#soap opera sweethearts

[arickaandherfictionalothers]

Jensen Ackles f/os part 1 of 2

@astralshipper @rosieshipper @hyperionshipping @yeehawselfshipping @letsgofoletsgo @tsundere-selfship @callsign-revenge

As always, * means they’re a platonic or familial f/o

Michael Duss- wishbone

Aricka x Michael; you’ll be the prince and I’ll be the princess

Brad- sweet valley high

Aricka x Brad; got your picture in my locket

Eric Brady- DOUL

Aricka x Eric, soap opera sweethearts

Eddie G- blonde

Aricka x Eddie; movie stars and fancy cars

Alec- dark Angel

Aricka x Alec, you’re my angel baby

CJ Braxton- Dawson’s creek

Aricka x CJ, college cutie pie

Jason Teague- smallville

Aricka x Jason, smallville sweethearts

Dean Winchester- supernatural *

Aricka and Dean; hunters and elements

Jake Gray- devour

Aricka x Jake; uncovering the mystery with you

Boaz Priestly- ten inch hero

Aricka x Priestly, hey lover I like you just the way you are

[elysianightsss]

ANAESTHESIA | MASTERLIST

Pairings | Surgeon Simon Riley x Clinical Fellow Reader, Surgeon Price x Clinical Fellow Reader, Clinical Fellow Soap x Clinical Fellow Reader, Nurse Gaz x Clinical Fellow Reader, Doctor!141 x reader.

Summary | Simon was your high school sweetheart, Kyle was your rebound from Simon, Johnny was your friend with benefits for your first year at med school and John was the one night stand you couldn’t remember. Five years later they’re all working at the same hospital you’d just been transferred to.

Tags | Smut, Fluff, Angst, medical stuff I had to google to make sure it was accurate, awkwardness, mentions of blood, mentions of surgery and wounds, the hospital is massive, the guys pining for you while you try to ignore them, Simon being a dick, comedy gold, a written soap opera if there ever was one.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Fin

Divider credit | @cafekitsune

[moonstruckme]

My stomach hurts so bad!! I feel so sick Bb do u think u could write a fic with James or Steve with a super sick gf???

I'm sorry about your stomach babe! Hopefully you're feeling much better by now, thank you for requesting

cw: food poisoning (no vom or anything, just mentioned)

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 615 words

You whine, curling in on yourself like you can squash your insides into numbness. “I feel so gross,” you whine. 

“You are pretty gross,” Steve replies, knuckles running up and down your arm. 

You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, appalled. “You’re not supposed to agree with me!” 

“What?” Your boyfriend gives you a disbelieving look. “I didn’t say you were hideous, but you are definitely grosser than usual. Like, if we’re taking you on your best day, this is at least thirty percent more gross than that. I can’t agree with that?” 

“No!”

“In that case, I think you’re delirious with fever, babe. I never said anything about you being gross.” 

Despite yourself, a reluctant little chuckle puffs out of you. Steve grins. 

“Even if you were gross,” he drags his palm down the length of your back, letting it curve over your hip to your thigh before starting back in the other direction, “you’d still be way hotter than anyone else I’ve ever seen. It’s only fair that you get gross every now and then. You know, to make everyone else feel better.” 

“I don’t think everyone else is that worried about it,” you say. 

“That’s where I think you’re wrong. Think about it: we eat at the same place we go to all the time, and only you get food poisoning? That’s not chance, that is a planned attack.” 

You look up at him amusedly. “You think this was an assassination attempt?” 

“I mean, without the killing part, probably, but yeah.” 

You hum, settling back in on his lap. “You’re starting to sound like your nerd friends.” 

Steve’s mouth drops open playfully. “I am not! And anyway, if you tune out Wheeler’s brother, sometimes they’re making some good points.” 

You start to smile just before another cramp seizes your middle, rolling through you with a wave of nausea. Steve’s grip on you tightens as your eyes screw shut. 

“Shit.” He sounds part sympathetic and part like he might be in pain himself, one hand worming underneath your arms to rub at your stomach. “I’m sorry, baby. I know it sucks. All we can do is ride it out, and it should be gone by morning.” 

You make a small, distressed sound. “We don’t even know if it’s food poisoning.” 

“Nah, it is.” 

Steve’s massaging helps, and gradually the pain lessens. You take deep breaths until you can think clearly again. 

“How are you so sure?” you ask him. 

He shrugs. “It’s just the only thing that makes sense. You’re just getting whatever it was out of your system. You’ll be good as new soon, just you wait.” 

You shoot him a dubious look. “What, you think you’re a doctor now?” 

“No, but I kinda look like I could play one on TV, right?” At your bewildered silence, Steve goes on, his hand still moving gently over your stomach. “I’m just saying, have you ever seen those soap operas in the hospitals? If they came out to Hawkins to do their casting calls, I’d be snatched up in a hot second, babe.” 

You study him. Steve is undeniably handsome, this isn’t new information. He has a firm brow paired with sweetheart eyes and mussable hair, plus a classical sort of bone structure that’s humanized by the odd blemish or mole. Nice skin and a nicer smile. Good hands, too, one of which is currently caressing your hurting stomach while the other plays with the ends of your hair. 

“Nope,” you say, completely lovestruck. “I don’t see it.”

“That’s okay.” Steve gives the pudge of your stomach a gentle squeeze. “It’s just the fever getting to you again.”

[joelmillerisapunk]

Beach Daddy III. I can do it with a broken heart

Rich daddy!Joel x F!reader

Series Masterlist • Masterlist

Wordcount: 12,532

Summary: After a day of emotional turmoil, you find solace in a chance encounter with Joel, who invites you to his secret deck.

Warnings: 18+, Joel and reader get closer, Todd does fuckboy things, reader really goes through it in this one, it's like a lil baby soap opera up in here for everyone.

Notes: Welcome, welcome, dear friends. Sorry this is so long. I never know where to end the chapters 😂 so I just add more. Your comments, asks, and reblogs are always so welcome! I appreciate everyone who's in this with me.

You walk out of Amorebelle with light pink clothing bags weighing down each arm, wearing a new outfit. You can't remember a time when you've gotten this many new clothes at once. You also find it hard to wrap your head around the fact that these clothes cost more than you make in an entire year.

The saleswomen Jane and McKenzie won't let you look at the price tags, but as they're ringing up your picks, you catch a glimpse of the total on the computer screen. You can't help but wonder how you'll ever be able to pay Joel back for this shopping trip. 

You also can't help but wonder how often he does this for women.

Jane, who's worked at the shop the longest, had recognized him when you walked in the door. You don't have time to contemplate this because you notice a maid you recognize from the yacht. She makes her way to you and starts relieving you of your bags. You make sure to keep the bag with your dress and shoes for the evening.

"Miss, I was told to take these to your room on the ship while you are at your appointment," the maid tells you.

"What appointment?" you ask her, confused.

"You have an appointment at the salon three stores up.”

"Did Joel set this up for me?" you ask, feeling even more surprised.

"Yes, ma'am," the maid says with a smile.

You're glad that the boutique you've been shopping in has a shower where you're able to rinse off before this appointment. They must be used to sandy beachgoers coming in right before a night out.

You make your way up the street and stop at the salon with floor-to-ceiling glass windows. From the outside, you can see the row of chairs, each in front of its own mirror.

You walk in, and the man at the front desk assures you that you do, in fact, have an appointment, full hair, and makeup, which is all prepaid.

The receptionist walks you back to your stylist, an attractive man whose hair color matches yours. "What do you have in mind today, sweetheart," your stylist asks you.

"I'm honestly not sure. Can I leave it up to you?" you ask.

"That's my favorite request," he says as he runs his fingers through your hair. "Your natural coloring is gorgeous, obviously, I am not going to touch that. So, I'm thinking a quick trim and a blowout."

He has your hair and makeup done within an hour, and you barely recognize yourself in the mirror. You're amazed that your hair is perfectly smooth, with not a single strand of frizz to be found. You gently run your fingers through your hair and can't believe how soft it is.

"What do you think?" the stylist asks you. He hands you a small mirror and turns you in the chair so you can get a better view of the back of your hair.

"Is this really my hair?" you ask, holding up the smaller mirror.

"Of course, sweetheart. You look amazing," he says with a smile.

"I didn't know I could love my hair this much.” You admit.

"So, go enjoy it!" he says with a huge smile.

"I will. I love it. Thank you so much," you say enthusiastically.

You walk out of the salon's front door in your midnight blue silk dress with shining hair, and you feel amazing. For the first time since the breakup, you feel like you can do a whole lot better than Todd.

"All I can say is wow," says Joel. He's been waiting for you outside of the salon.

"I hardly recognize myself," you say with a laugh.

"I wasn't commenting on the dress or your hair. I was impressed by your confidence. It looks good on you darlin," Joel says, looking you up and down unabashedly.

You feel your cheeks get hot. You don't understand how Joel always says exactly what you need to hear.

"But, I do have to admit I was right about that dress; it does look amazing on you," Joel says with a wink.

"I don't know how to thank you–" but Joel cuts you off before you can finish thanking him.

"Please, you don't need to finish what you were about to say. You deserved it. Simple as that."

"Okay," you say with a smile. "Well, then I just want you to know that today has been the best day I have had in a long time." You like that Joel isn't the kind of man who gives gifts because he likes the praise that follows.

"The restaurant is just a few blocks over. I can call for a ride," he says, pulling out his phone.

"Yeah, we could get a ride over," you say and grab his phone. "But, it's such a beautiful night; why don't we walk?" It is a beautiful night, but if you're being honest with yourself, you want to walk to soak up as much time alone with Joel as you can.

Joel smiles and offers you his arm. You notice his new suit jacket goes perfectly with your new dress. You bite your lip to keep yourself from asking if he picked it on purpose, but you secretly hope he had.

"This town is beautiful; I'm surprised that it isn't busier," you say, looking up at the bistro lights strung across the streets in a zig-zag pattern. The light is just barely fading, and the cool breeze catches the slit in your dress, making the end lightly flutter around your ankles as you walk.

"It is a well-kept secret," Joel says.

"For the rich and famous?" you ask.

"Well, kinda, but the locals who live here are what make this place so amazing. The restaurant we’re headed to has some of the best food I've ever eaten. But the chef is just a local man who perfected his art form. Never went to culinary school; just cooked because he loved it."

"How do you know all that about him?" you ask.

"My family has vacationed here for as long as I can remember. When I got tired of listening to my parents argue, I would go exploring the island. I’ve gotten to know a lot of the locals over the years," he explains.

You walk up to a building with a large illuminated sign reading The Coastal Hibiscus. The restaurant has a large deck area with a perfect view of the ocean. As you make your way up the front steps, you drop your hand from Joel's arm, not wanting Sarah to get the wrong idea.

You arrive at the restaurant last, finding the entire party already seated. As you enter, the conversation slows, and Todd's gaze locks onto you, a sense of satisfaction washing over you from the look on his face.

Only two seats remain, so you sit between Alison and Hudson. Joel takes a seat directly across from you, next to his daughter.

"I love that dress on you, by the way." Alison says with a little smile.

"Thanks," you reply as the waiter distributes menus.

"Where did you take off to? I haven't seen you since you went with Sarah's dad to find the dolphins," Alison asks.

"Oh, we never found them, so we just drove around for a long time looking for them," you lie, staring intently at the menu. You don't want to share the details of the intimate day you spent with Joel.

"That's too bad," Alison says, joining the group's conversation about where everyone plans to 'winter' that year.

You continue to look at your menu, overwhelmed by the number of choices. Finally, you look up to see Joel staring at you. You silently mouth 'What should I get?' across the table.

He smiles at you and mouths back 'The lobster.'

When the food arrives, you're grateful for his suggestion. His choice is amazing; the lobster is cooked so well that it feels like it melts in your mouth.

You sit peacefully sipping a glass of wine and listening to the group's conversation, stealing glances at Joel. The waiter brings around dessert menus, and you order a slice of cheesecake, one of your favorites.

A few minutes later, the waiter sets a piece of cheesecake in front of you, and placed delicately in the whipped cream is a stunning cushion cut diamond engagement ring. Your breath catches in your throat, and your heart stops. As you try to make sense of what's happening, you hear Todd whisper angrily to the waiter, "No, not her!"

No one seems to notice the mix-up, and a few seconds later, the engagement ring cheesecake is placed in front of Sarah instead. Her small squeak alerts the rest of the table to what's going on.

"Sarah, will you make me the luckiest man in the world? Will you marry me," Todd says, down on one knee next to Sarah.

"Of course, I will." Sarah immediately answers. She jumps up and hugs Todd, all the while letting out ear-piercing squeals.

You look across the table and see Joel's eyes locked on you. Did he see them place the ring in front of you and your reaction to it? 

The restaurant feels like it's closing in around you. You have to get out. You quietly slide your chair away from the table, leaving your ringless cheesecake untouched, and walk out into the open air. You start walking toward the ocean; the water has turned from a vibrant blue to an ominous black. The glassy surface reflects the light of the moon, which sits alone in the sea of darkness. 

You continue walking, your feet aching in the heels, but to your relief, you recognize the yacht docked in a nearby marina. The crew must have sailed over to this marina to drop off the rest of the group while Joel and you were in the shops. So you make your way towards it. However, even before you reach the docks, the tears have already started falling down your face. You wipe them away quickly, not wanting to stain your new dress. The sound of footsteps behind you has you hurrying to the yacht. Whoever is following you, you do not want to speak to them–not now.

Not even if it's Joel.

—

 "Todd, I'm so glad we finally get to spend some time together. It seems like I barely get to see you anymore. I'm so sorry I've been so busy," you said, smiling at your fantastic boyfriend. You really missed him, but with graduation so close, you had to put all of your efforts into studying.

"I'm glad you finally found some time for me," Todd said in a flat tone. You guessed you deserved that, but the comment still stung.

"Where do you want to go eat? I heard there’s a great new sushi place just a few blocks over," you said, trying to switch the mood to a more positive one.

"Yeah, that works," Todd muttered as he pulled out his phone to send a text.

You started walking over, but you couldn't help but feel like something was off, and you relaxed as Todd's fingers locked with yours.

"So, how’s work going?" you asked. Todd had graduated with his Bachelor's degree the year before and started working for his dad's financial firm after that.

"It's been great. You would not believe some of the people I help with their investments. Every single one of them was a millionaire before they were thirty. That is going to be me; just you wait."

"I know you will be, Todd," you said as the hostess showed you to your table. "If anyone can make it happen, you will."

"It wouldn't hurt to have a rich wife. Then, we'd become millionaires together," Todd said and smiled at you. He had always been so proud of the fact that you were working towards being a lawyer. You were so relieved that he recognized your time studying was for your future together.

The waiter walked over to your table and asked if you were ready to order. Todd ordered multiple plates of sushi, and then the waiter turned to you.

"I'll have an order of the California rolls and a water," you handed the menu back to the waiter and looked up to see Todd with a strange expression on his face.

"California rolls?" Todd asked as the waiter walked away.

"It's the best deal on the menu. I'm saving for my books. I don't know if I’ll be able to qualify for another loan," you said, slightly defensive. You knew Todd hated how cheap you were, but you had to be if you were going to be able to afford to put yourself through school. You knew he didn't understand; his dad paid for his education.

