanks for the emotional support, Stells.” Adeline said dryly, brushing Lily’s curls back. “She behave today?”

“Like a dream, babes.” Stella said. “Bossed me around all afternoon and then made me carry her backpack like I was her assistant.”

“Couldn't expect less from her.” Adeline snorted. "Any chance you’re free for a park stroll? Lily’s been asking for balloons since breakfast.”

Stella slung her tote over her shoulder. “Was hoping you’d say that. I’ve had enough finger paints and glitter glue to last me a lifetime.”

A few minutes later, the three of them were strolling through the park, the kind of crisp spring afternoon where the air was fresh but the sun was warm enough to keep jackets unzipped. The smell of churros, coffee, and burgers wafted through the breeze. Balloons bobbed above food stands. Dogs tugged at leashes. Lily ran ahead with a bag of popcorn nearly the size of her torso, shouting “Dog!” every five seconds like it was breaking news.

“She’s agitated.” Stella noted, dodging a scooter. “Someone give her a Red Bull?”

“Just post-nap energy. Unmatched.” Adeline laughed.

They walked a bit, Lily skipping ahead.

“So. Are we gonna talk about the pictures or are we pretending they didn’t happen?” Then Stella gave her a sideways glance.

“You mean the ones you sent me?” Adeline sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Well, yes.” Stella smirked. “I figured better me than the internet.”

Adeline made a noise halfway between a laugh and a groan.

“Also... what did Mason say?” Stella nudged her.

“We talked. He was decent about it, actually.” Adeline admitted. “Worried, more than anything.”

“Worried about you or the gossip?”

“About me. About Lily.”

“He’s not just fit, then.” Stella nodded slowly.

“Please, don’t make this weird.” Adeline rolled her eyes.

“I’m not! I’m just saying — you're staying in his flat, he bought you the dress, and gets properly panicked when you get papped? That’s not casual.”

Adeline didn’t say anything, just watched Lily try to feed popcorn to a poodle that clearly wasn’t interested.

“Is he going tomorrow?” Stella folded her arms.

“No.” Adeline said, a little too quickly. “Well — he hasn’t said he is. Probably not.”

“Right. Then, when you walk into the fundraiser looking like that, and your hot neighbor Elliot is on your arm, he’ll what? Send a fruit basket?”

“How do you know about Elliot?” Adeline turned sharply.

“Please, Ady.” Stella scoffed. “You mentioned he asked you. I’ve filled in the blanks.”

“I haven’t said yes, though.”

“You haven’t said no either.”

Adeline looked mildly guilty.

“This is excellent. A proper triangle.” Stella grinned.

“Oh, stop it.”

“No, seriously.” Stella went on, clearly enjoying herself. “Do you know how long it’s been since I got to live vicariously through someone else’s romantic drama? I’ve earned this.”

Adeline shook her head, but her smile was reluctant.

Then Lily came running back toward them. “Mom! There’s a man with a puppy that can sit! You have to come see!”

“Bet it’s more obedient than your mom, Lils.” Stella muttered.

Adeline was holding Lily's hand as they strolled down the path when a familiar voice called out from behind them.

"Look who it is!"

Adeline turned to see Ben Chilwell approaching with a smoothie in hand, sunglasses perched on his head, and a girl following closely behind, tapping away on her phone.

"Ben!" Adeline greeted with a smile. "Not in the kitchen today, huh?"

Ben grinned. "Had to take a break from the toast-and-eggs routine. Figured I’d switch it up with a smoothie for the day."

He dropped to one knee to greet Lily, who had been eyeing him curiously. "Hey, Lily, how’s it going? Still ruling the world with that perfect face?"

"Football man." Lily gave him a very serious look before offering a tiny wave.

Ben chuckled. "That’s me." He straightened up, flashing a grin at Adeline. "Nice to see you two out here, enjoying the weather."

"Yes, we were just about to check out the food stalls." Adeline chuckled back, glancing at Stella.

Before they could move on, Ben noticed Stella standing next to them. His smile faltered for a split second, and for a brief moment, he seemed... off. His posture straightened, and his eyes lingered on her longer than usual.

"Oh, hi." Ben said, his voice a little lower than before. "Don’t think we’ve met. I’m Ben."

Stella raised an eyebrow, eyeing him with mild amusement. "I've heard about you, Ben." she said coolly, with a teasing edge in her voice. "Didn’t know footballers made it a habit to interrupt people’s walks with smoothies."

Ben blinked, visibly caught off guard. His usual confident swagger faltered for a second before he recovered, chuckling nervously. "Well, that’s... that’s a new one."

He held out his hand, though there was a hesitation in his movement, unsure if he should reach for her or not. Stella didn’t take it immediately, simply letting the moment stretch out.

"Stella." she replied with a sly smile, finally accepting his handshake with a firm grip. "Nice to meet you... but we both know this isn't your first time in a public park, so don't try to impress me too much."

Ben blinked again, clearly thrown off, but a grin slowly spread across his face. "Okay, you’ve got me there." He gave her a playful smile, but his eyes were still somewhat captivated.

Before anything else could be said, his date tugged on his arm, looking annoyed. "Babe, can we get going? We’re missing the dumpling truck."

Ben glanced at her, then back to Stella, his words caught somewhere between his brain and his mouth. "Sure. Coming."

He waved at Adeline, Lily, and Stella as he reluctantly started to move, but his eyes lingered on Stella for just a moment too long. The date, who was clearly not impressed with the delay, nudged him again.

As soon as they walked off, Adeline couldn't help herself. "Did he just lose his ability to speak?"

"Men are simple." Stella shook her head with a small laugh.

"You looked like you had him on pause for a second there."

Stella shrugged, her usual confidence fully intact. "What can I say? He’s not the first to forget how to talk when he’s in the presence of a goddess."

Adeline smirked. "Well, I don’t think he was complaining. Though, I might need to warn him about that next time we see him. He looked like he wanted to start asking for your number."

Stella rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite hide the tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "He’s not my type, trust me. But I’ll admit, the bone structure’s hard to ignore."

"You’re hopeless." Adeline laughed.

"Can we go see the dog now?" Lily tugged at Adeline’s sleeve again, her eyes wide with excitement.

"Lead the way, my little bug." Adeline grinned and leaned down to kiss her daughter’s head.

With that, they continued down the path, Lily skipping ahead, her giggles blending with the bustling park around them.

(...)

The flat was warm with the soft scent of jasmine from the bath Adeline had taken earlier, a small indulgence to calm her nerves before the fundraiser that evening. It was Saturday, golden hour just starting to creep through the windows, casting long shadows over the floor where Lily was sitting cross-legged, humming to herself while drawing suns and flowers with crayons.

Stella was already there, perched on the edge of the couch, sipping something fizzy from a glass while Adeline padded between the bathroom and her bedroom in various stages of preparation.

“Did you really wax your own legs?” Stella asked, amused, leaning forward with a laugh. “You’re braver than me, darling.”

Adeline grimaced as she dabbed serum onto her cheekbones in front of the mirror. “Desperate times. Also, I have a kid and a budget. You want smooth legs, you suffer.”

“Mommy made funny noises.” Lily giggled from the rug.

“To dignity, lost in the name of beauty.” Stella raised her glass.

There was music playing in the background — an old soul playlist that Stella insisted to "set the perfect getting-ready mood.” Adeline had washed her hair, curled it in soft waves, and now Stella was doing her makeup with practiced ease, offering commentary all the while.

“You know, if you walk in there with this dress, half the room will turn to dust.”

“It’s just a dress, Stells.” Adeline rolled her eyes.

“It’s the dress.” Stella waved her brush dramatically. “Blush pink, a little bit of sparkle, snatched waist. He knew what he was doing when he picked this one.”

Adeline didn’t respond immediately, but her cheeks flushed warmer than the highlighter Stella had just dusted over them.

There was a knock at the door.

“Shit. It's probably Jaz.” Adeline called, already reaching to grab her robe.

But it wasn’t Jaz.

Lily ran to the door first, swinging it open with a bright grin. “Mase!”

Mason stood there, casual in a dark hoodie and joggers, clearly not expecting the little one. He smiled at Lily, crouching down to her level.

“Hey, Lils. Ready to hang out with Summer?”

“We’re going to paint and eat pizza!” Lily nodded enthusiastically.

Mason laughed. “Sounds like my kind of evening.” He stood, glancing into the flat. “Is your mum around?”

“I’ll get her!” Lily darted off.

“Well, if it isn’t the dress sponsor himself. I'm Stella.” Stella stepped out first, raising an eyebrow.

Mason smirked. “Guilty. Nice to finally meet you, Stella."

And, then, Adeline emerged from the hallway, fully ready, the dress hugging her figure just right, hair falling over one shoulder in gentle waves.

Mason blinked. He didn’t say anything right away.

“Wow.” Mason’s voice, when it came, was softer.

Adeline raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “That's all you’ve got, Mount?”

