#so trying to really commit to it this year!!

[777bae]

WITH YOU JACK HUGHES

Summary :: After a brutal injury, you’re left to navigate recovery on your own. But Jack, despite the distance, becomes your lifeline—calling every day, offering comfort, and doing everything he can to be there. When he finally returns, his unwavering love and support help you heal, proving that together, you can overcome anything.

Warnings :: description of injury

Word count :: 5.6k

It all started at an NHL-run community skate event. You’d been invited along with a few other women’s league players to skate alongside the NHL stars, giving young fans a chance to meet their idols in a laid-back, personal setting. You didn’t expect much from the event—just another community outreach, another day to interact with fans and grow the game you loved. But that was before you met him.

Jack Hughes had been one of the NHL’s rising stars for a while, and despite the buzz around him, he was surprisingly down-to-earth. Tall, with his bright blue eyes and easy smile, he was exactly as you’d imagined him—charismatic, charming, and somehow completely approachable.

As you laced up your skates, adjusting the blades on your boots, you’d heard his laugh first, a genuine, warm sound that made it hard not to smile. You hadn’t even looked up when you realized he was skating toward you until you felt the brush of a glove on your shoulder.

“You here to show us how it’s done?” Jack’s voice was playful, but there was a hint of curiosity behind his words. You glanced up, met his gaze, and for a moment, both of you seemed to just… stop. He wasn’t towering over you, but there was a light in his eyes that made you feel like you were suddenly the center of attention.

“Me?” You raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You’re the one who’s been stealing all the spotlight. I just came to get some practice in. You know, to make sure I don’t show you up.”

He laughed again, this time shaking his head as he lowered himself into a comfortable skating stance. “I’m not worried. I’ve seen how fast some of the girls on your team can skate.” He leaned in a little, his voice a touch quieter. “But I have to admit, I’m hoping I’ll learn something today.”

It was all playful banter, but somehow, there was a connection that flickered between you in that brief exchange. Something about his easy confidence mixed with a genuine curiosity about the women’s game. It wasn’t like the typical interactions you had with male players; there was no condescension, no weird power dynamic. Just a guy who appreciated the game and the players—regardless of their gender.

The rest of the skate went by in a blur of friendly competition and shared laughter, with Jack occasionally pulling you into a race around the rink. You couldn’t deny that his speed on the ice matched his charm off it. It was fun—refreshing, really—especially since you were used to competing against men who sometimes didn’t seem to understand the level of skill and commitment women brought to the game. But Jack, he didn’t seem like that at all. If anything, he seemed eager to learn, to listen.

Afterward, while most of the other players were heading off to grab something to eat, Jack caught up to you again as you were packing your gear away.

“Hey, you wanna grab some dinner?” he asked, his voice casual but with that little spark of hopefulness. “I promise I won’t make it weird—just thought it’d be nice to hang out, talk about the game… maybe see if you’re as competitive off the ice as you are on it.”

It was a little unexpected, but something about the offer felt right. You’d spent so many years in a world of competition, sometimes too focused on the next game, the next practice. The thought of having a simple, easy evening, talking about something other than hockey, sounded like a refreshing change.

“Sure,” you agreed, trying to hide the small smile creeping onto your face. “I could use the company.”

That first dinner was nothing extraordinary—just a low-key meal at a local diner, where you both dug into greasy comfort food and swapped stories about your respective teams. But the conversation never lagged. Jack talked about his early days in hockey, his family, his goals, and somehow, you found yourself opening up in ways you hadn’t expected, sharing things you usually kept locked behind a barrier of professionalism. It felt natural, easy, like you’d known him much longer than just a few hours.

By the time you were leaving the diner, you felt something click. It wasn’t just the conversation. It was the way Jack made you feel seen, valued. He didn’t view you as just a player; he saw you as someone who belonged in the same conversation as the men he idolized.

That night, as he walked you to your car, he hesitated before speaking.

“Do you think we could do this again?” His tone was soft, uncertain—nothing like the cocky attitude you sometimes saw from athletes. There was a real vulnerability in his question, an openness that you hadn’t expected from someone with so much attention on him.

You smiled, already knowing the answer before you even said it. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

The following months passed in a whirlwind. The connection you’d felt that night only deepened as you found yourselves spending more time together, whether it was over quick dinners after games or stolen moments between practices. The distance between your homes had been a challenge at first, but Jack made it work. His busy NHL schedule and your packed NWHL calendar had their limitations, but you made it a priority. Phone calls, FaceTime, and text messages became lifelines, bridging the gap when you couldn’t be in the same place.

And then came the moment when it all felt a little more real. One night, after a game where you’d scored the game-winning goal, Jack called you to congratulate you. As you chatted about the game, the conversation shifted.

“So, I was thinking…” Jack’s voice dropped a little, a teasing edge creeping in. “What if we make this official? You know, like, ‘dating’ officially. I mean, we’ve spent enough time together at this point, and I’m kind of starting to like you.”

You’d laughed at first, but when you heard the sincerity in his voice, you felt that flutter in your chest.

“I think I could be okay with that,” you’d said softly, feeling something in your heart shift.

And just like that, what had started as a casual meeting at a community skate turned into something real, something deep. The spark between you two grew into a full-blown flame, one that, despite the distance and the challenges ahead, seemed unstoppable.

That was how it all began. From a community skate to something much bigger. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t just fighting for your place in the game—you were fighting for something real, with someone who understood and shared your passion for both hockey and life.

It had been a few months since you and Jack had officially started dating, and even though the connection between you two had only deepened over time, the long-distance nature of your relationship had taken its toll. Jack was a rising star in the NHL, and your team’s season in the Women’s Hockey League was just as intense, if not more so. So, when Jack had to leave for a week-long stretch of West Coast games, the distance felt particularly harsh. But you both had your routines, and you had become experts at making the most of what time you had together.

The first night Jack was gone, you walked through your shared apartment, the silence of the space more apparent than usual. You had been here before, used to being away from each other for stretches of time, but it didn’t make the loneliness any easier. Still, you had your own games to focus on, so you pushed aside the feeling and settled into your familiar routine of stretching, preparing, and strategizing for your upcoming match.

That week, your team was on a roll. You managed to secure comfortable victories in your first two games, and no matter the late hours or time zone difference, you made sure to FaceTime Jack after each of your games. His voice was always a small anchor that pulled you back into a sense of normalcy. His tired face would appear on the screen, grinning with excitement or offering words of encouragement as you recapped your performances. The calls were a lifeline, a reminder that even though the miles between you stretched across the country, you weren’t alone in this. You’d FaceTime on his days off, too, taking solace in the familiarity of his presence, even if it was only a screen away.

But it was that third game that shook everything.

You had been feeling sharp and focused, your team’s momentum riding high. You were confident going into the match, your movements on the ice instinctively flowing with each pass and play. The puck was on your stick as you skated into the offensive zone, eyes locked on the net ahead, the crowd’s roars swelling around you. But just as you prepared to make your move, you felt a brutal shove from your side. The force was unanticipated, and before you could brace yourself, you were sent spiraling off balance.

The hit slammed into your leg, pain shooting through your entire body like a bolt of electricity. Your vision flashed white for a moment, the rink around you spinning as you crumpled to the ice, unable to register anything other than the excruciating ache in your lower body. You could hear voices, distant and muffled, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the raw agony. Your leg felt like it was on fire, every inch of it screaming at you in ways you didn’t think possible.

The next few moments were a blur. You were helped off the ice, each movement sending shocks of pain through your leg as your teammates rushed to your side. You were placed in an ice bath to try to numb the swelling, but it was clear from the first glance—the leg wasn’t just bruised. It was broken.

At the hospital, the diagnosis hit like a hammer to the chest. You had multiple fractures in your leg—some clean breaks, some more complicated. Surgery was the only option, and it needed to be done as soon as possible. You were too overwhelmed to process anything. The pain was all-consuming, and the physical shock of it was enough to dull your thoughts. The one thing that kept repeating in your mind, though, was that you hadn’t messaged Jack. You had forgotten. You had promised him you’d let him know if anything happened, but now, you couldn’t even remember if you had the energy to tell him.

You were rushed into surgery, the doctors prepping you quickly for the procedure, but you couldn’t shake the guilt of not reaching out to him. When you fell unconscious from the anesthesia, your thoughts faded, but that nagging feeling remained.

Meanwhile, in California, Jack had just finished his game. He had played well—scoring a goal and getting an assist—but his mind was elsewhere. His phone buzzed as he walked into the locker room to cool down. As he picked it up, his heart stopped for a second. It was a video message from one of his friends, a clip from the game he had just missed. It was you.

The footage was grainy, taken from the stands. He saw the hit happen in real-time, the moment when your body was slammed to the ice. And then, the terrible sight of you crumpling, unable to move as pain clearly overtook you. His breath caught in his throat, and panic surged through his chest.

Without thinking, he immediately called your number, but it went straight to voicemail. His hands were shaking now, his mind racing with worry. Why hasn’t she answered? He called again, and again, his anxiety growing with each unanswered ring.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered to himself, growing frantic. He tried texting you, then calling your teammates and coaches, but no one picked up. The seconds seemed to stretch into hours as he dialed number after number, panic creeping up his spine.

Finally, one of your coaches picked up. The calm, steady voice on the other end didn’t help to alleviate Jack’s mounting panic.

“Coach, what happened to her?” Jack’s voice was tight, strained. “Is she okay? Why isn’t she answering? What happened? I saw the hit—she looked… she looked like she was in so much pain!”

Your coach’s voice was reassuring but firm. “Jack, calm down. She’s in surgery right now. She fractured her leg pretty badly. The doctors are taking care of her. They’re going to monitor her recovery closely. But she’s going to be okay.”

He froze, his heart still pounding. “Surgery? Is she awake? Can I talk to her? I need to talk to her.”

“She’s still under, Jack. They’re finishing up. She’ll be okay. You can’t be here right now, and I know that’s hard. But she’s in good hands.”

Jack closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself. “How long is she going to be in the hospital?”