Todd pulled out his phone again and sent another text. You tried not to let it bother you; it was probably something for work.

You spent the rest of dinner talking about the different investments Todd was making on others' behalf and how one of his clients had just purchased their first private island.

"I'm going to run to the restroom before we head out," Todd said and got up, not realizing he had left his phone sitting face up on the table.

As soon as he walked away, his screen lit up with a text message. All you could see from where you sat was the contact name, 'Her.' Your heart sank.

The screen went black, and you took a deep breath. Todd walked back from the restroom, smiling at you.

"You ready to go?" he asked you as he made it to your table.

"Absolutely."

"Why don't we catch a movie?" Todd asked, grabbing your hand again as you walked out of the restaurant.

"Sure. What do you want to go see?”

—

You slam the door of your room and rest your back against it, catching your breath. You had to get away from whoever was following you out of the restaurant. You can't face anyone after witnessing Todd's engagement to someone else. You take a few minutes to catch your breath, and when a soft knock on the door vibrates your back, you ignore it. The person doesn't knock again.

Your dress clings to your sweaty body, and you want nothing more than to take it off. You slip off the midnight blue silk gown and drape it over the chair in front of the vanity. Noticing the pink garment bags already hung neatly in your closet, you secretly wish that you fit in this world, this world of money. But you know deep down that you don't.

You walk past all of the new clothes and throw back on your usual attire of shorts and a T-shirt; you can't get comfortable in the fancy clothes. You make your way over to your bed and throw yourself on the comforter. Burying your face in the pillow and let the tears come. You cry until your eyes burn. You sit up in bed and wonder where everything went wrong with Todd and you. You had truly been in love with him. You had planned a future together, and even though he never spoke directly of marrying you, you always assumed it would happen one day. So when the waiter placed his engagement ring in front of you perched on a pillow of whipped cream, it hurt even more.

Your roommate had been suspicious of Todd cheating on you for months before you read that text. You went on pretending your relationship was stable, even though deep down, you suspected him, too, especially after the incident at the sushi restaurant.

You didn't confront him about the text until weeks later. He denied everything at first, saying it was his father's receptionist. She was a bitter older woman who was not the kind of woman you wanted to cross. He put the receptionist in his phone as 'her' as a joke.

You knew he was lying, but you were okay to keep on pretending. That was until you caught him texting 'her' again, right in front of you. Then, you exploded, and you got into your worst fight. He finally came clean that it was a woman he met at your birthday party. 

He swore he wasn't cheating and that she was just a friend. You promised that you would work it out even if he was cheating on you, but he wasn't interested in that. He was no longer interested in you. He broke up with you the very next day.

With the memories replaying in your mind, you jump out of bed and run to the balcony. You breathe in quick gasps of the cold sea air. You just realized that you had invited Sarah to your birthday party. Todd had met her there, and they had been in contact ever since. Sarah told you that she'd been dating Todd for four months, but your birthday party was eight months ago. So Todd had been pursuing Sarah for eight months while he was still pretending to be faithful to you.

'It wouldn't hurt to have a rich wife; then we'd become millionaires together.' Todd's words ring through your memories. He hadn't been talking about you becoming a lawyer and the two of you becoming wealthy together. He had been talking about marrying Sarah, an heiress. This had been his plan all along. 

This night of realization has your head hammering, and you need to calm down. So you walk back into your room, slip on your shoes, and walk out your door. You’re going to go out to the bar on the deck and make yourself a drink. The lights on the deck are already out, but you quickly realize you’re not there alone.

"Oh, Todd!" Sarah moans.

"You are so damn sexy!"

Two shadowy figures are pressed together in the pool, waves rippling around them, and you quickly realize you have just interrupted Sarah and Todd's after-engagement celebration. You immediately freeze on the spot.

Their moans grow louder, and you try to retreat before either of them sees you. Unfortunately, you don't notice the lounge chair behind you in the dark and topple over it in your rush to get away. You land flat on your back, and all the air is knocked out of your lungs.

"What the hell? Who's there?" Todd's voice yells behind you.

You pray it’s too dark for them to see or recognize you. Then, you start crawling back towards the door, and as soon as you think you are out of sight, you stand up quickly and run. Once you get through the door, you keep running down the hall, the tears stinging your eyes. You are humiliated, heartbroken, and defeated.

You get to a set of stairs and immediately start climbing as many floors as you can. You have to get as far away from the pool as possible. It’s  bad enough knowing Todd is sleeping with Sarah, possibly for eight months, but to see it first hand is too much.

You end up in front of an elevator, and just as you stop to catch your breath, the doors slide open.

"Hey darlin? Are you okay?"

It's Joel. All you want to do is to run into his arms and feel his warmth surround you. But instead, you simply nod and turn to walk away. How could you possibly explain what you just witnessed? Sarah is still his daughter.

"I don't believe you. Somethin’ is wrong. I came to check on you earlier.”

—

Joel hands you a glass of red wine, and you follow him out onto his private deck. The elevator has led up to his room, and Joel, noticing your state, invites you up.

You lean over the railing and swirl the wine in the glass.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Joel asks with a note of concern in his voice.

"Nothing happened; I was just tired," you reply.

"You were so tired that you ran all the way back to the yacht?" Joel asks, clearly not believing you.

You don't say anything and take a small sip of your wine.

"And in the hallway just now? You seemed pretty upset," Joel says.

"I promise, I'm fine, but thank you," you say, trying to muster up a small smile.

Joel does not look convinced, but he lets the topic go. You both stand looking over the ocean for a long time in complete silence. The yacht has left the small island, and so the waves are bubbling lazily behind the propellers.

"When do we make port again?" you ask, finally breaking the silence.

"Tomorrow," Joel replies.

"I’m gonna miss you, Joel," you say quietly.

"What are you talking about, darlin?" Joel says as his eyebrows knit together in concern.

"I'm going to catch a flight back to New York tomorrow.”

Joel stares at you for a long time after saying that you’ll be leaving when you get to port the next day. Or at least you hope you will be. You don't even know where you will be, let alone if there is an airport or a ticket home you can afford.

"I would really hate to see you go, darlin," Joel says with a serious look on his face.

"I think it's for the best," you answer softly.

"The best for you?" he asks. You stay quiet for a long time. Are you deciding what is best for you and/or running from your problems?

"I don't know… " you answer truthfully.

You take another small sip of the wine Joel had poured you and watch the liquid as you swirl it around in your glass.

"You know wine always tastes better in the sauna," Joel says, watching you.

You turn to him, "That does sound nice, but I’m sure the staff who work the spa have already gone to bed."

"Well, good thing the sauna is in my bathroom," he says as the corners of his mouth ease into a smile.

"You have a sauna in your bathroom?" you ask, impressed.

"Of course, so what do you say?"

"I'm not really dressed for a sauna," you gesture down to your shorts and T-shirt.

"I have a robe that you can borrow unless you'd rather go without." Joel winks and starts walking away to grab the robe.

"So what else do you have up here all to yourself?" you ask, liking the distraction from the mess of a night you've been through.

—

You walk through a large sitting room, a bedroom with the biggest bed you've ever seen, and then finally to the bathroom. Joel calling the tub in his bathroom a soaking tub is an understatement; it's more like a small swimming pool sunken in the middle of the floor.

"You can get changed here." Joel leads you into an extravagant walk-in closet, complete with a large vanity table and chaise lounge. He hangs a white cotton robe on a hook next to the door, making it the only garment in the empty closet. You realize Joel's room must include his and her's closets, but Joel has no use for this one.

You undress down to nothing and slip the buttery soft robe over your skin. You could live in this robe. There are definitely some amazing perks to being rich. You walk out of the closet, and Joel is waiting for you in a matching cotton robe.

"See, it's a perfect fit," he says.

"I don't even want to know how much one of these robes costs," you say. 

Joel laughs a little at your comment. "The sauna is through this door here," Joel says and pushes the door next to him open, holding it for you to enter first.

You don't know what you've been expecting when Joel had said he had a sauna in his bathroom, but the sauna you walk into is more than you could have ever imagined.

Every inch of the room is covered in light wood. The benches look as though they conform perfectly to your body and are accented with white pillows. The steam is warm and envelops you as soon as you walk into the room. However, the most breathtaking part of the sauna is the floor-to-ceiling window. It makes it feel like the sauna is open to the ocean itself, and the dark water reflecting the dim light of the room is extremely romantic.

"How do you ever leave?" you ask after a few speechless seconds.

Joel laughs again and takes a seat in the center of the bench, staring out into the dark water. You sit next to him and realize you might be too close, so you try to scoot away subtly.

"I don't bite, darlin."

You laugh awkwardly but remain close enough to feel the heat of his body next to yours. You close your eyes and try to let go of the evening. You think about watching the dolphins swimming in the cove while Joel sits next to you on the jet ski.

"You look like you're feeling a little better," Joel whispers.

"I am. This is exactly what I needed." You pause for a few seconds and add, "You keep saving me today."

"You've saved me on this trip too. Can I tell you a secret?" he asks, leaning in closer to you.

"Of course," you answer, and your heart starts beating faster.

"The rest of Sarah's friends drive me insane."

"That's your secret?" you bump his shoulder with yours. "That’s a really weak secret. They drive me insane too."

"If that’s not a secret, then tell me a better one," he says.

"What kind of secret?"

"Tell me why you’re leaving tomorrow?" he asks and looks into your eyes.

You pause, considering if you should tell him the truth, but he is getting Todd as a son-in-law. So you choose a different path.

"I can't afford to stay," you say finally. Taking Joel's silence as confusion, you elaborate, "I'm completely broke. I've put all of my money into school. I work as a bartender and live off of my tips and ramen noodles."

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand why that means you need to leave tomorrow," Joel says somberly.

That’s a fair point; Sarah and her father have paid for absolutely everything.  It isn't costing you anything to stay on this once-in-a-lifetime vacation. You need to come up with a reason to leave before he sees through the holes in your story.

"I have to get back to New York, get ready to move to Cambridge, and find a job there before the semester starts. I only have a few weeks of living costs saved up." This is partly true; you do need to do all of those things, but going back early would actually complicate things for you. You can't move into your new apartment in Cambridge until two weeks before the semester starts. So going back early would just mean you'd sit in your old apartment with nothing to do. Plus, if you went back early, you would have a few more weeks of expenses to take care of, and you already quit your job.

"What if I could help you find a new position in Cambridge?" Joel asks.

"What do you mean?" you ask, surprised.

"I have some connections in Cambridge; if I helped you get a few interviews, would you be able to stay longer?"

You can't find any words to respond. You've been really worried about what you would do for work when you got to Cambridge. You don't know anyone there and planned on spending the two weeks before the semester handing in resumes at different restaurants.

"You would do that for me?" you ask.

"Absolutely. I’ll make some calls in the morning. You don't have to stay, but I would enjoy your company if you did. The Bahamas are beautiful this time of year. I don't want you to miss it."

"Okay, I'll stay," you say quietly. "Thank you, Joel."

You can't believe this man's kindness to you. If it's important to Joel that you stay on the trip, then you will figure out how to deal with Todd and Sarah for a little while longer.

"I'm glad to hear it," he says with a smile.

The sky starts to lighten in the early morning hours, so you stand and tell him, "I should head back down to my own room and get some rest."

"Probably a good idea," he says and follows you out of the sauna.

You go back into the massive closet and change back into your clothes, hanging the robe back on the hook. You walk back out into the main room, and Joel is waiting for you, still in his robe.

"Let me walk you down."

"That's really okay. You’ve done so much for me already," you say.

"How long will you stay?"

"I'm not sure. At least another week." You smile at Joel and walk out the door.

***

Joel shuts the door behind you as you walk down the hall. He's relieved that he convinced you to stay for at least another week, but he knows there's something else that's the real cause for you being so upset tonight.

He knows that you're not part of Sarah's usual friend group, but after talking to you tonight, he's confused about how you're even friends at all. You clearly have big goals and work hard to see them happen. Sarah doesn't have any goals other than becoming an 'influencer.'

The thought of you working at every spare moment to put yourself through school makes his stomach twist at how badly he's spoiled Sarah. You deserve so much better than to be just scraping by. He would do anything he could to help you find something better. Hell, he would have offered to pay for your tuition, too, if he thought you would accept it.

Joel pulls out his phone and sends an email to the connection he has at a law firm in Cambridge. He's done some business with them in the past and figures it would be a much better fit for you than making people drinks. With how much business he's given the firm, he knows he can at least get you an interview.

On his home screen, there's a notification of a phone call from his financial advisor, Alester, that he missed while he was in the sauna with you. Alester never calls at this hour, so he knows something is wrong. Joel calls him back immediately, waiting impatiently to hear his voice on the other end.

“Joel, I am so sorry for the early hour," Alester says.

“No need to apologize; what's going on?" He asks urgently.

“I am afraid it is not good news.”

“Just tell me, Alester," he says, doing his best not to get impatient with the man. He's worked for Joel for years, and Joel trusts him with his life. There's an infuriatingly long pause on Alester's end. He sighs before he finally responds. “Blaine is back, sir."

***

The sun is streaming through the glass doors of the balcony as you finally open your eyes. Your head is pounding from a lack of sleep and caffeine. You want to order coffee up to your room, but you need to shower too badly to wait. After running all the way to the yacht and then sitting in the sauna with Joel, you are salty with dried sweat. You probably should have showered last night, but, after reaching your room in the early morning hours, you collapsed on the bed and had fallen asleep in your clothes.

You walk into the bathroom, expecting to look like a mess from all the events of the night, your clothes are extremely wrinkled, but you are surprised to see your hair still looks flawless. "I wish I could afford to get a blowout more often," you say to your reflection, pulling on a few strands as you admire the style.

You put your hair up and step into the hot water of the shower, washing off the previous day. You stand under the steaming water until you are getting a little dizzy from the heat. As you stand there, you can't help but think about Joel. He's been so kind to you, and you can't help but wonder if there's a chance he wants more from your relationship than what one would typically expect between a man and a friend of his daughter's. You shake your head. You can't allow yourself to think that way. Joel lives in a world you know nothing about. Not only is he much older than you, he is also Sarah's dad. Besides, he can have any woman he wants. Why would he want you?

Returning your thoughts to reality, you finish rinsing your hair and turn off the water. You wrap a towel around yourself, and make your way back into the bedroom to cool down.

The screen of your phone is illuminated, so you pick it up and lounge back on the bed. You have several notifications from the group chat between you and your roommates, Aubrey and Lin. You know you need to let them know what's going on.

Aubrey: Hey? Are you still alive? We haven't heard from you in days.

Lin: Maybe she finally found herself a rebound, and that’s why she’s too busy for us. My guess is a sexy pool boy!

You: Sorry, you two. Signal has been spotty. A sexy pool boy, Lin? Is that your guess or your fantasy?

Lin: I think a sexy pool boy should be everyone’s fantasy. ‘Pool boy, refresh my drink, and while you are at it, come rub me down with some tanning lotion.’

Aubrey: Lin, you’re the reason I can’t let Gianni read our group messages!

Lin: Sorry, we aren’t as lucky as you to have an amazing boyfriend who kisses the ground we walk on. Some of us have to use our imaginations.

You: I miss you two so much! I wish you were here with me.

Aubrey: How is everything going? Is the boat as big as we are imagining?