He grinned, still looking at her like she’d knocked the wind out of him. “Gimme a minute, I’m recalibrating.”

Stella laughed. “Okay, Shakespeare, calm down. You’re here for the kid.”

Adeline walked over to grab Lily’s little overnight bag and coat, still very aware of Mason’s eyes following her.

“Thank you for picking her up, Mase.” she said, handing off Lily’s things. “Jaz mentioned she had to deal with something last minute.”

“Sure.” Mason replied, taking the bag. He looked down at Lily. “Ready, boss?”

“You look like a princess.” Lily gave Adeline a big hug.

“Be good, okay?” Adeline kissed the top of her head.

“I will!”

As they left, Mason turned at the door, offering Adeline one last look. His smile was different this time — a little warmer, a little deeper.

“Break hearts out there, Alderidge.”

As the door clicked shut, Adeline leaned against it for a second, trying to will the warmth in her cheeks to settle.

“If he looked at me like that, I’d have to sit down.” Behind her, Stella let out a low whistle.

Adeline rolled her eyes, pushing off the door with a soft laugh. “It wasn’t that dramatic.”

Stella followed her back into the room, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. “Babes, I’ve seen fewer sparks at a fireworks show.”

Adeline tried — and failed — to hide her smile. “Can we just get to the part where you help me zip this dress without delivering a TED Talk about my love life?”

“Fine. But if Mason doesn’t end up peeling this dress off you by the end of the night, I might actually start believing in self-control.” Stella smirked, fingers expertly working the zipper up.

“Stella!” Adeline turned, scandalised — but the flush on her cheeks ruined any attempt at seriousness.

“What? I’m just saying what he’s already thinking.” Stella just grinned, completely unbothered.

Adeline muttered something, under her breath, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips.

(...)

Adeline stepped out of the car, the soft click of her heels against the pavement almost lost in the noise of conversation and flashes. Elliot offered his arm and she hesitated for half a second, but ended up looping her hand through it. He didn’t say much — just nodded politely at the photographers as they passed.

Inside, the place was nearly unrecognizable. The reception had been transformed with hanging lights, linen-covered tables, and glowing arrangements of white orchids and gold-dipped leaves. Everything gleamed, even the air smelled expensive.

As they entered, Elliot kept her close, his hand pressing gently against the small of her back like she might wander off — or worse, like he wanted everyone to see who he had on his arm.

Adeline’s eyes landed on the auction tables, neatly arranged to the right side of the room. Elegant little signs stood in front of donated pieces: wine tastings, luxury hotel stays, vintage jewelry, even what looked like a framed football jersey in a glass case. She couldn’t help but slow her steps at that one.

“Come on, Ady.” Elliot said quietly, nudging her forward. “We've got to talk to the contributors.”

She offered small smiles and quick greetings to people from work — now polished and barely recognizable out of their scrubs and uniforms. She chatted briefly with the head of the surgical department and one of the receptionists, who was glowing in a black gown. Everything felt slightly surreal, like she’d stumbled into a play where everyone else already knew their lines.

Elliot handed her a glass of champagne from a passing tray and leaned in to say something about one of the donors, a name she didn’t recognize. She nodded along, sipping politely, eyes scanning the room.

He’d make fun of all of this, she thought, suddenly.

The lights, the music, probably the dessert table too.

Mason’s voice drifted into her head — a joke he would’ve made, something sarcastic about the hospital looking like a fancy wedding venue. She smiled to herself before wondering if Lily had eaten, if she was already in her pajamas, if she’d insisted on painting Mason’s face with eyeshadow and highlighter.

“Are you even listening?” Elliot’s voice cut in, sharp enough to jolt her.

“What?” Adeline blinked.

“You’re somewhere else, Ady.” he said, not angry, but not amused either. “I’ve been talking for five minutes.”

“Sorry, Elliot.” she said, trying to mask the surprise in her voice. “Just distracted.”

He didn’t say anything else — just gave a tight nod and turned back to his drink, looking out at the crowd.

Adeline sipped her champagne again, eyes darting back to the auction table — and the jersey in the glass case — before letting her gaze fall on the room around her. Something in her chest felt tight. Off.

She wasn’t sure if it was the dress, the setting, or the man beside her.

But, it was starting to feel like a long night.

(...)

Elliot had wandered off somewhere, thankfully, drawn into conversation with one of the board members he, clearly, admired too much. Adeline didn’t mind. It gave her the chance to quietly step away, weaving between small groups of guests, until she stood in front of the framed football jersey.

Chelsea. 19. Mount.

It took her a second. Not to recognize it — that was immediate — but to process the feeling that hit her chest like a weight and a balm at once. The jersey was neatly pressed behind glass, slightly faded with use but still like it was ready to be worn again. There was a small engraved plaque underneath:

Donated by Mason Mount 2021 - UEFA Champions League.

Adeline exhaled slowly, her eyes trailing over the seams of the fabric, the stitching, the memories wrapped in something so simple. Most people here probably saw a collector’s item. But she saw him. His history. His effort. His quiet gesture.

He hadn’t mentioned it. Not once.

And part of her knew why. He wasn’t showing off. He was letting go. A way to give something meaningful, and maybe release the grip it had on him in the process.

The thought made her throat tighten a little. It wasn’t just that he’d helped the hospital. It was how he did it — quietly, personally. No press. No spotlight. And even though he wasn’t here, he suddenly felt close.

She reached out, almost instinctively, fingers ghosting over the glass where the number curved, soft and worn.

Then a hand came into view — neat, older and holding a pen — the person scribbled something onto one of the bidding cards in front of the display. The soft sound of the tip against paper snapped her from the fog.

She glanced at the figure beside her, intending to nod politely.

But then she paused.

There was something familiar about the way they stood. The stillness. The profile she could almost place, though it had been years. The pen tapped once against the table, as if done, and the person turned slightly.

And Adeline’s breath hitched.

“I always knew you'd miss the money we used to give you.”

Her spine straightened instantly.

Her head snapped in his direction. She hadn’t heard that voice in almost four years. But, there he was. In a navy suit tailored to perfection, shoes polished, like always — as if nothing in the world had crumbled in the time between.

Her father.

He looked down at the jersey, then at her. A cold little smirk curled at the edge of his mouth. “Didn’t think I’d find you playing house with one of them, though. Must be lucrative.”

Adeline’s heart stumbled.

“I beg your pardon?” Her voice was tight.

He folded the bidding slip in half, slid it back in the card holder like it mattered. “I heard about the photos. Your mother cried for two days straight before she called me. She thought you were in trouble. I thought—” He laughed under his breath. “Well, turns out you’re just comfortable now. Trading the Alderidge's name for The Daily Mail and footballers.”

Her blood ran cold.

“You don’t know anything about my life.” she said sharply.

“I know you threw it away.”

The words hit harder than she expected. He wasn’t yelling. He didn’t need to. His tone, controlled and clipped, was more devastating than any raised voice.

“You were given every opportunity—”

“And I chose my daughter!” she snapped, stepping toward him. “You think I regret that for one second?”

“That child cost you everything.” His face tightened.

“No.” she said. “You cost me everything. The day you made me choose. The day you made her a punishment.”

They were drawing eyes now. Someone, in a long black dress, glanced sideways. A doctor she recognized passed slowly by. But, neither of them moved.

“You think I’m here to hurt you?” he said, his voice lowering now, almost like pity. “I’m here because your mother wanted to know you were alive. I donated to this damn place just to get an invite. And what do I find? You in some man’s flat, dressing up in fancy clothes you didn’t buy—”

“Mason isn’t like that.” Her hands curled into fists.

“Of course he's not.” His mouth twitched. “They never are. Until... they leave.”

The words hollowed her out. Her throat burned. Her vision blurred. She could feel the panic pressing at her ribs, her chest too tight, too full.

“I need—” Her voice cracked. She stepped back. People were still watching.

She couldn’t cry here. She wouldn’t.

“I need air.” she muttered, turning sharply on her heel.

“Adeline!” her father shouted behind her.

But, she didn’t stop.

She walked fast, breath uneven, hands trembling against the pressure of her dress. She barely saw the hallway around her as she pushed through the nearest door that wasn’t locked and leaned against the wall, her chest rising and falling like she’d just run a race.

The world tilted. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her hand went to her chest, like she could physically hold her heart still.

The walls seemed to close in around her as the weight of everything hit her all at once — the confrontation with her father, the overwhelming noise and flashes of the event, and the constant pressure of being watched. The tears came first, hot and fast, followed by the sweat that clung to her skin, making her feel even more trapped in her own body. She couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t focus on anything other than the panic that seemed to take over her every sense.

She staggered to the corner of the room, leaning against the cool wall, trying to steady herself. But it was like her body wasn’t hers anymore. Her pulse raced, her breathing shallow, her vision starting to blur. The noise outside the room felt like it was pressing in on her, even though she knew it was just the hum of the fundraiser going on down the hall.