“At least a couple weeks. They’ll want to monitor her closely to make sure everything heals properly.”

The words barely registered at first, but Jack’s mind finally began to slow, even as frustration and helplessness gnawed at him. He had a whole week of games ahead. There was no way he could be by her side—he would have to wait. And the thought of being this far away from her, with nothing but the distance and his uncertainty, felt unbearable.

After the call ended, Jack sat in silence for a long moment, trying to collect himself. He wasn’t sure how he would make it through the next few days, but he knew one thing for sure—he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. He would call her every day. He would check in, even if it was through a screen, and he would make sure she knew he was there for her, even if he couldn’t be there physically.

Hours after the surgery, you began to stir, the soft beeping of machines pulling you from the thick haze of anesthesia. Your body felt heavy, your head foggy, and the ache in your leg was muted but persistent, a constant reminder of what had happened. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights, you slowly registered your surroundings—the sterile white hospital room, the IV taped to your arm, and the faint murmur of voices outside the door. Everything felt surreal, like you were caught between waking and dreaming.

The door creaked open, and your coach stepped inside. She offered a soft smile, her familiar presence grounding you amidst the disorientation. “Welcome back, kid,” she said gently, pulling up a chair beside your bed. “How are you feeling?”

You managed a weak laugh, though it sounded more like a croak. “Like I got hit by a truck,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s about right,” your coach replied, crossing her arms. “But the surgery went well. They said you’ll be back on your feet eventually—it’s just going to take some time.”

You nodded slowly, letting the information sink in. The details of the injury and the hit felt blurry, distant, as if they belonged to someone else. What you did remember, however, was the pressing need to call Jack. You opened your mouth to ask about him, but your coach beat you to it.

“Your boyfriend,” she said with a knowing smirk, “has been losing his mind. He’s been calling non-stop since he found out. I had to take one of his calls during your surgery just to calm him down. I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone freak out that much in my life.”

Despite the lingering grogginess, you chuckled softly, though the motion tugged at your sore muscles. “Did I… Did I at least tell him I’m okay before I went under?” you asked, your voice cracking slightly.

“Not a chance,” she said, shaking her head. “You were out cold before you could even grab your phone. But don’t worry—he knows you made it through the surgery. Barely, though. The poor guy sounded like he was about to hop on a plane mid-road trip.”

You smiled faintly at the image of Jack pacing in some hotel room, his phone glued to his ear as he pestered anyone who would answer. Your heart ached at the thought of how worried he must have been. You motioned weakly toward the bedside table, where your phone sat, its screen dark but promising missed calls and messages. “Can you hand me that?” you asked.

Your coach retrieved the phone and placed it in your trembling hands. As you fumbled with the screen, your fingers clumsy and unsteady, you saw the barrage of missed calls and texts from Jack. Over a dozen calls, countless messages—all timestamped from the moment he must have seen the hit. Swallowing hard, you tapped his name and brought the phone to your ear.

It barely rang once before his voice burst through the line. “Hey!” Jack’s tone was frantic, a mix of relief and worry. “Are you okay? Are you in pain? Is there someone there with you? Do you need something? God, I should’ve been there—I should’ve been with you—”

“Jack,” you interrupted softly, but he didn’t stop.

“I saw the clip. I saw it. That hit—it looked so bad. You just went down, and I—God, I felt like my heart stopped. I’ve been calling everyone, and no one was picking up, and then your coach finally called me back and said you were in surgery. Surgery! I should’ve been there—”

“Jack,” you said again, more firmly this time, though your voice was still weak. His words slowed, but the panic in his tone was still evident. “I’m okay,” you assured him, even as your own voice wavered. “The surgery went well. I’m sore, but I’ll be alright. I promise.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, the silence filled with his uneven breathing. “You’re sure?” he asked finally, his voice quieter but still laced with worry. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m sure,” you said, your lips curling into a faint smile. “They said I’ll make a full recovery. It’s going to take a while, but I’m okay, Jack. You don’t have to worry.”

His sigh of relief was audible, but it was short-lived. “How could I not worry?” he said, his voice rising again. “I saw the hit, and then I didn’t hear from you, and I was stuck here, a thousand miles away, with no idea if you were okay or if you were—” He stopped himself, his voice breaking. “I hate this. I hate that I’m not there with you.”

The raw frustration in his voice was enough to bring tears to your eyes. “It’s just hockey,” you said softly, trying to reassure him. “Stuff like this happens. It’s part of the game.”

“Not to you,” he snapped, the sharpness of his words catching you off guard. “It can happen to anyone else, but not you. You’re the last person I want to see getting hurt, and now you’re stuck in a hospital bed, and I can’t even be there to hold your hand.”

“Jack,” you whispered, but he was on a roll now, his frustration spilling over.

“I can’t believe this stupid schedule,” he muttered. “I should be on the next flight home. Screw the games. They can deal without me for one night—”

“You can’t do that,” you said quickly, your voice firmer this time. “Jack, I need you to focus on your games. I’ll be fine. You’ll see me soon enough.”

He sighed again, the sound heavy with reluctance. “I just… I feel so helpless,” he admitted. “You’re hurt, and I can’t do anything about it.”

“You’re doing plenty,” you told him gently. “Just hearing your voice right now is enough.”

The conversation eventually calmed, though Jack’s worry never fully faded. He promised to call every day—and he did. Over the next week, he became your lifeline.

The first night after your surgery, Jack called you just as he promised he would. The moment your phone buzzed with his name on the screen, a sense of comfort washed over you. You answered immediately, his face appearing on the screen before you could even get out a greeting.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but still edged with worry. His hair was damp from a post-game shower, and you could see the dark circles under his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” you admitted, shifting slightly against the pillows propping you up. Your leg throbbed dully beneath the cast, but seeing Jack’s face helped dull the ache. “Sore, but okay.”

“You look pale,” he noted, his brows furrowing as his eyes scanned the screen, like he could physically assess you through it. “Are you sure you’re okay? Have you been eating? What about water—have you been drinking enough?”

“Jack,” you interrupted gently, your lips quirking into a faint smile. “I’m fine. They’ve been taking care of me here, and the doctors said the surgery went well. You don’t have to worry so much.”

His sigh was audible even through the small speaker of your phone. “How can I not worry? I hate that I’m stuck here while you’re dealing with all of this alone.”

“You’re not stuck. You’re doing your job,” you reminded him. “And I’m not alone. My team’s been in and out, and the nurses here are great.”

“It’s not the same,” he muttered, his tone low. “I should be there.”

You reached up and adjusted the angle of your phone, so he could see your reassuring smile. “You’re here, Jack. Maybe not physically, but this? These calls? They help more than you know.”

His face softened slightly, though the worry in his eyes didn’t entirely disappear. “I just wish I could do more.”

“You’re doing plenty,” you said firmly. “Now, tell me about your game. How’d it go?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, but when you raised an expectant eyebrow, he relented. “It went alright. We won, but it was closer than it should’ve been. I missed an open net in the second period, and the guys gave me hell for it.”

“Missed an open net?” you teased, your tone light. “Wow, Jack Hughes is human after all.”

He groaned, though you caught the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I’ll make up for it next game.”

“I’m sure you will,” you said with a grin. “You always do.”

The conversation shifted after that, Jack asking about your day in the hospital. He wanted to know everything—what you ate, what the doctors said, how much pain you were in. His questions were relentless, but you didn’t mind. If anything, it warmed your heart to know how much he cared. By the time the call ended, your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, but the lingering sound of Jack’s voice in your mind made falling asleep a little easier.

The calls became your anchor over the next week. Every night, without fail, Jack would call you after his game, no matter how late it was. Some nights, he’d FaceTime you, propping his phone up on a stack of pillows in his hotel room while he lounged on the bed in sweats and a hoodie. Other nights, he’d call you during his downtime at the rink, his voice echoing faintly in the empty locker room as he checked in on you.

On the third night, after another win for his team, Jack’s call came through just after midnight. You answered groggily, your phone resting on your chest as you blinked sleepily at his face.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asked, his voice soft with concern.

“No, it’s okay,” you murmured, shifting slightly to prop yourself up against the pillows. “How was the game?”

“Good,” he said, though his expression was a little sheepish. “I scored a goal, but I got into it with a guy on the other team. He cross-checked me, and I might’ve, uh, shoved him a little.”

“Jack,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him playfully. “You can’t get yourself hurt. One of us in the hospital is enough.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “Don’t worry, I can take a hit. But seriously, how are you feeling? Is the pain manageable? Do you need me to call someone for you?”

You shook your head, smiling at his endless concern. “I’m fine, Jack. They’ve got me on some good meds, so I’m not feeling much pain right now.”

“Good,” he said, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if trying to detect any hidden discomfort. “Tell me if that changes, okay? If you need anything—anything at all—you call me.”

“Jack, you’re on the other side of the country,” you pointed out, your tone teasing. “What could you possibly do from there?”

“Plenty,” he said stubbornly. “I could call your coach. Or your doctor. Or the president, if I have to.”

You laughed, the sound soft but genuine. “I don’t think the president can help with a broken leg, Jack.”

“Then I’ll find someone who can,” he shot back, grinning. “I’m serious, though. Just tell me if you need anything.”

“All I need is for you to win some games,” you teased, your voice light. “That’s all the help I need.”

Jack rolled his eyes, but you could see the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling back. “But you love me anyway.”

By the end of the week, the calls felt like second nature. Jack would update you on his games, sharing every detail with the enthusiasm of someone desperate to distract himself from his own worries. In turn, you’d tell him about the progress you were making in the hospital, even if it was slow. You joked about how the nurses were starting to recognize him just from the sound of his voice, and he teased you about how bossy you were getting with your requests for snacks and drinks.

Through it all, Jack’s constant presence—whether through a screen or a phone call—was what kept you going. And even though he couldn’t be there in person, he made you feel as though he was never truly far away.

Finally, after what felt like the longest week of your life, the day finally arrived when Jack’s West Coast road trip came to an end. He had called you every day, just like he’d promised, but it wasn’t the same as having him by your side. Through the screen, you could see the worry etched into his face and hear it in the tone of his voice. He hated being so far away from you, and every conversation ended with him muttering how much he wished he could teleport home.