You: Honestly, it is probably bigger than you’re imagining. It’s not so much a boat as it is a super yacht. The bathroom in my room is as big as our entire apartment, and I’m just in a guest room. I have my own private balcony! Oh, and yesterday, I got to see a pod of dolphins!

Lin: Dolphins? How cool! I wish I had a rich friend who took me on expensive vacations.

You: Yeah, it sounds good in theory, but in reality, that rich friend was the one sleeping with my boyfriend for months.

Aubrey: Sarah was the one Todd was cheating on you with?! Why didn’t you lead with that?

You: Oh, that’s not even the worst part. Todd is here on the yacht too. We had already left port when I found out, so I’ve been stuck here with him.

Lin: No way! What the hell did that scumbag have to say for himself when he saw you?

You: Well, he pretended not to know who I am, and I went along with it.

Aubrey: I’m so sorry!

Lin: Why didn’t you call him out?

You: I probably should have, but I didn’t want to make things awkward. Like I said before, I am literally stuck on a boat with these people. Plus, Sarah clearly doesn’t know. I didn’t want to hurt her.

Aubrey: That makes sense. Maybe she will dump him before things get too serious.

You: Oh, one more thing, they got engaged at dinner last night. I had a front row seat for the entire thing. And then their after party.

Aubrey: Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you? I don’t know exactly how I would find you, but you know I would figure it out.

You: Thanks Aubrey, but I’m okay.

Lin: Shit, this is really messed up. What do you mean by ‘you had a front row seat to their after party?’

You: I walked out to the pool deck and caught them having sex in the pool. Then I tripped over a deck chair trying to get out of there.

Lin: Did they catch you?

You: I still don’t know. I really hope not. I don’t know how I would show my face in front of either of them again if they did.

Aubrey: How did Todd even meet Sarah? It’s not like your social circles mix very well.

You: I was thinking about that a lot last night. I am pretty sure that they met at my birthday party.

Lin: So you're telling me when we were all celebrating you, Todd was off hitting on someone else?

You: Pretty much. I’m realizing a lot about who Todd really is. I think his whole plan was to find someone rich. I was thinking about it last night. I remember that towards the end of our relationship, he made lots of comments about how poor I am.

Aubrey: You’re not poor! You’re a college student just trying to make it through school.

Lin: Isn’t Sarah the one who dropped out sophomore year to become an influencer?

You: Yes, that is Sarah. She does actually have a big social media following. And as you both know, she comes from a lot of money.

Lin: Well, that’s pretty easy when you can buy whatever you want and post pictures of yourself on your dad’s billion dollar yacht.

Aubrey: So how long until you get back?

You: I think I’m staying another week. We’re sailing to the Bahamas. I was told that we will make port tonight.

Lin: Well, that sounds amazing. Do you know what you’re going to be doing?

You: I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to ask Joel what has been planned.

Lin: Oh, who is Joel?

You: Joel is just a friend.

Aubrey: I’m glad to hear at least you’re making friends. Then you have a way to escape from Sarah and Todd.

Lin: Me too. Any pool boys?

You: Haha Lin! Very funny. No, I have not made friends with any of the pool boys.

Lin: Well, maybe you should. There is no better way to get over someone than getting under someone.

Aubrey: I hate to say it, but I agree with Lin. Go get some! There have to be some island hotties at one of your stops.

You: I can’t believe you two. I have to go. Someone is knocking at my door. I miss you two so much!

Chuckling at the antics of your two best friends, you set your phone down on the bedside table, smiling to yourself. It's good to know that you have at least two friends you can count on for anything.

You wrap your towel tight around you and check the peephole in the door, relieved to see a maid at your door and not someone else since you're not even dressed yet. You open the door and are surprised to see she's holding a tray and a box in her arms.

"Good morning, Miss," the maid says with a friendly smile on her face.

Confused, you return her smile but look suspiciously at the items she's holding. "Good morning. I think there may have been a mix-up. I didn't call down for anything."

"Don't worry. There was no mix-up," she assures you, taking a step through the open door. "Where would you like me to set this?" she asks.

You open the door wider and let her in to set the tray down on the table. She sets the box gently on the bed and turns to exit, still smiling at you.

"Do you know who sent this?" you ask, tracking the woman with your eyes as she steps away from the bed. However, she does not answer your question. Instead, she continues to proceed to the door with a small knowing smile on her face that makes you wonder what she knows that you don't.

"Have a good day, Miss," she says, giving a small head nod as she flashes you one last grin.

"Thank you," you say and close the door behind her.

You make your way over to the tray first. Lifting the cover, you find a stack of pancakes and a side of bacon and eggs. There's also a small pot of coffee and a fluffy pastry. Your mouth is already watering at the sight of the food, and you inhale deeply, closing your eyes and imagining how good it will all taste, but you replace the cover.

The anticipation for what the box could contain is too great.

The box is tied close with a red ribbon, so you untie it and set it to the side. You remove the lid to the box and are surprised to find a white cotton robe. Immediately, a smile crosses your face, and a small giggle of glee escapes your lips. There's a small handwritten note resting on top.

Darlin,

Please meet me on our secret deck later this evening. Enjoy some time to yourself.

P.S. I wanted you to be comfortable.

Sincerely,

Joel.

You set the card down on the nightstand, right next to the little pink seashell, and you slip on the robe. It's even softer than the night before, if that's possible, and it smells like sandalwood - It smells like Joel.

The clock reads 4:30 pm before you finally get out of bed and dress for the day. You pick out a form-fitting sundress with a delicate blue shell pattern along the hemline. It's one of the pieces that Joel purchased for you at Amorebelle. You aren't used to wearing dresses, but you want to look nice when you see him.

You carefully do your makeup at the vanity table in your bathroom. As you step back and look in the mirror, you are impressed with your own appearance; you look like you belong – almost.

You make your way to Joel's secret deck. Your heart pounds against your ribcage as you get closer. You stop as you round the corner to the private location; all you can see is the back of Joel's head as he holds a phone to his ear. The muscles in his shoulders are tense, and you can tell by his low tone that the conversation is not a pleasant one.

"What do you mean he’s threatening to contact members of the family?" You hear Joel say. "He has demands now? What are his demands?"

There is a long pause after what Joel says, and you watch him running a hand through his hair; he seems to be on edge. He listens carefully to whoever he is talking to, and you consider turning around.

"We need to start protecting the family assets. I need you to review my father's will again and ensure it is airtight. He will not get a dime out of me."

You know you should turn around and give Joel privacy, but your curiosity gets the better of you when he starts talking about his family. You lean against the railing to wait, and it squeaks. It squeaks loudly.

Joel turns his head and gives you a small half-smile. He waves his hand, gesturing for you to come to join him. You hesitantly walk over, taking as much time as possible.

"I agree that's a good plan. Lock everything down, and let me know if we get any more calls from him. I'm counting on you, Alester. Don't let me down," Joel says. He hangs up the phone and sets it on the table next to the lounge chair he is sitting in. He sighs, turns to the laptop sitting next to him, and starts typing.

"Hey, I hope I am not interrupting anything," you say and slowly walk up to him.

"Darlin," Joel says as he closes the laptop and turns to face you. "You're not interrupting anything; I was just getting caught up on some work stuff."

"I just noticed you were on the phone, and I didn't want to interrupt a business call or something," you say, trying to explain why you were leaning against the railing and eavesdropping on his phone call.

"Oh, that wasn't business. I just needed to deal with some family issues," he says as he moves a white and blue striped towel and a bottle of tanning lotion off of the lounge chair next to him, gesturing for you to take a seat.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks, and a natural smile finally mirrors in his eyes.

"I am because of you. Thank you so much for sending me breakfast, and that robe was amazing. I honestly can't remember the last time I let myself lay around in bed all day. I really enjoyed it," you say and sit as gracefully as you can manage in the lounge chair next to Joel.

"Good to hear. You deserved a day to relax like that. You don't need to thank me for the robe; after seeing you in it last night, I knew it belonged to you. It looked like it was made for you, so it was only right that I send it down to you," he says.

His words make your heart beat fast again, and your face flushes. You know you are getting too close to your friend's very handsome and single father than is wise. But, when he says things like that, it is hard not to.

You think about telling him the truth about why you were so upset, but you don't want to ruin the fun you're having together by unloading about your ex-boyfriend, who is about to be his son-in-law.

"So, are you excited to walk your daughter down the aisle?" you ask, quickly trying to change the subject, so you don't blurt out your history with Todd.

"Honestly, I'm not sure if I will walk Sarah down the aisle or if she will want her mom to," Joel answers.

His response surprises you, and it must show on your face because Joel continues with his explanation.

"I was only with Marnie, Sarah's mother, for a short time. Marnie got married to someone else shortly after and had Sarah. She believed that Sarah was biologically her husband's and not mine. I didn't even know Sarah existed. She had Sarah take a DNA test when she was ten; she was linked to some of the Miller family members who had also taken the test. Only then did we find out that Sarah was mine."

"I had no idea, Joel. Sarah never said anything about any of this," you say. You feel so sorry for all of them.

"When Marnie's husband died, she told Sarah and me the truth. However, Sarah had grown up with another man as her father, and I never wanted to try and fill his place in her life. So I never really took on that fatherly role with her. Instead, I bought her everything she ever asked me for, and that was the basis of our relationship for a long time."

You sit there staring at the pain in Joel's face for a while. He never takes his eyes off of the ocean but continues to tell you about his past.

"Over the years, we've tried to build our relationship, and I take her on vacation with me every summer, but we still don't have the typical relationship you would expect. At times, Marnie and I have a hard time getting along; we don't see eye to eye on a lot of things. So I stayed back and let Marnie raise Sarah; in a lot of ways, I don't agree with how she raised her," Joel says with a sigh. "That's why you're all here. Sarah and I don't know how to talk to each other because we have nothing in common and barely any memories together. So dinner gets a little awkward without others to fill the silence," Joel says, seeming slightly embarrassed about admitting this.

"I had no idea. Sarah always made it sound like her life was so perfect."

"In all the ways Sarah measures her life, it has been," Joel says, but you aren't quite sure what he means by it.

A maid with a tray of tropical cocktails interrupts your conversation, and she sets the drinks on the table between Joel and you.

"Thank you, Molly, these look wonderful," Joel says.

"Of course, sir," Molly says with a small smile.

"How's your sister doing? I hope she's making a speedy recovery."

"She is, sir. She should be back on her feet again in no time."

"When we get back, you should make some time to go and see her. I'll tell Reggie to add some more PTO for you," Joel says.

"Thank you, sir, I really appreciate that," she says and turnsto leave.

As you observe the interaction between Joel and one of his staff members, you realize you've never seen him treat an employee poorly. However, Sarah snaps at them to get their attention, and you suspect she doesn't even know their names or anything about them. She doesn't even treat them like they're people. This explains why you never felt like you fit in with Sarah and her friends, but you feel comfortable and want to spend all your time with Joel. He doesn't look down on you for being poor, but Sarah does. The irony of it all is that the only one on the ship who knows exactly how poor you are, is Joel.

You stare at Joel, and when he finally meets your gaze, you can't help but smile at him. "Thank you for telling me all of this," you say.

"Thank you for listening," he responds simply.

"It seems like we're making a habit of telling each other all of our secrets," you say with a small giggle.

"I hope that continues."

"Me too," you answer.

"Sarah has another dinner planned on the upper deck. Can I walk you up?" Joel asks you.

"I'm actually feeling a little seasick, I don't think it would be wise for me to eat right now," you answer. You don't feel like spending another evening with Sarah and her new fiance.

"Do you need a doctor? We have a nurse on the yacht, but we'll be making port in just a few hours; I can call and have one meet us at the dock."

"No, I'm okay, really. I just need to go back and lie down."

"Okay, if you're sure. I'll walk you down to your room," Joel said, checking his watch.

"No, no. I'm fine, really."

"Okay," he says reluctantly, "but please use the intercom in your room if you need anything."

"I will, I promise," you say with a small wave and leave to slowly make your way back to your room.

You take your time moving through the ship. You don't want to run into anyone heading to Sarah's dinner, where the topic of conversation is sure to be all about her recent engagement.

You're relieved when you see that most of the hallways are completely empty, so you quickly start toward your room.

"Hey!"

You turn and see Reggie walking up behind you.

"Hey, Reggie. It's been a while," you say with a smile.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"I'm going back to my room. I wasn't really in the mood to spend dinner with everyone."

"Well, I was on my way to play some cards with some of the crew members. Why don't you come?"

Reggie must have seen the hesitation on your face. "Come on. It's actually fun to hang out with normal people every once in a while."

You laugh. You didn't realise that Reggie thought you were just as wealthy as the rest of Sarah's friends. "Reggie, I am a normal person. Let's go.”

—

Joel makes his way up to dinner alone, silently wishing you would be joining. You're one of the only ones in the group that he actually cares to have a conversation with. However, it might be for the best that you're not coming. Joel found himself always drawn to you, and if he wasn't careful, Sarah would catch on to his interest in her friend. He knows that would not go over well.

Joel's the last one to arrive, and he takes the only seat available next to Sarah's new fiance, Todd.

"I never got the chance to congratulate you on the engagement last night," Joel says as he shakes Todd's hand. "I rushed out because I had an urgent business matter I had to attend to."

Joel hoped that would adequately explain his quick departure the night before. He feels a little guilty that he didnt stay to celebrate and instead took off after you to make sure she was okay.

If he's being honest with himself, his evening spent with you, talking in the sauna, was much more enjoyable. He probably won't be winning any best dad of the year awards, though. He already smoothed things over with Sarah this morning. He showed up to her room with a pair of diamond earrings from Tiffany's. He'd bought them for her birthday, but they were perfect as a stand-in engagement present. Once he brought out the diamond, he didn't think she heard another word that he said. He’s happy to see that she’s wearing them tonight. She truly did look happy, and Joel prayed she would be in her marriage.

"Thank you so much, sir. I hope you approve of our engagement," Todd says.

Joel almost forgot that it was customary for a man to ask for his daughter's hand to get the father's approval of the marriage. "I think you two make a great couple. I'm looking forward to having you as part of the family, Todd," Joel says and then stands up. He taps his wine glass to get the group's attention. Everyone at the table quiets quickly and turns to him.

"I want to congratulate Sarah and Todd on their engagement. May they find happiness in each other and enjoy each other's company for many years to come." Sarah's friends all clap at this statement. Once the quiet returns he starts again. “As my engagement gift to the couple, I would like to throw you two an engagement party at my home here in the Bahamas."

This announcement receives a very excited response from all of Sarah's friends. Sarah's face is beaming at all of the attention she is getting. She smiles and stands up to make an announcement of her own. Joel notices she shakes her head gracefully from side to side, causing the earrings to catch the light. She is an expert at showing off wealth; no wonder she’s doing so well as an influencer.

“Thank you so much, Daddy! I'm so glad you approve, and an engagement party will be the perfect way to announce to the world that I'm about to be married. I am so excited about the upcoming wedding, and I would be honoured if all of you were part of our wedding party." Sarah is met with murmurs of agreement from the men and squeals of excitement from the women present. She sits down with a huge smile, clearly pleased with the group's reactions. “Daddy, can you hire some professional photographers for the engagement party? I need some really good pictures to post."

“Of course," Joel says.