Adeline’s hands fumbled for her phone in her bag, and in a daze, she answered the call before she even looked at the screen.

“Adeline?” Jaz’s voice came through, light and cheerful. “Lily’s been asking about you. She’s missing you and—”

Jaz’s voice trailed off when she heard the sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line. The cheerful tone shifted instantly, a wave of concern flooding through her words. “Adeline?”

Adeline’s breathing was erratic, almost inaudible over the phone as she tried to speak but couldn’t form words.

“Adeline, what’s happening? Talk to me.”

Jaz’s concern deepened, and after a brief pause, she quickly handed the phone off to someone else. "Mason... she’s not okay. I don’t know what to do."

Adeline heard the familiar voice on the other end before she even registered who it was.

“Ady?” Mason’s voice was calm but full of concern, like a gentle anchor in the chaos. “Where are you? What’s going on?”

Adeline tried to respond, but all she could manage was a soft, choked sob. Her chest tightened again, and the anxiety surged through her like a tidal wave.

“Hey.” Mason said, his voice steady and warm. “I’m right here. Can you tell me where you are?”

Adeline tried to focus, barely able to catch her breath. “Room... near the auction.” she gasped, barely able to form coherent thoughts.

“I’m on my way.” Mason said, his words reassuring and easy. “I’m not far. Just, stay with me. Alright?”

Adeline’s breathing hitched, but there was something about the calmness in his voice that made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t alone in this.

“Breath.” Mason continued, as if he were right next to her, even though she knew he wasn’t. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Adeline’s tears flowed freely now, her body shaking with the effort to breathe. His voice, quiet and steady, was a lifeline, even when her mind felt like it was spiraling.

(...)

Mason’s sneakers softly thudded on the hospital floor, the sterile white walls and bustling staff around him contrasting sharply with the feeling in his chest — tight, urgent, and filled with a need to find her. He was out of place here, in a hoodie at an event full of people in sharp suits, but he didn’t care. His eyes scanned the halls, his thoughts entirely focused on Adeline.

He passed doors, quickly checking them, some locked, some empty, but all leading him nowhere. He could feel his patience wearing thin, his heartbeat picking up speed, but he didn’t let it show. He just kept moving.

And then, there it was. A door cracked open just enough for him to push it the rest of the way.

Inside, he found her.

Adeline was curled into a corner, knees pulled to her chest, her face hidden in her arms. Her body shook, her breathing uneven. She didn’t notice him right away, too caught up in her own panic to hear his approach. Mason stepped closer, his heart lurching when he saw how fragile she looked.

"Adeline?" His voice was quiet, gentle, as he kneeled beside her.

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide, filled with that flash of fear. She recoiled at first, instinctively trying to pull away, but when she saw who it was, recognition flickered in her gaze. Still, she didn’t speak, just stared at him, her breaths coming quick and shallow.

"Hey." he said, his voice soft but steady. “It’s just me. Mason.”

She didn’t answer, but after a moment, she didn’t pull away either. Slowly, he reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It’s alright." he murmured. "You’re safe. I’m here."

Adeline stayed still for a beat, and then, as if something inside her finally gave way, she allowed herself to be pulled into his arms. She didn’t fight him. She just clung to him, her trembling body pressing into his chest. Mason wrapped his arms around her, holding her steady, letting her breathe.

For the next few minutes, he didn’t say much. He just stayed with her, his hand rubbing her back in slow, calming motions. He didn’t rush her, didn’t ask her to talk. He just let the silence work, the steady rhythm of his breathing and the pressure of his arms enough to let her know she wasn’t alone.

Gradually, her breathing began to slow, and the shaking lessened. She pulled away slightly, just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were still red, the tears still there, but she seemed more grounded now.

Mason smiled at her, but there was a heaviness behind it, his brow furrowed with worry. He didn’t want to overwhelm her, but he couldn’t hide the concern in his voice. “Better?”

Adeline nodded, though her voice was still faint, almost fragile. “I think so.”

Mason didn’t immediately let go. He kept his arms around her, his touch gentle but firm, as though trying to ground her. “Good.” he said quietly, his voice laced with relief. “No rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

Adeline stayed in the safety of his arms, the tension in her body beginning to ease, but only just. She could still feel the weight of everything pressing in on her. And Mason? He stayed quiet, waiting for her to say something, but he was watching her closely, his concern not just for what was happening now, but for what had caused it. He didn’t ask her, yet — he could tell she wasn’t ready — but the worry was clear in the way he held her, in the way his hand kept moving in slow, rhythmic circles on her back.

Adeline felt like she wasn’t alone in her panic. Mason was there, and his quiet reassurance was more than enough to keep her from spiraling again. She wasn’t ready to talk, but she knew that whenever she was, he’d be there — no questions, no judgment. Just him, steady and calm in the chaos.

(...)

The hallway felt colder than the room Adeline had been hiding in, the artificial light above them humming faintly. She pressed her palms to her cheeks, willing the flush away, then ran her fingers under her eyes to catch any smudged mascara. Her breath was steadier now, but her limbs still felt heavy.

Mason didn’t say much as they walked — just stayed close. He let her lead, his hands in his pockets, glancing sideways every so often. She hadn’t said a word about what had triggered the panic, but he could feel the tension still laced in her shoulders.

As they passed the open doors that led back to the event, Adeline’s eyes scanned the crowd, a little too quickly. She wasn’t looking at the decoration or the staff, she was looking for someone. And whoever it was, her hands trembled again.

Without a word, Mason reached out, gently taking her hand in his and wrapping his fingers around hers — soft but firm, like a tether. She looked at him, surprised for a moment. He didn’t say anything, just gave her a small smile.

Then, they turned the corner — and bumped straight into Elliot.

“Adeline?” His voice was sharp, surprised. “Finally.”

Elliot looked her over with thinly veiled annoyance. “You disappeared in the middle of the evening.”

“S—Sorry. I wasn’t feeling well, Elliot.” she said quietly, eyes low.

“Sure.” His gaze flicked briefly to Mason beside her — recognition flickering. “I just didn’t expect you to vanish. Especially, with company.”

“She doesn’t owe you an explanation.” Mason’s jaw tensed, but he stayed calm.

Elliot blinked, surprised by how direct — and protective — his tone was.

“I’m her colleague.” Elliot said, cool. “We came in together.”

“And now she’s leaving, mate.” Mason replied, voice even but steel-edged. “You had your time to check in on her. You didn’t. I did.”

Elliot glanced at Adeline, who still hadn’t raised her eyes. “She’s always had a flair for the dramatic.” he said, as if that explained everything.

That did it.

Mason stepped just slightly forward — not aggressive, just certain. “You really think it’s dramatic to have a panic attack at your own fundraiser? Maybe next time, instead of thinking about your reputation, you should ask if she’s alright.”

Elliot opened his mouth, but Adeline finally looked up. “Let it go.” she muttered, voice flat.

“She said let it go.” Mason glanced at her, then back at Elliot.

“Whatever you say, footballer.” Elliot scoffed.

They walked past him without another word. Mason didn’t let go of her hand.

Once they were outside, the air hit different — cooler, quieter, real. Adeline still didn’t speak, but this time, her grip tightened around Mason’s fingers instead of slipping away.

And he held on.

(...)

The city passed in soft streaks of gold and silver, the windshield blurred slightly with the misty drizzle that was falling. Mason kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting in his lap, glancing occasionally toward Adeline as she stared out the window like the world outside might offer her something to hold on to.

She hadn’t said a word since they got in the car. The music was off. Just the sound of the engine and the rain, steady, almost calming.

He’d been thinking about it in loops since she collapsed into his arms back at the hospital — since her voice cracked over the phone. He didn’t know if it had been Elliot, or maybe the photos that leaked earlier that week. Maybe someone said something. Or maybe… maybe, it was something else entirely.

All he knew was that something inside her broke tonight, and he’d never wanted so badly to protect someone he didn’t fully understand.

Adeline was still leaning against the window, her breath fogging up the glass in short, uneven bursts. Her hand clutched the fabric of her dress near her lap, and Mason saw it—barely, but it was there.

A tear. Then, another.

He couldn’t help it. His hand left the gear shift and moved gently to her thigh, grounding. Warm. No pressure, no words. Her head turned slowly, and their eyes met — hers red-rimmed, glassy but wide awake.

She didn’t say anything.

Adeline reached down, laid her hand on top of his, fingers curling softly around his knuckles.

Mason’s chest ached.

He gave her thigh the lightest squeeze, then went back to watching the road, never moving his hand from hers. Whatever it was, whatever had hurt her tonight — she didn’t have to carry it alone.

By the time they pulled up to Jaz’s house, the drizzle had turned into a light rain, casting a glistening sheen over the quiet street. Mason parked just in front, the headlights briefly washing over the front steps before cutting off.

