#toilet paper roll challenge

[coolstufftobuyinc]

Tic Tac Toe Toilet Paper Holder

Check out more Cool Stuff at CoolStuffToBuyInc.com

[logansbookobsessedwife]

Pt.2 of my Hugh Jackman x Interviewer!reader

you all loved this https://www.tumblr.com/logansbookobsessedwife/758358027341545472/hi-may-i-request-hugh-jackman-x-femreader-were so here is part two!!

Summary: you and Hugh have been dating for 3 years now and you both have loved every second of it until Hugh takes you on a date for your anniversery and proposes! you say yes ofc but on your wedding night Ryan is best man and in his speech he tells the guest all about how he was match maker and how Hugh was smitten about you as soon as he saw you.

warnings: Flufff!!! Slight language I think (btw I am not very good at writing Ryans sense of humor I love it but I am not very good at writing it but I will try.) :)

Proposal Time

Tonight after a long day of work the door to your and Hugh’s shared home.

As you walked in all the lights were of with only the moon and stars shining as bright as ever threw the windows

‘Weird.’ You thought as you walked further in the moonlit room you called your boyfriend’s name “Hugh?”

“…..” you are met with silence and you get more and more concerned and confused by the minute.

You went to turn on the living room lights as you walked in as the room lit up you were met with Hugh sitting up in a chair surrounded by cameras and a board that said ‘Hugh’s talk time’

As you walked further in he lifted a microphone to his plush lips and spoke loudly and said “And here is the guest of honor the one and only beautiful Y/N L\N!!”

You giggled as you walked over to his outstretched hand and took it as he sat you in the chair behind him

You asked him silently with your eyes ‘what is this?’ He gave you a look that screamed mischief as he spoke towards the camera

“Today we are interviewing Ms.L/n about her life.” You decided to play along “I’m so excited shall we get started?” You say with a quiet giggle

That sound makes Hugh’s eyes soften “of course!”

You both have fun with him pulling out note cards and Imitating your job as you answer the questions some absurd and some sweet like

‘How do you set the toilet paper roll’

Or

‘Your favorite restaurant’

Your favorite by FAR was ‘which one of our memories is one you would never want to lose?’

As it went on you finally reached your last question…

“So this is my last question for this interview are you ready?” Hugh asked you with a gentle smile.

“Hit me.” You chuckled lightly

He stood up gently and got down on one knee in front of you with a beautiful emerald ring

you gasped and covered your mouth as unshed tears blossomed from your eyes.

Hugh started to speak with the same tears

“My love,

From the moment we met three years ago, my life changed in ways I never imagined. You've been my partner, my confidant, and my greatest joy. With every laugh we've shared and every challenge we've overcome, my love for you has only deepened. We've built a beautiful journey together, filled with memories that I cherish more than anything. And today, as I stand before you, I realize that there is no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with. You are my home, my heart, and my forever. Will you continue this journey with me, hand in hand, for the rest of our lives?

Will you marry me?” His voice was raw with emotion the whole time while looking at you with hopeful eyes that shown love and affection

“YES!!! Yes of course!” The tears finally shed

He got up put the most beautiful ring on your finger than pick you up and spun you both around as you joyous laughed bounced off the walls

He set you down and gave you a deep sensual kiss and you melted into it after he pulled away he rested his forehead on yours and whispered “I wanted to propose doing what we did when we first met.”

You gave him another soft peck while murmuring “It was perfect! I love you so much!”

He looked at you with so much affection as he hooked his hands under your thighs and ran to your bedroom and threw you on the bed and got on top of you “I want to show you just how much I love and worship you.” He breathed a smile.

….lets just say he truly did😉

- - - - -

Weddings Day

Today was the day…

You were so nervous you thought you might throw up not because because you were scared it was because you were overflowing with love and excitement with the knowledge that you were getting married

You hadn’t seen Hugh sense last night when you went separate ways you went Blake and some of your other girlfriends and Hugh went with Ryan and some of his other friends

As your friends were getting you ready to walk down the aisle to your handsome groom

You had chosen a simple wedding with a wood and plant themed look. it was out side In a beautiful field

the room was bubbling with excitement and laughter.

Blake was doing your makeup with you in your robe as you had yet to put your dress on.

She was the first person you told about your engagement as she was your maid of Honer and you had been close as soon as you met.

“You nervous?” Blake asked with a soft voice as she finally finished your hair and makeup

You went for a bun with a braid going into it with a flower piece on the bun and a simple makeup look that looked effortless but beautiful

“Oh hell yeah.” You breathed a nervous laugh.

“Don’t be you look gorgeous even though Hugh would think you were the most stunning woman in the world if you were dressed in a garbage bag and your hair was a rats nest so..”

Her humor calmed your nerves a little bit as she helped you up in order to get your dress on you I was a beautiful of the shoulder long sleeve dress with a corset bodice and intricate designs

After you finished getting ready you looked towards her and asked how you looked she looked at you with tears in her eyes and whispered “Beautiful.”

One of your other friends popped her head in and looked at you with a sweet smile and said they were ready

You walked out of the room and was met with Ryan he was walking you down the isle sense you and your parents didn’t have a good relationship and didn’t approve of you marrying and man so much older than you only like 16 years older

He looked at you and smiled gently as you hooked your arm with this

“You are doing so much better than him we should have made him shower twice and double his deodorant with how much he is probably gonna sweat just saying not my fault if he smells like a gym!”

You giggled as you walked to the entrance of the isle

Hugh’s POV:

He’s standing there at the altar nervous yet love filled emotions waiting for the woman of his dreams walk down that isle.

Blake and your brides maids take turns walking down the isle along with his grooms men

You both had choose James (Ryan and Blakes eldest daughter) to be flower girl and then you had a little nephew who was to be ring bearer

And soon you were here

As the music begins to play and the doors slowly open, his breath catches in his throat. The world around him fades, leaving only you—his bride—radiant and breathtaking. His heart pounds in his chest, a mixture of overwhelming love, joy, and awe filling every corner of his being.

Tears well up in his eyes as he watches you take those first steps toward him, your dress flowing gracefully, your smile lighting up the entire room. Every memory of the past three years rushes through his mind—the laughter, the late-night talks, the promises you’ve made—and he’s struck by the realization that this moment, that you, are everything he’s ever dreamed of.

His lips curve into a smile, wide and uncontrollable, as he wipes away a tear. There’s an indescribable warmth in his chest, a deep, profound gratitude that he gets to spend the rest of his life with the person who stands before him now.

As you draw closer, he can hardly wait to take your hand, to vow his love and devotion in front of everyone they hold dear. In that moment, he knows that this is the beginning of forever, and nothing has ever felt more right.

- - - - -

The Reception

The ceremony was beautiful everything went perfect your vows were beautiful and maybe Hugh was a little early on the kiss but nothing has been better

As you and Hugh have had your first dance, already cut the cake, and have played some fun games

Now it was time for the speech’s so far all of them were sweet and funny and now it’s Ryan’s turn it was going to be the last one and in his opinion the best one

He walked up to the stage and pulled out his speech paper that had fake dust that he blew off of it as everyone laughed as well as you and Hugh’s extra roll of the eyes

“Ladies and Gentlemen,

If you don’t know me, I’m Ryan Reynolds. If you do know me, you probably also know that I’m here today with an important announcement: I’m not just the best man; I’m the mastermind behind this incredible love story. That’s right—Hugh Jackman and Y/n l/n owe their beautiful relationship to my unparalleled matchmaking skills. You’re welcome.

Let me take you back three years. Hugh and I were in the midst of our *Deadpool and Wolverine* press tour. Picture it: I was dazzling with my usual charm, and Hugh was being his perfectly sculpted, impossibly charming self. Then came Y/n the interviewer who walked in and instantly captivated us both.

I had the privilege of meeting Y/n first. She was engaging, smart, and had a laugh that could brighten anyone’s day. I was so impressed that I knew she was the kind of person Hugh should get to know. So, naturally, I pulled a little trick out of my sleeve.

During the interview, I made a casual comment that could only be described as a shameless nudge. I might have said something like, "Hey, Hugh, why don’t you ask Y/n out? She’s way too amazing to just let walk out of this room without a date proposal.” Hugh, being the good sport he is, took the bait and, as smooth as ever, asked her out on the spot.

And guess what? It worked! Not only did Hugh get a fantastic date, but he also found his soulmate. I’d like to think that I’m the unsung hero in this love story, the puppet master behind the scenes. Let’s face it—I’m basically the reason you’re all here today.

So, Hugh and Y/n, thank you for making me look good. Y/n, thank you for saying yes to Hugh and for making the last three years of his life so extraordinary. And Hugh, you’ve found someone who matches your heart, your humor, and probably your ability to rock a tuxedo.

Let’s raise our glasses to the couple who prove that sometimes, the best love stories start with a little friendly manipulation and a whole lot of heart.

Cheers to the bride and groom!”

“CHEERS!” The crowd replied with happiness

You and Hugh looked at each other knowing that this was going to be a good life



Thank you all for your support

Much love,

Natt❤️

[harlowsbby]

Shopping Chronicles 💘

Requested, shopping sprees with Jack or just shopping with him in general.

“How many more stores baby? We’ve been shopping all day I didn’t even know you could shop this much.” He sighed and huffed but nonetheless followed behind you.

Jack decided to take you on a little shopping spree before the two of you left the house you told him that the only rule for today was that he couldn’t complain but he still managed to break that rule.

“Are you complaining? And what did you expect you said you were taking me on a shopping spree so obviously ima get things that I need.” You told him.

“And things you don’t need like do you really need more skims? and more makeup? You have so much already!” He complained. You glared at him and rolled your eyes.

“We just need to stop at target and then we can get some food because I’m getting hungry.” Jack picked up a bit at the mention of target.

“Let’s get going then I think we stopped at every store in the mall.” He said and the two of you made your way outside to the car.

Luckily Target was only a few feet away from the mall so you both made it there within five minutes you took a shopping cart while Jack took the lead.

“What are we getting from here?” He asked you. “Let me pull out my list.” He went to roll his eyes but stopped when he saw you looking at him.

“Is there an issue Harlow?” You said with squinted eyes. He raised his hands in defense. “Nope I don’t have an issue not at all baby, so what’s on your list?”

“We need toilet paper, bleach, we need to restock on some snacks and I think that’s about it.” You told him and you started to push the cart to the cleaning section.

As you were looking through all of the cleaning products Jack wandered off and ended up getting a shopping cart of his own, he figured if you were going to get what you wanted he was going to get what he wanted too.

“I think that’s all and I sticked to everything that was on the list.” You spoke to Jack but when he didn’t answer you looked up and that’s when you noticed he wasn’t there.

“What the hell.” You mumbled and went to find Jack. You tried calling him but he wasn’t answering.

“Jack!” You called out for him which earned you a few stares from other customers that were shopping.

“Jack! Where are you?!” You yelled out. “Over here!” He yelled back.

“What is he doing.” You mumbled and took your cart and followed where the sound of his voice came from. When you eventually made your way around the corner you had to pause at the sight In front of you.

There stood Jack at the register with a cart filled with a bunch of random things. “What the? What is all of this junk.” You asked him.

You walked to his cart and started moving things around all you saw was sweat pants and candies and chips and video games and a new Apple headphone set.

“My things.” He proudly stated with his chest puffed out the cashier that was ringing everything up chuckled at his response to you.

“And who said you can get all of this? I thought we came here to get what we needed.” Your hands were now on your hips if Jack wanted a challenge he was going to get one.

“Uh I did if you can go around all day buying whatever you want I can do the same thing baby.” You smacked your lips.

“Whatever Harlow you’re so childish sometimes.” He laughed. “I know you are but what am I.” He sassed back.

You rolled your eyes and went to the self checkout lane to check out everything you had gotten on your own.

After Target you both headed over to Pets Smart Jack needed to get a few things for Molly (fake dog name since he don’t wanna give up his actual dogs name.)

You coo’d at Molly has she fell asleep in your lap. “If I was a dog would you still love me?” You asked Jack.

“Hmm I don’t know I mean if you turned into a dog what would I even do with you? You’d be useless.” He covered his mouth with his hand to stop himself from laughing.