The waiting had been agonizing for both of you. Jack barely slept, the guilt of not being able to be there gnawing at him, and you had spent your days in the hospital, frustrated by your immobility and longing for his comforting presence. So when you finally got the text that he had landed and was on his way, the anticipation became almost unbearable.

You sat up in the hospital bed, your leg propped up in a brace and wrapped in layers of bandages, staring at the door like a puppy waiting for its owner to return. You heard the sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway, and then the door swung open.

“Jack,” you breathed, and there he was.

He looked exhausted. His hair was messy from the flight, his eyes shadowed from lack of sleep, but the relief on his face was so palpable it nearly brought tears to your eyes. He crossed the room in three long strides, not even bothering to set his bag down before he wrapped you in the gentlest hug he could manage. His arms circled you carefully, mindful of your injuries, but the embrace was so full of love that it made your chest ache.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands. “God, I was so scared. Watching that hit… hearing you were in surgery… I didn’t know what to do. I felt so useless.”

You could see the guilt swimming in his eyes, and you shook your head, resting your hand on top of his. “Jack, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“I should’ve been here sooner,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I hate that I wasn’t here when you needed me most.”

“Stop,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his wrist. “You did everything you could. You called, you checked in—Jack, I knew you were with me, even if you weren’t here physically.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his emotions flickering across his face like a storm. Then he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m here now,” he murmured, as though saying it aloud made it more real. “And I’m not leaving until you’re back on your feet.”

The first day of Jack’s visit was spent catching up—he pulled a chair close to your bed, his fingers intertwined with yours as he asked about every detail of the surgery and recovery process. He flinched when you described the pain of the initial hit and visibly winced when you told him about waking up after the surgery. His worry was written all over him, and it didn’t fade even when you assured him that you were healing.

But he didn’t just stop at sitting by your side. By the next day, Jack had transformed into a one-man care team. He brought you your favorite coffee every morning, carefully maneuvering around the hospital room as though he’d been doing it for years. He kept your water bottle full, adjusted your pillows to make sure you were comfortable, and even insisted on helping you wash your hair when you mentioned you felt gross from lying in bed for so long.

“Jack, you don’t have to do all this,” you said one evening as he helped you shift positions, your leg still immobilized in the brace. “You just got back from a road trip. You should be resting, not waiting on me hand and foot.”

He scoffed, his hands steady as he fluffed your pillows. “Resting? What kind of boyfriend would I be if I wasn’t here taking care of you?”

“A tired one?” you offered, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked, but his expression softened as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “I’m exactly where I need to be. Don’t fight me on this—I’m taking care of you whether you like it or not.”

And he meant it. Jack spent every moment he wasn’t at practice by your side, helping you with the little things that had become impossible with your injury. When you were finally discharged and sent home, Jack took charge of setting up the apartment to accommodate your limited mobility. He rearranged furniture, set up a cozy corner on the couch where you could elevate your leg, and made sure your favorite snacks were within reach.

At night, when the pain was at its worst and sleep felt impossible, Jack was there. He’d sit beside you, his hand resting on your arm as he talked you through the discomfort. Sometimes he’d read to you, his voice low and soothing, and other times he’d just sit quietly, his presence enough to calm your racing thoughts.

One evening, as you lay curled up on the couch with your leg propped up on a stack of pillows, Jack sat beside you with a bag of takeout from your favorite restaurant. The smell of your favorite dish filled the room, and you smiled up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude.

“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?” you said, watching as he carefully plated the food for you.

He looked up, his face flushing slightly. “I’m just doing what anyone would do.”

“Not everyone would fly across the country after an exhausting road trip and spend every waking moment taking care of their injured girlfriend,” you pointed out. “You’ve been… incredible, Jack. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through this without you.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned down to kiss you, his lips lingering against yours as though he was trying to convey everything he couldn’t say. “You don’t have to go through anything alone,” he murmured. “Not as long as I’m here.”

In the weeks that followed, Jack became your rock. He helped you through the frustration of physical therapy, cheered you on as you regained strength, and reminded you every day that you were stronger than you thought. And though the road to recovery was long and grueling, the love and support Jack gave you made it feel a little less daunting.

As you sat together one evening, your head resting on his shoulder and your cast resting across his lap, you realized something profound: this injury, as difficult as it had been, had only brought you closer. Jack’s unwavering dedication had proven, without a doubt, that he was in this for the long haul. And with him by your side, you knew you could face anything.

[revelboo]

hey, hope this months been good to you thus far and that january ended on a good note for you. appreciate you a lot ✌️✌️

Thank you! I hope your year is off to a good start, too

It Had to Be You Pt 17

TFO Megatron x Reader

• Draped against him, one of his hands is resting against your spine, sliding slowly up and down before his servos tangle in the hair at the back of your head. Making a soft noise, you wiggle on top of him, feeling his spark thrumming under you. That steady rhythm soothing you. As familiar now as the beat of your own heart. Still feel off balance from that contact with his spark. The glimpses you’d gotten of his memories feeling as real as your own. “You held back from me,” he says, red optics sliding to you then away as his jaw works. “Why?” Confused, you reach up to touch his bottom lip and his head turns away.

• Thought you’d finally trusted him. That the two of you had gotten past the fighting. Past resisting each other, but you’d not submitted to him when he’d bonded you. Hadn’t given him everything. And your expression is confused when you prop yourself up on your elbows on his chassis to look down at him. “What’s that mean?” Like you don’t realize what you’d done. What you’d denied him. Spark aching with that missing connection, with what should be.

• What’s he in a mood about now? See his lip lift slightly to show denta before he gently thumps the back of his helm against the berth a couple times. “The bond,” he growls, servos shifting against the back of your head, cupping it. “It’s not complete. You have to feel it.” Frowning at his tone, you remember being tangled in him. Overwhelmed as he’d coaxed you, wrapping himself about you. And you’d ignored that sweet pull humming through you, ignored his coaxing.

• “It was a lot,” you mutter, avoiding his optics now. Venting tiredly, he tries to let go of the tension. It hadn’t been a no. You hadn’t denied him. Can feel the imperfect bond prickling through his spark. Demanding to be completed. That he tangle himself so fully in you that you’ll never be free of him. But this isn’t something he can just demand or take. It has to be given willingly. And patience has never been his strength. “I didn’t really know what was happening. You didn’t warn me.”

• “A lot,” he echoes, voice strained. “I offer you everything and it’s a lot.” Servos restlessly playing with your hair, his optics shutter. “I’m trying. You have no idea how hard I’m trying.” Leaning up on him, you brush your mouth against his and he finally looks at you. Annoyed and hopeful all at the same time as his other hand lands on your hip. There’s a vulnerability in his expression that reminds you of the glimpses you’d seen of D 16. Of who he’d been before Sentinel’s lies had broken him of trust. And he’s trusting you, giving you the ability to hurt him. But You hadn’t been able to do the same, you’d balked, because it had felt like losing a piece of yourself giving in to him.

• “I’m trying too, okay.” Those eyes he gets lost in are so serious as you brush another kiss against him that feels like an apology. Knows he should have explained first, should have stopped you from touching him without understanding what you were committing to. Another Cybertronian would have known. Wouldn’t have given up their freedom to tie themself to him willingly. And he’d taken advantage of your ignorance to get what he wanted. To make a permanent claim on you. Would you have still chosen to reach out and forge that imperfect connection if you’d known what it meant? He’s not sure and a hurt part of him isn’t capable of just asking. Afraid of what the answer might be.

Previous

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Speak now

Summary: Your best friend George is about to marry the friend you introduced to him years ago. Are you ready to let him go or will you act on your feelings you were hiding the whole time?

Warnings: curse words, George’s girlfriend

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: I was working on something else, then my mood got off and this idea popped in my mind while I was listening to the Speak now by Taylor Swift. Enjoy it! :)

———

Don’t say yes run away now

Seeing him preparing for the big day made your stomach turn. How he stood in front of the mirror, his white shirt buttoned up, tucked in his slacks, he was fighting with the cufflinks as his hands were shaking.

That was a time for you to step in, to help him.

“May I? Your hands are shaking like crazy, George.”

Your chuckle vibrating through your chest, where you hardly kept your emotions.

George took in your appearance, the pink silk dress really suiting you. “Thank you.”

Grabbing the hem of the sleeve, you managed to slip the cufflink to its place, admiring the handcrafted piece, simple GR on it. Only thing that wasn’t poisoned by her.

“Here you go.” Giving him a small smile, your eyes flickered across his figure, holding back your sigh.

“What would I do without you.. I’m a mess.” He laughed nervously, the emotions of this day taking a toll on him.

You wouldn’t be marrying her.

The flash of memory ran through your brain, the moment you introduced him to one of your friends from college in London. Being scared of your feelings for him back then, afraid of the idea of commitment, you thought he’d be better with someone else.

And he really was. But you weren’t.

Throughout the years of their relationship, you saw them at their happiest, lowest and strongest moments, George was your best friend, so you really knew about every small detail. So when he came to your place one day, you hoped that he’s about to confess to you, that you won’t be in your mess anymore, that he somehow read through your mixed signals over the years.

No. You were his best friend and he told you about how he wants to ask her to marry him. His eyes full of that blue spark you adored, his grin wide, happiness radiating from him. It shattered your heart, that moment carved into your brain forever.

This is it.

“Well, she’s the happiest woman in the world. To have a man like you.” You brushed your hands over his shirt, straightening the fabric, his cologne filling your nostrils.

“What if I faint there? That would be embarrassing.” George laughed, his hands sweaty, seeking the support in your eyes as he avoided what you were saying.

With a sigh and soft smile you hugged him, your hands wrapping around his back, pulling him close like if he was about to vanish. The fabric of his suit velvet on your skin, you were holding your breath because otherwise you would burst out in tears.

“It’s gonna be okay, Georgie. You're a tough guy, and… when you’ll see her, your worries will disappear. That’s for sure.” Mumbling into his shoulder, it was more words for you than him. Reassuring yourself that he’d be better off without you.