She wiped her face with the edge of her sleeve, straightened her shoulders, and took a breath so deep it almost sounded like a tremble. Mason watched her carefully, but said nothing — just gave a small nod, like ‘you’ve got this’.

He rang the bell. A few seconds later, Jaz opened the door with a bright smile that faded just a little when she noticed Adeline lingering behind him.

“Hey.” Jaz greeted gently, eyes flicking between them. “Come in.”

Adeline gave her a soft, almost apologetic smile. “Hi, Jaz.” She didn’t say more, but she didn’t have to. Jaz’s look was full of quiet understanding.

They stepped inside, warmth and soft light wrapping around them instantly, the smell of popcorn and something sugary lingering in the air. Children’s laughter echoed faintly from deeper in the house, and a second later, Lily came running in, her little feet padding against the floor.

“Mommy!”

Adeline bent down just in time to catch her daughter, who launched into her arms wearing a superhero cape over mismatched pajamas. A spark of joy flickered through Adeline’s face, though her smile was worn thin around the edges.

“Wow!” Adeline whispered, brushing her fingers over Lily’s wild hair. “What are you supposed to be?”

“I’m Super-Cupcake!” Lily said proudly, her hands thrown in the air. “Summer and me made up our own heroes! We saved a whole village of stuffed animals. Then Auntie Jaz let us eat candy and make a fort. Mom, can I please stay? Please? Summer said we can sleep in the tent, and we already brushed our teeth!”

Behind them, Summer appeared in her own glittery mask and cape, waving with a grin that had clearly been passed down from Jaz.

Jaz leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed. “We’d love to have her. I promise I’ll return her in one piece — maybe a little more hyper, though.”

Adeline looked at Lily, then at Jaz. Her chest felt tight again, but not from panic this time. Just the weight of everything, colliding all at once — relief, exhaustion, love.

“Okay.” she said finally, kissing Lily’s forehead. “But, just one night. And no jumping on couches.”

Lily squealed, already running back to Summer.

Adeline stood up slowly, swaying just a bit, and Mason was there beside her in a second, his hand brushing lightly against her back. Jaz met her gaze from across the room and gave a little nod, a warming and loving ‘you’ll be okay’.

“Thank you, Jaz.” Adeline whispered.

“Anytime, Ady.” Jaz smiled, placing her hand on Adeline's shoulder.

(…)

The street outside Adeline’s building was quiet, the pavement still glossy from a recent drizzle. Adeline stepped out of the car, clutching her purse a little tighter than necessary. Mason came around the front, casually looking to both sides of the road — not just to check for traffic, but instinctively scanning for any lurking photographer's lenses.

“It's clear.” he said, keeping his voice soft. “I think the rain scared them off.”

She gave him a small smile, appreciative, but tired. The kind of tired that wasn’t just physical.

They crossed the street side by side, Mason hovering just close enough to offer silent support. The doorman greeted them with a polite smile — and a discreet glance that lingered a little too long on Adeline’s dress and Mason’s hoodie. But Mason didn’t care. He never did when it came to that kind of thing.

Inside the elevator, it was just them. The quiet sound of the machinery filled the space between them. Adeline looked at their reflections in the mirrored wall — her dress, now a little wrinkled from sitting, eyes a bit puffy, eyeshadow slightly smudged. Next to Mason, who looked like he’d walked out of a Nike advertisement in his hoodie and joggers, she almost laughed at how mismatched they appeared.

As the elevator climbed, neither of them said much. She caught him glancing at her once or twice, probably checking to see if she was still on the verge of collapsing. But she wasn’t. Not anymore. Something about the silence with him didn’t feel uncomfortable — it was more like breathing again.

When they reached the hallway, the two walked toward the flat Adeline now called hers temporarily. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor, while Mason’s trainers made a faint scuffing sound. He stopped a few feet from the door and she pulled out the key.

Adeline turned to face him, about to say something — maybe a goodbye — but instead, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around his neck. The hug was sudden, wordless, and full of things she didn’t know how to say. Mason’s arms came around her almost instinctively. He held her tightly, one hand resting between her shoulder blades, the other gently gripping her waist. No words, just warmth.

When she pulled back, she looked at him and gave a small, shy smile.

“I know you probably have somewhere better to be.” she said quietly, “But… I’d really like it if you stayed.”

Mason’s lips curved into a slow grin, the kind only she seemed to get lately. “Better than spending the night with you?” he said, eyebrows raised, slightly. “Can’t think of a single one.” Adeline smiled, for the first time in hours, with his answer.

Then, she turned to unlock the door, pushing it open and stepping inside first. The flat was a little dark and quiet — a faint amber glow from the streetlights outside.

Mason was leaning against the kitchen counter when she slipped off her shoes near the door, his eyes following her quietly. He hadn’t said much since they got back, but his presence had spoken for him all evening — calm, steady, like an anchor she hadn’t realized she needed.

Adeline offered a faint smile, her voice softer than usual. “Make yourself at home.”

Mason glanced around the space — his space — with a wry, knowing look. “Generous of you, considering I used to live here.”

“Exactly. You’re basically a guest now.” She let out a small, tired laugh and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

He didn’t reply right away, just watched her for a beat longer, eyes searching — like he wanted to ask how she was, but didn’t want to press. She appreciated that more than she could say.

“I’m gonna shower.” she said, her voice trailing into something almost apologetic. “Get out of this... night.”

“I'll be here when you get back.” Mason gave a simple nod.

She lingered for just a second before walking down the hallway, letting the familiar comfort of the flat — and of him — ease the tension in her shoulders. When she closed the bedroom door behind her, she leaned against it, eyes closed. Just for a moment.

The dress slipped off easily, puddling around her feet. The shower was already running. She stepped in, and the warmth wrapped around her like a cocoon — like maybe, if she stood still long enough, it could carry her somewhere softer.

But the heat only made the emotions rise faster.

The image of her father’s face burned behind her closed eyes. The same sharp features, the same clipped tone. He hadn't changed.

And, yet, the way he'd said her mother cried... that had knocked the air out of her.

She hadn’t expected to feel anything when it came to them. Not anymore.

But she did.

Pain. Confusion. A tiny splinter of guilt that made no sense — but it was there, lodged in her chest.

She stepped out of the shower slowly, wrapping a towel around herself. Fog clouded the mirror, but when she wiped it, her reflection stared back — flushed, damp, a little hollow. Not from the water. From the past that had walked straight into her tonight like it had never left.

Adeline changed into a soft hoodie — Mason’s hoodie, to be more precisely — and a pair of sweats, her limbs moving automatically. She didn’t realize how much she was trembling until she sat down at the edge of the bed, hands resting against her knees.

Mason doesn’t know.

And part of her was terrified he might not look at her the same way if he ever did. Not because of what she’d been through — but, because she didn’t want to be seen as someone who still carried that damage. Who still flinched at old wounds.

But another part of her… a quieter part… wanted to tell him everything. Just to see how gently he’d listen.

Just to feel, even for a second, that she didn’t have to hold it all alone.

The hallway felt longer than usual as Adeline padded barefoot toward the living room. She clutched the sleeves of Mason’s hoodie between her fingers, grounding herself in the scent still clinging to the fabric — subtle cologne, fresh laundry, and something that was just… him.

The flat was quiet, except for the sound of Manchester outside and the gentle buzz of the TV Mason had turned on. When she turned the corner, she saw him stretched across the couch, one arm behind his head, the other holding his phone. The glow, of some old movie, danced across his features.

“Hey, you.” he said, voice low and careful. Not tiptoeing — just gentle.

Adeline didn’t answer with words. She just moved.

One step, then two — and suddenly she was climbing over him, easing herself into his chest. Her knees rested on either side of his hips, her arms wrapping around his neck. She buried her face in his shoulder like she’d been holding in the need for comfort all day and had finally run out of strength to pretend otherwise.

Mason didn’t flinch. He closed both arms around her, strong and steady.

Adeline didn’t cry. But, her breathing hitched, and he could feel the tension in her body, all quiet storms and unshed words.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” she mumbled into his neck.

“You don’t have to.” he replied instantly. His hand moved up and down her back in slow, absent circles.

Adeline pulled back just enough to look at him. Her eyes were tired, red-rimmed, but there was something open there now, something searching.

“You're still here for me.” she whispered. “Even when I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Mason smiled, soft and sincere. “You don’t have to know what you’re doing, Ady. You’re not alone in this.”

There's a pause — one of those rare silences that felt full, instead of empty.

“But…” he went on carefully, eyes flicking between hers. “Just so you know… even if this thing between us isn’t… official or whatever people call it — I’m here. For you. That part’s not up in the air.”

Adeline’s chest tightened in a different way now — not painful, but warm.

She exhaled slowly, then leaned her forehead against his. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like you.”

Mason grinned, playful despite the quiet weight in the room. “Handsome, loyal, devastatingly charming?”

“Sure.” She let out a breathy laugh.