“Are you serious?” You stated. “That’s insane you know that if you were a dog I’d play with you and still love on you wouldn’t you want my love still if you turned into a dog?” You watched him intensely as if you were dating him to say the wrong answer.

“I get my love from Detroit like Skilla Baby so why would I need your love?” Your jaw flew open and Jack couldn’t help but to double over in laughter.

“I’m just joking baby I promise it’s a joke a little joke.” He chuckled as you rolled your eyes. “Whatever just hurry up and get the stuff for Molly because I’m hungry.”

When Jack was finally finished the two of you made your way over to McDonald’s it wasn’t the ideal meal but it put something in your stomach.

“You know I actually enjoyed today didn’t you?” You asked Jack and he nodded his head.

“Well my bank account might need to take a break for two or three days maybe even a month but I did have fun with you baby.” He joked and you shoved him.

“Thank you though I appreciated today.” You smiled and leaned over your seat to press a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re welcome baby, I love you.” “I love you too Jack.”

[oftenwantedafton]

ransom | steve raglan x female reader

rating | explicit

part 2/?

words | 4.2k

cw | kidnapping, captivity, restraints, sexual content

ao3 link

When you awaken, you find yourself alone in the motel room bed.

You’re now facing the window, apparently maneuvering in that direction sometime during the night. The blinds are still closed, of course. And you’re still bound.

You blink, shifting onto your back. You’re surprised at how well you’ve slept. Maybe it’s more from exhaustion over what you’ve endured over the last several days than any attributes of your current environment.

“Good morning.”

Steve’s voice greets you quietly. You sit upright, grimacing over the feel of your restrained wrists and ankles. Your captor is seated at the kitchen table, already dressed in his typical business attire. He looks solemn today. Not upset, not threatening, merely subdued.

“You slept well.” It feels like a statement rather than a question and you nod.

“You didn’t,” you return. The skin beneath his eyes is dark and puffy.

He shrugs, dismissing your observation. “I’ve got the bathroom set up for you. I’ll wait outside the door this time. Don’t try anything.”

You consider these statements, wondering what had changed between last evening and now. “Alright,” you agree.

He steps closer to the bed. His fingers move deftly, his eyes focused on his work. He begins at your ankles and then moves up to your wrists. You haven’t stopped staring at his face, noticing he’s pointedly avoiding your gaze.

“Did something happen?”

The last knot is unfastened and he draws the rest of the cord free, still refusing to make eye contact. “Not what you’re hoping for.”

No ransom yet, then. But that didn’t really account for the older man’s behavior.

You take a moment to massage your joints before you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand. He doesn’t grasp your arm as he usually does, allowing you to walk to the bathroom on your own. You close the door behind you, still wondering why things feel so different this morning. You consider the window that’s frustratingly out of your reach. Your fingertips just brush the bottom of the windowsill. You’d need something to boost you up higher. You think, if you were able to close the distance, you could squeeze through. A quick check underneath the sink reveals only a spare roll of toilet paper. Nothing there to help you, either. Of course that’s what Steve had really meant by getting the bathroom ready for you; making sure there were no means for you to escape now that he’s letting you be unsupervised.

You sigh, resigned to your fate, for now, completing your morning routine, your hygiene attended to, dressed in a fresh set of clothing. It’s actually the last such set; you’ll need to figure out soon if laundering your garments is on the itinerary, because there’s no way you’re going to keep putting the same things on over and over, especially not your underwear. You crack the bathroom door open to find Steve seated at the kitchen table, picking at a chip in the surface. His head lifts briefly to note your appearance, his eyes skittering over your features.

“I’m going to go get breakfast.”

You pause on the threshold of the bedroom, considering this statement. “Can I come with you?”

“No.”

“Come on, please? I need some fresh air.” You really are craving it. The air in the room is stale. You have no desire to be trussed up again, either. The respite has been far too brief.

“No,” he repeats firmly. “Sit down so I can retie you.”

You slump dejectedly into the seat across from him. “Are you going to tell me what’s up, or are you going to keep moping?”

“I’m not moping.” He makes no move towards you. His fingernails—neatly trimmed, the cuticles perfectly sculpted—have managed to lift a corner of the cheap surface free, revealing the particleboard beneath.

“You won’t even look me in the eyes.”

The older man surrenders to this challenge, the icy blue eyes lifting to finally meet your gaze. Guilt. That’s what it is. You doubt he’s having second thoughts about kidnapping you. It’s clearly something else that’s driving this change of mood. So what is he remorseful about? What had happened last night while you were sleeping?

“What happened?” You ask aloud, peering at the man’s features. His brow has been furrowed all morning, the creases bordering the corners of his eyes deepening. You know there are dimples hidden in the corners of his mouth, but there’s no humor to reveal those divots now.

“Nothing. I already told you.” His voice is gritty and low.

You fold your arms across your chest, challenging him. “Yeah. So you keep saying. And I don’t buy it.”

The broad stretch of shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “It doesn’t really matter if you do or not.” He stands abruptly, the chair dragging across the floor with a groaning sound of protest. The restraining ropes have reappeared from seemingly out of nowhere, now clutched in his hands.

“Already? Can’t I have a little more of a break? I’m getting bruises,” you protest, unfolding your arms and pointing towards a purple stain across the skin of one forearm.

“No, you can’t. We’re on a schedule. And you’re injuring yourself because you’re struggling. Stop resisting and you won’t get hurt.”

You let your wrists fall in your lap, waiting. He drops to one knee, binding your lower extremities, his face lifting as he finishes to find you watching him intently. There’s a tension in the air, palpable between you.

“Put them behind you.”

“You put them there.” You don’t know why you’re being so obstinate this morning. Maybe it’s because of the man’s altered demeanor. Something about it makes you want to challenge him. There’s a chink in his armor, a crack you want to worry open further.

Reckless, you know, because you’re fairly certain the gun is tucked at his back, or is somewhere nearby, within reach. You still don’t think he’d harm you, but you don’t really know for certain, do you?

His fingers reach for one of your wrists just as you move your hand, and your fingers collide. It should have been a brief, brisk movement, but instead it becomes more of a caress, a drag across his much longer fingers and the wide span of his palm. That gentle touch does something to you, igniting a flame deep inside. It feels good, even though it shouldn’t, even though you should be recoiling and he should be cold and dispassionate. You’re a pawn, a bargaining chip, just a means to an end that will result in a large payout. You know this, and yet you let your fingers linger against that warmth, their backs stroking his undersides. In actuality it all happens very rapidly, over nearly as soon as it had begun, but it feels longer, that unintentional contact dragged out further with the huff of breath that escapes the captor and your answering sharp inhale. At last those digits close over the joint, purpose realized once more, and you allow your arm to be effortlessly maneuvered around the back of the chair, the process then repeated for the other side, minus the lingering touch.

He doesn’t speak again as he gathers his things, departing without so much as a farewell or admonished reminder to ‘behave.’ You exhale loudly once he leaves, your tensed shoulders slumping. What the hell was that, anyway? Why had he touched you that way? Why had you touched him back in the same manner? And why the hell was your body suddenly so warm and tingling? You’d spent the night in bed with him, his body inches away, and you’d hadn’t felt like this then.

You halt on that thought, pondering. He’d been acting normal, or at least like what you’re accustomed to in your brief time together, when you’d both gotten into bed. It was definitely something that had happened after that. Something during the night.

The bearded man returns a short time later, interrupting your musings, the latest shopping haul set on the table. A pack of miniature boxes of cereal, the kind that you used to enjoy when your family went camping, ages ago. There are also half gallons of milk and orange juice, a loaf of bread, and jars of peanut butter and jelly, plus a box of plastic spoons, and packages of paper cups and plates. There’s no toaster in the motel room, so the bread is likely going to be served as is, but you’re still looking forward to eating, your appetite keen once again.

“Are you going to feed me again?”

Steve pauses midway through slathering pieces of bread with the contents of the jars using the back of a plastic spoon. “No.” He gestures towards the boxes of cereal. “Pick one.”

You survey the options before opting for frosted corn flakes and he mirrors your choice, setting the others aside. A pocket knife appears seemingly from nowhere—you have no idea how he does it, producing these concealed things so readily—and he uses it to cut an opening in the side of each box and through the plastic bag lining the inside, lifting the flaps of each aside and then pouring milk into the opening.

“Huh. I never knew you could do that,” you murmur as he places one of the improvised bowls in front of you.

“My kids used to love them that way along with the Saturday morning cartoons,” he reminisces, and you glance at him, surprised. Wondering where those children are now. Likely adults themselves. And his wife. What did she think of all of this? Did she know her husband was a kidnapper and an extortionist? No ring on his finger. Part of the disguise? Left at home safely?

He noticed you looking at his hands, apparently guessing your thoughts. “Divorced,” he says shortly.

“Oh.” You’re not sure how to respond to this declaration. Why it could possibly matter.

Once everything else is set up, he stands and moves behind your chair. Only one hand is freed, but still, it’s progress.

“So you trust me now?” You swallow a sip of juice and then take a bite of what’s become a pb&j sandwich while he digs into the makeshift bowl of cereal in front of him.

“I wouldn’t say that precisely. I suppose you have earned some,” he replies, sounding a bit cautious.

Weird. He’s still off. You don’t get it, but you’re not going to complain about this newfound freedom. You finish consuming everything set in front of you, wondering if he’s going to tie you back up again. If you’re going to be stuck sitting in this damn uncomfortable chair until bedtime.

As if once again sensing your thoughts, he shakes his head. “I’ll take you for a walk. Briefly. Out back. You’re not to speak if we do happen to encounter anyone. You cooperate, and I won’t have to restrain you quite so thoroughly. Understood?”

“Yes.” You’re surprised. You didn’t think he’d actually allow you this kind of acitivity. Was it really that easy to wear him down?

Your wrists are fastened together in front of you after the table is cleared and your legs freed. Steve drapes a hoodie over your hands to conceal the restraints and make it seem as if you’re merely carrying a jacket in case you catch cold. His hand is back in its familiar placement on your upper arm again, maneuvering you through the door. The room you’re staying in is one over from the end, so it’s a quick walk to reach the rear of the building. There’s not much to see when you round the corner. The landscaping isn’t well kept. It’s mostly wild overgrowth that lines the border of the asphalt. But you still appreciate it, grateful for the fresh air and direct sunlight. You savor that feeling of near freedom, however teasing it might be. It feels good to stretch your legs. You don’t encounter anyone, so your captor needn’t have worried about you appealing for help.

After a couple of laps along the length of the one story building you’re guided back to the room. Steve allows you to sit on the bed. Your wrists are still bound, but at least your legs are still free. You channel surf while he settles at the kitchen table again. You feel his eyes on you. Before he was going out of his way to avoid looking; now he won’t stop. You wish he’d make up his mind.

“Where are we going, after this?”

He folds the newspaper he’d picked up along with breakfast earlier, apparently finding nothing of interest. “One more stop. Cabin. That’s where you’ll stay until your father pays up. You’ll have a room to yourself,” he adds.

“Why bring me so far away? You’re just going to have to take me back again as soon as you get the ransom.”

“Because your father undoubtedly has people looking for you. Not the authorities, of course, because that would mean drawing scrutiny I’m sure he’d rather avoid. Any interception from those men your father has likely employed would mean we don’t get paid, thereby defeating the entire purpose of this venture.”

You’re not naive; you’re not going to pretend you don’t know that not every aspect of your dad’s business is above board, but Steve makes it sound downright sinister.

“I’d prefer this not end violently. But the outcome of all of this ultimately depends on him. If he cooperates, we’ll arrange a meeting spot. Somewhere in the middle. And then this will all be over.”

You know that last statement is meant to be reassuring, but there’s still an ominous edge to his words that makes you shudder. You turn your attention back to the game show on television, deciding to let your companion brood in silence for now.

***

Steve is getting restless.

He’d tried to get a different room, but the office attendant had declined, saying nothing was available. The check-in phone call that afternoon had gone much the same as the previous day. No news. The plan remains unchanged.

He isn’t sure whether he’s relieved or sorry for that information.