“I love how you’re always right, how you’re so supportive. I never fully thanked you for introducing me to her. You practically made our love come true, this wedding is also a celebration for you. Of how great friend you are.” If the words could cut, you’d be bleeding out to death.

“Oh, that’s flattering, really, but it’s your work. You made it with your love, and commitment to each other.” You chuckled and tried to brush off his words.

The knock on the door interrupted you, and his mother walked in. She was so sweet, always treating you like a family. Taking a step from George, you gave him one last look, smiling and nodding him good luck.

“This champagne is absolutely delicious, you should try it and those cupcakes too. Fucking hell, you didn’t mention that they’re filthy ass rich.” As you came back to the main reception, your date, which was some poor kind of man you met over business dinner once, was quickly beside you, licking the cupcake icing off his fingers.

“They’re not. He is.” You corrected him sharply, finally looking over the decorations and flowers there. It screamed her all along, not a single glimpse of George’s style. Also seeing the big mirror with handwritten sign Mr. & Mrs. Russell nearly made you vomit.

———

The ceremony started, George was now standing under the huge ass girlanda made of white roses, his eyes scanning the people around, giving nervous smiles, trying to keep his cool, as his eyes finally found you in the second row, you already looking at him. In that moment he calmed down a little, it was evident how he relaxed for a bit, his eyes softening.

Then the entrance of the bride. You turned to look at her. She really looked like a princess, giggling all the way walking to the aisle with her father. Your eyes were wet already, everybody thinking of how you're a supportive friend, but in reality you were absolutely destroyed.

Your mind was spinning, there was no way you could let it happen, the years of your suppressed emotions bubbling up, your whole body shaking, your hands getting sweaty every passing moment.

The man beside you, your date, watched you curiously. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re just excited for the part “speak now”.”

And as he said it jokingly, you turned your gaze to him, swallowing the lump in your throat. His eyes widened, understanding what’s about to come.

“Is there someone who has some objection to this marriage? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Hearing the preacher, it was now or never. With your heart beating fast in your chest, the rush of blood in your ears making them hot, you abruptly stood up from your seat.

“I do.”

Your voice echoing through the space, gaining attention and shocked gasps of everyone including the couple in the front. Yet you never felt more confident about standing for yourself.

“You! I knew it!” She pointed her small finger at you, her angry squeaky mouth spilling the curses

“Yeah, me. I need to say this. I love you, George. I always had, throughout all those years, even before her. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” The words lingered through the air. George was frozen to the ground, his eyes wide, same as his mouth open. Absolutely speechless while his fiancé was screaming something about his slutty friend ruining her big day.

It was like everything around you two disappeared, only the sacred connection between you existing in that moment, filled with many unspoken thoughts and emotions.

———

The sunset at the Cayman Islands felt like a dream. Waves of the sea washing over your feet, the sand stinging into your skin. You were finally able to breathe without the strain in your chest. Everything fell into the right places.

“Ah, here’s my favourite girl. I thought that you’d be here, always trying to catch the perfect sunset.” The voice of the man of your life forced you to smile widely.

Turning to look at him, capturing how his blue eyes sparkled with the sun in them, your heart skipping a beat, your stomach fluttering.

“Well, Mr. Russell, some things never change.” You reached for his hand, enjoying every possible moment you could feel his warm skin against you.

“That’s why I love you, Mrs. Russell. Because you’re you. The love of my life.” His fingers intertwined with yours, pulling your hand to his lips to place a kiss over your wedding ring while he held your gaze.

“Say it again.” You chuckled sweetly.

“I love you. I so so love you, I’ll scream it into the world, I’ll write it on every wall, I want everybody to know. You make my life easier and full of joy. What would I do without you…” his confessions were so adorable, that you were breathless every time.

“You’d be absolutely miserable without me.”

———

Please don’t use my writing without my permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

-

Tags: @chilling-seavey

[drdemonprince]

you are the first person ive encountered in my whole life who has actually attempted to really answer some of the more aggravating questions surrounding children and sex and just reading some of your recent posts has already enlightened me to my childhood situation a lot better. i will try to keep this brief bc my intent is not to air my whole childhood to the masses but to like. present a sort of spiders georg situation to help people understand why these things are important. here we go: (it is relevent to point out that i am extremely autistic and started presenting symptoms from two years of age onward.) i believe that i started being sexually active around four or five years old. i was extremely curious about sex to such a degree that it got me in trouble at school multiple times. it disturbed my mom greatly how often i brought up sexual topics. i discovered porn at the age of eight due to very poor parental supervision and a high level of internet access and i was immediately obsessed. i can confidently say that i watched more porn than any other kind of media as a child. by the time i was 10 id already had dozens of sexual encounters with kids my age and older, mostly initiated by me. i agree now that children cannot consent to sex with adults, but it took me a long time to come to that conclusion. for a very long time i wished more than anything for an adult who knew the ins and outs of sex to have a sexual relationship with me, bc i saw it as the only way i could be satisfied. children do not make good sexual partners when you are essentially ahead of the sexual curve i guess. i received absolutely no sex education until i reached middle school. my parents didnt talk to me about it whatsoever, deflecting everything i said about the subject. the sex education i did receive was piss poor, and i knew it. it was an "abstinence only" model of sex ed. no one took it seriously. my lack of understanding came back to bite me severely in high school. nowadays i understand concepts like consent and boundaries very well, and i think about these subjects deeply and am careful to consider them when interacting with other people. this was not the case in high school. my unusual sexual obsessions in childhood made me very uncautious about it with other people, and my level of autonomy and power was high enough that abuse was extremely possible. i am not proud to say that i did in fact commit sexual abuse in high school. i knew it was wrong. but to me, the wrongness was on the level of severity of stealing a pack of gum from the store. as soon as i had done it, i started to understand the true level of severity of what id done, and that still haunts me. i had up to that point believed that everyone must on some level have an interest in and desire for sex. i would have been ok with someone doing what i did to me, so it would surely be fine if i did it to someone else. i had no real conception of sexual violence and sexual coercion being real things that affected people deeply, both due to my physical and social isolation and extremely skewed perspective from watching porn for years. nowadays, i have very little sex, both because of lack of percieved opportunity, lack of motivation, and fear of committing the same transgressions i did in the past. nevertheless i remain extremely interested in and obsessed with sex, and wish i could spend all day having it. so i guess as someone who was sexually precocious: your kids need to know about sex. they need to be educated about it. a sufficiently determined child will find out about it regardless, and you need to give them the tools necessary to navigate it without hurting themselves and others. and additionally i think it would be a lot better for trans girls if our first exposure to transfemininity wasnt porn the majority of the time.

💯 thank you anon ♥️

[elliesglock]

yas do 20 questions

okay this video. holyyyyy awkward. i'd like to point out first of all that this video has a lot to do with my thoughts about their timeline. around this time im not sure if they're in a committed relationship or a secret little fling kind of thing. the way they act around each other gives they know something we don't. this video gives such young love :( honestly it looks like to me like the beginning stage of really starting to fall for someone and the way you just smile and cheese so hard just being in their presence. so imo i think they're beginning to fall in love with each other or starting to realize how much they like each other and that's why they're so awkward and giggly. and how no one is giggling but them so it's saying to me this whole video is them just thinking about how they know some thing and is trying to keep us hush hush. they hang on to each other's words p looks at her like she hung the stars and it really shows p has wanted a life with her since they were like 17-18. i want to point out how they've known each other for 3 years atp and they're this awkward? if you've known someone that long why are you so shy around them? ohhhhh because yall are messing around and the intimate things you know about each other translates into your body language and shyness. ohhhhhhhh. azzi's brother asks them what's their best basketball memory and azzi says her 2 gold medals in usa. and ofc competitive p has to pipe up and say well my 4 gold medals AND my state championship. the look azzi gives her is the look she always gives her when paige is being competitive or trying to flex on her. she's like okay paige 😐. i just find it funny how they're dynamic has always been so consistent and the way p has always been on menace time when it comes to azzi. but azzi doesn't even really argue because she knows p would literally rather have a gun go off than not brag on her and say how much of an amazing basketball player and person her princess is.

i also want to point out and talk about how they both look so fresh out the shower. almost like they took it at the same time....together. azzi's hair is wet and so is paige's. yall are sus and gay asf. now yes i know they could've just went back to back but the way they're so awkward. were yall doing something in there be honest quickly. azzi gets asked a question and they're fresh off the gold medalist question so azzi is still giving paige this incredulous look, she's looking at that girl so hard she hesitates and almost forgets to answer it just because she's focused on looking at p. she literally has to lock her whole body in. and p is eating it up. all smiles and giggles and smug looks.

i wanna talk about p's body language in this video for a second. i know we like to label her the confident smug cocky masc but in this video it's soooooo evident how shy she is around azzi. the whole time her body language is so stiff like if azzi touches her she'll literally explode. she has her arms crossed in front of her and her body hunched over herself almost like she's trying to protect it. and not protect it from azzi per say but more trying to prevent herself from fidgeting or doing nervous tics. her whole body language is just shy in general she's trying to make herself smaller almost like she knows how azzi is in private....🙂‍↔️. also making yourself smaller is typically a sign of nerves or anxiety so it shows to me she has some nerves around azzi. which like that's ur best friend why are you so nervous around her? AGAIN BECAUSE SHE KNOWS WHAT THEYRE DOING IN PRIVATE. just wanted to talk about that for a second because as someone who's studied body language before and is very observant i can see the anxious energy she holds for azzi.