They stayed like that — wrapped up in each other, the city beyond the windows still moving, but the world in that flat shrinking down to just the two of them. For the first time that night, Adeline wasn’t afraid to let herself rest.

(...)

[dsireland86]

LOVE YOUR ONE SHOTS BESTIE

I have a lil request for another Noah one..

So like we all know that that man would 100 percent talk you through it right? 😭

So all im saying is best friend Noah.. Mut mastubate situation

🫣🫣

Sorry I live for the best friend Noah trope 🤪

Bestie🥹🥹🥹🫶🫶🫶 I love best friend (with benefits.... hehehe) Noah, too!

Can I Talk You Through It?

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @kenjipepsi1 @blackveilomens @chey-h @disappearintothegrey @jilliemiw86 @pathion @fear-its-beauty @an0mallly @potterheadquinn @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @montgomery-929494 @missduffsblog @lilcazy011 @Lonelydragonlady @Mattysbitchvic @athenexe @pipidoll @flowery-mess  @bloody-spades

The feeling is insatiable, an overwhelming need and hunger that can't be quenched on your own. You're trying, but something's missing. It feels good, and you've brought yourself to the edge plenty of times, but never has the stimulation taken you completely over.

"Y/N!"

Noah's voice up the stairs scares the crap out of you. Quickly, you sit up and search for your short, unable to find them fast enough before your bedroom door swings open.

"Y/N, what are you,"

You grab the nearest blanket and throw it over yourself, hoping it covers your secret.

"Shit! Noah!" "Oh! Sorry," he apologizes, but you know it's not authentic.

Hanging your head because you can't bear to look Noah in the face as you try to recover from almost giving yourself your first orgasm, you're afraid that your vulnerability can be seen and it's nerve racking.

"What's wrong?" he asks, letting go of the door handle and letting himself into the room. "Are you alright?"

You shake your head knowing your cheeks are blood red.

"What's wrong? What happened?" "Nothing," you mumble. "Then look at me," Noah begs, standing in front of you.

You don’t respond, let alone raise your head.

"Hey," he says, shaking you by the arm a little. "It's nothing. Just forget it."

When you finally raise your head and look up at Noah, you see the genuine concern on your best friend's face and give him a half smile.

"What did you need?"

Noah's brows crease in confusion, unwilling to drop the subject.

"Not until you tell me what's going on with you. You seem really flustered. Did something happen? Or not happen," he asks, his perfect lips forming into a soft smile.

You want to tell him, you really do, but you're way too embarrassed to.

"Um, yes and no, but it's fine. Really, forget it," you say, shaking your head slightly. "What, a, what are you, were you going to tell me? What were you yelling for me for?

"Alright. Fine, don't tell me."

Noah's scowl is so Noah, and it makes you giggle, and when he smiles at you, your heart starts racing and a familiar tingle warms you on the inside so well that you feel your wet arousal seep between your thighs.

"What?" "What," you shrug, trying to hide the shakiness of your voice. "Alright, something's seriously up with you! Spill it."

Noah has always been the observant type, never letting anything about you go unnoticed, so it shouldn't surprise you like it does that he knows something's up.

"No," you lightly laugh, shifting on the bed. "Nothing is going on. I'm just," but you hesitate, unsure of your next words. "Just what?"

You look up at Noah again, and the tingling feeling hits you again. 

"Fuck!" you curse, covering your face. "Okay, this is stupid. Get up and come with me. I need to show you something," Noah orders, grabbing your hand and almost pulling you off the bed.

You panic, remembering you’re not wearing anything under the blanket and pull away from his grasp, almost screaming the word “no”.

"What the hell, Y/N!"

Noah turns back and looks at you, eyes wide with surprise, as you fix the blanket over your lap.

"I can't come with you right now." "Why not?" "Because! I just can't, okay," your voice fades slowly as you look away.

Noah comes closer to you, so close that you can smell his cologne on the bright yellow hoodie he chose to wear today. The way his brow furrows as he looks around your sitting area tells you he's thinking hard about what's happening at the moment.

"Get up." "No," you scowl. "Why not? Get up," Noah orders, a small smirk forming in the corner of his mouth as he pulls on your arm again.

"Noah! Stop!" you yell, holding on to the blanket, but part of it falls when you accidentally step on it as you try not to fall, revealing most of your bare bottom.

Scrambling to gather the blanket, you fall back onto the bed once you do, absolutely traumatized by what just happened. You're too embarrassed to look up at Noah because you already know what he's just seen.

"Well, damn." "Noah, just don’t, okay," you say pathetically, shielding your face with your hand. "What? All I was going to say is you have a really nice ass. That's all."

At first, you think you didn't hear him correctly. Risking a glance, you find an amusing look on your best friend's face, and for a moment, your embarrassment simmers.

"What?"

Noah raises an eyebrow and smiles.

"I mean, I'm not gonna deny that I've never checked out your ass before, but seeing it with nothing covering it, damn," he chuckles, "yeah, it's pretty nice."

You stare him dead in the face and try not to laugh, knowing he's just doing what a good best friend would do.

"Oh, whatever," shaking your head. "Look, if you're not going to tell me what you wanted, then maybe..."

"Why aren’t you wearing any pants?"

You stop mid sentence at Noah's question.

"What?"

Noah reaches for the blanket, but you grab it tightly.

"Where's your pants and underwear, Y/N?" "I, um, they're..." but you can't find the right words to say.

Noah comes up to the side of the bed so that his waist is eye level with your face, forcing you to stare at what's directly in front of you until he lifts your face with his finger beneath your chin. A sudden burst of stimulation that you've never felt before hits the center of your sex and it almost feels as if you could reach the high you've been aching to feel right then. You feel your arousal gather between your folds as you clench your teeth together.

"Aww, you're blushing," Noah teases. "I Like that look on you."

The playful look on his almond shaped eyes has your core aching.

"Come on, tell me what's going on, Y/N. And don't say nothing is. I'm your best friend. I know you better than you think."

You try to look away, but Noah won't let you.

"It's stupid, really stupid. And it's not your problem, so I won't burden you with it." "It can't be that bad." "Oh, it is. Trust me. And it's really embarrassing, so yeah." "Okay, fine," Noah sighs, sitting down next to you, implying he has no interest in giving up the game. "If you won't tell me, then I'll guess."

Your heart hammers against your chest.

"Fine. Good luck," thinking he'll never get it right.

Noah's big hand touches the side of your face, his tattooed touch sending chills throughout your entire body as he turns your head to face him. His long thumb, calloused on the pad, caresses your cheekbone as he looks from your eyes to your lips to your lap, then back up to your eyes again. The tip of his tongue sticks out between his thin, moistening them perfectly.

"You were trying to make yourself have an orgasm, weren't you?"

Your heart plummets to the pit of your stomach. How did he know? And why is he looking at you like that? The slight twinkle you see shows Noah's amusement, making you more nervous than before.

"Oh god, no," you shake your head, pulling away from the grip Noah has on you, "shit, no, it's not what you think. I, uh," but your denial comes out all shaky, and now you're even more confused than before

"Y/N," "Look, Noah, I think, uh, you should go," "Y/N," "I need a second to clear," "Y/N!"

You stop speaking and look up at Noah, fighting back the urge to cry. The small grin you see settles your stomach slightly, but you still feel like you're about to pass out from all the embarrassment you feel.

"What?" "It's okay," Noah says softly, reaching over and caressing the side of your face. "What?"

Noah laughs softly.

"It's fine. It's a normal thing to do." "No," you disagree, shaking your head. "No?" Noah asks, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "No, not for me, it's not." "What do you mean?"

You wipe away the single tear that manages to slip out and lower your face in shame.

"Come on. It's me, Y/N; your best friend. You can tell me," Noah encourages.

Sniffing and clearing your throat, you try to make your thoughts make sense.

"I, uh... I can't."

"You can't. You can't what?" Noah asks gently, laying his hand on your leg that's covered beneath the blanket.

"I mean, I can't make myself have an orgasm," you confess, twirling your fingers.

"Seriously? Like ever?"

The genuine surprise you hear in Noah's tone only makes you feel worse, and you start to cry out of pure humiliation.

"Yes, seriously! I've tried so many freaking times, and I just can't, and it's frustrating as hell!"

You're trying not to yell "at" Noah, but you're just done at this point, wanting to hide under a rock for the rest of your life.

"Okay, easy, killer. It was just a rhetorical question," Noah kids, earning him a slap in the chest.

"God, this is so fucking embarrassing," you cry in frustration sniffling and wiping your eyes with your hands. "Hey, relax, it's not that big of a deal," Noah urges, caressing your back.

His touch sparks every fire burning inside you, and you're not sure if it's his touch alone that's doing it or if it's just the unquenchable need you have at the moment.

"Easy for you to say. Guys can just whip it out and do their thing and be completely satisfied in just a few minutes. I've been trying this for months now, ever since the last time I had...," but your voice drops, realizing what you were about to confess.

"Since what," Noah asks softly, moving closer to you.