It has been a long, tense day between the two of you. He’s been trying to be reasonable, granting you more freedom than he probably should be. But you’ve made no move to escape since you’ve arrived, and even though that might be a trick to deceive him, he doesn’t really think you’re the duplicitous type.

He’s still trying very hard to forget about what had happened the previous evening, but the more he tries to deny it, the more suspicious he sees you becoming. He’s caught between wanting to stare and eager to look away; between wanting to touch you and keeping his distance, because he’s not sure he trusts himself, and despite what he’s told you, he’s not sure he trusts you, either. He’s spent the day looking for a middle ground, reminding himself the goal was nearly within reach, attempting to maintaining discipline and authority without being needlessly aggressive.

But once the sun sets, he finds those intrusive thoughts creeping back in again.

You’re properly bound once again after you’re done showering, because he’s not going to risk compromising the operation this late in the game, especially not for a paltry reason like being attracted to you. He’s not even entirely sure he hasn’t been a little too lenient with you today. That had been very risky, letting you outside. Allowing you to have more freedom of movement. Privacy. Slackening restraints. Penance, maybe. An apology of sorts.

Steve takes a long time getting ready for bed. Delaying in the shower. Sitting back down at the kitchen table. There’s nothing left to do. He’s already emptied most of the contents of the refrigerator and packed and loaded the car for the morning, leaving out one set of clothes for both of you to change into. There’s nothing left to do, yet still he stalls, prolonging the inevitable.

“Are you coming to bed?”

Your voice is soft. Like your hands. Not calloused like his own. He has working man’s hands. You’ve been spoiled all your life. Treated like a princess. And here he is, the villain of the story, come to steal you away.

He wants to say no, he is not going to lie in that bed beside you. He should sleep elsewhere. The car, maybe. But he has to keep an eye on you, doesn’t he? So there is no other option.

He rises, setting the cell phone down on the nightstand, the gun slipped beneath the bottom pillow. He sits on the edge of the mattress, leaning over to switch off the lamp, and then lies down, his movements stiff. He doesn’t bother drawing the sheet over the pair of you. You don’t mention it. Don’t say anything once he’s settled next to you. He remains silent.

He can tell by the rhythm of your breathing that you are not ready for sleep. Neither is he.

Neither, apparently, are the occupants of the room next door. There’s no mistaking the sounds that begin emanating from the adjoining space. One male, one female. Moaning. Cursing. The rhythmic creaking of the mattress.

“Are they…?” You begin to ask.

Steve groans in response. He’s clearly offended whatever deity holds sway over this planet. It can’t possibly get any worse than this. Can it?

“Gross,” you whisper.

The moans grow louder. He grits his teeth, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Hoping it will end soon. Maybe he should put the television on. Anything to drown out…

Finally, silence. He exhales a shuddering breath, offering up a prayer of gratitude to whomever might be listening.

“Well, she had an easy shift. He didn’t last long,” you quip, the mattress protesting as you attempt to shift positions.

Steve blinks. “Stop squirming. Lie still. And you don’t know that woman is a prostitute.”

“You should feel what this is like. Trying to get comfortable, being tied up on this shitty bed. I can feel the springs digging into me. And no, I don’t know that for a fact, but it’s pretty likely, right? This is hardly a romantic getaway spot.”

“I guess.” He relaxes his fingers, finding them aching from flexing them so tightly.

“I’m just trying to make light of an awkward situation. You know.”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna tell me what happened last night?”

He stiffens. “What?”

“Did it happen last night, too? When I was asleep? And you got embarassed?”

“I’m a fifty three year old man. I’m hardly embarrassed about sex at my age.” He pauses. He could just lie. Take the excuse you’re dangling in front of him and be done with it once and for all.

“You’re fifty three? Damn. I wouldn’t have guessed. You look good. For your age,” you add, but the pause between those two statements is very thick.

“Go to sleep,” he reprimands. “We have a lot of traveling to do tomorrow.”

You grow silent, and he closes his eyes. Then:

“Steve?”

“Yes?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“You need to. We both do.”

“I’m wide awake.”

“Yeah. Nothing I can do about that, though, is there?”

“You could tell me a story.”

The kidnapper barks a short laugh. “You want a bedtime story? Seriously?”

“I mean, if you’re going to be that way about it. Fine. Forget it. Goodnight,” you mumble, your words growing muffled as you turn your face sideways.

“Goodnight,” he says softly.

***

It’s still dark when Steve awakens.

His fingers immediately touch the gun. Secure. Everything is fine. Except…

They’re at it again next door. Maybe that’s what woke him up. You’re awake, too. He hears your breathing, too rapid, coming in short, needy little bursts. Your face turns, your mouth pressing against his shoulder. Your bound hands rest against his side, fingers splayed over the thin undershirt covering his ribs.

The bearded man curses. “Stop. Get back on your own side,” he hisses. He should have put a pillow between you. Something knocks against the wall from the other room. A hand slapped out, maybe, during the throes of pleasure.

You disobey, remaining where you are, your breath huffed warmly over his joint. He curses again and reaches out, meaning to push you away, but his fingers don’t cooperate, don’t land where he’d intended. His thumb strokes your bottom lip and his other fingers find your cheek and the sound you make at that contact echoes what’s happening on the other side of the wall behind the bed.

“Steve,” you whisper.

“No.” He’s still cradling your face. You shift and press your lips against the inside of his wrist.

The man moves then, blindly feeling in the darkness, straddling your frame, knees neatly locking around your hips, his upper body rocking downward, one hand grabbing your joined wrists and pinning them above your head, pressing them firmly into the pillow. His breath saws harshly in and out, mingling with your own gasps.

“No,” he says again. It doesn’t sound like a command. It’s pleading. He’s begging you to stop him. Just one word and he will. He’ll end this madness. Less easy to explain, unpleasant to deal with in the broad light of day tomorrow, perhaps, but at least it will have stopped before going any further. You don’t want this. You can’t possibly want this.

“Steve,” you say again, and it’s pleading as well. Your pelvis grinds up against him, searching, and that’s it, he’s lost, his face plummeting the last few inches until his lips meet yours.

“We’re not doing this,” he growls, nipping at your bottom lip, but his hips have other ideas, snapping down, creating pressure that’s both satisfying and grossly inadequate. The sounds next door have died down again, but he’s oblivious to anything other than the feel of your body writhing beneath his now. “We’re not doing this, do you understand me?”

You whimper. “Steve, I need…”

“Do you think I’m stupid? That I’m going to fall for this? Let my guard down and release you before I get paid? No. That will never happen.” Each phrase is interspersed with rough kisses along your neck and jaw.

“Please…”

“Please what? Hmmm? Please what? What do you want from me?”

“Touch me…”

One hand still pins your wrists overhead. The other slides roughly down your body, pausing to knead your breasts before slipping down to the waistband of your pajamas. Your hips arch up, driving his hand down towards your heated flesh. Your bound ankles don’t allow your legs to spread as much as he’d like, but he’s not about to pause to undo those restraints now.

“Is this what you wanted?” His fingers glide between the folds, dodging your clit for the moment, searching through all that slick arousal leaking from your pussy. His middle finger eases inside, muscles instantly clenching around him snugly. “Christ, you’re so wet. Tight…” He pumps that finger in and out several times before finally giving your swollen bud some much needed attention, his thumb pressing down hard and then sliding to one side, rolling and pressing on that bundle.

More needy sounds escape you, loud enough to be heard by the fellow motel occupants, and he covers your mouth with his again. He’s not sharing this with anyone else.

His cock is throbbing, leaking, begging to be released from his boxer briefs, but he’s too occupied with the pair of fingers that curl inside your wet tunnel, the thumb that rolls that pearl at the apex of your sex at varying tempos, testing to see what you like best. You writhe against his hand, helping him pluck inside and massage externally, bringing you closer to your release.

“Steve…fuck…”

Your teeth find his lower lip, a little too firmly. He tastes blood, but ignores it, nuzzling your cheek, tongue stroking across your ear as he coaxes you closer. “That’s it, come on, cum for me, you’ve got this, good girl.”

“Steve, oh my God, I’m cumming, Steve!”

It hits faster than he’d anticipated, and there’s no way the temporary neighbors haven’t heard you now, but he doesn’t care in that moment. You shake violently against him, spasms inside that ricochet throughout all of you limbs, twitching seizure-like.

“Fuck,” he pants beside your ear, finally removing his hand. It’s still coated with your fluids, which he smears over his cock, hand roughly shoved inside his underwear. There’s nothing drawn out here, just a rapid fuck into his dew covered fist, face tucked against your neck, a low moan escaping once his erection coughs up a several thick spurts of semen.

He finally relaxes his grip on your wrists, trying to extract his hand from the mess he’s created without spreading it further. He sinks down beside you, feeling his thudding heart gradually slowing, his breathing returning to normal. You turn on your side, squirming to get closer, your cheek resting against his chest. He needs to go get washed up, and you probably want the same. There are still a couple of bottles of spring water in the fridge. The last of the beer. He could use one of each, give you the other pair. His mind tracks down his next moves methodically, like it always does, but it keeps getting interrupted, his train of thought stuttering. He’s done something he shouldn’t have. There will be consequences. Repercussions. Maybe not quite so apparent now, but later, for certain.

He should be feeling regret, but he can’t quite bring himself to express it. Not yet.

Not tonight.

[pixiesfz]

Okay brutal to be hit with the transfer news and the angst… any chance you want to make a part 2 with a little “reunion” 👀 either reader transferring to a different NWSL team or maybe going to see Jessie since the WSL and NWSL are on breaks at different times, or just any happy redemption, I’m already hurting from the transfer and want some happiness

I am back from my holiday.

this may be a three-part series idk if I can restore their relationship this quickly.

hey there? j.f

plot: a year later you transfer to Gotham after not getting enough game time at Chelsea and you run into Jessie.

warning: angst

You sat on your mattress in your apartment with your hands in your lap as you fiddled with your fingers.

"Are you regretting it?" Sam asked as she sat next to you, Millie at the door leaning on the frame with her arms crossed.

You sniffed and wiped your nose, trying to stop your overthinking "no I know it's better for me” you declared as they both nodded “But I really am going to miss you guys" you admitted and Sam wrapped her arm around you "well if it makes you feel better you're already being forced to see us two more times for me and Mil's weddings" she shrugged.

"Does me moving affect my chance at best man?" you asked Sam who laughed "Oh c'mon you know you had that role in the bag" you laughed, leaning into her embrace.

"You'll do great at Gotham, they've offered you starting eleven and full 90 minute games plus, you've got some friends in the NWSL" Millie shrugged and you looked at her "I wouldn't call her my friend"

"It's been a year y/n/n you both have to talk about it and plus Sinclair loves you so much she'll go behind Jessie's back to help you out." You laughed at your friends very true comment.

"Kristie may have also threatened to hurt any of the Gotham girls if they mistreat you"

"Kristie!"

After that day Niamh volunteered to drive you to the Airport, there was silence. You and Niamh had become less close after Jessie told her what had happened but she soon figured out why you did it after the third match after she left, you had scored a goal and usually you would celebrate with Jessie.

Niamh watched your eyes gloss over when you turned around and remembered that the Canadian was gone. Niamh always stayed in contact with Jessie as the two were peas in a pod.

"does she know?" you asked softly in the car and Niamh nodded "She asked me if it was true and I said yes" Niamh told you and you looked out the window "what uhm- what did she say?"

"Y/n-" "I know" you cut her off "I'm sorry" you apologized, you couldn't dive into their conversations like that.

"She said that she missed you"

You sunk into your seat at your friends' words "Yeah well I miss her too".

You sat in your airplane seat in first class shortly after bidding Niamh goodbye, trying to get comfortable so that you could sleep but your mind was running about Jessie.

You had seen the comments that were left under your post where you had announced your leaving.

'is she moving for Jessie'

'finally her and Jessie will be reunited'

You rolled your eyes at the comments and turned off your phone.

You tried to sleep through the flight, waking up every now and then to go to the toilet.