the way p teases her after every question and makes a sassy face??? like were you expecting her to say you were her favorite disney character or sum?? now azzi imma need you to stop attacking pazzi nation with this next little moment....she's asked what's her best dish she cooks. and she deadass no joke straight face says "ummmm i'm more of an eater than a cooker". and look i would just rub it off as me having a dirty mind if PAIGE DIDNT COMPLETELY GIVE HERSELF UP IMMEDIATELY. she immediately gets this look on her face like she knows something and she's all shy and blushy. ho do you have intimate knowledge of azzi being an.....eater or sum? that's what her face is giving. and then azzi just makes the exposing themselves run even worse by saying oh yeah i can cook pretty much any breakfast food you want and azzi immediately looks at the camera and says "not true." basically confirming paige has cooked breakfast for her before??? and that she didn't like it? also i just wanna point out that ive always thought paige is the type to wake azzi up with breakfast in bed during national girlfriends day or just a random sunday she never really needs an excuse 😭 and azzi you know damn well you'd eat her breakfast just because you love her and thats ur lil paigey you don't fool me in the slightest.

moving on from that madness, azzi i'm looking at u rn. why do you literally LOCK IN on paige anytime she even turns to you or asks you a question. her eyes get all wide and it's almost like she's like omg my crush is talking to me omg azzi don't freak omg. she looks at her so quick and doesn't stop until paige turns away from her. soooooo in love. now onto paige. why are u looking at her as if you'll die of happiness just from being in her presence? i mean i get it BUT WHYYYY IF SHES UR FRIEND WHY ARE U LOOKING AT HER LIKE THAT. bc that's not friend btw. she looks so in love it's disgusting. the way p is so eager listening to her and loving everything she says with the biggest grin on her face like ho i know ur cheeks hurt. she smiles through this whole video btw. that's BEEN her girl shes so giddy basically tripping out doing the griddy in front of all of us.

azzi gets asked who the toughest person she's ever played against is and she says ashley owusu and the way p gets offended? like she expected the question to be about her and knew she was gonna say azzi so she expected azzi to say her as well. she completely missed the question too she's goofy 😭 and then she wants the question changed so she can make SURE her girl says her name and says she's the hardest she's played. and ofc paige says azzi and then to be petty adds a random girl from wayzata 😒 now idk if this is her trying to make someone jealous or if she just wanted to be petty but it's giving oh you didn't want to say me lemme just add this random girl. might just be me being delusional but you can never rest w p she's very possessive and wants everybody to know her girl is her girl. also i'd like to point out how p also remembers that they played each other and EXACTLY WHEN to fact check azzi. it gives she remembers so vividly cause it was the best game of her life and she was SO excited to play against her gf she couldnt ever forget it.

last question is i believe them getting asked what their game winning play would be and the way p immediately says she would give it to azzi and set up an assist for her. it's alwaysssss been about assisting her girl and playmaking for HER. and she's still on this timing too. still the only one really assisting azzi 😒 also still on her get azzi to uconn agenda here and she's setting up her agenda still 😭

and last but not least we get the cherry on top of the cake we see shy little paigey all over again. totally so stuck in her head and so shy thinking about azzi she doesn't realize azzi's fist bump like girl get it together. idk how lil paigey pulled her honestly. azzi had to have found her just like the most adorable little thing ever cause. mwah no rizz 🫰

okay thanks guys! come get yall juice, have a safe super bowl night and eagles dub THANK Youuu!!

[lady-belz]

Dirty Thoughts: A Dirty Shorts Fic

Kim Namjoon x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

Prompt: “How am I supposed to concentrate when I am having the most unholy scenarios about you and me in my head?”

Author Note: Poll results from last week said Jungkook would be the next one in the series. Boy were you wrong! LOL!

Story notes: You and Namjoon have been married for 6 years, and to keep your relationship spicy, you like to send him naughty pics via text message that end up distracting him from working and causing him no end of embarrassment to his bandmates.

When Yoongi entered 'Rkive', it was to see his long-time friend and bandmate staring off into space as he sat at his control board.

“Oh not again!” he chuckled to himself as he closed the door. “Nam!” he called out, trying not to startle the man.

Namjoon blinked twice before looking up at his friend. He cleared his throat, his cheeks tinting pink and Yoongi knew what, or rather who, had been on his friend's mind. “Oh! Hey! How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to see you thinking about your wife again. What did she send this time?” Yoongi wondered, sitting in one of the empty chairs next to him.

Yoongi (all of the boys really) absolutely adored the woman that had captured his leader and best friend's heart. It was an accidental meeting (Namjoon had been out riding his bike, got distracted by a duck in a pond and nearly ran the poor woman over. If she hadn't jumped out of the way, falling into the pond, she would have been hit with his bike. He was completely embarrassed as he helped her out of the pond, apologizing over and over again as she wrung out her soaked clothing. She waved him off, giggling and the moment their eyes met, it was love at first sight) that turned into something long-term and on a sunny day, 3 years later, in front of the same pond they'd met at, they got married. Married now for nearly 6 years, she still found ways to embarrass her husband, and one of her favorites was sending her husband selfies. Not tame ones either – ones that made him question everything about life and caused him no amounts of embarrassment if he was out in public with his friends and popped a boner after looking at the pics.

If anything, his question made Namjoon's cheeks even redder and he couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from his throat. “That good, huh?”

“You don't understand, man! That woman can make angels want to commit sins!” Namjoon burst out, making Yoongi laugh loudly.

“And you married her.” Yoongi reminded him.

“Well I couldn't let anyone else get their grubby hands on her! I saw her first!”

Yoongi wondered if he had channeled Jimin for a minute, he was laughing so hard he nearly fell out of the chair. Namjoon sounded like a pouty 5 year old.

“So why are you here, and not at home asserting dominance over your fiefdom?” Yoongi smirked. Namjoon gave him a dirty look.

“Did you just really say 'fiefdom'? Dude.” Namjoon shook his head. “Besides, we have work to do.”

“Work that can wait until later.” Yoongi assured him. “Go home. Be with your wife. You know you want to.”

“...I kind of do.” Namjoon looked down, cheeks and ears red.

“So why are you still here?”

“The music guides-”

“I can call Jungkook.”

“And the ad-libs need-”

“Jimin's free.”

“But the ra-”

“Hobi's down the hall in his studio.”

“But-”

“Jin and Tae are downstairs in the practice room. Go home, Joonie. We got this covered.” Yoongi chuckled, patting his friend on the leg.

“You s-”

“Kim Nam-joon! Go home!” Yoongi laughed, grabbing his friend by the arm and dragging him out of the studio, Namjoon grabbing his bag and jacket before they could be left behind.

“Fine!” Namjoon sighed as he slipped on his jacket, grabbing his bike from beside the door to the studio. “Don't call me unless it's an emergency!” he yelled as he headed for the elevators.

“We won't!” Yoongi yelled back with a chuckle.

The elevator doors closed as Hobi poked his head out of 'Hope World'. “The wife?”

“Yep.” Yoongi chuckled, moving to the door of 'Genius Lab'. Hobi just shook his head with a laugh, going back inside his own studio.

Namjoon entered his apartment to the smells of delicious food. “Y/n, I'm home!” he called out.

“You're home early! I'm in the kitchen!” you returned as he hung up his coat and bag. He followed the smells to the kitchen and found you at the stove, dishing out a soup into some bowls. You looked up and smiled at him. “Why are you home so early? I thought you were going to be a few hours?”

“Yoongi kicked me out.” he shrugged, moving to stand behind you.

“Why would he do that?” you frowned, looking at him over your shoulder.

“Because he caught me staring off into space again.” Namjoon replied, pressing against your back. You hid a smirk, now knowing the reason why he was home early.

“You were thinking about that photo I sent this morning.” you told him, making it a statement and not a question.

“What do you think?” he replied, leaning down to press a kiss to the exposed skin of your neck. You hummed in thought as you moved out of his embrace to take the empty pot to the sink. You could have sworn you heard him growl.

“I think you need to get your head out of the clouds.” you chuckled as you washed the pot, setting it in the strainer to dry. You felt his body heat at your back again, this time his hands resting on your hips as he pressed his nose into your hair.

“How am I supposed to concentrate when I am having the most unholy scenarios about you and me in my head?” he whisper-growled against your ear, making goosebumps break out along your arms. “Especially when you keep sending me those pictures!”

“Well... just keeping you interested.” you smirked, giving him a side eye. You found yourself spun around and pinned to the counter at your back, his lips inches from your own making your pulse rate spike.

“I'm always interested, love.” he stated, his tone dropping an octave and making desire slowly curl in your stomach.

“Yeah?” you whispered, voice shaky and he smirked hearing it.

“The things I want to do to you right now on this counter...”

You couldn't help it – you moaned, the sound seeming to come from the back of your throat. It was rare when Namjoon became so dominant and it turned you on completely.

“Namj-” you started to say but he cut you off, his lips sliding over yours in a sensual kiss that made your toes curl and your hair stand on end. You reached out to touch his chest but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them behind your back with his larger hand. You gasped in surprise and desire.

“No touching!” he growled.

“Yes, sir!” you agreed almost immediately.

Using his free hand, he slowly unbuttoned the shirt you had put on that morning, realizing it was one of his. He loved it when you wore his clothes and if he wasn't already hard before, he definitely was now. You wore nothing beneath it, reminding him of the photo you had sent him that morning; you wearing this exact shirt while laying in bed, the fabric barely covering you.

“You drive me crazy, do you know?” he whispered, leaning in to press a warm kiss to your sternum.

“A girl has to have goals in life, Joonie.” you replied, shivering against his touch.

“And yours is to make me insane with lust?” he glanced up at you, arching an eyebrow and hollowing his cheeks, a look that never failed to make you wet.

“Yes.” you answered honestly, staring him directly in the eye. He just gave you that look again. You waited to see what his next move would be and he surprised you by wrapping his hands around your waist and hoisting you up onto the counter. You gasped in surprise and desire. “Joon!”

He smirked at you, getting to his knees and pulling your legs over his shoulders. Before you could complain, his face was between your legs, his tongue dancing along your wet folds and you cried out in shock. “Fuck!” you shouted, your head falling back between your shoulders as he ate you like a man starved.

He groaned at your taste, something he could never get tired of and hearing your moans above him meant he knew he was doing it right. He pushed in deeper, the moan you released the filthiest moan he'd ever heard come from your lips and he smirked internally.