With his one hand still on your lower back, he reaches over with his other and slips it inside yours, threading your fingers together. You swear your ovaries explode inside you from the feeling and how Noah has nestled up beside you as if wanting to be as close to you as possible.

"Noah?" you whisper as his lips come down softly on your forehead and leave a small kiss behind. "Since when, Y/N? Since the last time you had sex with that shitty ass boyfriend of yours?" "Ex-boyfriend," you correct Noah after clearing your throat. "Whatever. The point is that it was four months ago. You're telling me that was the last time you had an orgasm?"

You groan, dropping your head into your hands again.

"Hey, look at me," Noah orders, pulling your shoulders back and lifting your head so he can see you.

Noah's eyes are full of so much emotion that it's hard to read them all. But you see the small little half smile that brushes across his lips briefly as his thumb strokes the skin of your cheek.

"Can I talk you through it?" "Huh? What?"

Noah continues to stare at you, his face expressionless.

"Talk me through what, Noah?"

But you feel like you might already know the answer to the question.

"Let me talk you through making yourself cum," he suggests, his face dead serious.

At first, you can't say anything because you don't know what to say, but the longer you look at Noah, the more you know he's serious. You swallow hard, closing your eyes for a moment then opening them again.

"Why?" you whisper. "Because you deserve to feel amazing."

It's the little smirk at the end of his words that does it for you.

"Alright, fine," you agree before you lose your courage. "Good answer," Noah says approvingly, getting up to close the door and lock it.

You're so nervous you think you might get sick, so you start breathing quickly, in and out through your nose then your mouth.

"Hey it's alright. You keep breathing like that, you might end up hyperventilating. This is meant to feel good, alright? Lay down. Relax,” Noah urges, caressing your hair before helping you lay back into your pillows.

Your eyes meet and you can see the genuine care for you that you've always seen in his and it eases your mind a little.

"Are you sure about this, Noah? Isn't this weird? Friends don't usually do this kind of thing with each other and, I mean, isn't this going to change stuff between us now? I'm not sure if I'm ready for my heart to go through..."

You're silenced by the weight of Noah's lips on yours. At first the kiss is hard and dry, one that you would deem a typical friend on friend kiss. But then Noah breaths in and opens his mouth, leaning in closer to you as you follow his lead as if by some magnetic force. His tongue slips slowly into your mouth and you allow him access, returning his touch as if it's the most natural thing to you in the world. Your hands slither around his neck as he finds the small of your back and pulls you up closer to him, allowing the blanket to slip from off your lap. Noah pulls back and looks at you, his usually soft brown eyes, now darker, and for a moment the two of you just stare, wondering what the other is thinking, before realizing what's just happened.

"But we're friends," you remind Noah. "I think we've been past the point of friends for a while now, Y/N," Noah confesses. "Ever since the night your shitty ex broke up with you and you kissed me right here on your bedroom carpet," he grins, looking down at the spot below his feet.

Noah's right. You've known it all along, and it's the reason why pleasuring yourself has been so difficult.

"Now, relax, and let me talk you through this, okay." "Okay."

Finding a spot where you're finally comfortable, Noah tells you to close your eyes. As you do, he helps you bend your legs until your feet are flat against the mattress.

"This is only going to work if you relax and keep your eyes closed." "Alright." "Do you trust me?"

A warm smile spreads across your lips, making Noah's heart flutter.

"Yes, Noah, I trust you." "Can I touch you?"

You want to open your eyes, but know this will all work better if you don't. Noah is trying to help after all.

"Yes. You can touch me."

Noah places his hands on your knees and tells you to let them fall open. You hesitate, naturally, but then you do and hear the quick intake of breath that comes from him and the quiet curse that slips through his lips. It makes you giggle a little.

"You're beautiful," Noah whispers and for a moment it feels like the world stops spinning. "Thank you," you manage to say through a crack in your voice.

He takes your hand and brings it your sex, placing your fingers over your center.

"The first thing you should do is visualize; a scenario, a place... a person," Noah begins.

You grin and clear your throat, shifting slightly.

"Once you've done that, you're going to ease the tip of your finger in between your folds, just like that, and back out to produce some wetness. Good. Now each time, go in a little further, a little deeper," he coaches gently.

Using your middle finger, you follow Noah's instructions, already feeling your arousal building from the vision inside your head, coating your fingers.

"Now, when you're ready," he adds, gently taking you by the wrist as you pull your finger out, "add another finger," lining up your pointer finger next to your middle and guiding your hand back to your center.

Slowly, you slide them inside you, feeling the tightness and pressure yet because of the vision you have playing out in your head, all you can feel is what your imagination is telling you. It's powerful enough to make you moan softly, yet not enough to get the reaction that you're needing.

"You need to do this a few times," Noah encourages, placing his hand around your wrist, pushing and pulling with you as you move your fingers in and out of yourself.

The whimpers come and fall like quiet little prayers. But it's still not enough.

"Alright, finally, you need the stimulation. Bring your other hand," he says, taking it and placing it where he thinks it belongs, "and place it right there on your pretty little clit. Perfect. Now, massage gently in small slow circles as you continue doing what you're doing with your other fingers. That's it. How does that feel?"

You're completely breathless, unable to process the feeling that's quickly building inside you. The fire in your lower abdomen is one you haven't felt in so long and the feeling is incredible. You moan, bite your bottom lip, arch your back and just when you thought you'd never be able to, you reach your climax as your much needed orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave. Once it's over, you lay back against your sheets, breathless and with a pound heart.

"Well, how was it?"

When you open your eyes you aren't quite sure what you expect to see, but when you meet Noah's eyes, and you see the spark in them that you do, it makes the stimulation you just felt a million times more wonderful.

"It was euphoric," you grin, following it with the cutest little giggle Noah's ever heard. "You're really adorable you know that," he says, running his finger down your cheek after he hands you your shorts and panties. "Hmm, really?" "Really." "And dare I ask how it was watching on your end?" you ask timidly, hoping you haven't overstepped.

Noah pauses to think and then smiles.

"Euphoric," he answers right before tackling you and engaging in one of his infamous Noah tickle fights.

Some things really never do change.

[yeonmuse]

In which our the king of hearts can get anyone he wants, but he’d rather have the girl that loves to hate him screaming his name

Request from anon: Chosen Journey [ king of hearts guide, cake tether, traveling to the hatters teaparty & wonder forest ]

✧ tw. smut (18+ mdni!), heeseung your favorite eater, fingering, he kinda a asshole but its okay

Authors notes: req 3 of Musies 1k request event. So uhh yeah. Heeeyy bestie um i hope you enjoy ( reqs will close ad midnight tonight, only reqs that are already in the inbox will be fulfilled)

Other reqs can be found here

Lee Heeseung had been used to getting his way, not simply because he was handsome or he knew how to woo the women of wonderland, but because he usually invoked fear in those around them. It was no secret that he wasn’t the nicest or the most forgiving, the man's palace was surrounded by a moat of severed heads for crying out loud. He himself was one of the biggest red flags in wonderland, though unfortunately for those that dared cross him, he’d absolutely loved the color.

You on the other hand were quite the opposite, you were polite, sensible and brave, though as sensible you are your sensibility sometimes seemed to clash with your need for adventure. You’d always had a knack for adventure for as long as you’d remember, often finding yourself looking in the face of danger for that perfect high when it came to venturing out on the perfect journey.

You had a greed for the curious, perplexing and wondrous place that was Wonderland. There wasn't a coast, forest or town that you hadn’t explored, there wasn’t a single place that had gone untouched by you throughout your escapades and explorations aside from one single place that you’d longed to see the inside of for as long as you could remember. The red king's palace, the king of hearts living quarters was like an itch gone unscratched by you, the only place standing between you and having known the insides and out of the entirety of wonderland.

It wasn’t that the place frightened you or petrified you, of course you knew of all the rumors and tales that had swarmed wonderland for years. Though it wasn’t fear that helped you back no, it was the sole fact you had the utmost hatred for the man living inside. You had hated him since the day he took the throne from his dear brother Sunghoon, as pathetic as it was, you had been in love with the white king since you were only sixteen.

The first time you’d attended the prince's ceremony where Sunghoon was to be crowned you were completely infatuated with him, he was kind and endearing and to you he’d been a complete embodiment of what a prince was meant to be. It was the first time you’d found yourself taken by someone else, first time you’d shown interest in a person rather than the inanimate things in your life.

Then there was heeseung the absolute embodiment of hatred and mercilessness. You remembered the day as if it was yesterday because you’d vowed that if you were to ever see him again you’d slap the smug look off of that face of his.

The day you’d first encountered him you’d gone off to venture on your own in the castle, of course you knew it was wrong your curiosity would always get the best of you and lead you to do the most impulsive things.

“What are you doing?’’ he spoke, snapping you out of your momentary daydream as you’d been taking in the art on the walls.