When you finally landed you weren’t expecting anyone to pick you up but when you saw Christine Sinclair with a piece of paper that read your last name with a childish grin on her face you knew one of your friends from London had tipped her off.

You hugged her tightly when you saw her “I missed you y/n/n” she smiled and rubbed your head “I missed you too Chris” you sniffed and she grabbed your shoulders “excited to be in the NWSL?” She asked and you smiled

“A new challenge will be good” you shrugged and you began to walk to her car “Chelsea not doing you justice?”

“They like their new and shiny toys”

Christine smirked as she opened her trunk, you put in your luggage and jumped in the front seat.

“I don’t think I’ve driven you around since I had to pick you up from Jessie’s hotel room in friendlies” she joked and you turned your head.

Christine watched as you looked out the window “she told me what happened” she said and you looked at her “you don’t hate me?” You asked.

“Would I be here if I was”.

She smiled at you to ensure you that she did not in fact have a hatred for you “actually it made me respect you more even though I dealt with a heartbroken Jessie”

“I did what was best for her”

“Was it best for you?”

You shook your head “going to Gotham is best for me” you said and she nodded “I have a small confession to make” Christine said and you furrowed your brows “what?”

“I may have also sent Jessie to your house to help set you up”

You shot up in your seat.

You were not ready to see Jessie right now.

“Christine!”

“I’m sorry but we should just rip off the bandaid, I don’t want your first meeting back to be on the pitch” she defended as you both pulled in to your new house where another car was.

Jessie’s car.

Christine opened her side of the door and walked out to your side, tapping on you window which you rolled down slightly.

“Are you going to get out?”

“No”.

Christine rolled her eyes and unlocked the car door herself opening it and forcibly dragging you out of the car, you hoped Jessie wasn’t looking back.

“Does Jessie know it’s my house?” You asked as you walked to her car “I’m pretty sure it’s best if I don’t tell you that”.

You took a deep breath as you saw Jessie get out of her car “hey you said that-“ she started but stopped when she saw your figure next to her teammate.

“Hey there” you said softly and Jessie stood in her spot next to her car “hey” she muttered.

“Cool let’s go!” Christine clapped her hands together before making her way to your front door as you and Jessie still stood looking at each other.

[danosrosegarden]

Hey ur my favorote Eddie Nashton fic writer, if you're taking requests at all would you write something about reader throwing him a birthday party? I imagine he didnt get many in the orphanage :( Supposedly 7/21 is his birthday!

sweet tooth - edward nashton x gn!reader

{contains: brief mentions of past trauma but mostly fluff/celebrating edward :-)}

Edward got up for work early, when the sky was still a dark, milky blue-black and the air was still chill and silent.

40 today. He would rather not think about it.

He was perfectly fine with you forgetting. He could count on one hand the amount of happy birthday letters he had received in his four decades. He was fine without a stupid cake or colorful candles or glittering balloons. He was a fully grown man, not a selfish little child. Who needs them.

But while you're still sleeping in bed and he's putting on his jacket, getting ready to head out the door, he sees something shining on the kitchen counter. He walks over and sees a card. Sweeping, cursive letters and a drawing of a cupcake decorate the front.

It's Your Day!

The counter is bejeweled with small, glittering pieces of rainbow confetti. He doesn't notice that his hands are trembling as he opens the card.

Happy birthday, sweetheart. I hope this year is the year you flourish like never before.

I can't wait to celebrate you when you get home.

His stomach is churning as he places the card back on the counter and it stays twisting and turning throughout his day at work.

Not a single happy birthday, Edward! Not a card or confetti decorating his desk.

But you. You remembered.

He scoffs a laugh as you practically tackle him in a hug when he walks through the door.

"I'm so glad you're home, darling."

It takes genuine strength to blink back his tears as you shove a gift in his arms. It's wrapped in glimmering green paper.

He thinks of the orphanage as he tears it. He thinks of the children he shared a room with. He wonders where they are. How they could've bloomed like neon flowers in the beating summer sun if only they had been given a chance.

You looked worried as he peers at the gift: a thick book of crosswords.

"It's kind of stupid, but I thought you'd like it. It's supposed to be harder than the New York Times. I know you love a challenge."

He shakes his head and says nothing as he envelops you in a quiet, warm hug. You can feel his smile against your cheek and suddenly, it all is worth it. The nightmares that keep you both up and make your stomach cave in worry. The times you have to run your fingers through his hair and pat his back as he dry heaves into the toilet. The days where the world is too loud for him and his voice is far too quiet to fight back...it all is worth it if it means he could blossom with you. It wasn't easy, but getting to be a part of him would always be worth it.

You think of him, him in his entirety. His high, trembling giggle as he stumbled his way through a dumb joke. His compassion and dedication, the times he'd pick up market flowers for you or write you long, handwritten letters just because. The truth of the matter was that despite everything he had weathered, Edward Nashton was sweet. He was kind to you. He was yours, and there was nothing you'd trade that for.

Edward did not look forward to his birthday. He hardly remembered it when it rolled around each year. But then there was you. God, he never could've imagined that this would be his life. A life where he's celebrated, not crumpled like a piece of ruined paper and thrown away. A life where he's thought of and cared for, not just another number.

He is loved. That's all he could've wished for.

[strawberrysodaslut]

On the Road Again - Rockstar!Eddie Munson x GN!reader

tags/warnings: ~700 words // SFW, fluff, no use of Y/N, established relationship no descriptors for reader, sleep troubles, slight mentions of nausea and vomit as well as mentions of the standard toilet system in tour buses, in my writing world the bunks are big enough to fit you and eddie no matter what!

i wrote this for @corrodedcoffinfest’s writing event day 5 prompt as it has officially been the 5th of July for about 2 hours for me so.. yeah. I had fun writing this so i hope you enjoy!

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

You’d grown used to the quirks of the tour bus. It wasn’t easy at first. Eddie warned you about the difficulties when you first agreed to come with him on his band’s tour. Living on the road has its challenges, and the bus is as cheap as they could get it. But you’d survived 14 hour road trips, and this time you’d have the love of your life and, most importantly, a bed. How hard could it be?

It was fine, mostly. Although not ideal in the long run, relying on gas station snacks worked for now. The toilet had an odd design where you couldn’t flush toilet paper or any solid waste. Gareth proved this when he forgot and caused a lingering stench on the bus for 3 hours, but you could manage. What you weren’t prepared for was the disastrous effect it would have on your sleep.

At first Eddie; ever the man-child, called dibs on a top bunk. He assured you it would work fine, and while the bed had enough space, the swaying was so bad you almost vomited 3 times in two hours. Jeff only offered to trade after Eddie had convinced the group that the smell of vomit would be even worse than the Gareth incident.

Despite the warm welcome of your stomach settling once you were in the bottom bunk, you still struggled to get to sleep. It seemed every time you would drift off, the bus would make a sharp swerve, drive over what seemed to be the largest rock possible and crash back down, or enter complete road rage over another vehicle and blare the horn.

The next morning when you stopped at a gas station, the first thing you went for was earplugs.

It’s hard to say if the road conditions have gotten better the further on the tour you got, or if your body has gotten immune to disruptions. But, over time, it got easier to get a proper night’s rest.

Still, you dealt with the occasional jolt.

In all honesty, you hadn’t even realised you had fallen asleep. One minute you’re resting your head on Eddie’s lap, his fingers lazily stroking across your head, and the next you have the adrenaline of a caveman being hunted, shooting up into a sitting position and looking around for the source of your distress.

Your panic settles when you feel his warm hands on you. “Hey, hey.” He whispers, gently running his hands up and down your arms. “That was a big one, eh? It’s okay, come back to me, sweetheart.”

You angle your head to look at him. Judging by the deep croakiness of his voice and the light redness of his eyes, he must’ve fallen asleep as well. The constant shows taking a toll on him. He wears a bashful smile as he looks at you through his eyelashes.

Stretching your back, you let out a groan and look out the window, seeing the busy streets of the town where Eddie’s next gig was.

“Are we here already?You ask, looking back to see the other band members staring out the windows like you.

Jeff stifles a laugh. “Already? You slept for four hours.” He says, gingerly pointing to the clock above his head.

He was right. It was almost 4 o’clock, four hours was being charitable.

“Huh,” you say, turning to your boyfriend, who was rubbing his eyes in earnest. He scrunches his nose as rolls his shoulders back slightly. He has less freckles now that he’s not in the sun as often, his under eyes darkened to the point of needing to buy concealer for shows. Yet you still think he’s the most beautiful man in the world.

When he notices you staring at him, Eddie flashes you a smile before wrapping his arms around your waist to turn your back to him and pull you closer. “Guess you’re getting better at this sleeping thing than you thought, huh?” He says, tucking your head under his chin.

You look around at your friends, the energy and excitement of the upcoming show beaming from them and filling the bus, feeling the warmth of Eddie and even the rumble of the old, cheap bus, and you feel at home.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

eddie munson masterlist

comments + reblogs are always appreciated <3

[justalildumpling]

⇢ bark but no bite

synopsis: when a little challenge was the thing haechan needed to make his move on you

pairing: haechan x reader genre: best friend to lovers, mutual pining, college au, fluff word count: 1.1k warnings: mentions of alcohol, the word ass was used once note: simultaneously simping for lee donghyuck, na jaemin and huang renjun rn pls send help😭😭 also this was written in like 10min of simpery and not proofread i apologise

Idiot. 

The words you described your best friend at every drunken gathering and especially the morning after as you watched his obvious sufferings.

This Friday morning was no exception, huffing along with a steaming hot thermo filled with ginger tea you had brewed just a few hours earlier as you stormed up to your group of friends at the bench.

Donghyuck sat slouched over the small wooden table, resting his head between his arms groaning about the pounding elephants in his head. You could tell by his low-effort attire and scruffy hairdo that the boy was heavily reconsidering his actions the evening before. 

Not that he was ever going to admit it, with his stubborn competitive ass and all.

You placed the metal bottle down on the table with a clunk, barely catching his dazed attention as you prepared to go on your way to class.

“Is that what I think it is?” You heard Donghyuck gasp from behind.

With a small snort, you turned around to face the boy once again however this time noticing a small light in his eyes, a hopeful smile sparkling at your presence. 

“If you’re thinking ginger tea then yes you little pudu, you’re right.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms against your chest.

The sound of his flip-flops slapping down on the pavement cut through the somewhat quiet campus grounds as Donghyuck made his way over to you. It was quite a painful(ly cute) slight to see, with a slight trip every couple of steps as he woefully clutched onto his stomach.

The faint scent of wine lingered on his figure as he engulfed you into a comfortable embrace, comedically sobbing at your kind gestures for his pathetic self.

“Y/N, I will kiss you on the mouth right now.” He bluntly stated, pulling away from your arms. 

You blinked at his shamelessness, shrugging away the sudden skip of your heart, “Pfft, are you really?” 

Haechan paused, his hands on the tops of your shoulders tightening as his gaze grew more intense.

You could feel your cheeks growing hotter by the minute with the small whispers and gasps from your friends contributing to your flustered state. 

But you weren’t going to let the devil incarnate called your best friend know that. No way in hell.

“See? You’re all bark but no bite Lee Donghyuck.”

As his eyes narrowed at your confident (not) state, it was then you remembered his competitive nature. 

Donghyuck rarely backed down on a fight, whether it be a stupid debate about dogs having four legs instead of hands or the title of the ‌drunkest at a party or defending you during a stupid rumour in high school, not caring whether it affected his reputation or not.

You remembered the late evenings on your bathroom floor, eyes bloodshot from the incessant crying from the events at school. Donghyuck merely sat on the cold tiles with you, hands soothingly caressing yours, occasionally whispering that everything would be okay, that he would always be on your side.

It was then you accepted your feelings for the boy, the boy who willingly sat for hours on the hard bathroom floors, caring for your pitiful self, eyes puffy, nose red from blowing on the cheap toilet paper whilst crouched into a foetal position. 

It was then you realised that there was no one else quite like Lee Donghyuck in the universe, no one cutting it even close. So there began the agonising cycle of your silence about your little secret, dodging both your friend’s prying little eyes and loud mouths and your best friend’s flirty remarks or as you liked to call it, the forbidden apple of the end of your friendship. Until now.