Your fingers slid into his hair, grabbing tightly and pulling hard, causing his tongue to move faster. He released a hand from your thigh, his thumb pressing against your clit and rubbing hard. You started to swear most colorfully, making him grin. He loved reducing you to a babbling wreck whenever he had the chance.

Your thighs started to shake, the coil of desire in your stomach tightening by the second. You were so close.

He felt the tremors in your legs and used the other hand to slip two fingers inside of you, replacing his tongue, moving the wet muscle to your clit and making circular motions. “Oh my god! J-Joonie!” you nearly screamed, falling backwards on top of the counter. The wet sounds his fingers made sliding in and out of you were loud, the acoustics of the kitchen making it echo.

The coil snapped and your back arched as your orgasm blasted through you. You soaked his face, the counter, the floor and the front of his shirt as your thighs snapped closed around his head. He ignored it, continuing to wring every bit of pleasure out of you he could get.

Exhausted and spent, your legs finally relaxed, dropping heavily to his shoulders as you struggled to catch your breath.

He removed your legs from his shoulders, leaving you laying on the counter as he gained his feet, quickly stripping out of his clothes. Once naked, he grabbed your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter before sliding his hard cock inside of you in one thrust. You gasped loudly in pleasure as his large hands gripped your hips and he started thrusting hard.

“Fuck, you feel amazing!” he groaned as you wrapped your legs around his back, keeping him close.

“J-Joon!” you babbled out, so wrecked by your husband you were punch drunk, eyes rolling behind tightly closed lids. He did not let up, didn't pause for a break, chasing his pleasure as well as giving you more of your own.

“So close.” he mumbled some time later. You pried your eyes open to watch him fall apart over you, his face absolutely beautiful as the pleasure overwhelmed him. You could feel his hot seed fill you, triggering your own orgasm, your walls fluttering around him as you moaned his name.

Breathless and sated, he collapsed, his head falling against your stomach.

You stayed like that for a time, waiting for your breathing to regulate and your bodies to cool.

“Guessing you really liked this morning's photo?” you giggled later. He raised his head, giving you a salacious grin.

“Don't tell Yoongi, but I jerked off to it after you sent it.” he chuckled, making you laugh and flutter your walls around him. He thrust back into you, making you both groan. You fell back on the counter, staring at the ceiling.

“I'm never going to be able to cook in here again without thinking about today.” you giggled, making him laugh outright.

“Your fault for being so delicious and putting thoughts in my head.” he replied, slipping his arms around your back to pull you upright and into his embrace. You leaned down to kiss him deeply as he pulled you off the counter, still linked together. He took you to your bedroom where you continued your activities well into the evening.

-End-

[alien-slushie]

Alright everyone shut up because I got the dumbest danny phantom fanfic idea and I need someone, or a few someone's, to either encourage or discourage my insanity!

Basically; Danny needs some extra credit in Lancer's class, and Lancer, who does want Danny to succeed, comes up with a suggestion. The school is doing a musical and Lancer wants Danny to audition, he doesn't have to win the audition, he just has to try out and Lancer will give him some extra credit. Danny doesn't really wanna do but he really really needs that extra credit so; sjsoyheksgd fine, he'll do it. It's only going to be the drama kids, who are actually super encouraging, during the auditions, maybe a few of their friends, and the teachers. It'll be fine...

Thing is, Dash Overheard, and smelling a chance to make fun of Danny, he talks the other A-Listers into sitting in on auditions so they can film what is sure to be an utter train wreck.

We get to the day, Danny is super nervous and annoyed the A-Listers are there, but he's already on stage so Ghost Darn It, he has no other choice. So, he sings. And he's good?!

Like he's not overnight popstar good but for a 15 year old with no training and only a week or so to practice, he's pretty good. And he also kinda, had fun doing it. Like he knows he can't commit to the actual musical, what with the ghost buisness, but he did kinda have fun and it's the most stress free he's had in a while so it was cool experience.

Now, I'm just not sure what song he should use for the audition. If I wanted to with angst/mild serious I feel like Michael in the Bathroom or Waving Through the Window would fit Danny painfully well. But~ as for going full crack; then Play Rehearsal for Danny alone, but Danny could also rope Tucker and Sam into helping him and they do either: Candy Store, Sincerely Me, or Two Player Game.

[sturniolohohoho]

In Frame, In Fame, In Fate Part 1 - Roller Rink

summary: nick, a complete stranger, walks up to you out of nowhere, pretending you're his friend to escape crazy fans. You become friends and you end up hanging out with the triplets at a roller rink, where you meet matt sturniolo... <3

c/w: Flirting, hand-holding, cursing, teasing, falling

requested by @mattsslvtzx

dividers by @anitalenia here

proofread by @lailasnight (tyssmmm!! <3)

word count: 1579

Nick stood in the chip aisle, holding a sour cream and onion pringles can, awkwardly trying to avoid eye contact with the group of giggling teenagers who had been following him around the mall and grocery store, despite having already taken pictures with him. 

He wanted desperately to go home, but bringing a group of crazy fans straight to his address was the worst course of action. 

Suddenly, he spots you in the next aisle over. You had wavy midlength blue hair, a bunch of piercings, and rollerblades slung over your shoulder. Exactly the kind of girl Nick would love to be friends with anyway. He decides to just go for it, really wanting to escape the fans and head back home.

“Hey girl, I haven’t seen you in forever! How are you??” you look up, startled at first. He sends you a pleading look, eyes darting over at the ogling fans not too far away. You immediately catch on, smirking. 

“Oh my god hey…” “Nick,” he whispers. “Hey Nick, it's been so long!”

Nick lets out a relieved breath, shifting his weight as he steps closer to you, playing into the act. “Yeah, seriously! What’s it been, like… a year?”

You raise a brow, amused at his lack of commitment to the lie. “More like two,” you correct smoothly, tilting your head. “How’s your mom doing?”

Nick blinks, caught off guard. “Uh—great! Yeah, she’s, uh, doing really well.” He scratches the back of his neck, eyes flickering to the group of fans still watching from the end of the aisle. “Actually, I was just about to grab something for dinner. You wanna walk with me?”

You glance over at the fans and then back at Nick, your smirk widening. “Sure thing, old buddy. Let’s catch up.”

Looping your arm through his like you’ve done it a thousand times before, you tug him down the aisle, grabbing a random bag of chips off the shelf as you go. “So,” you say loudly, for the fans to hear. “Are we still on for that thing this weekend?”

Nick stares at you blankly for a second before quickly nodding. “Oh, totally. Wouldn’t miss it.”

You grin. “Great. You still vegan?”

Nick makes a face. “Never was.”

“Well, you are now.” You toss a bag of plant-based nuggets into his cart, and he snorts, finally relaxing a little.

The two of you continue strolling through the store, casually tossing items into his cart and making up ridiculous stories about your “long-lost friendship.” You can feel the fans watching, whispering amongst themselves, but they don’t approach, eventually seeming to leave.

As you reach the checkout, Nick leans in and mutters, “You’re a lifesaver.”

You shrug. “I know.”

Nick laughs, then tilts his head. “You should come hang sometime. My brothers would think you’re hilarious.”

You smirk. “I do make a great first impression.”

Nick snorts. “Yeah, okay.”

“Well, I guess I’ll see you sometime soon,” he says. “Yeah, see you soon!”

And that was not the last time you'd hang out with him.

The second you step into the roller rink, you know exactly how this night was going to go. Nick had texted you a couple days after you met him, asking if you wanted to hang somewhere– you suggested the roller rink.

Nick drags behind the group, already making it clear he has no intention of actually skating. Chris is eyeing the rental counter like he's debating whether or not to commit to the chaos. And Matt? Matt is standing there with his arms crossed, trying way too hard to look confident.

“Are you sure you know how to skate?” you ask, smirking as you sling your rollerblades over your shoulder.

“Sure I do,” he says looking confident. “I used to roller blade when I was a kid.”

Nick laughed, “Yeah, that’s why you were watching tutorials in the car?”

Chris loses it. “Dude, no way.”

Matt glares. “I was refreshing my skills.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Right. Well, let’s see what you’ve got, pro.” You drop onto one of the benches, lacing up your skates with practiced ease. “Unless you’re scared?”

You give him a wink, skating out onto the rink with practiced ease, picking up speed slowly as you roll around the rink. Matt and Chris tie up their shoes, joining you on the rink, unsteadily. 

Nick sits right on the edge pulling his camera out “Just to be clear, I’m not skating, just here for the entertainment and content."

“Hey you don’t mind if I film, right.” You look back at Nick, “Yeah, no problem.”

Chris skates over to you, surprisingly smoothly. Matt tries skating out onto the rink after him, immediately wobbling. You bite your lip, trying not to laugh as he moves unsteadily. 

“You good?” “Yeah,” he says quickly, trying to regain his balance. He takes a step forward. The second his weight shifts, his ankle gives out, and he flails wildly before catching himself on the back of the bench.

Nick cackles in the back, filming with his phone “HAHA! This was so worth coming for!”

Chris skates past, grinning. “You looked so confident five minutes ago, what happened?”

Matt glares at both of them before looking back at you. “Maybe I just need a—” he hesitates for half a second, then smirks, “—better teacher.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? You need me to hold your hand, Matt?”

Matt shrugs, playing it cool. “If you insist.”

Nick chokes on a laugh. Chris skates past again and mutters, “Smooth.”

You shake your head but extend a hand anyway. “Alright, Matthew. Let’s see if you can stay on your feet.”

Matt takes your hand, and the second you pull him forward, he stumbles—right into you. His hands grip your arms, steadying himself, and when he looks up, there’s just the tiniest hint of pink on his face.

He blushes, letting go and standing himself up unsteadily. “Okay, just watch what I do,” you say, showing him how to push off each roller skate. He tries copying you, but stumbles again, as you steady him by grabbing his hand.

You don’t let go, slowly guiding him forward until you are both moving at a slow and steady pace. 

Matt stays quiet as you guide him, his grip on your hand firm. He’s trying so hard to act like he’s totally got this under control, but every time his balance wobbles, his fingers tighten around yours just a little.

Chris skates past, grinning. “Aww, look at you two. Adorable.”