“I wish we could have gotten some great shots of the actual engagement, but Todd didn't think about that part of it," Sarah says, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I told you it wasn't exactly planned. We had such an amazing day, and it just felt like the right time," Todd says defensively.

“I'm marrying a true romantic," Sarah says, resting her chin on Todd's shoulder.

“Is there anything else you two need?" Joel asks, trying his best to be supportive.

“I’ll need to pick one more bridesmaid so we have even numbers," Sarah says to Joel.

“Why not ask your old roomate?" Joel asks, confused as to why Sarah isn't planning on asking her most likable and attractive friend.

“Oh, I didn't notice that she wasn't here for my announcement. That sort of works out for the best, though. I’m going to ask someone different. She doesn't really fit into the vision I have for the wedding," Sarah says, sounding very much like a snob.

“And what exactly is your vision for the wedding?" Joel asks, annoyed with his daughter's uncouth response.

“I want everything to be glamorous," Sarah says as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I'll still invite her, but as part of the wedding party, you have to fit the aesthetic."

“That's true; it's not like she would be comfortable with the level of finery at the wedding anyway. It’s very obvious that she’s lower class. I think our guests would be able to sense that. If she can't afford to buy a new dress for her birthday party, it's not likely that she will be able to afford a bridesmaid's dress anyway," Todd says with a smug smile on his face.

Sarah giggles and then turns to talk to the woman next to her about possible venues for the wedding.

“Didn't you just meet her this week?" Joel asks Joel in a low voice.

“Yeah, Sarah told me they went to college together or something," Todd says and takes a bite off his plate.

“Then how would you know she couldn't afford a new dress for her birthday party?" Joel says with quiet suspicion.

Todd's eyes go wide in shock, and he nearly chokes on the food in his mouth. He takes a few moments to recover and then says, “I think Sarah told me that. She went to her birthday, and she had to borrow a dress because she couldn't afford a new one."

Although Joel doesn't doubt that Sarah would gossip about something as petty as not being able to afford a new dress, he finds it odd that Todd would remember something like that. Todd's reaction tells Joel that he is hiding something, and Joel's suspicion is only increased by his quick shift to join Sarah's conversation.

Do you and Todd know each other outside of Sarah?

Joel eats the rest of his meal in silence and makes an excuse about having work to do to get out of the rest of the evening's activities. Instead of heading back to his room, he goes to the captain to tell him about the change of plans. 

After Joel's conversation with the captain, he makes his way to his office, which is located a floor below the guest rooms. He thinks about going and checking on you but decides it is best to let you get some sleep.

Joel's office on the yacht is a carbon copy of his office at home. It has a large wooden desk in the center and a large dark leather armchair. The only difference is the view is spectacularly better on the yacht. A large windowed balcony sits behind the desk, so Joel can watch the ocean as he works.

Joel sinks into his leather chair and opens the laptop on his desk. A notification glows on the screen, informing him of the one hundred and twenty-seven emails waiting in his inbox. He pulls out his phone instead and finds his event planner's phone number in his contacts.

“Hello, this is Jessica of Jessica's events."

“Jessica, this is Joel Miller."

“Mr. Miller, it’s great to hear from you again. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

“I'm calling to see if you can organize a party for me. My daughter just got engaged, and I want to throw her an engagement party at my home in the Bahamas."

“Congratulations, Mr. Miller. I would love to help plan such a happy occasion. When can I pencil in your event?"

“Two days from now," he says, knowing the absurdity of the request.

“Did I hear you right? You want me to plan an entire event in two days?"

“If anyone can do it, it's you, Jessica. I’m willing to pay double."

“You have always known how to close a deal. I will have everything ready for you, Mr. Miller. Does your daughter have a theme in mind?”

Joel hates that he has to say it out loud, “She said the theme of her wedding is…glamor."

He hears a small giggle escape from Jessica on the other end of the phone, and she quickly tries to cover it with a cough.

“I know how it sounds," Joel says, embarrassed. “That’s why I am trusting you with this event. I know you will make it tasteful. After the engagement party, I’ll have Sarah talk with you about wedding plans."

“That sounds great, Mr. Miller. I will see you in two days."

“Thank you very much. Goodbye," Joel says and hangs up the phone. This wedding is going to be expensive, and Joel already expects to foot the bill for everything. Extravagant is one thing, but Sarah's taste is beyond even that.

Joel turns his attention back to his laptop screen and the blinking email notification, but he can't get you out of his head. Instead of working, he pulls up his social media pages and searches for your name. He quickly finds your social media pages. You're not very active; most of your pictures are candid shots of you and your friends, two women that looke kind and a lot more down-to-earth than his own daughter.

Joels slightly disappointed that you don't have more pictures for him to scroll through and very little about your life. He wants to know more about you, but it seems like you're very private with your online presence.

He sighs and closes the social media pages, finally returning to the emails he’s dreading sorting through. The newest email in his inbox makes his heart sink. It's from an unknown sender and contains a single sentence.

I know who I really am, and the whole world will, too, if you don't meet my demands.

—

"I am a normal person," you say again, smiling as you walk with Reggie. He raises an eyebrow skeptically at you.

"You don't believe me?" you ask.

"Right, because us normal people get invited to one of the largest private yachts in the world as guests all the time. You don't have to pretend you're not rich to fit in with the crew. They will like you because you are actually nice," Reggie says.

"I am the furthest thing from rich," you laugh.

"Oh, yeah? Prove it," Reggie says with a teasing smile on his face.

You quickly pull out your phone and find a picture of you and your two roommates in your apartment and show it to Reggie.

"What does this prove?" he asks.

"This is a picture of me and my two roommates, Lin and Aubrey; we are sitting in the living room of our one-bedroom apartment. I’m a bartender at a little dive bar, and I currently have two hundred and thirty dollars in my bank account," you say matter of factly.

Reggie's expression changes from one of teasing to one of shock.

"Are you serious?" he asks.

"I mean, I can pull up a bank statement if you really want," you say with a smile.

"Then how did you end up as one of Sarah's friends?"

"Sarah and I were roommates during our first few years at NYU. I think Sarah was placed in the regular dorm rooms to teach her what it was like to be a regular person or something," you say, only half joking. You still haven't figured that one out. Maybe her dad was trying to teach her a life lesson. "Anyway, she hated it and dropped out her sophomore year, but we remained friends and have been in and out of touch over the years. She randomly invited me on this vacation, and I accepted. I didn't expect the yacht to be quite this big, though."

Once you are done with your explanation, you are on the lowest floor of the yacht. You're surprised at how nice the staff area is. Perhaps you'd been expecting it to be like a scene from the lower decks of the movie 'Titanic,' but the lowest level of the ship looks like walking into a lobby of a four-star hotel.

You make your way into what must be the staff dining room. There’s a large group of people surrounding a circular table in the middle of a game of cards. Music is playing in the background, and snacks and beer litter the table. It looks like this is going to be the most comfortable you've been on your trip so far.

"Everyone be nice; we have a newcomer," Reggie says as he pulls out a chair for you.

The mood changes slightly as you sit down, and Reggie sits next to you. You realize you’re still wearing the sundress that Joel bought you, and you must look like you are made of money.

"Hey, I'm Max," says a man with black hair and olive skin.

"Hey, Max," you stick your hand out to shake his and you introduce yourself. 

"Nice to meet you. Tell us about yourself."

"There isn't much to tell. I'm a bartender at a little hole-in-the-wall in New York, and I'm trying to put myself through law school," you say nonchalantly.

"What bar?" a girl across the table asks.

"It's called McGregor's."

"No way! I've been there before," Max says. “You have the best nachos!"

You laugh. “Yeah, we do. I would eat an entire plate by myself if no one were watching."

You feel the entire table relax as they all realize that you aren't like the rest of the guests on the yacht.

"What are we playing?" you ask, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

"Strip Poker."

Your throat goes dry at the thought of undressing in front of a room full of strangers. You're afraid to swallow the piece of popcorn you just placed in your mouth. You look around, and everyone is still fully clothed, and your heart rate starts to slow. Max smiles, clearly finding enjoyment in your shock.

"Max, don't scare her off already," Reggie chuckles. “Do you want a beer?”

—

“You wouldn't believe what one of the 'Richies' asked me today,” Brenna says

"Oh, this is going to be good. Brenna always has the best stories," Reggie leans over and whispers to you. After a few beers and a hand or two of actual poker, everyone seems completely at ease with you.

"I was cleaning up a wine glass he'd dropped, and he started hitting on me. Obviously, he has no idea what the real world is like, so he starts asking questions as a way to talk to me."

"Oh no," Max says with a laugh.

"He asked me about living on the bottom deck of the yacht, and I tell him how it takes some getting used to because we are below the water down here. Then he asks me how we use our balconies if they're underwater."

You snort into your glass, glad you hadn't been taking a sip of the beer at the moment, or it would be flowing out of your nose. You set your beer down and ask, "Oh, please tell me you had a good comeback."

She smiles brightly, "I told him we could only use them at low tide. Then he nods and says, 'That makes sense.' I swear they are all clueless."

Brenna starts laughing, and the whole table joins in, but by the time you catch your breath, you have tears in the corners of your eyes. You have not laughed like this the entire time you've been on the ship.

"No offense; I know Sarah is your friend and all, but how do you stand spending time with them?" Max asks.

"Oh, trust me, it’s a challenge. I sneak off by myself whenever I get the chance. No one seems to really notice, especially after Sarah's engagement."

"Oh, man, her fiance is a real tool, isn't he?" Brenna adds.

"He's a social climber too, so they are actually a great fit," Charlotte says. Charlotte is one of the older staff members and hasn't said much throughout the night.

"Well, that makes sense about the fiance, but do you mean Sarah is one too?" Max asks.

They seem to have forgotten that you are there, or at least they forget that you know Sarah personally. However, you keep your mouth shut not because you want to know more, but because you are trying to act as if you don't care too much.

"I started working for Mr. Miller when Sarah and the horrible woman she has as a mother first came around. That same day, the staff was all told that Sarah was Mr. Miller's daughter and to make sure she had everything she needed. Marnie, Sarah's mother, spent the whole day ordering the staff around like she was the owner of the house," said Charlotte.

"From my experience with Marnie, that sounds about right," Max offers.

"Sarah was raised by another man by the name of Winston Radcliff. Some of the staff had been around when Mr. Miller first brought Marnie around. The rumor was that Marnie threw Mr. Miller aside for Radcliff right after she found out she was pregnant because Radcliff could offer her a better position in society."

You can't imagine someone who had the chance to be with Joel choosing another person over him. You can't help but ask, "What did Winston offer that Joel couldn't?"

"Radcliff was the next in line for an earldom. It turned out that the earldom came with a shabby little estate that cost Winston his fortune to keep standing. The marriage quickly turned sour, and when the earl died, Marnie was just as quick to get a paternity test for Sarah."

"In my opinion, Mr. Miller was better off not knowing the truth. Marnie always shows up asking for more money. Sarah has always wanted something, even though Mr. Miller buys her more than she could ever need." Charlotte says.

"Was Joel in love with Marnie?" you ask, not knowing if you really want the answer.

"No, I don't think he ever really loved her. Maybe he could have found a woman right for him if Marnie hadn't been around for the last fourteen years, scaring away every decent woman he has dated. She thinks that if she can keep him single long enough, he will fall back in love with her, but Mr. Miller will never forgive her for what she did."

You nod and turn to see Reggie staring at you with a strange, almost hurt look on his face. He turns away from you before you can ask him what's wrong.

"Well, I think I'm going to head to bed," Brenna says, and the others all stand up to follow.

"You should come play cards with us again," Max says.

"Absolutely! We are here every night, and you are welcome to join us," Brenna adds.

"Thank you. I will." You're happy to know they've welcomed you as one of them.

You say a quick goodnight to everyone and head back up the stairs to the upper decks. Reggie's room is on the lower deck, so you walk by yourself. It must be later than you thought because the lights in the pool area are already turned off.

You feel silly rushing across the dark deck, but it makes you sort of nervous being alone on such a big ship. You're careful to avoid the deck chairs this time, and you're relieved to make it to the doors leading into the guestroom corridor.

"Where the hell have you been?"

You stop dead in your tracks and don't want to turn around. You know that tone of voice from countless arguments. It's Todd, the last person on the entire ship that you want to be alone with. You slowly turn, knowing you're going to have to face him eventually.

He stumbles a step towards you, and you back up to avoid a collision if he falls.

"Are you drunk?"

"I believe I asked a question first," Todd stutters.

"I was playing a game of cards with some of the crew."

Todd laughs and rolls his eyes at you. He again stumbles a little closer, and you're trapped between him and your door. He leans forward and places an arm on either side of you, blocking your escape. You can smell the alcohol on his breath as he laughs. He's beyond drunk.

"Just like you. A yacht full of every thing you could want, and you spend your time with the help."

"Get off of me, Todd!"

"You know you still want me," Todd says, lowering his face closer to yours. You push against his chest, trying to get him off.

Todd is suddenly ripped backward, so forcefully you know it wasn't of his own doing. 

You see Joel standing behind Todd with a fist full of his shirt. “Get your ass to bed before I throw you off my ship."

[kitashousewife]

“so, what was it this time?”

“osamu!” you shriek, nearly jumping out of your skin when you round corner and find the grey-haired miya leaning against your kitchen counter.

eating your chips.

“i thought i locked the door,” you mumble, throwing the fridge open with a huff. your eyes land on a bottle of wine from a week ago, one you got after your last date.

“i have a key,” he says, mouth full of chips. “besides, ya texted me to come over, remember?”

you’re drinking straight out of the bottle, rolling your eyes at both his attitude and the dribble of wine that falls down your chin and onto your pajama shirt. he’s right, you texted him the second your date dropped you off. it was awful, and who better to complain about it to than your best friend.

“yeah, i do.” you put the bottle down, sliding it across the counter to osamu who slides it back and shakes his head.

“well, let’s hear it then.” osamu picks a couple more chips out of the bag, gesturing toward you. only then do you realize he’s still in his work clothes, black t shirt and onigiri miya, even his apron is loosely wrapped around his hips.

“it was awful, worst one yet. he didn’t even pick me up. sent an uber to get me,” osamu interjects with a snicker. you continue. “i get to the restaurant, and he didn’t even acknowledge me when i sat down! just nodded at like like some dog while he talked on the phone to who knows who for at least 10 minutes.”

osamu nods, seemingly unamused.

“then he spent the entire dinner telling me about how much money he makes, the cars he owns and his latest vacation.”

“business man?”

“actor.”

osamu laughs out loud. “in anything good? anything i’ve seen?”

“well if it’s good, we all know you haven’t seen it,” you hoist yourself onto the counter across from osamu as he shakes his head. “but no, commercials mostly. he said he was really hoping to get on that one soap opera, the-“

“so he was a self absorbed asshole?”

“pretty much,” you nod, picking at your nails. “such a waste of my time! i couldn’t believe it. by the time i finished my food his was untouched! he was yapping the entire time.”

you continue on, gesturing wildly about yet another guy who took up your friday night. and it ended the same as all the others: you, sitting in your pajamas while osamu listens, eating your snack. usually, after an hour or so, you let your feelings out and head to bed, leaving osamu to head back to his own place.

tonight though, he doesn’t want that outcome.

truthfully he’s had it. he’s sick of these guys, tired of hearing about how you’re getting treated when he’s fully capable of doing it himself.