“You want me to bite?” He challenged, stepping closer to lean in, “Cause I can bite if you want me to.”

There remained only a few centimetres between your faces, his eyes occasionally flickering to your lips. Your mouth felt dry, with swallowing becoming more painful by the second.

You shouldn’t keep going, you knew you shouldn’t. Laugh it off as you usually do, flicking his forehead and sauntering off to class. Simple.

But then again, what harm could he do?

“Do it, you won’t.”

With what you expected for him to cackle and push you in the direction of your class, a small smirk laced his face before his hands latched to your waist and his lips met yours. 

At first, a burst of peppermint coated your tongue, most probably due to his excessive toothbrushing habits after a night out but after that was warmth. The warmth of his soft lips moulding oh so perfectly against yours, the warmth of his hands burning through the thin material of your T-shirt and the warmth of his smile caught as he pulled away.

“Now who’s the one left without a bark now?” He spoke softly, a smug look overriding his features.

You stood silently with your lips left ajar, barely clutching onto your tote bag as you were left processing his actions. 

“Y/N?” Donghyuck called, timidly reaching for your hands once again, “Was that too much?”

“Are you still drunk? You didn’t mean to do that right?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing as you examined his figure.

The hand that was once reaching for yours slammed against his forehead, letting a low groan, “God woman, do you think I’m that bad?”

“Not gonna lie to you, I do.”

Donghyuck whined, fingers moving to the sides of his head, tugging at the strands frustratedly, “Y/N, although I make a lot of… questionable decisions. I meant that.” 

Donghyuck paused, looking over your shoulder at your flabbergasted friend group before turning his attention back to you, “Look, this wasn’t how I wanted things to pan out but I like you Y/N, and I have for a while now.”

You could feel your heart roaring in your ears as the butterflies came rushing down your stomach. The forbidden apple was bitten, yet the pandora’s box remained unopened just like how you wanted things to be.

“You stupid idiot,” You smiled, reciprocating the touch of his hand.

“Well, that’s another way to say that you like me back,” He winked, pulling you by the waist and leaning towards your face, his gaze flickering from your lips to your eyes, “Do you want another kiss for clarity?”

“You know, for a supposedly hungover person, you sure have a lot of left over energy.”

Donghyuck only chuckled, leaning in to peck your lips, “I guess you were the hangover cure I always needed.”

You pushed his forehead with your index finger as you unravelled from his grip, “You’re so- ugh, I have to go to class stupid, I’ll see you later.”

As you sauntered away, you could hear his boisterous laughter from behind.

“See you later love!”

taglist: @polarisjisung @wooyoung-a @w3bqrl @ficrecnctskz @rv7hsua @n0hyuck @neosdaisy @baekhyunstruly @rum-gone-why @xxxx-23nct @maeumiluv @produmads @shwizhies @dearlyminhyung @barbkh8450t @cupid-yuno @mxnhoeuwu @liliansun

[the-badger-mole]

Swept Away

Katara took a deep breath. In through her nose. Out through her mouth. She wasn't nervous. Not really. Not in the sense that other people mean when they say they're nervous. She wasn't scared. She was eager. In a few short minutes, she would be a wife. She would be Zuko's wife. He was going to be her husband.

"Are you sure about this?" Suki asked for the thousandth time. "Really sure?"

"I am." Katara opened her eyes and turned to her sister-in-law. She couldn't fight the smile that spread over her face. "I'm more sure of this than anything in my life. Zuko's it. He's the one."

"Katara," Suki sighed. "Look, I get it. Zuko's incredibly hot. He's smart. He...seems really nice, but-"

"Suki," Katara started to say, but she didn't get a chance to complete her thought.

"Katara, you've known him three months!" Suki burst out. "You've only been dating for eight weeks! You are the most straight laced person I've ever met. Why are you doing something this...impulsive? You're not impulsive!"

"What are you talking about?" Katara turned from the mirror to face Suki directly. "I'm exactly this impulsive. Don't you remember Jang Hui? My protest about gender equality for STEM fields at the North Pole? The time I started a rally for prison reform?"

"Okay, fine," Suki relented, rolling her eyes. "When it comes to social justice, you are very impulsive. But, this? Katara, you're getting married! Without your dad here. Without your GranGran! I know how much they mean to you."

"They mean the world to me," Katara agreed. "But you know I've never cared about a huge wedding. I love Zuko. I love him. I don't see why I should have to wait to make him my husband just because it would take too long for Dad to fly over to see us get married. We'll have a big party...a huge one later. And everyone we love will get to meet and celebrate. But this feels right!"

"Right?" Suki snorted. "It feels right to get married without telling anyone but me and your brother?"

"Yeah," Katara said. A wistful smile tugged at her lips. "I know it sounds crazy, but...I can't wait to marry him. I literally cannot wait. I've never felt this way about anyone. You know! I know you do. Sokka told me you and he started talking about marriage two months in." Suki rolled her eyes skyward and groaned.

"Yeah, talking about it!" Suki repeated it. "We didn't actually get engaged until a year in! We got married on our second anniversary!"

"Zuko and I don't want to wait that long," Katara laughed. "So we've on a faster timeline. So what?"

"What if there are things you don't like about him?" Suki pressed. "What if he's....I don't know...super anal about the way you put toilet paper on the roll? What if he doesn't wash his feet in the shower? What if he...he hates cats?"

"Did you know Sokka's every annoying habit when you married him?" Katara challenged. Suki made a face at her and sucked her teeth.

"No," she admitted. "But I knew a few of them! I knew enough to know that I could deal with the biggest ones."

"So do I," Katara said. "I know that Zuko likes his food unreasonably spicy. I know that when he's angry, he shuts down and needs a day or two before he can talk about it calmly. I know he thinks rom-coms are a wasted of a perfectly good evening. But I also know that he already values my opinion and will make decisions with me. I know he's put in so much work unlearning toxic traits he was taught as a child, way before he and I met. I know he has the softest heart underneath the hard layers. In three months, he's become one of my closest friends. I trust him, and he trusts me. I love him, Suki. I want to marry him now.

"Um..." Suki swiped at her eyes with her knuckles, and blinked rapidly against more tears. "I get that. I do! I just don't want you to regret doing it this way. I don't want you to regret not having Dad here to walk you down the aisle. Or not having Gran Gran help you into your gown. Don't you want a first dance with Zuko?

Katara turned back to the mirror and considered her reflection. As a girl, she had pictured her wedding. Her dressed in silk and looking the best she's ever looked, and her father walking with her to meet her husband. It was exactly as Suki said, with her dancing with her new husband while people took pictures and tossed confetti. Her extended family together and celebrating.

"I don't need it," she told Suki. "Did you know that the only family that Zuko has is his uncle? His mother is dead. His father is a monster. His sister won't speak to him. He wouldn't be alone- he has friends- but, it wouldn't be the same. Plus crowds make him anxious.

"So he asked for this?" Suki frowned. "He wanted to get married at City Hall?

"No, this was my idea," Katara assured her best friend. "He said he was fine with whatever I wanted. But Zuko's an introvert, and a little agoraphobic. The only buffer he would have would be me and his uncle. He wouldn't enjoy himself. Not as much as I would want. There will be plenty of time later to celebrate with the people we love. But not all at once.

"Dad won't like it," Suki warned. Katara shrugged.

"He'll get over it once I explain it to him," she said. "And he'll love Zuko. They have a lot in common."

Suki stared at Katara for a long while, wracking her brains for something, anything to say to her sister-in-law. She came up frustratingly empty. She should have more objections to her best friend and sister marrying someone she's only known a few months. Katara was convincing. She was very convincing when she wanted to be. Finally, Suki threw her hands up in surrender. If Katara was making a mistake, then the next best thing Suki and Sokka could do was make sure they were at least close enough to help her if she needed it.

"Sokka's not thrilled," she told Katara. "I promised him I'd talk sense into you before it was too late."

"It's been too late for a while," Katara chuckled. Suki nodded and laughed with her.

"I see that now," she said. "Sokka's going to be so disappointed."

"I hope that won't cause any issues with you guys," Katara's brow drew down in worry. Suki just waved her off, though.

"Nah," she said. "I'll just tell him I'm pregnant if he gets too riled up." Katara gasped and leapt up from her seat.

"Are you joking?" she squealed. Suki grinned and shook her head.

"I just found out a couple of days ago," she said. "I was going to take him out to the game this weekend and have it announced on the jumbotron, but I'll use it to distract him from your questionable decision making if I need to."

"I'm so happy for you!" Katara said pulling Suki in for a hug. Suki hugged her back tightly.

"I'm happy for you, too." And to her surprise, Suki realized she meant it.

[reallygroovyninja]

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPTS - Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

“So you’re really telling me you’re dating Lexa now?” Raven asked, her tone dripping with disbelief.

“Yes, Raven, for the last time, we're together,” Clarke insisted, her hands gesturing emphatically.

Raven laughed, a loud, incredulous sound that bounced off the walls. “Okay, Clarke, sure. And I'm the Queen of England. Seriously, have you even kissed her?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Yes, we’ve kissed. A lot, actually.”

“Uh-huh, and I’m hacking into government websites on the weekends,” Raven quipped, her smirk wide as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Clarke’s frustration was palpable, her voice rising slightly. “We've even slept together, Raven.”

Raven’s eyebrows shot up, her expression unchanging. “Sleeping with someone doesn’t make you a couple, Clarke. Hell, by that logic, half the college would be in serious relationships.”

Clarke sighed, her gaze flickering to the ceiling as if seeking patience. Raven leaned back against the cushions, her face the picture of exaggerated skepticism.

“Look, until I see you two picking out curtains or planning a wedding, I’m gonna reserve my right to remain skeptical. Hell, I'll believe it when you two get joint bank accounts. That’s real commitment.”

“I don’t need a joint bank account to prove I’m in a relationship," Clarke protested, though a small smile broke through, unable to resist Raven's humor.

Raven nodded, her voice taking on a mock-serious tone. “Oh, my sweet, naive Clarke. In the world of Raven Reyes, it’s not official until it’s Instagram official or you’re screaming at each other about whose turn it is to do the dishes or who didn't replace the toilet paper roll. That's the real deal.”

Clarke threw a cushion at Raven playfully. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re delusional if you think I’m buying this whole ‘Lexa and Clarke’ fairytale without some solid evidence,” Raven retorted, catching the cushion and hugging it to her chest.

“Maybe I’ll just invite her over for dinner,” Clarke suggested, an idea sparking in her eyes.

“Oh, bringing the alleged girlfriend home to meet the skeptic? Now that’s a plot twist.” Raven chuckled. “Make sure she knows how to dodge a grilling, because I’m not holding back, Clarke.”

Clarke nodded, a determined gleam in her eye. “Challenge accepted. You’ll see, Raven. It’s real.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Raven replied with a laugh, settling more comfortably into the couch as Clarke began planning her proof.

[seungiepop]

𝑵𝒐 𝑵𝒖𝒕 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓

just a little taste

pairing: enha x best friend reader

characters: all enha members, Shin Yuna (itzy), Choi Beomgyu (TXT), and Mark lee (NCT)

caution: sexual context (only implied on the legal line), cursing, the reader is an 03’ line with sunoo and yuna

genre: social media au and one shots

wc: 1.8k

Masterlist | previous | next

ⓝⓝⓝ

“you really do know how to make a good cupcake..”

Yuna moaned, taking another bite of the delicious raspberry cupcake. The older girl smiled amusingly towards her friend, taking a bite of her own chocolate cupcake.

The two girls sat on their living room floor, an ashtray filled with four big nugs, a few joint papers and clean blunt leaves right in front of them as they waited for their other friends to show up. “There’s no more toilet paper in your bathroom-” a voice suddenly spoke from afar. Beomgyu walked into the living room with an empty toilet paper roll in his hands “-and I couldn’t find your trash can..”.

“Did you even try looking for it?” Yuna huffed standing up from her spot and taking the roll from his hand to throw it away.