Matt glares. “Shut up.”

Nick, still planted safely on the sidelines, smirks. “Nah, I’m enjoying this too much.”

“There you go,” you say, grinning. “Baby steps.”

Matt glares half-heartedly. “Don’t patronize me.”

Nick, watching from the sidelines, taking pictures. “I hope you know I’m never letting you live this down.”

Matt lets go of your hand, a little more confident. “Okay I think I’ve got this.” Just as he says the words, his legs slide out from under him and his arms flailing around, bringing you down with him.

There’s a brief moment of weightlessness before you both go down, limbs tangled, skidding across the rink floor in a mess of laughter and groans.

Chris howls with laughter. Nick finally puts his phone down, covering his mouth to muffle his snickering.

Matt groans, sprawled half on top of you. “Sorry… are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m good,” you say giggling. “I hate this stupid sport,” he mutters.

He got up, face completely red. “Ugh can we go get Mcdonalds or something? I’m done with this.”

Chris skates to the edge of the rink, getting ready to pack up. “Okay, let's go,” says Nick following Chris out of the rink.

You and Matt are left in the rink, slowly making your way to the edge. 

“Um, thanks for trying to teach me by the way.” You give him a sweet smile. “No problem”

As you step off the rink, Matt’s grip on your hand lingers, just a second too long. His fingers brush against yours before he finally lets go, almost reluctantly.

“You sure you weren’t holding my hand for other reasons?” you tease, tilting your head with a smirk.

Matt huffs a quiet laugh, looking away for a moment before glancing back at you. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Your smirk widens. “Oh, I would.”

He exhales, shaking his head with a small smile. “I swear I’m not usually this bad at skating.”

You grin. “I don’t know, you seemed pretty natural at falling.”

He groans, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. So that’s what I’m gonna be remembered for.”

You nudge his arm. “Could be worse.”

Matt watches you for a beat, like he’s debating saying something else, but instead, he just smirks. “Guess I’ll have to give you something better to remember me by next time.”

Your brows lift. “What?”

His smirk twitches, almost sheepish now. “Next time. Y’know. If you’re up for it.”

You pretend to consider it, then grin. “Only if you promise to stop falling on me next time.”

Matt laughs, nudging your shoulder. “No promises.”

And as you both head toward the rental counter, you get the feeling you wouldn’t want him to.

“HURRY UP, LOVEBIRDS!” Chris yells from the other room, making exaggerated kissing noises.

Matt rolls his eyes, his face a little red, and calls back, “SHUT UP, CHRIS, YOU’RE AN IDIOT.”

a/n: well well welll thats the end of part 1!!! the fake instagram post took me WAY too long so i hope this does well.

also thank you @mattsslvtzx for this amazing request i would've never though of the idea

[dustyrkives]

HCs of Ada Wong as your lover throughout the years

WARNINGS: this might get messy lol, but bear with me, pls. It's also kind of long😁.. also is this still even called headcanons? Anyways, NSFW in re4r Ada, markings, mentions of overstimulation, gp Ada (duh), rough sex, begging, cock-warming, secret wedding, pregnancy, domesticity, and that's about it peeps

RE2r Ada

🥀: The plan was easy: infiltrate the Raccoon City Police Department and steal the virus sample, never mind the swarming undead all over the city... until she came across a poor college girl whining and screeching for her dear life: you.

🥀: Ignoring you should've been easy, time is of the essence, and she can't have any distractions–she isn't being paid to be a guardian, much less a savior.

🥀: Every turn she takes, she can hear your shrieks echo through the city–plus your whining and complaining, and it's grating on her nerves. So begrudgingly, with a sigh, she decides to help you–from a distance. Can't have anyone blowing her cover, right? But upon doing so, she finds herself following you. You were heading to her destination anyway: The Raccoon City Police Department–so it doesn't really deviate from her mission.

🥀: But the police department is swarming with those undead. Ada sighs, great, the babysitting gig continues. But she can't as of the moment due to prior commitments–she'll check on you later, assuming that you'll stay alive for a minutes, that is.

🥀: And surprisingly, you did. And that's when she decided to weave out of the shadows. You look at her, wide-eyed, pale, tired, and trembling. You looked adorable, the short-haired mercenary thinks. Her eyes narrowed, her voice was cool and steely as she commanded you to get up on your feet, your inquiries about her fell on deaf ears as she led the way. She knows that you acknowledge that she knows more than you do, so you let her do her thing.

🥀: As the hours grow, you fill the silence with small talk, nothing too personal, just remarks and comments plus complaints about how nothing stays dead in the city–if you look closely, a ghost of a smile curls on Ada's lips before it disappears and barks you to hurry up.

🥀: You are skittish, that's for sure. Each time you hide behind her or grasp her hand to warn her of an approaching undead, the older girl scowls and yanks her hand back–but as the hour progresses, she becomes accustomed to it, besides having a cute girl such as you clinging onto her was... kind of nice. It makes her feel empowered.

🥀: Until Anette had her pinned down the sewers with a protruding shrapnel on her right leg, and all she could think about was you–were you safe? Did you make it out–? No. Ada grounds her jaw, she can't possibly think of you in this state. She's the injured one here... and you're probably looking for her out there, wondering where she'd gone when you passed out due to the toxic fumes of the sewers.

🥀: Until you arrived, calling her name with–concern? Worry? Happiness? Ada just looks at you blankly, trying to process your expression as you run to her side, examining the wound that she tells you she can handle, but when your soft, therapeutic voice fills her ears, she is putty in your hands. Almost.

🥀: It turns out you're a student nurse who is supposed to enroll for the second semester, but your luck decided to play a cruel prank on you and delay your life by a few more years due to the outbreak. Ada's eyes never left yours as you dress her wound, dirt, and grime taint your delicate features, her eyes drank up every single detail of your face, from the color of your lips to each individual eyelash. You were beautiful and innocent; it felt like a sin for someone who's as tainted and corrupt as her to look at you with reverence. For once, Ada felt soft and cared for.

🥀: But the longer she stares at you, perhaps... it won't hurt to try. You weren't a threat to her. You never were. To her, you're a sweet girl, caring girl–just scared and trying to get by, just like her. And hopefully, you won't mind holding her hands that were bloodied by her past actions.

🥀: As her mission comes to a close, Ada is woken up by the realization that she can't be with you–you don't belong in her world, and you'll reject her for who she is. But the selfish voice inside her head tells her that she needs someone like you, someone whose hands are gentle, voice soft and uplifting, whose gaze is gentle and never scrutinizing. Oh, she was in trouble. She wanted you.

🥀: So, at the end of the mission, she kisses you. She kisses you HARD until her lungs burn for oxygen–and her cold, unfeeling heart feels alive, jumping for joy when you return her kiss, she pulls you close, whispering an oath that she'll see you again as you board the train with the other lucky survivors.

RE4r Ada/Separate Ways

🌹: True to her words, Ada found you... 6 years later.

🌹: It took a while, yes. While she was completing her missions, transactions, and negotiations with her clients, she established called-in favors with her trusted connections to find you.

🌹: And it didn't take long before she was sent an envelope with your pictures, wearing scrubs–a nurse. The pads of her fingers caress your face in the photo, the years have been kind to you; your hair grew longer, and your features aged with elegance. No more of the fear you had once shown 6 years ago.

🌹: But there's a nagging feeling you had forgotten about her–and the thought made her eyes grow dark until she browsed another photo–you were wearing a trench coat; the one she blanketed you with when you were unconscious.

🌹: Perhaps meeting up with you before she boards her plane to Spain.

🌹: You spotted her in the cafe outside of the hospital. It was impossible to miss the air of mystery and allure the woman carried with her. Ada's lips curl to a noticeable smirk. Delighted. She stood there, allowing you to approach her. This gave the older woman the opportunity to have her eyes rake from head to toe. The photos taken of you did you no justice–you were beautiful as the day she whispered goodbye to you.

🌹: And when you drew close, Ada's arms immediately snaked around your waist, pulling you close to her–the smell of lavender and breeze infiltrated Ada's nostrils. While the smell of smoke, leather, and cherries fills your senses.

🌹: You invite her for coffee, and who is she to deny your offer? The entire time, Ada's eyes didn't leave yours, and your cheeks burned red under her piercing gaze. But she has to know... are you with someone else? So when she asked that question, behind her cool, collected facade, she was digging her nails against her thighs; bracing herself for your answer.

🌹: And when you answered no, Ada's lips curled to a smile, pleased with your answer, and outright told you that you were hers–still are. When you didn't protest, Ada sealed the deal by pulling you for a quick kiss and buying you a gift, telling you that she has business elsewhere and thought of buying you a gift before she leaves. Ada promises she will return to you.

🌹: Ada isn't much for gift-giving, but she buys you jewelry–proof that you're hers. When she returns to her mission with bruises, she lets you patch her up. Normally, Ada tends to her wounds by herself, but she doesn't mind you doing it for her. Your touches are gentle and methodical; your kisses soothe the sore ache all over her body. After that, she rewards you with kisses that will last for several minutes. Her actions do the talking when she wants to be showered with affection; she doesn't trust her words to do it for her–she isn't used to it after all.

🌹: When Ada loves... SHE LOVES. I know for a fact that this woman is both touched-starved and touch-repulsed. Her job made her like that. But when it comes to you, your touches are a cleansing to her. She tries for you. Yes, TRIES. It'll take a while, Jesus this woman is repressed; she stiffens but relaxes in your hold, but the more time she spends with you, the more she becomes bolder.

🌹: This woman's love is unfiltered and raw. All-consuming and possessive. There's not a time that your neck, chest, and thighs are covered with her marks. From wine red to soft purple.

🌹: And goodness, this woman fucks. She may look poised and collected, but behind closed doors, this woman destroys you. The bed would creak, the headboard would slam, and your legs would tremble and ache as she drove herself deeper into you. She wants it missionary just to see you fall apart for her, she'd grab your legs and wrap it around her waist so you don't leave her. Her eyes will roll back if you meet her hips and grind against her–you'd catch her letting out mewls and whimpers before it's replaced by a growl and fucks you back into the mattress. Her pace depends on her mood: sensual and loving, then punishing and rough, either way, she knows you love it.