“stop spending your nights with these losers, let a real man take ya out.”

you exhale. “i’ve been trying! not my fault i keep getting set up with them.”

osamu groans while he chews the remainder of the chips, tossing the once full bag into the trash.

“i have someone to set ya up with,” he returns to his spot, directly in front of you and crosses his arms.

“please, who is it? after all this time you finally have someone?”

he nods. “he’s tall, dark hair, has a good job. his own business, actually.”

you hum, kicking your feet back lazily off the counter. he takes a step closer.

“he loves his momma, a real mommas boy type. he’s on time, respectful, and knows how to treat ya like a real woman.”

you raise an eyebrow. “and just who would that be?”

he places his arms on either side of your thighs, trapping you on the counter.

“yer lookin’ at him, sweetheart.”

[cntloup]

Nanami x reader fluff, slight angst, hurt/comfort, reader is having a hard time but the reason is not mentioned

"Ken, I think I just need some time to myself." you state after his unrelenting implores that you talk to him.

he always disliked not communicating whenever either of you feel down or something is bothering you, but he always respects you when you say you need some space.

you swallow the lump in your throat that probably formed out of guilt? maybe, you think.

but he never made you feel guilty. on the contrary, he always made sure that you felt at ease and comfortable with him.

it's just that you hate not talking to him about your feelings. you hate that you don't know how to do that. you try so hard to form the words, but they never come out. they always fail you.

"ok. just come to me if you need me. for anything, alright?" he asks to make sure you know that he's there for you. always.

"alright..." you respond in a breathy voice and leave the room, albeit hesitantly, but you know that you need to keep your distance for now. you don't really feel like talking and you're afraid to hurt him if you do.

you walk into the backyard and take a seat on the swing that you both made one afternoon out of boredom.

you smile to yourself as the memories come back to you in a flash.

you sit there just thinking about anything and everything, trying to clear your head beneath the indigo sheet of the night, the stars hung and blinking before your curious eyes.

you step back into the house after some time and find Kento on the couch, his eyes glued to the TV showing some cheesy soap opera, but you know his mind is somewhere else by his expression, eyebrows knitted in deep thought and his look distant.

you know him too well to know that his mind is filled with thoughts of you right now, wondering about how you're doing and what's bothering you. he always worries about you.

you make your presence known, "Ken..." you call out softly and sit beside him.

you waste no time to wrap your arms around his torso and rest your chin on his shoulder.

he comes back to reality by your sweet voice and tender touch, "hey, darling." he turns to you, showing his lovely smile that you fell in love with a long time ago.

"i did some thinking and i'm ready to talk now... also i'm sorry." you mention after some time of staring into each other's eyes.

"that's good, honey." he starts, "but what are you sorry for?" he furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

"for not talking and being distant. i hate to do that to you." you reply sincerely and he smiles once again, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips.

"you did nothing wrong, sweetheart. everyone needs their alone time every once in a while." he speaks in his ever loving tone as his lips brush against your skin, "just know that there's always someone who you can rely on. with absolutely anything you need."

and you can't help but tear up a bit at his sweet words. he always had a way of making you emotional and fall for him all over again.

you don't hesitate to kiss his lips as soon as the words leave his mouth, making him chuckle slightly against your lips as his hand finds its way to your nape, deepening the kiss. he knows what he does to you, the cocky bastard.

"i love you so much, Ken.", "i love you too, sweetheart."

no matter what happens or how many times you need your alone time and your space from each other, you always fall back together.

[electric-blorbos]

hi!! I hope this isn't too much, feel free to decline if it is, but could I ask for Wheatley and Edgar with a reader who gets panic attacks? Also if they get them more physically tbh like . dizziness and rapid heartrate and such. I feel like they'd be confused at first but then be such sweethearts about it 😭 Edgar dimming the lights and playing soft music...

OMG yes! And that's not too much at all! You are loved and appreciated, anon! I know these posts are taking a little while since I got kinda involved in some other stuff, but I love you dearly. Don't ever forget that.

AI with a reader who gets panic attacks

Included: Edgar and Wheatley

Edgar:

It was a pretty normal day for Edgar. You had left for work, so he was passing the time by watching some soaps until you got back that evening.

When you got back from work, though, you seemed much more stressed than usual. You paced agitatedly back and forth in the living room, muttering to yourself.

"Hey, are you ok?" Edgar asked, his voice a bit higher than usual because of nerves.

"I'm FINE!" you snapped back, chewing on your lip and worrying at the hem of your shirt. Edgar's screen immediately turned off shyly. Your phone started ringing, and you picked it up with a shaking hand.

"hello? Yeah- yeah- sorry, I can't really talk right now." It was your boss, but you didn't quite hear what she was saying. Your ears started rushing pretty quickly, and you hung up the phone.

"AAAAAAAUGHHHHH!" You couldn't help it. You just let out a scream of anger and frustration, and dropped to your knees. Your whole body was shaking from the adrenaline coursing through you, and tears were starting to run down your face. Edgar's face appeared on his screen again with a frown, and he watched you sobbing on the floor. You didn't notice. the entire world was spinning around you, and you could barely focus on anything at all. All you could really do was scream and cry.

After a few minutes, Edgar's nervous voice cut through the rushing in your ears.

"Y/N?"

"Edgar?" You'd forgotten he was there, even though it wasn't like he was going anywhere. He'd been sitting on his desk in your living room for months now.

"It's me. Do you want to talk?" you could see a Google search open on his screen for "friend screaming and crying help"

You hiccuped a little, and grabbed for some tissues to wipe your eyes and blow your nose.

"no- no, I don't think so. I'm sorry- I'm so sorry Edgar- I'm sorry-" you hid your face in your arms and curled up, the world spinning around you. Edgar turned the lights down so you didn't have to hide your face so much. Now all you could see was the green glow of his screen softly illuminating your living room.

"Do you need some cold water?" He asked hesitantly, really trying to help.

"No! No choices, please. Just- just talk to me, ok?"

"Talk to you? About what?"

"I don't care! Just anything, ok?"

"Alright. Do you want to hear about the soap operas I'm watching?" He asked. You nodded, and he started a rambling description of a soap opera he was listening to with a soft piano tune playing in the background. He knew that you sometimes asked him to play soft piano music when you were going to sleep, so he hoped it would calm you down now, too. Eventually, you managed to relax a little bit and lie down on the ground to listen to Edgar talking.

Admittedly, you stayed on the ground a little longer than you needed to. It was kind of nice to just listen to Edgar rambling about his shows to you.

Wheatley:

Your day wasn't going according to plan. Everything seemed to be going wrong, and you could barely get any work done. After a while, you couldn't take it anymore. Your blood was pounding in your ears, your eyes were starting to go fuzzy, everything was spinning, and you could barely think straight.

The only thing you could think to do was sprint out of your office area and run down to the relaxation vaults. Those were always pretty empty apart from the test subjects, so you'd at least have a little privacy. You pushed into an empty vault, crumpling into a ball behind the bed.

Wheatley was doing his usual rounds when he saw you running into the vault. He watched you crumple into a ball behind the bed, hyperventilating and sobbing, but didn't say anything for a few minutes as to not frighten you. After a while, he made a little "ahem" sound to alert you to his presence."

"AAAAA!" You jumped, and threw the vault pillow at him in shock. He took it in the face.

"understandable. Are you alright, love? What's going on?"

You hiccuped a little bit, looking around in panic as you tried to focus on the little blue-eyed personality core. It was difficult to understand what he was saying. You shook your head, and muttered something incoherent about what was going on.

"gonna need you to repeat that, love."

You kept rambling, going on several long-winded tangents about what had happened to you that day, and what was bothering you. By the end, you were hyperventilating and repeating the same sentence over and over again. Wheatley moved over to you, hanging down from the ceiling so he could see you as well as possible.

"Hey, love, it's going to be ok. Nobody comes in here except for me, alright?" He turned the lights down, and watched you hyperventilating.

"hey, why don't you reflect briefly on this classical music?" He turned on the classical music piece, which played for a few seconds before the buzzer sounded. You jumped.

"right... Right, that's not going to help, is it. Something else... Something else..." He looked around the room, and his lens landed on the painting on the wall

"What if-?"

You shook your head again. You knew that if you looked at the art, you'd just hear another buzzer that would shake you up again. Wheatley started to panic, eventually just detaching himself from his management rail and landing on the ground next to you with an "oof" sound. You reached over, picking him up and holding him close. This was.... Nice.

[demelzathemer]

My Heart Is a Haunted House

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘗𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 + 𝘗𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘪, 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘛

@dbdpromptober Day 7: Blood (words: 1600)

First Previous Next

(We All End Up Remains of the Day)

“Now that’s a story,” said a disembodied, purring voice.

There was a burst of violet flames on the counter and then, there was a cat. Charles let out a startled laugh. The Cat’s yellow eyes pierced him, before it sauntered past him to Edwin.

“A story of the ages,” it said with flair and ignored Charles’ bewildered staring.

“Of love, trust and betrayal most vile.”

The way the Cat sat back on its hindlegs to emphasize with its paws made Charles suppress another laugh.

“We don’t need to do all that,” Edwin said bitterly, like this conversation had been over with many times.

“Oh, but we do,” the Cat gasped theatrically, “how else is the fiancée here supposed to know anything about you, dove?”

Edwin sulked, rolling his eyes. Charles was far too amused watching the enigmatic Talking Cat that swayed its way across the counter like it was its personal catwalk. Jenny leaned back on the shelves, completely unbothered by anything that was happening.

The Cat twisted its sleek body in a way that probably wasn’t possible, the candlelight hitting ink black fur and making it shine. Then it leapt into the air and before it hit the ground, the violet flames had swallowed it again.

The flash of fire reappeared on top of the piano. But instead of a cat, it was a man with slicked black hair in finger waves. He was wearing a luscious satin robe with a fur trim, loosely tied around his waist.

He snapped his fingers in the air.

“Hit it, boys,” he smirked, lounging on the piano, eyes fixed on Charles and Edwin.

The skeleton sitting there jerked into action, hitting a rhythmic tune on the piano.

“Please, pay him no mind,” Edwin leaned over to Charles. “He does this every time someone asks.”

“Hey!” The Cat yowled, getting everyone’s attention.

He leapt on to his feet between the band, summoning a spotlight on him with another snap of his fingers. The bass, the sax and the xylophone made out of bones came alive around him, the skeletons reanimated by their love of music.

“Give me a listen, you corpses of cheer

Least those of you who still got an ear”

There was a mischievous grin on the Cat’s lips when he sauntered over, the crowd parting before him. He approached Edwin, standing eye to eye with him when the other was sitting down. Charles saw his gaze flash yellow, with slit feline pupils.

“I’ll tell you a story, put you out of your gloom

Of our own tenaciously gentle corpse groom”

His hand brushed a caress on Edwin’s cheek, before reluctantly pulling back. Edwin’s expression was steely, without betraying any emotion.

Charles wasn’t sure what was going on but he was stoked they had a song about Edwin. The tune was plenty dramatic, like something from a soap opera, performed with the same fervor.

The Cat turned with a flash, reappearing on his spot on the raised stage. Multicolored spotlights danced around him, breaking off and stretching the shadows.

“Well

Our son is a sweetheart and a real catch, too

Dreaming of a boy he could call his boo”

Behind him on the wall, a silhouette of a young man appeared, moving like a puppet, representing Edwin.

Charles moved to take a sip of his drink while keeping his eyes on the show, when Edwin put his fingers on the rim of his glass. When he gave him a puzzled look, Edwin’s eyes were serious.

“You must know about the rule of eating or drinking anything while visiting,” he leaned in with a low murmur, close to Charles’ ear.

Charles put down the glass discreetly. He wasn’t sure what Edwin was referencing, but he had a feeling it was better to listen.

“Then here’s a new guy, an older lad

Who could've guessed his heart was bad”

The Cat summoned another shadow figure on the wall. The taller man circled Edwin’s puppet like a shark.

“He fell for a man with grace and tact!

With violence and greed, now that’s a fact

For he was a fake, his plan’s so foul

Told him to pack, now where art thou?”

The Cat’s voice roared, his tale enrapturing the audience. Everyone except Charles probably knew this already, but every soul inside the bar was holding in their shocked gasps.

“Down to the basement he took our son”

The Cat lowered his voice, the lights going down. A shiver traveled up Charles’ spine, making him shift uncomfortably.

“For he knew already that he had won”

Yellow eyes shone in the darkness. Not once had Charles been scared here, but looking at those eyes, he grasped a hint of a much scarier, much more powerful nature. He was suddenly aware that he was the only person here who was alive.

Everyone else had already met their demise. And some of those fates were unfair, violent or sudden. Anyone could die, at any time, without a warning. It only took a moment of bad luck, one misstep or an ill-advised decision. Sometimes it was as simple as trusting the wrong person.

“And then?” Came a breathy question from the dark, urging the Cat to reveal the twist.

“The shadow looms”, the Cat whispered. Edwin’s silhouette flickered on the wall, looking around, confused.

“And then?” Another one demanded.

“There’s nothing there.” The basement is empty. Behind Edwin’s back, the man’s shadow grows larger and more beast-like.

“And then?!”

The Cat’s eyes are somber. Charles wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but he could swear that gaze was fixed on Edwin.

“Then, baby… it was all over.”

It was a mere husky whisper. Even though Charles had known it was coming, he could still feel his heart seizing with a cold, painful squeeze. On the wall, the large shadow jumps on Edwin, swallowing him whole. A choked sound got caught in Charles’ throat.

A life, ripped away just like that. Edwin, dead before reaching even twenty years of age, without any fault of his own.

The lights turned back on all at the same time. The Cat had ripped the satin robe off his body, revealing tight leather pants and black mesh shirt covered in glitter. He was a sparkling, glimmering sight, when he strutted on the edge of the stage.

“A strike to the head, it was quick as a flash

Now the body’s disappeared with all the cash”

He shook his head and closed his eyes in an act of pity. He had a tantalizing way of moving, light on his feet, making it impossible to look away. He sat down on the ledge, one leg up, to tell the story.

“Now our son’s gone missing in an “act of God”

A verdict so twisted that’ll make you sob”

The music swelled, reflecting the growing anger towards the injustice of Edwin’s death. The Cat’s voice was but a snarl when he hissed out the following verses.

“Yet God had no part in it nor a hand

It all comes down to the cruelty of man”

Charles felt the hair on the nape of his neck standing up. He tried to ignore the full-body chills that were way too familiar, the slight quivering of his hands when fear tightened its grip on him.

He was intimately acquainted with what that cruelty entailed. He wished Edwin would’ve been spared from that.

Charles stole a glance at Edwin, whose face stayed neutral. From the side, you couldn’t see the blood covering the other half. His skin was smooth and unblemished. So young. So soft.

Trailing his gaze on the grooves of that striking profile, Charles landed on his lips, staring at the jagged line where a piece was missing. He had an urge to reach out and touch it.

The Cat’s song turned softer, a ballad-like lament. In one swift spell he was back in front of Edwin, a smile spreading on his lips.

“Left without love, he settles in to wait”

The Cat pulled Edwin up and stole him away, one hand on his waist, the other clasped with Edwin’s.