Beomgyu shrugged, walking over to the single couch, slumping down on the soft furniture, “What time are the no nut losers coming?” he asked, pulling out his phone to look at his messages. “In a bit, Jay said he had to stop to the store for some drinks” Y/n answered before stuffing the rest of her cupcake in her mouth and cleaning off her fingers with the napkin she had.

Picking up the tray, she began to pull apart the nugs into smaller pieces before placing them in the grinder to grind them up into even smaller pieces. “So how are you planning on breaking these boys?” Beomgyu spoke, looking away from his screen to see his friend shrugging “I don’t know. I mean I know they would give in to whatever, but they might actually try on winning this stupid challenge.” Y/n has thought of many ways she could make each other give in to her shenanigans but she always knew they were very competitive and they might not be willing to cooperate so easily.

“THE PARTY HAS ARRIVED!” a sudden voice shouted from the entrance hall.

Y/n snickered watching Sunghoon tipsily walked into their living room “oh my baby!” he slurred, spotting the female on the ground. Walking towards her he leaned down to lift her chin and place a sloppy kiss on her cheek. Scrunching her face at the slight smell of alcohol on his breath she patted his cheek, cooing at his relaxed face that leaned to her sudden touch.

“you drunk my hoon?”

He shook his head “nooo, just tipsy”

Y/n chuckled at the boy and handed him one of the pre roll she had in her shirt pocket.

“Where is jay? He said he had drinks.” Yuna spoke walking out of her room. Y/n pointed towards the kitchen spotting two of the youngest members of their friend group.

“Hey Wonie!” Y/n greeted the younger boy with a smile.

The male smiled at the pretty girl standing in front of him, slightly blushing when she caressed both his dimpled cheeks “Hi noona!” he spoke in a trance, almost like he got hypnotized by her sudden touch.

Y/n went around and greeted the rest of her friends before making her way towards the kitchen to grab herself a drink, grabbing a cup from the stack she poured herself some of the liquor the boys had out on display, topping it odd with some juice she gave it a small taste. Satisfied with her drink leaned back against the kitchen drawers, her mind wondering how the hell she was going to get through all six guys in less than a month.

oh my god, im literally gonna be a whore for a stupid spider-man console.

Walking into the living room she placed her drink on the table, she asked Jay for the bong he had placed on his lap. Jay gladly handed her the glass object and lighter, telling her to be careful before continuing his conversation with Yuna, eyes not leaving her form for a second.

Y/n sat on her knees gently placing the bong on the table in-front of her. She grabbed the small bag of the grinded weed and carefully began to fill up the pipe until it was all nice and full. Her hands wrapping around the base of the bong as she began to leaned down towards the mouthpiece.

Before she was able to lean in a pair of hands grasp her loose locks, from the corner of her eye she could see Jay behind her. One hand holding her hair while the other held a half smoked blunt. Taking the opportunity she leaned down and lit up the small bowl, watching the way the water bubbled up and created the large cloud of smoke pilling up inside the glass. Taking out the bowl she inhaled the large cloud of smoke, letting it sit for a second before blowing it out.

Jay watched with hooded eyes, the girl's head leaned back against his legs, the drug slowly getting her more and more higher.

Out of all the girls he’s smoked with, Y/n had to be one of the prettiest ones yet, and to say he’s smoked with a lot of females back in his freshman year in college.

Letting go of the grip he had on her hair she opened her eyes and smiled dazedly at him “you look so pretty darling.” he softly spoke, the side of his lip curling at the sudden tint on her cheeks.

Y/n placed her hand on his thigh, moving her body so it was facing his standing one. Jay felt himself almost choke at her sudden change of position.

Is this how she would look on her knees for me? he thought.

Y/n bit back her giggle, removing her hand and holding it out “help me up please?” she sweetly smiled.

Taking her smaller hands in his he pulled her up like nothing “thank you!” reaching up she placed a kiss on the taller male's cheek.

y/n one, jay zero.

“That’s a nice way to start off— but I think you can do better.” Beomgyu spoke against his cup, taking a large chug of the strong liquid. “You think?” she hummed, tilting her head to inspect each of the guys leaning on the arm of the couch he was sitting on.

Each doing their own thing and looking stupidly hot doing too “Oh for sure! I mean look at Jungwon, the kid looked like he was going to bust a nut from a little cheek rub.”

“Leave him alone.” she hissed, pinching the side of his arm.

The older male winced, rubbing the sore spot “whatever.”

“Y/nnnn! Do you have any ointment? I’ve cut myself trying to open these jellies.”

Y/n furrowed her brows in confusion, walking over to the sitting male across from her. She leaned down to inspect his lip, noticing the small cut “poor baby-“ she cooed, pulling him up from his chin and leading him to her room “-let’s get that cleaned up.”

Closing the door behind them Y/n pointed to her bathroom letting him know she’ll be there in a minute. Grabbing the small first aid kit from her closet, noticing the mirror she walked and took a look at herself. She was still wearing her work outfit but it was cute enough to make him go crazy.

“Ok, let me see those lips, pretty boy.”

Setting the kit on the counter she turned to look over at the male who was sitting on the edge of the tub. Signaling him to pout his lip she gently started dabbing the ointment on his wound “sorry” she hummed at the small hiss he began to let out.

“All done!”

“Thank you sweet girl!” he smiled, caressing the exposed skin of her hip.

Y/n bit her lip, trying to contain herself from letting out the giggle that was trying to escape. “wait an hour before smoking again, so the ointment can set in!” she instructed. “Yes ma’am.” he hummed, sliding down his hand to her lower back pulling her closer to him.

its go time

Wrapping her arms around his neck she slightly leaned down closer to his face “does it still hurt?” she asked, looking down at the now slightly bruised lil. He shook his head no “A pretty nurse fixed it all up for me.” giggling at the nickname she kissed the corner of his lips where it began to swell. “I hope that made it better..” she whispered against his lips.

Jake stop thinking with your dick

the bet

oh but look at those glossy lips

maybe just a little taste

“Jakey…” her voice made him feel captivated like he was hypnotized.

Just a kiss jake just one tiny little kiss

Leaning in he gently placed his lips on hers, humming at the taste of the weed combined with the sweet taste of her gloss. Y/n smiled knowing she had won this one without him even knowing or did she? Deepening the kiss he placed his hand on the side of her neck. The way his tongue dipped inside her mouth made her melt, her hands making their way up to his neck, grabbing a hold of the back of his hairs, giving it a light tug.

god how can someone taste so good

Pulling the girl into his lap he brought his hand down towards her inner thighs, feeling the soft skin in his palm. This wasn’t the first time she’s done stuff like this with Jake or with any of the guys (except Ricky, gyu, and Mark of course). So just knowing how hard it was going to be for them made the bet a little more exciting.

Y/n started to rub her clothed cunt against his jeans, the fabric adding the right amount of pressure against her clit.

“Mhm, fuck-“ she panted

Jake could feel himself get hard as she grinded against him.

fuck wai-

Her hand slid down his chest down to his crotch, palming him through the rough fabric. Before Y/n could even unbuckle his belt or Jake could even pull her off him there was a loud knock on the door. Getting off his lap Y/n fixed her skirt and opened the door, an awkwardly looking beomgyu holding onto his crotch.

beomgyu i love you bro

“Sorry” he mouthed, pushing the girl over to the side not being able to hold his bladder that was seconds of exploding.

The other two walked out her room, Y/n had a faint smirk on her lips giving her only female friend a wink who gave her a questioning look passing the blunt she had on her fingers.

Yuna looked over at Jake, a pillow was covering his lower half “dude nice!”

the two girls fist bumping on the low.

“no fucking way ja-“ Sunoo laughed

“shut it!”

ⓝⓝⓝ

∙ ₒ✰. ∙✧. ∘ ₒ® ✦. ✰∙ ★ ∘ₒ © ∙ ₒ ✰ ∙ ✧ ∘ₒ ® ✦ ✰

Authors note: literally was turnt while typing this so I hope my high self did a good job! :)

taglist- @ilovecheese09 @namdeyuoi @moonshoon @xrr-s4sha @yannew @cup1dton @eternallyreid @heewonenthusiast @rikisly @parkhonnie @wvnkoi @slugism @yizhoutv @jakewife @bahngchatsfx @kangseulgithegreat

( if the blog isn’t a tinted color then it’s not letting me tag you )

[dreamlandreader]

Sick Day

I have no idea if fae can catch colds/the flu but I’m currently stuck in bed sick so this is my comfort fic 🥲 It isn’t edited because I just wanted to get the idea out of my head, so apologies for any mistakes ❤️

Warnings: Flu, none graphic discussion of flu symptoms, and stubborn Illyrian babies

Feyre Archeron was feeling incredibly smug. She and her mate had somehow managed to survive their son’s first exposure to the flu unscathed. 

Poor Nyx had unfortunately become sick after a play date, so Feyre and Rhysand had spent the past week knee-deep in used tissues and providing endless hugs and kisses to their crying toddler, who didn’t quite understand why he couldn’t stop coughing.

For the first time in almost five days, Nyx had felt well enough to play with his toys on the living room carpet, and that’s where Feyre left him under the dutiful watch of his Auntie Elain while she wandered upstairs to join Rhys in their shared office. 

Her smile faltered, however, the second she stepped through the door to the office and came face to face with her mate. 

Rhys’s usually impeccable style was now far more dishevelled than she was used to seeing. His shirt was buttoned incorrectly, his hair was sticking up as though he had run his hands through it in frustration far too many times, and his perfect nose was looking rather red. 

It was then that a single sniffle signalled trouble.

“Love, are you okay?” Feyre asked tentatively, knowing her eldest Illyrian baby would likely be the most challenging to handle when sick. 

‘Yes darling, I’m absolutely-” Rhys broke off, falling into a fit of sneezes and released a slight groan before continuing. “Fine. I’m absolutely fine,” 

“No offence, but you look awful. Why don’t you take a break? Go back to bed. I can finish up whatever you’re doing.” 

“Okay, ouch! Plenty of offence taken. I’m fine. I’m the most powerful high lord. I don’t need to take a break because of the sniffles,” Rhys scoffed before he again began to sneeze uncontrollably. 

Deciding it was not worth an argument so early in the day, Feyre settled down at her own desk and began to tackle her looming pile of paperwork, desperately trying to block out her husband’s endless coughing. Feyre’s resolve to leave Rhys to it lasted precisely twenty-two minutes before his sniffling drove her so mad that she slammed her pen down and stormed over to his desk. 

“I love you so much, Rhysand, but if you sneeze one more time and refuse to go to bed, I will lose it!” 

“Feyre, I can’t!” 

“Why?” Feyre practically yelled, “Because of your paperwork? Do you think me so incapable as a High Lady that I cannot sign a few papers and get to grips with our court’s laws?” 

“No! It’s not that, and you very well know it,” he argued, incensed that his wife would assume he thought of her as anything less than the most competent of beings. 

Sighing, Rhys put his head in his hands and seemed to steady himself before making an important admission. 

“I cannot go to bed because he will never let it go.” 

“What? Who?” 

“Cassian!” 

Rhys finally looked up at his wife and met her confused gaze. His beautiful face was full of something Feyre had never seen take over her mate’s expression before. Embarrassment. Rhysand was- well, he was blushing. 

“Around my 400th birthday, I contracted a pretty bad case of the flu. My bones ached every time I moved, my head hurt, I couldn’t stop coughing and sneezing, and frankly, I felt dire. So, for the first time ever, I took the day off. I sent word to Cassian that I wouldn’t be at training that morning because I was under the weather, and him being the concerned idiot he is, he turned up thinking I was on my deathbed. When he ran into my bedroom and found me with two chunks of toilet paper stuffed up my nose and an eye mask on to block out the sunlight, well, I’ve never seen him laugh quite so hard. And he has never let it go.” Rhys said, rolling his eyes. 

“The great Rhysand,” he exclaimed, deepening his voice to match the grit of his brother’s vocal range. “The most powerful fae in Prythian’s history, taken down by a gnarly cold!”

Feyre’s frown disappeared, replaced by a look of sympathy and understanding. Sitting gently on his lap, Feyre took Rhys’s face in her hands and looked deep into his violet eyes. 