“I’m sorry- I- i couldn't help myself. I’m- ’’ you jet out your hand to shake but he dismisses it, as if the two of you needed not greet one another.

“I don’t care who you are, you shouldn’t be here.’’ he snapped back, venom laced in his tone, he eyed you as if he were completely disgusted by you.

“You’d be lucky if i don’t call the guards and have the lock you away for this.’’

“I’m sorry i really didn’t mean to.’’ your sentence was cut short as Sunghoon arrived just in time to save your ass.

“What are you doing here? The ceremony is about to start.’’ he questions, his gaze shifted from heeseung to you who stood frozen in the middle of the hallway. Heeseung seemed to immediately pick up on the switch in atmosphere, the tension slipping away and being replaced with a completely different emotion as you now stood staring at his brother.

“What reason do i have to attend this ceremony, you got what you wanted dear brother, celebrate yourself.’’ Heeseung snarls, turning to leave both of you and sunghoon alone as he walked away. It was evident in the way sunghoon watched him walk away that he had been disheartened by his brothers words. Before you knew it your feet had been moving on their own and you’d chased him down the hallway and followed him out into the garden.

“Wait.’’ the word slipped from your mouth before you could even calculate the right words to say.

“Oh great now his little devotee is following me around.’’

“D-devotee?’’

“That’s what you are right? Or will you act like you weren’t just staring at him moments of go when you weren’t even meant to be in the hallway, and now you followed me here another place you aren't meant to be.’’

“I- look I'm sorry for trespassing, I don't mean to intrude. And i know it’s not my place but your brother looked really sad and i think you should just.’’

“You’re right.’’ he immediately cuts you off, anger evident in his tone. “It’s not your place. So don’t speak.’’

Now it was your turn to get angry, you had been nothing but polite and understanding since you’d recognized that you were in fact in the wrong for trespassing, yet here he was continuously acting like some sort of pompous asshole after you’d apologized time and time again.

“For a prince you really are a guttersnipe compared to your brother.’’ His eyes widened as he seemed taken back by the insult, only for his brows to knit together in anger once again.

“You don’t know anything about me, nor my priss of a brother. So stay in your place, and don’t poke your nose in things that have nothing to do with you or the next time i’ll make sure to have the guards dispose of you the proper way.’’ it was as if the insult had set him off completely.

Since that day you’d never stepped foot into that castle again, you’d made a vow to keep away from any places where he’d been present.but now, now your need to venture had been blurring the lines between your free will and morality.

“How long do you think it would take to climb those walls.’’ you ask sunoo as you sat resting against the palms of your hands, both of you sat staring out at the red king's palace in the distance.

“You’re not seriously thinking of doing this are you? Because that would be the most stupid thing you’ve ever done, and you’ve literally explored a cave of piranhas'’ he responds, shaking his head, his main focus is on tending to the flowers and fruits of his garden.

“Maybe? I’m still thinking if it’s even worth the risk.’’ you shrug of his warning before pushing yourself up from the ground

“It’s not worth it, i know your little exploration senses are tingling but you go in there and you won’t come out.’’

“Oh please, Someone needs to knock him off his high horse, seriously I don’t get what’s so frightening about him?’’ you scoff, looking over at the castle as if you could almost sense his annoying presence from where you stood.

“You mean other than the fact that his palace is literally surrounding by a river of floating heads?’’

“Have you actually seen it? Or are you just repeating the same rumors that the rest of wonderland have been spouting for years?’’ you question, earning a defeated sigh from sunoo.

“You know what fine, you go ahead and walk straight into your death, but when i see you in wonderland heaven years from now expect me to say i told you so.’’ he responds sarcastically, lifting a basket of freshly grown strawberries to his side to carry inside his home.

“Haha, very funny. You have fun picking your berries and baking your pies, i'm going to do something that's actually exhilarating.’’ you tell him as you dust off your clothes.

“Mhm, have fun.’’ he responds lightheartedly before disappearing into his house.

You on the other hand had gone completely against Sunoos warning, taking your usual path through the forest and venturing off to the red king's palace. The closer you grew the more your fingers seemed to tingle, adrenaline rushing through every part of your body. To your surprise the outskirts of the castle had not been as heavily guarded as you’d thought, making it entirely too easy for you to slip past the gates.

Of course you wouldn't be provided with that ease of an intrusion, what lacked in guarding outside was surely made up for with the amount of guards turning nearly every corner within the walls of the palace. You could barely turn a corner without a guard or two gliding right past you.

“This is going to be a lot harder than i thought.’’ you sigh, waiting until the coast is clear for you to make another move to get yourself somewhere secluded. Inch by inch you made your way to the nearest door until the coast had been clear enough to slip inside. You found yourself in a large study, books towering to the ceiling and stretching out over every wall.

“Hm funny, didn’t take him for the reading type.’’

“Then exactly what type did you take me for?’’ Heeseung who had been sitting behind a desk, glasses sat on the bridge of his nose and a book in his hands, peered over at you, arms crossed over his chest. You silently cursed yourself for not having checked the room before entering.

“Four years and yet you still have a problem with trespassing.’’ he comments, slamming the book shut and throwing it onto the desk.

So he remembered you, suddenly you were now reminded of the last thing he said to you that day you’d followed him out in the garden.

“So you gonna kill me now then? Fulfill your promise you made that day?’’ you respond, almost as if you were challenging him.

“Still have a mouth on you too.’’ he retaliates, inching closer and closer until he finally stands before towering over you just as he did long ago.

“And you still look just as pompous as you did the day of your brothers ceremony.’’ you snap back, making his jaw clench at the mention of his brother. You give a rewarding smile, knowing you had gotten under his skin with that comment even after all these years was enough to keep you satisfied even if you didn’t make it out of the castle alive.

He didn’t say anything though, just stood there staring at you as if your presence itself had been vexing to him. Then within a matter of seconds the doors to the study burst open with a loud clunk and in walked the king's guards.

“You didn’t think i’d just let you walk out freely?’’ he leans down his face only inches from yours.

“Sit pretty while i figure out what i want to do with you yeah?’’ he chuckles as you shoot him an annoyed glare before being carried out by the guards

Hours had gone by, time seemed to drag alone as you’d sat in a cell for hours upon hours, slowly regretting your decision to have come here. The only ambience you’d had to stop you from going crazy was the sound of water dripping from the rusted cell bars, you sat counting the droplets as time dragged on. Eventually you heard the creak of a gate followed by the sound of footsteps and in walking Heesung, you immediately shot a glare in his direction.

“The irony of this situation, trespassing again, even knowing the circumstances, even knowing my prideful little brother isn’t here to save your ass.’’ he comments, peeking at you through the bars.

“As if i’d need saving from you.’’

“Your tongue is a lot sharper than it was then, guess somethings don’t change they just get worse.’’

“Clearly, you’re a prime example. Even went as far as stealing your brothers crown.’’ Heeseung can’t help but chuckle, even now you defended his brother, yeast later when you knew absolutely nothing about either of them.

“You really are one of his little devotees, blindly following him because you think you know what he’s like. You know nothing.’’ his eyes darkened and any sign of comedic relief had now left him

“I know that he wasn’t as big of a dick to me when he saw me standing there.’’

“Oh funny you think he cared? In fact he didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. You think you were doing him a favor by following me that day?” he laughs and tilts his head, the look in his eyes having gone from anger to an expression you couldn’t quite read. “I’m the eldest, eldest in line means that the crown is meant to be mine, but because of my dear brother's actions the crown was taken from right beneath me. Your beloved white king, the one you so desperately wanted to defend doesn’t care about anyone but himself, he shows you all what you want to see.’’

“And yet he’s somehow still more compassionate than you’d ever seemed to be.’’ that was it, like the straw that broke the camel's back it had set him off. Without a word he opens the door with a loud clunk not bothering to slam it shut behind him as his hand clamps around your arm and he drags you along.

“Ow- let go.’’ he didn't listen, he’d completely ignored your frustrated huffs and complaints as he dragged you throughout the entirety of the palace until he reached the top floor and threw you into a room.

“You’re so sure that you know all, you’re so positively sure that he’s the perfect gentleman, the perfect brother, perfect prince.’’ with those words he shoves you towards a mirror, a mirror that was quite the rarity in wonderland, one that not many possessed.

“A looking glass..?’’

“Go on, since you’re so sure of who my brother is.’’ he ushers you inside but of course he does not follow, and as hesitant as you were it wasn’t as if you had any other choice than to comply. And so you stepped inside finding yourself directly in the middle of a scene between who she recognized to be prince Sunghoon and his mother

“I don’t care about a ceremony, who comes and who doesn't makes no difference to me?’’

“Well you would want to care and act like a king the crown is now yours.’’

Like a cool mist each memory had played on and faded away into the next until it reached the final act, the day of the ceremony.

“Next time leave your minions out of it and don’t send a girl in to do your dirty work.’’ Heesung's comments earned an annoyed eye roll from Sunghoon.