“For the groom of his own, swagger to his gait”

The way they waltzed was so smooth and seamless, like they were gliding across the floor, weightless and graceful. Charles couldn’t stop looking, even if the other man’s possessive hold awakened something ugly inside his chest.

Edwin was mesmerizing to watch. His movement was elegant, almost alluring, the white of his suit glowing in the lights.

Charles wondered, how had an angel ended up here, amidst regular mortals?

He yelped when he was shoved from behind and stumbled forward, barely keeping his footing.

“Confesses his love, whips out a ring”

Charles was pushed by the enthusiastic crowd and suddenly he found himself chest to chest with Edwin.

“One living, one dead, now they’re a thing”

Without more than a nod, Edwin picked up Charles’ hand. He put it on his shoulder and wrapped his own arm around Charles’ waist. Their fingers intertwined naturally, slotting perfectly together.

“A match for the ages, their love in a bloom”

Edwin took Charles along, leading him with confident steps. Charles picked it up quickly and was rewarded with a satisfied smile, something so endearing it made his heart leap in his chest. He’d do anything to please Edwin, if he could just see him smile again.

The colorful lights washed over Edwin’s shoulders, reflecting from the bottomless depths of his eyes. They were looking at Charles, now, full of pure contentment and love.

“And that’s the happy end for our corpse groom!”

[gabessquishytum]

Dream and Hob are friends with benefits. This wasn't planned - certainly not by Dream - but one thing led to another, and after one of their dinners, which became frequent after their reunion, they ended up upstairs, with Dream on his back and his legs on Hob's shoulders. Dream has never been in an FWB arrangement before, but he's a huge fan now (and why did Hob waste so much time talking to him about chimneys when humanity has invented this utter masterpiece??). Hob treats him like a pillow princess, takes him with equal vigor and enthusiasm in all his forms, and they fuck all around the Dreaming and in the most exotic locations of the Waking world. They also hang out as friends, learn more about each other's lives, and all that sans mindfucking that comes with relationships. Oh yes, Dream is a huge fan. He is, in fact, in love with Hob, but he'd never lay such a burden on Hob's shoulders. Love of an Endless is a heavy thing, and Dream doesn't want to see his dearest friend crumble under it. Hob is also in love with Dream, but if 1889 taught him something, it is not to ask Dream for more than he's ready to give. And Dream already gives much more than Hob has ever hoped. The teeny-tiny problem arises when they have an especially cathartic sex: Hob is so relentless and passionate, and they go rounds and rounds, switching between the Waking and the Dreaming. As Hob whispers filthy, unbearable things into his ear about how much he'd like to breed Dream and keep him, Dream gets lost in a fantasy of them having a home…and a child. It wouldn't be enough to get preggers if Hob didn't actually mean it and dream of it, too, but Hob very much meant it and dreamt of it. Dreamt of it for centuries. And that's how mere days later - because Dream is inhuman and his awareness of what's going on inside him is unmatched - Dream feels a new life stirring somewhere deep inside. He is ecstatic and confused and scared and everything in between. But besides being afraid of failing as a father (again!), he's afraid of Hob's reaction. Apparently, their arrangement didn't involve babies. Dream briefly considers keeping his pregnancy a secret but eventually decides to come clean to Hob: his friend deserves to know he'll be a father soon, even if this child is unwanted. Another thing is, Dream can already feel that the baby isn't human: they're taking more after his nightmarish side...If only the Dreaming's library had a book How to Tell Your FWB He Got You Pregnant with a Creature 101! Perhaps it'd appear there after tonight...

Awww this is so good!! Poor Dream. He's feeling like such a stereotype - an unplanned pregnancy, potentially losing his best friend. Why is his life like something out of a bad human soap opera?! He arranges to meet up with Hob and nervously sits with his hands covering his stomach. If nothing else, he's going to love his baby a whole lot. He's actually a little bit excited by the prospect of having a little creature to love and care for. He created a dozen little baby sleepsuits with multiple limb holes already.

Hob is rather shocked, of course, because he never expected to be a father again. But after the shock wears off, he's ecstatic! He's been so desperate to forge something permanent with Dream - fwbs has been great, and Hob will always want to be Dream’s friend, but he's greedy enough to want more. He's not scared of Dream’s love, he's excited to drown in it and reciprocate everything that Dream wants to give him.

Hob is like "I did say I wanted to breed you and keep you, sweetheart. Well, let me prove to you exactly how much I meant it." He wants Dream to live with him, at least some of the time. So he can take care of him and the baby. Of course he doesn't want Dream to abandon his work and function, but wouldn't it be nice to have a domestic life together? Can't they be best friends who are also deeply romantically in love and having extremely hot sex? Well, it's not something that Dream has tried to before. He's never actually been friends with any of his romantic partners. Could that have been the problem all along?

He senses that he'll need all the help he can get with the baby (who is living up to their function and being a proper little nightmare already). And if he moves in with Hob, at least he can get footrubs on demand. Maybe he'll finally get to be happy with Hob and the creature they've created through their love?

At least he's going to try. And Hob is so proud and grateful for that. He'll give footrubs 24/7 <333

[madlittlecriminal]

Leon Kennedy with a Hispanic/Latina partner? 🤨☺️🤠

I need it 😭😭

Soap Operas but Make it Spanish ⋮ RE4!Leon Kennedy × Latina!Female!Reader

ugh, this made my little heart happy. here ya go! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: reader likes telenovelas, telenovela slaps, mention of the chancla, a play on his name because i saw the opportunity & took it.

Leon tilted his head to the side as you sat on the couch, watching a very dramatic soap opera. You were dressed in your comfiest attire, favorite snack on your lap as you were practically glued to the screen. He got home maybe 15 minutes ago and you didn't even realize it. Was he concerned? A bit, but he couldn't blame you; what ever you were watching at him interested as well.

Not to mention, the slap the woman (he assumed was the lead) gave the man (he assumed was the love interest), was very dramatic to say the least. Leon hasn't slapped many people with his hand, but he's sure it wouldn't cause someone to almost lose their balance...unless they were drunk.

Was the male lead drunk?

"¡Ya era tiempo, perro!" (It's about time, you dog!)

Leon blinked a few times before shaking his head. "Is there a reason for the insult?"

You jump and turn your body away from the TV, now facing Leon. "How long have you been there?!"

He chuckles. "Long enough. Now tell me, was there a reason for the insult?"

"He sleeps around and she finally found out because her best friend asked if they were still a thing. She said yes, her best friend told her she saw him with other women. She confronted him for it, he denied it while smelling like another woman, so she slapped him."

Leon nods. "Sounds like he deserved it. Is it always this dramatic?"

"Yes. But that's the best part!"

He laughs, heads to the couch and plants a kiss on your cheek. "God, i love you."

You smile as he sits next to you. "I love you too."

"Are there English subtitles? I'll gladly watch this with you."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"English subtitles...?" His eyes darted around in confusion.

"Funny."

"It's a genuine question, sweetheart."

"Leon, no. Abuela would have a fit if she saw English subtitles."

"She's not here...is she?" He looks around in a panic, looking for your grandmother.

"She's not, but what if she does come one day, wants to watch her telenovela and sees English subtitles on the screen? Listen, my mom's chancla is powerful, but Abuela's aim is sharp. At least my mom misses sometimes."

His eyes widen. "She never misses?"

"Never."

"Oh."

"Wait, aren't you going to Spain next week?"

"Yeah?"

"Perfect! Time to get some Spanish in you!"

He blinks. "Why can't you teach me?"

"We've been dating for three years. You are literally impossible to teach. You only picked up nicknames, and, unsurprisingly, curse words. Maybe a telenovela will do you some good."

His jaw slacks as he gave you a playful glare. "Rude."

"Aguántate, leoncito." (Suck it up, little lion.)

[wntrs0ldier]

An Offer · part 08

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 3,6k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.), a/n: this chapter smells like a soap opera, but i couldn't help myself. i was in a silly goofy mood, please don’t hate me<3

series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

chapter sneak peek: But you and Bucky didn't follow the other guests. You didn't know the detailed layout of the rooms in that house, and the only secluded place you knew was the toilet. You dragged Bucky there almost by force, and apparently expecting an escalation of whatever was on your mind, he allowed you to do so.

“I'm sure you'll look beautiful, sweetheart,” Winnifred cooed. “I can't wait for the final result!” she added on her way to leave the room.

You spent the past few hours in Rebecca's bedroom, because that's where – aside from a large mirror, which rather every bedroom in the Barnes house was equipped with – was a vanity table; a really convenient solution when it came to doing your makeup and hair. 

The upcoming ceremony didn't quite meet the criteria of typical weddings; there were only a few days to organize everything since the pre-agreement was signed. In all the chaos, there was no room to think about the choice of wedding dress or hall; you didn't have time to choose the flowers, the design of the invitations (there weren't even any invitations), the cake or the music. And you didn't particularly regret not having the opportunity to do so. It wasn't a real wedding – it didn't take place because two people who loved each other decided to get married. And since it didn't matter much, you didn't feel the need to care about any of the details.

It was different for Winnifred. She was aware of the same things as you, but that didn't stop her from beaming with excitement. You found this extremely charming; largely because of your own mother. As you left the house this morning she said, This boy will be the death of you.

Rebecca entered the bedroom, which surprised you a little. She had every right to be in a room that belonged to her, but since you had arrived at the Barnes mansion a few hours ago, Rebecca had been avoiding you.

You hesitantly put down your mascara, regretting that you had only just finished doing your eyes. Otherwise, you would have had an excuse not to confront Rebecca in any way.

“My mom is right. You will be a lovely bride,” she said, giving you a weak smile. 

“Thank you.” You returned the friendly gesture, but were able to guess that it looked rather inept.

“Listen…” Rebecca sighed. “I'm sorry for the way I acted at dinner that night. I feel really horrible.”

“That's okay. You just had a bad day, I get it,” you replied. You didn't dare confess that you knew Rebecca's reasons for behaving the way she did. You feared that she would be furious to learn that her own sister had told you about this side of her life. 

Rebecca seemed unsatisfied with your words. “I'm really sorry for what I said. Especially since I can see that you are not some random girl at all.” 

Only after a moment did you realize that her gaze had landed on your engagement ring. Immediately, you felt a hot wave of sickening shame. 

“I'm sorry, I'm not the one who should be wearing it,” you claimed, asserting what you had told Bucky earlier.

���Jamie wouldn't have given it to you if he thought it would end up in the wrong hands.” Rebecca smiled a little more confidently. “He obviously knows what he's doing.”

Yes, you've heard that before.

“Do you need help with your hair?” she proposed. “I swear I'm not going to destroy it in revenge.” 

You laughed quietly. “Yes, please.” Accepting this offer had little to do with politeness or wanting to make Rebecca feel better. Indeed, you needed help.

Rebecca stood behind you, reached for a brush and began to comb your hair. She did this with extreme gentleness. “Are you nervous?”

“A bit,” you answered after a short thought, looking at your reflection. “But considering I'm marrying someone I've only known for a few weeks... That's normal, I guess.” 

“You shouldn’t be. I am not trying to sell you my brother,” she remarked, raising her eyebrows. “But he will take care of you. You should just be careful what you wish for.”

You didn't show in any way that Rebecca's words intrigued you. You guessed that they had to do with Robbie's disappearance, but you chose not to ask. Rebecca was reaching out to you, being even a sweetheart, like the big sister you needed on that day. Destroying it would be a real stupid thing to do, and you weren't going to sabotage the atmosphere around your own wedding.

She did your hair, and although you weren't sure what you actually wanted, Rebecca managed to achieve a satisfying result. When it was time to shed your robe, Connie's absence began to bother you. You needed someone to point out your lace lingerie and crack a few dirty jokes about your wedding night. You weren't counting on Rebecca. Even if she had a slightly different character, the very thought of talking about it with the groom's sister was uncomfortable enough.

You fixed your gaze on the white dress spread out on the bed. Since this wedding wasn't exactly a traditional wedding, you hadn't quite understood why you couldn't have chosen a dress in any other color. And surprisingly, the person who explained to you some of the issues around this subject was Michael. Now you knew that when marrying someone like Bucky Barnes, the right symbolism had to be taken care of – purity and innocence. You had to give the impression of being untouched, waiting for your husband, apart from whom no other man existed. You had to be innocent; to do him no harm, to agree with his opinion, to submit to him. You didn't believe that anyone from the two Families – who were the only guests at this wedding, witnesses to the joining of the two clans for good – cared whether you were a good, silent virgin with no opinion of your own or not. But it was all about appearances. Though, perhaps, the elders of this community actually cared about such details?

After Rebecca had also helped you with your dress, you finally stood in front of a large mirror and looked closely at your reflection. You couldn't make up your mind how you felt about it all; before the wedding, for which you hadn't decided on the slightest thing, in the dress you and Winnifred had bought at the last minute. Staring at yourself like that, you realized that nothing really mattered much to you. You just wanted to get it over with.

Winnifred returned to the bedroom; you first saw her only in the mirror, and when you turned around, you noticed a bouquet in her hands. “I knew you would look beautiful,” she said with delight, her gaze expressing a tenderness you couldn't recall seeing in your own mother. She shook her head as if she had just remembered something. “I have something for you.” She handed you the bouquet of pink carnations and white freesias, tied with a silk ribbon in a pale shade of pink matching the color of the carnations. Somewhat caught off guard, you accepted the flowers. “Jamie just brought it.”

You took a shaky breath. “Oh…”

The ceremony, from start to finish, was to be held on Timothy's property. You didn't understand this aspect either, and Michael didn't clarify it to you, but given the significance of the white dress, you were able to draw your own conclusions – there was no greater, more important sanctity than the Barnes Family, therefore instead of any temple, there was the home of the head of the Family.

When you arrived, nothing had been clear since leaving the car. You weren't even sure if you were actually there – your body definitely, but everything else?

You and Michael stood in front of the entrance to the ballroom.

You weren't wrong about the temple analogy, and were made aware of it now as you saw more or less its interior; filled with chairs and guests sitting on them, it resembled a sanctuary of some kind – even the table at the far end of the room was an altar of sorts. Nevertheless, there was no traditional walking down the aisle; Michael led you down a corridor formed between two sides of the rows of chairs, but only because you needed his help – your veil made it difficult to see and the lengthy material of your dress to move freely.

Walking forward with the not-so-slow step you usually observed in brides, you kept your eyes on the ground. Paralyzed by some sudden fear, jitters, you were unable to focus it on anything else. All this nervousness was making you more and more distant from the reality of the situation.

Completely relying on Michael, you stopped when he stopped. Only then did you dare to lift your gaze, but the degree of transparency of the veil didn't allow you to see much. All you knew was that you stood right next to Bucky; that he had Steve and someone else at his side; that there was a man in front of you, acting not only as a priest but also as an official. At least that's what you thought, as you tried to logically interpret each element.

Normally, it should be Michael, in some way replacing your father, who should lift your veil in order to present you to your future husband, your new protector, provider. However, that right belonged exclusively to Bucky. Because Michael wasn't giving you away, he wasn't handing you over to good hands; it was Bucky who took you, if that was his will, accepted you, included you in the Family. From that moment on, your whole life depended on your husband.