🌹: This woman is an animal. A teasing one at that. She'd make you beg until you're practically sobbing before rewarding you with a bruising thrust. Her tip would kiss your cervix, and you'd see stars. Ada would pin your hips down, your right leg wrapped around her waist as she chases her release.

🌹: She takes you from the front, back, and side after her missions. You'd wake up to her cock snuggled deep inside you, your mixed cum dripping down the sheets.

🌹: When she came back after her mission just in time for your anniversary and saw the petals, her favorite wine bottle–she knew that you were the one... and one baby won't hurt...

🌹: Ada knew the risks that came with her job. You knew that when she told you seven months into the relationship, but you loved her regardless. And when Ada ripped the condom off of her, you knew you were to be hers for the rest of your life. Your heart swells as she pushes back in, staring at you with those soft brown eyes, pleading for you to be hers–to spend her life with you.

🌹: Weeks after that, Ada bought a ring for you–there are no weddings, a shame, really. But you knew it was for the sake of both your safety. She took you on a date that day, and as the sun began to set, she took you to the beach and sat on the sand with you. As you two listen to the waves and seagulls, Ada pulls out an intricate rose gold Vendome Louis Cartier Wedding band. Never have you ever said yes so profusely before.

🌹: And a month later, you told her your period was late.

DAMNATION and RE6 Ada

🌘: The moment your child is born, Ada's maternal instincts kick in. She is protective of you and her newborn baby. After you gave birth, she didn't let you lift a single finger. She made sure to tend to your needs. More diapers? Check, new toys? Got that covered. More formula? Sure.

🌘: But that was years ago now. Her beautiful daughter is now 8 years old. Ada's genes run strong with the little girl. From her soft yet curious brown eyes to her smile. Oh, you cherished your little girl. And nothing makes Ada's heart swell with love when she sees you with her little girl.

🌘: Ada has taken fewer missions now. Opting to spend more time with you and her little girl. She had amassed enough income to support the family, after all.

🌘: On her day off, Ada drops off and fetches your daughter to school with treats to offer for her. She'd help your daughter with her homework while you do OT in the hospital where you work at. And when you come home, you'll see Ada and the girl curled together, watching a movie or cartoon.

🌘: Ada doesn't keep her affections a secret. Not anymore. Whenever you three go out as a family, her arm will always be around your waist or her hand pressed on the small of your back, shooting glares at anyone, especially men who look at you for too long.

🌘: Ada is secretly a family person. Fight me on this, but when you gave birth to her little girl, she was fiercely protective of you and her. Keeping your identities a secret, especially in the line of work that she does. She spends her free time with you, and as the girl grows, there's no doubt that Ada teaches the little girl how to defend herself. She'd take her on a hunting trip, and give her a hunting permit as well.

"She's growing," Your wife says as she tucks the little girl's hair behind her ear and looks at you with a coaxing expression. "She needs to know how to defend herself, darling."

🌘: You let her, of course. You both want her to be strong and capable, after all. After coming home from a hunting trip, Ada would pull you for cuddles and watch your daughter show off what she learned from her mother, which leads to you chiding the girl to be careful (she nearly broke a window).

🌘: I know for a fact that Ada sleeps last. She'd get up and check on her sleeping daughter, leaning against the doorframe as the girl's chest slowly rose and fell. Who knew that she'd have this kind of life–all because she let her selfishness win and make a space in your life. She lived in a world that she thought was just black and white, but upon meeting you decades ago in Raccoon City–you changed the dull paintings of her world and decorated her life. And she doesn't fail to show it every night ;)

🌘: She may be in her early forties, but make no mistake–she can still wreck you like she did before. Every time your daughter is at school, Ada would have you on the table, couch, and on the counter, dress hiked up, trousers down–it's a mess of fluids that she cleans after she's done with you. Your legs would quiver, and she ends up doing the cooking and other household duties while you rest.

🌘: And in the privacy of your bedroom, you both made sure to keep it locked to avoid getting caught by your daughter. The bed would creak and slam, you can only thank her genius for making the room soundproof while she fucks you relentlessly. But now, you two make love sensually. You'd kiss her scars, and her hips would stutter before going back to her steady pace, making you see stars again, and again, and again. You know it won't take long for Ada to ask for another baby. And you were right.

🌘: After her mission in Lanshiang, Ada didn't waste her time and flew back to you. She greets her little girl first–giving her a souvenir before lunging herself at you and ravaging you in the bedroom. And my, did you both go for several minutes. Your wife would go from rough, then sensually loving, then rough again–my goodness, you were leaking with her cum–did the condom break? No worries, she tosses it and plunges back in, fucking you raw and muffling your moans with her hand while the veins around her cock rub deliciously at your battered walls, rope after rope her potent seed filled you.

🌘: The next morning, you're sore and filled with her seed, Ada, who has her arms wrapped around you protectively before waking up, squinting as if she didn't fuck you silly last night. She'd get hard again after seeing the marks and your slick thighs and have you ride her in the morning, her hands would guide your hips as she thrusts up, guiding you down to meet her cock. This goes on as the sharp-eyed woman whispers praises and filth in your ear, moaning and grunting about having you carry her second baby. You'd love to have her baby again, right?

🌘: After doing the deed, Ada, who is just as fucked-out as you are, looks at you with utter fondness and love, she'd kiss your forehead and press herself close to your warm body, never minding the sweat that coats both of your bodies. She'd press feather-like kisses all over your face, murmuring secret words of affection that only you get to hear. This woman loves you, and your daughter... and also, the growing child in your belly.

[courtney-deserved-better]

been trying to figure out the right way to word this for a week or so and i keep failing so i'm just gonna do my best rn

i will probably not be posting a lot/any fanfiction (total drama or otherwise) in the coming months due to:

i got tons of stuff going on (my current jobs, job hunting, apartment hunting, classes, family stuff, etc.)

i'm still burnt out from the end of last year (so much fucking work plus i was sick for two months)

i'm trying to get my original writing career off the ground (developing my first book series, working toward my current publication dealio, submitting to a bunch of opportunities, etc.)

i'm signed up for two big bang events (total drama and sonic) so what little fic writing energy remains will be dedicated toward those due to deadlines + commitments to artists

i thought i could bounce back after last fall but i pushed myself hard and have been really burnt out since. i'm struggling to muster up the energy to write anything, so i need to prioritize what i do write carefully.

this won't last forever, but it's something i've been struggling with since december/january and i can see it stretching on for a few more months, so i wanted to be upfront about that. i appreciate everyone's patience and the love they've shown my fics 💜

[esmemaxwcll]

"I think life is just weird to see all your old classmates start their lives, I had a few classmates start a family when they were like...twenty-to-twenty three. Like good for them but I can't imagine starting a family so young...because that's a lot of commitment and in this economy? No thanks. I guess what I'm trying to say is that we're all starting off at a different path and who knows where we will end up, the main purpose is if we're happy because being happy is a big deal." Esme felt like a damn advice book and it felt weird talking about this sort of thing out loud to Cal.

"Welcome to adulthood, we all don't know what the fuck we are doing. Hell I don't even know if I want to become a vet but I love animals and I put the years in to schooling...but is it something I really want to do? I don't know...maybe I want to become some sexy pole dancer--actually no I don't because I cannot dance in high high heels...anyways off track, I think since we're still so young and we're always constructed into this society of the older generation of what we're supposed to do...it doesn't fit us anymore. Does that make sense?"

"I mean, yes," he responded. "I was in a show when I was fourteen. So all the people I went to school with were in the same boat. Unfortunately, my aunt was too broke to send me to a fancy school in New York and I wasn't able to do the whole public school thing since I was in a show." Cal didn't have to do what he did, but it was easier. "Oh, well, yeah, I guess that's true. Tons of the people that I knew in school ended up in college. And then I was one of the few that decided not to. Actually a few of the people that I was friends with ended up in Hollywood. Some are in Europe. It's kind of wild."

Cal knew that was true, but at the same time, he didn't care. "Yeah, but that's the thing. I know that everyone has the same thing. Or at some point feel the same way. That doesn't help me. Like sorry to say that and it might make me sound selfish, but honestly, it doesn't help me to know that other people feel the same way. How do I help myself?" Cal knew they were barely doing better than a lot of people.

He didn't feel like he was ahead at all or where he needs to be. Right now, all Cal wants is to go back to New York and get back to work. "I don't know about that. I think I'm not where I want to be, but I don't know how to get where I want to be."

[capricores]

happy NYE guys!! wishing you all the best in the new year 🥺💗 are you guys doing any sort of "rituals" or resolutions for the new years?? i'm taking inspiration from some people i saw online, and i'm spending today:

• journalling all the awful shit that happened to me this year, and writing down any limiting beliefs i have/things i want to let go, then i'm going to burn that paper

• writing out resolutions/goals + affirmations/manifestations for the new year in a journal and being so extremely detailed about it so there's no room for interpretation

• making a vision board relating to the life i hope to have in the next year

i think it'll be fun and hopefully impactful in a positive way?! 😭

[deoidesign]

My comic is so pretty...

The hiatus is letting me take a little extra time on these episodes, and I'm definitely putting it to good use!!!

[crrows]

daytrip to a chikubushima

[dykedvonte]

My post about Anya is making like a little ruckus on Twitter and I think it’s crazy how many people like have a problem with it.

Like you don’t have to agree with how I characterize Anya and her actions but it’s more like, why are you focused on only one aspect of her character? Why are you removing nuance from the situation? I don’t see it as giving Curly the benefit of the doubt when it comes to doing better for Anya, but as exploring his character and hers relationship with a the very little authentic facts we get about them. In truth, there’s a lot more I wish Curly did, even if it wasn’t pragmatic but I realize the issue there.

The first psychological horror game in a while that’s real intricate in its storytelling and makes you need to really need to address the morality of intentions and its already getting torn asunder smh 😔

[marimbles]

i miss carpisuns sometimes </3