“I didn’t even know her, if it was up to me she or anyone else for that matter wouldn’t have been there at all, I couldn’t care less if you’d have thrown her to the dungeons.” Sunghoon fires back

“Right because you don’t care about anyone here unless it benefits you in some sort of way.’’ heeseung responds.

“What happens to anyone outside of this castle is not my responsibility this was meant to be your burden not mine.’’ the last words to leave Sunghoons mouth before every memory had gone with the mist and she was forced out of the looking glass. Silence fell over the room as she realized she had absolutely nothing to say.

“This- this doesn’t change anything this-’’

“Because you love to hate me right? You’d rather continue to hate me and place the blame on me because you can’t see to admit that you were wrong.’’

“Wrong? All this proves is that your brother is just as bad as you, people count on both of you and you’re letting some feud get in the way of your well being you-.’’

“Enough.’’ He cuts you off, silencing you once again. “Even after that you refuse to drop your prejudices and judgmental takes you’re infuriating. I’ve never met a woman other than you that pisses me off this much.’’

“I find it difficult to believe you get any women at all.’’ you clapback, catching Heeseung by surprise.

“Interested in who i’ve had in my bed now are you?’’

“I didn’t- I didn’t even say that why are you putting words in my mouth?’’ you choke out, stuttering over your words at the sudden accusation, which only auses him further.

“You sound nervous.’’ he responds, slowly inching closer and closer until he has you backed against the door of his bedroom.

“What are you doing?’’ ignoring your obvious act of panic he corners you against the wall, trapping you between both his arms.

“Instead of killing you, i’m gonna find other ways to punish you until you learn to stop trespassing where you don’t belong.’’ he spoke, his face so close that his breath ghost over the skin on your neck.

“Wait-”

“You. Me. Bed. Clothes off. Now.’’ he tilts your chin up with the tip of his finger, watching the way your gaze frantically shifts from the bed back to him. “I won’t ask again, i’ll give you the option. Option one or I send you back down where you were before and let the guards take care of you.’’

His fingers brush over his lips, his gaze so intense that it makes the pit of your stomach whirl.

“Your choice sweetheart.’’ he whispers, fingers tracing over your waist leaving a trail of warmth beneath the fabric of every place he touches. You wanted to refute him, to say you’d rather choose death than find yourself laying under him but your body was betraying you. With every trace of his fingertips goosebumps crawled up your skin and shivers shocked your spine until you’d finally opened your lips to speak.

“Heeseung.’’ for the first time your name had fallen from his lips and it sounded so heavenly to his ears, in contrast to your usual fiery and prideful tone you spoke so soft and sweet. So soft that your voice melted into his ears as you called him by name.

“Fuck do that again..I want you to say my name like that again.’’ your mouth fell closed, you were feeling so many things, shame, nerves, excitement, neediness..all things that forced you to fall silent, for you felt far too prideful to say it again.

“If you won’t say it on your own, i’ll make you.’’ He says, lifting you up over his shoulder, not missing the gasp that falls from your lips at the shock.

“I’ll make you say it again, and again and again until my name is the only word you know how to say.’’ he goes on, throwing you down onto the bed before climbing in between your thighs.

“Wait I-.’’

“Now you want to speak? You don’t get to speak. You lost that privilege two minutes ago.” he spits out, flipping you over and shoving your face into the mattress, preventing another word from spilling from your lips.

With eager and impatient movements he shoves up your dress and rips through the rest of your close as if they were nothing. Heeseung didn’t think that he could grow anymore impatient until his eyes took in the sight of you beneath him, back arched, face shoved into the mattress, already completely soaked and he hadn’t even laid a finger on you yet.

“Fuck, look at you, acting like you hate me this entire tie when you look like this under this dress.’’ he groans, finding himself absolutely hypnotized at the way you gush the moment you’re wrapped around his ring finger. Her takes note in the way your body jerks and the muffled whine that spills from your lips, only making him eager to find out all the other noises he could pull out of you

He couldn't help but chuckle as he uses his thumb to brush up against your puffy entrance, before stuffing two others deep inside, stretching you out and curling them as if he were prepping you.

As he finally begins to thrust his fingers into you he smiles when his fingers almost immediately find that one good spot, invoking one of the most pornographic moans to spill from your lips. Your moans had become so intoxicating and dizzying that he could no longer hold himself back.

“Fuck i need to taste you before I go crazy.” He pulls his fingers out, ignoring the whine that spills from your lips at the sudden emptiness. But in seconds he’s lying beneath you, his hands on your waist as you sit hovering over his face.

“W-Wait Heeseung I never.”

“Just sit on my fucking face already.” He interrupts, forcing you down into his face and burying himself deep between your legs like a man in heat.

He instantly curls his tongue, moving it with a relentless speed. If the lewdness of your pussy’s squelching and squirming wasn’t enough to bring heat to your cheeks, the way he was sucking on your cunt would’ve done the job. But he had no time to cast any how embarrassed or shy you had suddenly gotten

As if on instinct, your hands flew to his head, gripping onto strands of rosy hair for leverage as you clamped and squeezed your thighs around his face, forcing his tongue even deeper as he sucked without halting.

“H-Heeseung.” You cry out, fingers desperately tugging at his beautiful hair as he showed no sign of letting up. Especially after hearing his name spill from your sweet lips like the way it had

You twitched and writhed at the feeling of him flicking and curling his tongue; you were probably now embarrassingly wet, practically dripping while he continued to abuse and suck on your clit. It was as if a switch had flipped—like he was taking his time to show just how unbearable he could be as his tongue began to absolutely ravage you, eating you out as if his life depended on it.

“Heeseung I can’t-“

“Let go baby, I feel it.” He coos tongue curling within your walls as it reaches deeper and deeper with every lick.

A cry slipped past your lips when he licked a stripe up your puffy lips, making your body shudder. His nose brushing against your already sensitive clit serves as the catalyst that finally throws you overboard. You couldn’t help it when a coil in your lower belly tightens making your thighs tighten around his head. You came with a lewd cry as he whispered sweet praises in between pressing sloppy kisses against your clit.

“That’s it sweetheart you’re doing so well, all for me” he falls weak at the silent mewls and moans slipping past your lips left and right as you drip excessively onto his face beneath you. You had been so fucking wet right now, it was embarrassing but he wasn’t done, he was far from being done.

“Wanna see just how many times I can make her come undone until I really make you hate me.” And that was exactly what he did, though it made you feel everything but hatred towards him. One time. Two. Three. Four. Four times he’d made you unravel each time in different ways, until the moment he thought you’d had enough. With the night you’d had you easily succumbed to your fatigue.

Eventually waking up in the middle of the night to slip off into the bathroom. Slipping into one of his shirts you’d found hooked on the door you let out a sigh of relief as the warmth of the fabric kissed your skin. Moving over to the mirror you took in every mark and lovebite that Heeseung had left on your skin, the events of the night plaguing your thoughts.

You quickly used the bathroom before leaving , slipping back into the bed only to feel Heeseung arms wrap around your waist and pull you in closer. As he recognized the loss of skin to skin contact his eyes crack open to the sight of you lying there in his clothes.

“Is that my shirt?” He grumbles out, before burying his face into your neck.

“Had no other options since you decided it was a good idea to rip all of my clothes.” You respond rolling your eyes at him, an act he simply ignores and pulls you closer.

“‘Mm looks good on you. You should only wear my clothes from now on.”

PERM TAGLIST : @planetmarlowe @dreeki @butterflywonz @sol3chu @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @jwonistic @getoxo @nithxhoon @lakoya @iichuuo @letmein2urheart @mitmit01 @hollxe1 @briansshiftz @starbyeol1512 @tinyteezer @jkslvsnella @manobillie @vvenusoncasual @i03jae @blackhairandbangs @sunooqvrlsx @addictedtohobi @gaytron3000 @firstclassjaylee @riribelle @ivyvoilettecarson @academiq @claumbeju @bubblytaetae @pkjay @nightowlpudding @emmacyc @papichulomacy @celestenlav @50-husbands

[perryelornitorrinco]

I can't answer an ask two times so I'll just smack a low res screenshot sorry XDDASLJDAKL😭💀

There they are, this was the original idea but then I though of that softer one XDD (I'm sorry it's been ages since I did that ask 😭).

Wild would definitely be that nasty, ewww 💀. I MEAN, he ate those monster guts in the first place bruh 💀💀💀💀. He's wild ;).

I'm surprised Legend didn't get mad at Wild ruining his hat, HIS BELOVED HAT- He was being too nice already by taking care of him XDDJASH.

And Four poor guy, idk where I saw that headcanon but thanks, now he's scared of throwing up :***, like, he could take any hit or have a really ugly wound but don't even mention that thing in front of him. I can see it XD.

Thank you so much for the ask (double ask :·3¿) it was really fun doing both doodles and I hope you like them hehehe!!!!💖💖🥹