“He doesn’t mean anything by it, and it doesn’t upset me by a long shot,” Rhys laughed to himself, “but if I have to go another century listening to his sarcastic comments about it, I may commit murder.” 

“So you’re not going to take a break because your stupid, stubborn ass is too full of pride.” Feyre queried. 

“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.” Rhys shrugged. 

“Rhys!” Feyre scolded, playfully tapping his shoulder. 

“Look, why don’t you just go to bed. Cass is busy the next few days anyway; he doesn’t need to find out where you are. It can be our little secret.” Slowly, Feyre could sense her mate coming around to the idea, and she had one more trick up her sleeve.

“I’ll even stay with you if that will convince you. We can have a day in bed together. Just relax, the two of us.” Feyre suggested, a sly glint in her eye as she ran her fingers up and down Rhysand’s tattooed arm. 

“Feyre, we’re already so far behind,” Rhys interrupted, shivering under his mate’s touch. 

“It will wait, Rhys. And anything in that pile that can’t, we can delegate to Mor and Amren. They’ll be happy to help,” 

“Fine. I’ll agree to one day in bed. On the condition that nobody ever finds out. Oh, and that you stay with me.” Rhys agrees, squeezing Feyre’s hip. 

Dragging Rhysand by the hand to their bedroom, Feyre sent a message to her sister informing her that she and Rhys were snowed under with work and asking if she would mind taking Nyx out for the rest of the day. After receiving a reply from Elain that she would happily take her nephew for the afternoon, Feyre settled in bed with Rhysand, pulling him into her chest and stroking his hair in a bid to help him fall asleep. She found success within ten minutes as her mate drifted into a secure slumber. 

A week later …

“Oh, by the way, I contacted Tarquin about renewing our trade agreement, and he said he is happy to sign the contract again under the same terms as last time if that is what you both wish, of course,” Mor stated, looking towards her High Lord and Lady. 

“I thought you were dealing with the trade agreements alone these days, Rhys?” Azriel questioned, unable to leave his inner spy at the door, even if it was family night. 

“I am. I just needed a little extra help this week after being so busy taking care of Nyxie the week before,” 

“That’s right, little buddy, you were sick, weren’t you,” Cassian said to the young Illyrian perched on his lap, ruffling his hair and making him giggle. 

“Yep. I was sneezy, and I threwed up.” 

“Lovely,” Amren cringed from the other end of the table. 

“Daddy was sneezy, too, but he didn’t throw up. He sleeped a lot. Mama pet him like a puppy, and he feeled better.” 

The table erupted with laughter at the image of the High Lord of the Night Court being stroked like a dog. Rhysand sank in his seat and gave Feyre a pointed stare that said, “I told you so!”

“Oops,” Nyx cried after seeing his father’s strange reaction, “I member now Mama said I was meant to keep that a secret.” Nyx covered his mouth in surprise and looked towards his mother with shame in his eyes. 

“It’s okay, baby, it was an accident,” Feyre replied and opened her arms for her son to crawl into. 

“Did you- did you check him for fleas before you let him into your bed, Feyre.” Cassian howled, wiping tears from his eyes while meeting Rhysand’s glare. 

“Ha ha, very funny. Have you had your fill now?” Rhys quipped.

Cassian opened his mouth again to fling another joke Rhysand’s way but was interrupted by his own inability to avoid letting out a very dramatic sneeze, swiftly followed by three more. 

Shock filled Cassian’s face, and his smirk dropped. He took one panicked look at Rhysand, who was holding in his laughter, before looking to Feyre who was wearing her own wicked smile as she handed him a tissue and calmly stated, “Good luck, Lord of Bloodshed.” 

[siriusleee]

i'll be gentle

Rodolfo Para x f!reader For @glitterypirateduck's Fall4Rudy challenge. Prompt: I'll be gentle A/N: Two in a day? Who am I? Make sure you check out everyone's submissions for Fall4Rudy here. To see others in this series, you can find them at my masterlist here. If you like what I write, consider donating to my ko-fi.

The entire operation went to shit in record time. Your team had arrived at the tunnel already blown, as if the cartel had known what was coming. As your team sifted through the rubble you’d found the remnants of migrants: discarded passports and IDs, a baby rattle that had been taped up to keep quiet. Things that made your stomach roll when you wondered if they’d made it past the collapse safely, or if it had been blown with migrants below it purposely.

Your headache had grown blinding as you spoke quietly to the Troopers who seemed ready to go back home. An argument had ensued about who would excavate the rubble.

“Look I don’t give a shit about whatever you’re saying,” you had finally told some guy in a black cowboy hat, his name lost to you in the heat. “But this is an official CIA operation; we have the full support of the Mexican government and you’re telling me that Texas isn’t going to work with us? What kind of shit is that?”

He’d looked at you like he wanted to add to the tight line of stitches you already had climbing up your temple. But the argument was over, and the promise that a team would be there to excavate the site before night was made over a tense handshake.

The ride back with Rudy had been quiet, the two of you flanked by three others of Alejandro’s guys, the dust thick and sticky on your sweat covered skin. By the time the ATVs had been loaded back onto the trailer, and you and Rudy clambered into his blacked out SUV, you had to press the heels of your hands to your eyes to keep from throwing up.

“Are you alright, senorita?”

“Please stop calling me that, Rodolfo - we’re the same age.”

You don’t bother to buckle up as you curl yourself into the seat, positioning the air conditioning so that’s blowing directly on your face.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It’s just a headache. I’ll sleep it off after I update Laswell.”

Rudy doesn’t say anything else to you as he drives the two of you back to your hotel except to ask if you want to stop and get something to eat, an offer you turn down. You expect him to drop you at the front door, but he backs into a parking spot expertly, and before you can clamber out of the passenger side, he’s there pulling the door open and taking your elbow to help you out.

You don’t want to hold his hand the way you do, but you stumble over the cracks in the parking lot and he holds you tighter. 

“This is the type of place the CIA puts you up in?” He whispers in your ear as the two of you cross the threshold; you shiver and try to tell yourself it’s from the intensely cold air conditioning that hits you like a brick wall.

“The per diem isn’t exactly a huge perk of the job.”

You know better than to expect Rudy to drop you off at the door of your room. If he walked you this far, he’s going to make sure you get all the way in safely; he takes the room key from you gently when you struggle to put it into the key slot. He drops it on top of the press-board dresser that you’d been living out of for the past few weeks and guides you to the bathroom. Pushing you down onto the closed toilet, he elbows the bathroom sink on at the same time.

“I think you need to go back to the doctor, senorita.”

“Rodolfo -”

“I remember telling you to call me Rudy once.”

You remember it too. Three years ago when your wish to be sent back home to Texas had been granted. You had wanted a position at the Houston office, but when the papers rolled into you that you were going back home to South Texas, you hadn’t complained. Anything was better than being stuck in D.C. for another minute. 

A new task force had been created - a joint force between the United States and Mexico to attempt to keep the cartel from expanding into new projects. Your first day you’d been taken across the border and introduced to the Vaqueros. You remember how the name had drawn out a barking laugh from you - the men had looked just like the boys you grew up with who used to run around with cap guns and claimed to be cowboys; like some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy brought to life in front of you.

Rudy had been assigned to briefing you on what the Vaqueros knew, and he had told you sternly to call him Rudy, not Rodolfo. But you didn’t listen.

And it hadn’t mattered because you’d only been there for a year before you were called back to D.C. to work on a new project until Hasan had started encroaching into Mexico and you were sent back to live out of a hotel room until it would be decided if you were staying in South Texas long term or not.

Rudy takes one of the pristine white washcloths and runs it under the tap water before bringing it to your face. Instinctively you flinch away, but he holds your shoulder gently and then lets his hand slide up to the opposing temple, keeping you still.

“I’ll be gentle.”

You know he will, but that doesn’t stop you biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood as he wipes the dirt away from your stitches, and then away from your eyes. When he draws back, the washcloth is a disgusting brown.

He crouches down so that he’s eye level with you, and when he speaks his breath washes over you, making it hard to breath.

“Do you think you’ll live?”

“I can try.”

[earlgreyinpajamas]

can i pls have some merthur fluff recs??🫶🫶🤞🤞

Real Sweet (But I Wish You Were Sober) by GarlicDeadVampire

If Merlin has to act drunk, there's no harm in having a bit of fun, is there?

But then Merlin flirts with Arthur, and he flirts back, and suddenly a few (major) things change.

~~~

fluff-angst mix bc unresolved pining but also them bantering and being in love so

2. we've been down that road before by soniclipstick (veriscence) (@soniclipstick)

Arthur sports a neon orange crown made of cardboard. Their daughter, with her rainbow coloured blanket-turned-cape, pink crown and toilet paper roll sword, is safe in his arms. Around Arthur's shoulders, a ruby red blanket serves as a cape. It flares and swoops as they spin around and around.

It’s missing a golden dragon on the left shoulder, Merlin thinks offhandedly.

And then Merlin remembers.

~~~

them being a family!!! (also some light angst bc merlin doesnt remember their past until the very end of the fic but i couldnt not rec this glorious fic)

3. thank you by nightcereusss (@nightcereusss)       

“I- Are you not angry?” Arthur asked.

“Angry? Why would I be angry?” Merlin brows creased in confusion.

“You got hurt,” Arthur bit the inside of his cheek, frustration bubbling over the surface. “Hell, you were lucky it didn’t kill you! Why would you do something like that?! You knew the risk.”