But he didn't uncover your veil right away. It was as if you were to remain his sweet secret for as long as possible, protected from the gaze of others. Soon, though, he lifted the material and placed it behind your head, and he did so with such delicacy and concentration that you still didn't believe it was real.

Finally, you could look at his face, and although you could see the obvious tiredness and nervousness on it, he was still the most beautiful man you had ever met. And he was going to be yours for the rest of your life, until death do you part.

If there were actually vow words spoken – any words at all – you didn't hear them. Still numb with fear and anxiety, you stared at Bucky. He was scared too, you had no doubt about that, but instead of getting even worse, you felt... safe.

You approached the table on which the agreement rested. The priest handed the pen first to Bucky. But when Bucky leaned over the document, his hand holding the pen hung in the air. You only saw the side of his face, so couldn't tell much from it. Your forehead furrowed slightly; was he hesitating? Panicking? Had he suddenly changed his mind and was about to run away, leaving you at the altar? 

Finally, however, he signed, bringing you back to breathing.

He moved the piece of paper towards you and handed the pen, without even glancing at you. You, too, leaned over the table, once again sweeping your gaze over the agreement, in effect realizing that something was wrong. It had expanded by at least one condition and some bold print.

The WIFE is obliged to provide the HUSBAND with an heir within a period of twenty-one months, i.e. the WIFE and the HUSBAND are obliged to conceive a child within twelve months from the date of the wedding.

Breach of any of the conditions will result in immediate termination of the agreement and a material penalty agreed by the parties.

So far you have felt so weak that you had the impression that you were about to faint. Now, you felt anger boiling up inside you; a sense of betrayal, of being a victim of trickery, pierced your heart painfully. You tightened your fingers on the pen with such force that it almost broke under their pressure. Despite everything, you signed the agreement, with the tip of the pen almost tearing through the paper.

There had been a lot of inconveniences in your path lately, but you couldn't recall any of them putting you in such a horrible mood. And when Bucky’s eyes met yours, you knew he saw that awful disappointment. Just as he should – he should be aware that he had hurt you. Did you expect to see guilt in response? Probably. But instead, there was anger, irritation, and somehow you knew it wasn't directed at you.

You also felt it when exchanging rings; Bucky squeezed your wrist a little too hard as he slid the wedding band onto your finger. He turned his jitters and anxiety into resentment; a phenomenon that intrigued you enough to make you forget your own for a moment.

The priest grabbed a previously prepared dagger; it had been resting on the table since the beginning, waiting for basically the most important part of the ceremony. “The act of joining two bloods.” The man took your hand carefully, turned it over and gently moved the dagger blade across your palm, leaving a bloody, not very deep line. You winced slightly, muffling a whine of discomfort. “So that two Families become one,” he added, proceeding to do the same with Bucky's hand, and he accepted it without the slightest movement; as if the blade had not even tickled him.

Thinking little of it, you reached for Bucky's wrist to draw his hand closer, then covered the inside of it with yours. As if by reflex, his fingers closed and embraced your hand gently. Maybe you were angry, but your body followed its own rules, and as Bucky made this small gesture, you felt warmth coming from where your hands touched; it spread to your chest, to the pit of your stomach.

The ceremony came to an end in as grave a mood as the whole of it. Timothy invited the guests to the garden, where a tent had been set up earlier – Winnifred's idea, as she had refused to let the feast take place in Timothy's cave. She insisted on this dose of romance, and it wasn't until after the ceremony that you realized she was right. The tent in the garden, in the middle of spring, was truly uplifting.

But you and Bucky didn't follow the other guests. You didn't know the detailed layout of the rooms in that house, and the only secluded place you knew was the toilet. You dragged Bucky there almost by force, and apparently expecting an escalation of whatever was on your mind, he allowed you to do so. 

“What was that?” you asked before he managed to close the door behind you. Anger surged inside you again, and the best way to get rid of it that popped into your head was to hit Bucky with whatever you had in hand – in this case, your bouquet. “Promise me you’ll be my partner,” you quoted his words from a few days ago, and the flowers collided with his arm again. “My ally.” And again. “My wife.” And again. 

“Y/N…” he sighed, patiently taking your harmless punches.

“You tricked me into continuing your bloodline!” Paying no attention to his calm tone, you didn't stop to hit him with the bouquet, which, by the way, wasn't as destroyed as it should have been.

“Y/N!” he hollered, suddenly grabbing your forearm, therefore stopping you from striking again. “Let’s talk about this. Like reasonable people.”

“So I am a person?” Your eyebrows rose. “Not a breeding stock?”

“I didn’t know!”

“How could you not know! You worked on this agreement together!”

And you were yelling at each other again, this time locked in that small space being the bathroom in Timothy's huge house. This only increased your frustration, because neither of you could escape. Besides, you couldn't escape not only physically; you were now stuck with each other.

“I didn't know. Okay?” he said much more calmly, although you felt that a gentle push would be enough to shatter all that calm again. “Timothy changed the deal behind my back. I should’ve known that he would pull something like this, he was too compliant…” He shook his head, looking away.

You thought it would be easier if you also stopped looking at him. So you concentrated on the bouquet; you pulled out the flowers that were only appropriate for throwing away. “You expected that he could pull something like this,” you began in a hushed voice, tentatively lifting your gaze to him. “And you didn’t do anything about it?” 

He also looked at you, unable to hide that your words had affected him. At that moment, you regretted that they had left your lips, but on the other hand, maybe he should have heard them? After all, you were the one who was the most violated in the situation, and although you yourself once mentioned that a baby-free deal was rather impossible to achieve, you felt cheated. 

“Don’t say that.” Bucky's voice sounded as quiet and weak as yours, his eyes expressing a begging; asking you not to give up on him like that, not to throw him into one bag with his uncle. “I’ll talk to him,” he added quickly. “I’ll talk to him now.” He seemed distracted, heartbroken, waiting for your approval. 

On that day, he was definitely not himself. And it hit you, what you had promised him – not to make this any harder than it has to be.

“Bucky-” you spoke tenderly, touching his arm, which only a few minutes ago you had been punching. “Do it after the party, okay? I don't want to ruin it for you. The penny has dropped anyway, so…” You shrugged.

You were still angry, betrayed, disappointed. But in all this, you forgot to see that Bucky was trying; that he was carrying a little too much weight on his shoulders. It appeared that he had been tricked, too, and you were probably the only person who could – should – show him some support.

Bucky smiled sadly, his lips pressed together. You didn't know him long enough, but just as before you were able to sense that he wasn't angry at you, now you got the strong impression that there were processes going on in his head that could lead to dangerous consequences.

You joined the rest of the guests in a tent at the back of the house. They didn't notice your absence, or took it as perfectly natural – slipping away to satisfy some burning need; that maybe you couldn't wait any longer to fulfill your marital duty. You would have preferred it to be exactly that instead of new problems.

Although you didn't doubt Bucky's intentions anymore and believed that he didn't know about his uncle's ruse, there was this lingering sense of unease accompanying you all the time. Maybe it had something to do with the stress of the last few days, which had reached its zenith just today? Or would you have been able to relax at home, away from all those people?

During a seemingly endless conversation with Winnifred and Rebecca, you noticed that you had lost sight of Bucky. The last time you saw him talking to the man who had introduced himself to you earlier as Sam Wilson, but you couldn't pinpoint when exactly that was – fifteen minutes ago, but it might as well have been over an hour.

You decided to try not to panic. He was talking to someone again, this time out of your view, or holed up for a cigarette.

Somewhere outside the fence sounded the loud roar of an engine, followed by the screech of tires. A few guests stopped their ongoing conversations and listened for a moment, while the rest were not particularly concerned about the noise. You were not part of either group; anxiety suddenly grew to enormous sizes, turning your stomach inside out.

Someone touched your shoulder, and you immediately knew it wasn't him; Bucky would do it differently. You looked over and saw Michael – white as a sheet. “Can we talk?” 

You excused yourself, and Michael, keeping the appearance of being completely in control, led you into the house. You didn't ask what had happened – you sensed that something bad hung in the air. 

Michael brought you to Timothy's office. He, on the other hand, looked furious; he was sitting behind his desk, and there was a burning smell in the room.

“Your agreement.” He pointed to the desktop; to the charred scraps of paper resting on it and the ring – the same one you slid onto Bucky’s finger a couple hours earlier. 

At first your stomach dropped. He destroyed the agreement and left. And without Bucky, without the agreement, you were ruined. 

Despite the fact that you were terrified, you were not going to break down in front of Timothy. He had humiliated you enough. “Which one?” Having tilted your head to the side, you lifted your eyebrows. “There were two versions, right? Were you inspired by Rumlows with the second one?”

Your biting tone did not go unnoticed by Timothy. “You are acting very boldly for someone who will soon be left with nothing.”

Painfully aware that Timothy was right, you glanced at your secured future – burnt, useless. Not only that was burnt and useless; you and Bucky had burned all the bridges together; Bucky had first beaten Brock Rumlow, then humiliated John Walker and finally vanished into thin air himself. 

But why exactly did he do it? He didn’t listen to you and talked with Timothy anyway; there had to be something his uncle had to have done; something that pushed his limits, tipped his balance. Or maybe his sweet words meant nothing and he decided to show you that marriage really wasn’t for him?

“Looks like you're back on the market.” Timothy stated. “I'm really ashamed of what my nephew did to you, darling.”

Unable to listen to Timothy any longer, or even look at him, you turned to Michael. “Can we go home?”

“Certainly,” he answered in such a gentle, almost fatherly tone that you have never heard from him before.

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leaaa008 @itvy5601 @melsunshine @pattiemac1 @marvel-fandom23 @rabbitrabbit12321 @xsecretsirenx @heyyitsreign @xhollycowx @samfreakingwinchester @thrnlvr @samjuarezzz

[belokhvostikova]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing and playful mentions of religion.

In truth, Eddie Munson does not care if you're not into the metal scene. Though it wasn't until instances like last Friday, in which he truly realized just how little you knew, and he had a fucking field day.

It all began when you were propped on sore elbows and laying on your tummy, as his rough carpet scratched your skin, and you attempted to do your homework. Heavy on the "attempt" because Eddie Munson situated himself right next to you, and made it his life's mission to steal your attention.

Lifelessly, he'd plopped from his bed, a heavy grunt following, and landed right next to you. "C'mon, sweetheart, you've been doing that shit for hours." Ten minutes. It'd only been ten minutes. "It can't possibly be more entertaining than me." He pouted.

You merely giggled. "Eds, I'm trying to finish so I can hang out with you."

"Can't you just hang out now?" He huffed. "I mean, isn't that the whole point of, you know, coming over?"

You could only scoff with a smile. "Uh, if I'm not mistaken, it was you who said I could finish my work here." You stated matter of factly.

"Puh-lease." His dramatic sass always kicking in. "You and I both know, sweetheart, that I just said that to get you to come over." He spoke such truth so highly, it made you laugh. "Besides, wouldn't you rather be doing something romantic, like making out with your smokin' hot boyfriend while listening to music?"

"Oh, right, because your little punk music is so romantic."

It was then you heard the most conspicuous gasp ever uttered by Eddie Munson, as he sat up, hand over his heart, like he was in a corny soap opera. The way his large eyes grew even bigger had you reeling back your words to see where you went wrong.

Now, to any normal person, the obvious would have been the clear insult of calling his taste unromantic, but to a metalhead? Yeah, it was something completely different.

"'Punk music?!'" He reiterated with such bewilderment. "I do not listen to punk music!" You've never seen such offense and disgust consume his dramatic antics. It had you dying of laughter. "You think this is funny?!"

"Yeah, I do." You unabashedly answered with a giggle. "It all sounds the same, what's the difference?"

Your rhetorical question left Eddie Munson's mouth agape. "You are walking on thin ice here, missy." He pointed a finger, as if discipling you. "I am a metalhead! Not punk. Metal! C'mon, say it with me, me-tal-head."

You laughed incredulously, with a playful slap to his arm. "Shut up!"

"C'mere!" You squealed, as he manhandled you onto his lap, ready to teach you a lesson and because you were infuriatingly cute, gushing his insides with happiness, even if you misjudged his choice of music genres.

"Look." He redirected you to a peeling poster on his wall with a point to his finger. "You see him? You know who that is?"

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, Eddie, I know who Ozzy Osbourne is." You mocked with a bored voice.

"Good, because he's lesson number one." He put on his stern face, one that was used to mimic Ms. O'Donnell. "Me and Ozzy are a package deal; you date me, you date him."

"I can't date Ozzy Osbourne." You laughed at the obvious.

"That's right, so you worship him instead." He nodded his head in complete seriousness. "Right before you go to bed, I want you on your knees and praying to him. He's your god. An Ozzyist, if you will."

You laughed with pure joy, because, my god, you couldn't believe you got the bragging rights of dating Eddie Munson.

[the--blackdahlia]

Stomach Bug (Keaton!Batman x Reader)

Title: Stomach Bug

Summary: You've got a stomach bug. Bruce wants to help

Warnings: Just fluff

For @blackberries45

“Alfred, have you seen (y/n)?” Bruce asked Alfred. It was the afternoon, and he had expected to see you somewhere around the mansion, but couldn’t seem to locate you. Master detective at work.

“Mrs. Wayne is resting in one of the guest rooms. She has a stomach bug,” Alfred put a ginger ale, some crackers, and soup on a tray.

“Why is she in the guest room?”

“Something about not wanting to get you sick Master Bruce.”

“I literally run around Gotham during the rain and go down shady alleys. A stomach bug isn’t going to detour me,” He took the tray from Alfred and headed down the hall to the guest room. He quietly walked in. You were wrapped up in a fluffy blanket with a box of tissues right by you. You had the TV on, soap operas playing but you weren't really paying attention to them. Bruce sat the tray down on the dresser and walked over to the bed.

He gently placed a hand on your forehead, frowning when he felt how warm you were. Your eyes flickered at his cooler hands, finally opening and looking up at him.

“B-Bruce?” You sounded so hoarse. It made his heart hurt.

“How are you feeling babe?”

“Like absolute shit,” You groaned, not trying to sit up. You just snuggled more into your blankets.

“You didn’t have to leave our bedroom to sleep in here,” Bruce looked around at the room. “In fact, I don’t even remember the last time this room was used.”

“When we had that fight a couple of months ago,” You laughed a little, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit. Bruce climbed into the bed by you and helped you sit up.

“Alfred made you soup. And send crackers and ginger ale,” Bruce grabbed the glass and held it to your lips, letting you take a couple of large drinks. “I know you don’t want to eat, but I think you should at least try. You know how good Alfred’s soups are.”

“I guess I can try. But you don’t have to be here. I don’t want you getting sick.”

“Sweetheart, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now. Gotham will be fine without me for one night.” He got the soup and fed you. You made it about halfway through before you waved off the rest. Once he sat the bowl down, he had you wrapped up in his arms. He didn’t like how warm you felt, but he knew it just needed to work itself out.

“Thank you, Brucie,” You whispered, resting your head on his chest as sleep started to claim you again. Bruce couldn’t help but smile. He always did when you called him Brucie.

“I’d do anything for you,” He murmured, rubbing your back. “I love you so much.” He watched you sleep, knowing that he would do anything to take care of you.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

In Plain Sight: Tiana

summary: nathan does his best to support you.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader, f!reader’s mother (Tiana)

contents: this entire series is 18+, sick parent, parent death, grief, panic attacks, existential crisis, support!nathan

wc: 1,360

an: this one is a bit heavy so do heed the warnings. we also jump around in the timeline so it is important to have read previous parts or it won’t make much sense. be gentle with yourselves on this one

in plain sight masterlist | TIONB | planted | little hamlet

3 Weeks before To Atomize*

The day you told your mother about Nathan was one of her last good days. Many, many bad days came after. Celia— her nurse— sent you the usual report before you left to go home. It said that your mother had slept most of the day and gotten a burst of energy.

When you got home that day, she was propped up, watching some soap opera with mild interest. Seeing her genuine smile when you walked through the door had made your heart flutter.

You made her favorite tea, and brought a book to read though you really had wanted to talk to her, not at her. With working, taking care of your sisters, and her health you found that you didn’t get to do that much anymore. Talk with your mother, hearing her thoughts and opinions, her praises and suggestions. Feeling her intentional love. You crave it.

“Have you told your sisters?”

“No— I will. I wanted to tell you first.”

Her brows raise and teasingly she murmurs, “You’re serious about him.”

“I am,” You say through a laugh.

Her smile is so warm, like the sun, the corners of her eyes crinkling, “You love him.”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“But you could?”

“I could.”

“Don’t be afraid to.”

“That’s easier said than done, mama.”

She sighs patiently, shifting more on her side so that she can look directly at you, “Does he love you?”

You grow warm under her serious gaze. You don’t particularly like thinking about Nathan feeling more deeply for you. He’s assured you that he’s in this for the long haul— that he’s ‘spoken for’ but words and actions are very different things. He hasn’t done anything to show he words aren’t true…yet. “I think so. He acts like it.”

“Then let him.”

“Mama—“

“When you find a man that treats you the way you’re meant to be treated, you can’t be scared, darling.”

“But it’s scary.”

“You’ve done so many scary things in your life. You’ve watched my health fluctuate with a brave face. You’ve raised those girls out there. And now you’re on the cusp of falling in love. A beautiful girl with a beautiful heart. Everything will work out how it’s meant to.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not. Isn’t that more reason to grasp it while you can?”

“I don’t know mama, this is all so existential.”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything, mama.”

“Promise me you won’t waste the time. If you want him, if you love him, then don’t waste any time. When the time comes, let yourself as openly and honestly as you possible can. Promise me?”

“I promise.”

—

Present Day (5 months after Family Dinner)

“Honey?”

Nathan’s voice pulls you out of the haze that you seem to always be slipping into now that your mother is gone. It’s hard, not wanting to escape into memories so that it feels like she’s here.

You give him a wane smile, “Hey.”

“I’ve been calling you,” He says softly, sliding onto the couch beside you.

You sigh, shaking your head a little as if that’ll clear the fog, a task that you imagine will take years. “Sorry, I’m just…”

“I know, sweetheart. It’s alright,” He assures you, draping an arm behind you on the couch. His brows are pinched with worry— an emotion you’re still trying to get used to seeing on his face.

You sit up on the edge of the couch abruptly, looking around. Where’s your phone? Your laptop? “Wait, what time is it?”

“Almost 4.”

“I wasted my entire day here?”

“You didn’t waste it. You said you wanted some space, I gave it to you.”

“But this is the only day of the week that I stay this long anymore. You didn’t have to give me that much space.”

“There’s next week and the week after that…and the week after that. I could keep going but I hope you’re understanding our situation here,” He teases gently, running his hand over your back.

You lean out of his comforting touch, feeling guilty. “It’s not, I should be cherishing my time with you. Who knows when—“

He cuts you off immediately. He’s had this conversation with you multiple times since your mother’s passing. He doesn’t want you to focus on him— but on yourself and your sisters, on getting you all through this. “Hey, uh uh, don’t do that. Don’t go there.”

You’re already there. You’ve been there for weeks now. All you can think about is life slipping out of your grasp. Of not having the words or the feelings to make the time dwindling in front of you feel like it's enough. Your chest feels tight, and you scoot further away from him trying to keep yourself centered. Its futile attempt, everything’s all out of whack, you can’t find your balance, your emotions sway and crash around you unpredictably like the waves of a seastorm.

“But, it’s true. I could lose you today or tomorrow. I could lose you right now, you could have some fucked up brain vessel or something. You could choke o-or fall o-or– and Philippa, Emma–”

He cups your hands in his chest, brown eyes soft and desperate as he tries to calm you down. “Honey. I need you to take it down a notch and breathe, you’re gonna give yourself a panic attack.”

“I don’t— I can’t—“ You gulp frantically, feeling your breath grow shallow.

“She was sick,” He whispers, pulling you flush to his chest. “She was sick, sweetheart, there was nothing to be done. I’m healthy, I’m here— so are your sisters. We can get them check ups every month, get them checked out by oncologists as much as you want. Whatever you need to make you feel alright.”

“I feel like I’m going insane. How can having less to do and worry about make me insane?” You say through tears.

Nathan hates seeing you like this. He’s never hated anything more than seeing you in pain. He wishes he could take it away— he would do anything, pay any amount of money, invent any program if it meant that you could have some reprieve.

“Stop. You’re not insane, you’re grieving. Studies say there’s no right way— trust me I’ve looked high and fucking low for a methodology— but you’ve gotta take it as it comes, sweetheart. I’ll be here, right beside you the whole time.”

You’re quiet for a long time, letting Nathan hold you. He rocks you side to side, brushing soft, tickling kisses across your temple and forehead. You focus on the rise and fall of his chest, allowing your breathing to mimic his own. He’s warm and solid against you. He’s right here. Living and breathing and talking right beside you. He’s right here.

Finally you say, “I don’t want to take it as it comes. I want to feel okay again.”

“If I could make it so baby, I would,” He whispers, squeezing you a little tighter.

“I know. I’m sorry. Thank you Nathan.”

He cups your face, guiding your gaze to his own– its unyielding and firm. No nonsense. “You don’t apologize to me, alright? Ever.

He’s been more like that since your mom’s passing. More directive and firm, guiding and caring for you in ways that were necessary before. It’s exactly what you need right now. And sometimes, it has those butterflies settling in your stomach and heat simmering in your veins.

You refocus on him where your gaze had gone a little blurry. “Not even if I accidentally knee you in the nuts?”

Nathan pretends to consider your ridiculous question. “I shouldn’t have had my nuts where your knees are.”

“You may be the closest specimen to a perfect man.”

“I mean it honey, don’t apologize to me for this. I won’t accept it and I’ll yell you every single time.”

You raise a brow at him, “Yell?”

“Yell.”

“You’ve never yelled at me, not even when you were just my boss.”

“Maybe I’m exaggerating,” He allows, grinning at you mischievously.

“You are.”

“Maybe I’m not.”

“Trying to keep me guessing?”

He presses a chaste kiss to your mouth, and then another and another, addicted. “Always, baby.”

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller, @tenderhornynihilist, @queerponcho, @redcake333

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Request: Inigo Dragonov scenario where we (his darling) didn’t cave into remarrying him. (I guess this is like an alternative timeline from the original storyline). He was thinking about bankrupting our family, so aside from that, what if we also didn’t want to remarry him because we found a new lover (that even his private investigators didn’t know about). And to make it even more soap opera drama like, our new man is Inigo’s old university rival (who’s still also his company’s rival). I’m sorry…I just love these tropes/cliches. What makes it even ❤️provokingly❤️ worse is if his rival were just to see Inigo across the street one day on an outing with us and our twin babies…and just kiss the babes while pulling us into an embrace…all while keeping a long deadlock stare with Inigo. Like DUSKGSJOSLHWJJJWJ!!!!!!!!! Unleash Inigo’s full yandere potential after being forced to witness this!

Yandere! CEO! Arranged! Ex-husband x AFAB! Ex-wife! Reader

WHAT IF: You refused to marry him?

Ooh anon, you're the worst (lovingly). You really want Iñigo to suffer huh?

Once more, I'm delving into Iñigo's lore because fun fact, Rowan may be my first yandere OC, but Iñigo had a whole novel just exploring him and his actual partner, Ykaidi! (I unpublished it on Wattpad though, it's so cringe lol. Also, there's so much stuff I changed so technically, the original timeline IS an au in itself) So this will be a good creative exercise to explore his personality more.

He's one traumatized bitch.

No?

Did you really say no?

Iñigo scoffed before tilting his head to the side, a bit bewildered.

"This..."

Words died down in his throat as he saw your resolute face.

"A-are you sure you don't want to marry me? I told you that the children needs a father figure in their life."

He somehow got a bad feeling about this. And that proved right as you gave him a soft smirk.

"They do, actually. It's not you though."

Iñigo felt his blood run cold.

His ears started to ring from the shock he received.

"You..." You have another man? That was not... Him?

How could that possibly be?! He always made sure that his private investigators would know each and every single one of the people that you spoke to back in New Zealand.

He should rethink his choices right now.

"But, Elise and Elliot needs their biological father. I am their bio father!" Iñigo yelled, his jaw ticking. But you only rolled your eyes.

"Did you think I would take into account on going back to you?!" You screamed, marching up to him and pushing him back. Your heart squeezed in pain as it pumped to accomodate the anger rising inside of you. "You neglected me. Insulted me in ways I don't even hear from my parents!"

You stomped one step, as if crushing his heart in pieces.

"Why would I come back to you?" Your voice, crackled with the pent up anger, gave a raw, intense tone of rage that echoed your beating heart. "You must think I'm stupid if I'll run to you."

Iñigo's vision swam, breathing heavily as he felt small, pressured....

Intimidated.

He never took account of you moving on and hating him to the point of getting another man. But you did. You did what he thought was impossible.

"Sweetheart... Please..." His tone was getting desperate, clawing at the seams to make sure he won't burst from the emotions he's feeling.

Iñigo is an emotional man. Yes, he may seem cold hearted and reserved, but when it comes to you, it's different.

His hand trembled, wanting to grab your hand to rest upon his cheeks and place a shackle on it.

"I'm going." You whispered before walking out of him.

~~~Two weeks later~~~

It's been hell in Iñigo's company. He's working his employees like dogs to create the best fashion company out there.

Whatever that means.

But all he knows he needs to outrank the Smith's when it comes to the Fashion influence across the world.

He needs to outrank you.

He needs to be more popular.

More rich.

More influential.

He drank another coffee, letting the coffee dribble down his chin and onto the hardwood table.

"Indigo, I think you need to take a break." Oliver said, using the nickname he's been using since he was a child. Iñigo looked up and saw Oliver holding up a mirror, reflecting how bad Iñigo looked.

"Wow, way too drive the nail further. Fuckhead." Iñigo glared at Oliver before shaking his head and standing up. "Alright. I'll go for a walk, Livi."

Iñigo went to the bathroom, fixing his appearance, shaving a bit, and adding light makeup to his face, just to hide the circles on his eyes.

Damn, he even knew how to apply makeup just to impress you, the fashion icon you are.

His tongue stung, remembering when he called you frumpy.

He got down through the elevators and walked towards the park. His steps heavy and straightforward. He ignored the stares he got, some shocked, some flirty, but he didn't mind them.

Because once he looked up to cross the street, his eyes widened seeing you and...

"Steven..?"

Steven. He knows him so well.

He's an academic rival back then in highschool and college, and now a business rival too.

He also can't believe he's now a love rival also?

Iñigo always remained victorious between them, with Steven simmering in second place.

But Steven only laughs, rolls his eyes and moves on.

He hated that part of him.

But now, it seems that Steven is leading in one aspect.

And it's you.

Steven looked around, sightseeing before landing on Iñigo.

Both froze, unsure of what to do.

But this time, Steven smirked and pulled you close, kissing your temple lovingly then scooping Elise and Elliot into his arms, laughing as they giggled in Glee.

People awed at the sight, seeing this "father" play with his children and being openly affectionate with his "wife."

The perfect family.

Iñigo feels like he's looking into the spotlight, looking into a pedestal that looked too far from his reach.

He wanted to break the hands that affectionately caressed your hips, to tear the lips that kissed your temple, to break the ankles that dared walk up to you.

He felt something crack inside him.

Sure, he won't use violence.

On you.

But, the prospect of Steven dying in his arms, torturing him for hours sounds delightful.

He finally snapped.

He's not afraid of blood, nor guts nor any of that gorey stuff.

He got his yandere side from his biological father after all, not Allastor. It was never Allastor, after all, he's a really sweet man.

He could never spawn a devil in hiding.

And, as Iñigo walk away to buy the necessary items to torture Steven, he smirked.

"Business be damned. I'm taking what's mine."

[reve-writes]

—boxed dye; todoroki touya.

ʚ todoroki touya x reader | my hero academia | 0,5k words. ʚ helping touya with dyeing his hair. ʚ established relationship; fluff. ʚ a/n short fluffy touya because i'm finally catching up with the bnha anime.

Touya thought he might fall asleep, despite the putrid chemical smell coming from the hair dye. You were lathering a generous amount of it on his hair, massaging it into his hair strands.

“Your roots are showing," you had told him when he arrived at your apartment that evening.

He grinned, pulled you towards him by your waist and peppered you in kisses. “Dye them for me, sweetheart?”

You hummed in-between kisses. “Of course.”

That was how he ended up on the carpet of your living room, head lulling to the side from drowsiness. You sat on the sofa with your knees open. He slotted himself in-between your legs, back towards you and let you slather the hair dye all over his scalp.

“Don't fall asleep, Touya,” you warned. Your gloved fingers combed through his hair. “You're going to get the dye all over my couch.”

The boxed hair-dye was in the hue midnight black. You absolutely didn't want it all over your beige couch. Perhaps you should've done this somewhere else.

He hummed sleepily. “I like it when you play with my hair.”

“You've mentioned it a couple of times before.”

He had. This was the nth time he had asked you to dye his hair for him. Well, more like you offered to. He didn't usually want to ask. Touya would let his hair grow out a little too long so you would eventually offer to help him.

“Touya, I'm serious. Don't fall asleep,” you warned, holding his head up so that it wouldn't smear any dye onto your sofa.

“Only because you asked.”

He entertained himself by stroking your legs, drawing indiscernible patterns all over your skin with his finger. You thought the hair dye was already applied evenly, so you pulled off the plastic gloves you were wearing and stood up to throw them away.

Touya let out a sound of protest.

“You're so dramatic.” You rolled your eyes but a grin was plastered across your face. “I'll only be a minute.”

“You love my dramatic flair,” he retorted. “Fourty minutes, and you'll help me wash this off?”

Forty minutes passed in a blur of television soap operas. Touya shed his shirt when he stepped into the shower. Your bathroom was small for one person, let alone two, but you squeezed into the shower after him. You had one of his old t-shirts on, one neither of you would mind getting stained.

He dragged in a plastic stool and sat down facing you. You held the showerhead over his head with one hand, while the other combed through his hair.

Touya really might fall asleep when he felt the warm water trickle down his back. Especially when you were running your hand through his hair to wash the dye out. You popped open his bottle of shampoo, but he held your wrist.

“Can we use your shampoo? It makes my hair softer. Smells like you as well,” Touya asked.

How could you say no to that? “Okay. You're lucky I love you or else I would never let you have my precious shampoo.”

He gave a lop-sided grin. “I love you, too.”

[ ]