TML's BBC Merlin Finale 10 Year Anniversary Prompt Challenge: Week 9 - Healing, Love, Water

~~~

the a/n is like the cherry on the cake of this great fic and the ending made me combust with fuzzies overload

[thestylesindependent]

When I was being crushed by a crowd of sweaty singing drunks under the Slane stage in 1987 to a soundtrack of David Bowie’s Absolute Beginners, I hadn’t a notion I’d be back one day shepherding three daughters as they went wild for a musical chameleon of their own.

But that’s as it was 37 years later and I found myself draped in the ultimate sign of the times - a moulting feather boa - with 80,000 people around me dancing all night to the best songs ever.

The crowd gathered for Harry’s house party could scarcely have been more different to the one that had stormed the castle last time Lord Henry Mountcharles threw open his gates in 2019 to let tens of thousands of Metallica fans in to bang their heads and pump their fists to raging metal.

This time it was more fluorescent and female and family-friendly.

As the day started, parents hoisted children onto shoulders ahead of the long march from the wildly expensive car parks to the castle gate, following a rainbow trail of boa feathers.

There were stewards offering wrist bands to minors “and to the adults who might get lost at the bar”, the woman policing the table said as she scribbled my name and number on a band for my smallest child.

The road led past blocks of portable toilets where enterprising children sold rolls of toilet paper to anxious looking customers.

When asked about prices a child said they were “only €2″.

For the packet?

“No, per roll.”

They cost the kids 20 cent. The future of the rip-off Republic is in safe hands.

Once inside, the challenge was to find a space to sit for the hours before Harry. Tens of thousands of people were ahead in the race for that space so we struggled to find a patch of grass even three quarters of the way back from the front.

We ended up beside a super-organised group of families who had spread a network of picnic blankets across a small area having arrived at midday, a full two hours before the gates opened.

Dave Ellis from Carlow was the sole man in the group. He’d been sitting for more than two hours by the time we interrupted him. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get up,” he said. “I’ve lost the feeling in my legs and I don’t think they work any more.”

He laughed when asked if he was a big Harry Styles fan. “I was kind of roped into coming.”

Roped or not, he’d embraced the Styles spirit with zeal. “I spent last night putting hairspray on the boas to hold them together,” he said. “That is what we were told to do.”

And?

“It didn’t work.”

Beside him was Serena Carney. “We’ve been sitting here for hours and we are not moving,” she said with the firmness of an Irish mammy.

The last time she was here was for Guns and Roses in 1992. “It was a bit a different, I suppose. The atmosphere was different for sure.”

She certainly didn’t have a picnic including feta cheese sprinkled with crumbled bacon at that gig.

We didn’t even have feta in Ireland back then.

Annie Mac took to the stage to play some tunes and if Slane had a roof she’d have lifted it off when she played a snippet of Abba’s Gimme Gimme Gimme (a man after midnight) and started a wild singalong.

Jenny Murphy from Limerick was another concertgoer in the parent trap. “I’m here with my daughters,” she said. “I’m not a big fan. The last time I was here was in 1995 for REM.”

How did then compare with now? “There is a lot more pink today and the crowd is so different. We took the bus up and there were three people over 25 on it. Me, my friend and the bus driver. But it’s great and there is such a happy vibe and people are so stylish.”

She did have one gripe though. “The prices! They’re mad. The t-shirts are 40 quid and the hoodies are 80. And I am just after buying a scoop of ice cream for a fiver.”

As the support act Wet Leg embarked on a scream therapy session which lead singer Rhian Teasdale promised would make everyone feel better, a man stumbled past carrying two hard-won crepes from one of the food stalls where insanely long queues formed for most of the day.

When asked if he was okay, he sighed heavily and said “I just f**king want to go home.”

Only four hours to go, I thought, but said nothing.

Not everyone wanted to go home. In fact virtually no-one else did. Grainne Gleeson from Downpatrick and Caoimhe Daly from Warrenpoint didn’t care about prices or queues or feta and were all about Harry.

“She’s his number one fan,” Gleeson said gesturing to her friend. “She’s seen him twice already on this tour and this is her third time. And she’s going to London to see him.”

Daly nodded enthusiastically. When asked why she’d want to see anyone play four times in a matter of weeks, she said that while “it might be the same songs every night it is a different vibe. And I had to come to Slane because it is such an iconic venue.”

Aoife Sheehan from Limerick said she wasn’t such a die-hard fan and was here because she got a ticket for her birthday. “I was a big One Direction fan but forgot about him until I heard his last album and was blown away by it. And look around you, isn’t the atmosphere just brilliant?

She wasn’t wrong.

Then Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody blared out of the speakers, a sign that Styles was ready for us. After that it was all screams and shrieks and singalongs and as I marvelled at the energy and the enthusiasm of the crowd it dawned on me that REM, Oasis, the Rolling Stones or even Bowie who I’d seen play this field had not come close to matching the joy, excitement and showmanship Harry Styles brought to Slane.

Hats off to him.

[djarinbarnes]

me recordarás - one

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Pairings: Javier Peña x female reader

Rating: Mature

Word count: 4k

Summary: summer has come to an end. you find yourself thrown into a whirlwind of emotions, difficult choices and more adversity, like you’d never believed possible. someone is there to pull you out of it - but it’s not someone you’d ever imagined.

a/n: god I feel like it’s been so long since I've posted. I'm finally back, somehow, and I'm so excited to share everything with you. I’ve enjoyed coming back into this little universe I've created. I hope you'll like it, and please, don’t hesitate to let me know what you think! I’m not ready for this...

SERIES MASTERLIST

Read it on ao3 here

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A missed period was one thing. It happened to many, without there being a reason for it. Though, a missed period after weeks of unprotected sex with a handsome stranger was giving you an uneasy feeling. After waiting a whole week, you decided that a test was the only thing that could ease your mind.

Even though you didn’t want to believe it at first, the surge of emotions that coursed through your body when the two lines stared back at you from the little stick between your fingers had you convinced.

You were pregnant.

And not by a man you had been seeing for a while, a boyfriend, a husband, no, a man you had a summer fling with, a man you had given your all, a damn womanizer, if his reputation was true. A man who fucked whores for information.

You turned right around on the toilet and fell to your knees, just in time for the contents of your stomach to fall into the toilet. Somehow it was sickening to you. You regretted the whole summer just like that – even though it had been the most amazing weeks of your life.

You hid the test rolled up in some toilet paper, truly not wanting your mother to find it and bug you even more about Javi. You had to figure out what you had to do first, and you already knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

You had literally given him your all. Your first kiss. Your virginity. Your very first I love you. You had opened yourself up to him like you hadn’t ever done with anyone before. Told him secrets that he now was the only other person than you who knew. And now it had all culminated into a situation you’d rather not be in.

You felt betrayed. Especially since he was so hard to get into contact with. You knew it would be a challenge because of his work, but you had expected to talk with him more frequently than once a week for five short minutes. You wanted nothing more than to live out your imagination and expectations, to lie in your bed and talk with him for hours on end, into the early hours of the morning.

“You know how men are. They only want one thing, and that’s to sleep with young, unsuspecting girls like you. He’s no good, and I don’t want you seeing him anymore. He’s going to leave you hanging anyways.”

Your mothers’ words kept resonating in your head. While her words had been a surprise those weeks ago, you were now starting to think that maybe she was right, and that it wasn’t just said in spite to hurt you momentarily. Maybe he was going to leave you hanging, now it was more than a stab to your chest, and it was starting to hurt more than you wanted to admit.

Maybe you should’ve just forgotten him – had an abortion already, so you wouldn’t be stuck with… the little wonderful secret blossoming inside of you, that probably would be the splitting image of their father. You could somehow feel it – that resemblance your baby would have to the tan, beautiful man you’d fallen in love with.

But you were tired. Tired of being let down every time you tried getting in contact with him – you’d gotten Steve on the phone more than once, actually up to ten times, and he told you the same story every time. Javi is busy right now. Is there something I can help you with? I’ll have him call you back when he’s got the time.

His absence brought only one thing. Loneliness.

A feeling somewhat hard to describe… Because loneliness comes in so many different shapes and sizes. Well… Somehow there’s a certain loneliness to every situation there is, and yet nothing feels more all-consuming than the loneliness surrounding you at that exact moment.

Along with the constant twinge in your gut, you had no idea how to keep your emotions in check. Maybe it was just hormones coursing through your body. You just had a feeling there was something more multiplying the emotions.

Leaving your parents’ house after the summer break and going back to your small studio apartment in Center Court was truly an improvement for you – your mother was constantly getting more nosy and was bugging you about Javi. It certainly wasn’t helping your situation, when all you wanted to do was bury yourself six feet under.

You dreaded going back to uni after the summer break. Mainly because your whole mindset was corrupted by the thought of him and your current situation, and you just knew you had no chance of following the syllabus before it was taken care of. You had to talk to Javi somehow, to tell him about your situation and find out what you were going to do about it.

The best spot in your small apartment was currently your bed – it felt like the safest spot for you to be and scrutinize your situation. It was warm and cozy, and your thick duvet comforted you in ways you couldn’t explain. The comforts of your bed brought along another unforeseen consequence – the nagging of your own thoughts.

The spot on the wall where your eyes had been glued to for the past three days had been glared into so intensely, you were afraid the paint was going to chip off under your hardened gaze. It was tough - you knew you had to eat something, but your appetite was little to none.

So, that’s one thing love does. Makes your head spin and your appetite diminish.

You knew you had to do something. If there was something you had done over the last three days, it was think about what to do with the whole situation before the semester started.

With the baby. Your baby. Javi’s baby.

Your heart ached for someone to actually love, and for someone to love you back the same way. A love that came easily, naturally. Just like your love for Javi. He was easy to love and admire, no matter how hard he tried to deny his feelings and apparently fuck his way through and around every obstacle.

“If you want to know things about them… I figured you have to hang around the same people they do. The same women they do.” Javi’s words still nagged in your mind. You knew he had probably had sex with enough women to last a man a decade, and yet he never seemed fully sated. Could you be enough for him?No, shut up. Stupid mind.

You knew you had to tell him. You had to give him a say in the matter, because you respected him that much. No matter how much or how little you wanted to keep it, you didn’t feel like it was your choice to make on your own. And with every day passing, your love and want grew.

Most of the things you were considering was talking against having the baby, with the first being where the father was located. He was so far from you, both location and expectation wise. Maybe even development wise. You reached out your hand and grabbed the crackers from your nightstand, along with the phone.

You needed to try and call him again. He needed to know, and you had to get through to him somehow.

You dialed one of the numbers he had given you and waited patiently while it rung, while pushing a cracker past your lips. It was the only thing you could manage to keep down. Even though the crackers managed to dry out your entire mouth just by looking at them, they were still the most inviting food you could think of.

You felt your heart pick up the pace as the tones kept going off, until you got to the automated voicemail in Spanish, probably asking you to leave a message after the tone.

It seemed like starting to pick apart the problem was even more overwhelming than you had expected, since you started bawling the minute you hung up.

You had no idea what to feel - all the emotions were overwhelming and settling on one out of them all seemed like an impossible task. You decide on trying to get hold of Javi again. You bite your lip before you hold out the phone in front of you yet again, and dialing the other number Javi gave you.

The fucking Embassy. You felt like a childish stalker as you patiently waited for someone, anyone, to pick up the damn phone. A click sounded, before his voice filled your ears, for the first time in… what felt like a very long time.

“Peña.” It felt like all the air had left your lungs, and the whole speech you had prepared to get into touch with him had disintegrated into thin air the second you had heard his voice. You were instantly thrown back into your fantasies, the recollection of his hands on your skin - your hips, your waist, your neck, his lips against yours.

“¿Quién es?” You could hear the impatience in his tone, and you knew you had to speak up sooner or later, or he would hang up on you. He was an impatient man after all, and he was probably busy.

“Javi,” Your voice was shaky when you finally managed to mutter out his name. “It’s… me.” You breathe in, closing your eyes at the relaxing feeling of the air being let back into your lungs. You could feel your body missing him, the presence of him already. You shut your eyes tightly at the sound of him sucking in a breath on the other end.

You didn’t know what kind of breath it was. Was it an I miss you, I’m sorry I haven’t gotten properly in touch with you since you left Colombia? Or was it an in all just a Fuck, not you again, stop trying to get in touch with me, I’ve got other, more important things to do?

At this point you didn’t even know which of those two you wished for it to be at this point. It would be easier if he just ignored the fact that you even existed. Well, easier for him, that is. This wasn’t ever just going to be easy for you anymore. You were bound to him one way or another. You weren’t ever going to forget this point in your life.

“Hermosa.” And then everything disintegrated yet again. The wall you had been building along with the fake scenarios you had been making up in your head simply vanished in that moment, and the whole slate was wiped clean. You hated he had such power over you, with just one simple word. It was like you could feel his gaze on you. His breath fanning over your face and his hands hovering over your skin.

“I’ve been thinking about you. A lot.” You open your eyes at his voice telling you just what you needed to hear. “I’m sorry hermosa. For not getting in touch sooner.” You lift the hand not holding the phone to your heart, somehow trying to keep it from beating out of your chest. “We really need to talk.”

“It’s alright.” It’s barely a whisper, but you know he hears you nonetheless, from the way he starts going on about how much of an asshole he’s been, and how sorry he is, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice. You don’t know how long he spends apologizing, if it’s just a few seconds or a minute, but you cut him off.

“I need to talk to you about something.” Your voice is shaky as you hear his flood of words come to a halt. The silence between the two of you in those short seconds is deafening. An awful number of thoughts manages to run through your head in the span of barely any time. You feel like he knows already, yet he isn’t telling you if he does.

“I really don’t wanna do it over the phone.” You lean back against your pillow, looking up into the ceiling as you mentally prepare yourself for what’s to come next. “I really need to see you, Javi. It’s been almost two months.”

You hear papers being ruffled on the other end of the phone, and you bite your lip as you await his answer. What if he didn’t want to see you again? You really had no idea what you were going to do, no matter what the two of you ended up agreeing on.

“I need to see you. It might be possible for me to get some additional leave within the next week.” You hear him lighting a cigarette on the other end, and you close your eyes, imagining him as the cigarette hangs between his lips while he talks. “I’ll come see you.”

You hear him inhale, followed by a deep exhale, and you find yourself dreaming back to the few times he’d blow the smoke into your mouth ever so sinfully. You let out a silent whimper, your thoughts already taking you further and further away from reality. If you could just daydream for the rest of your life, everything would be so much easier.

“Hermosa?” his voice pulls you out of your trance, and you breathe out a sigh. “I got your postcard.” You smile softly. Your heart was pounding heavily behind your ribcage at the thought of him holding it, looking at it, thinking of you.

“Yeah?” You manage to breathe out, before you let your hand travel down to rest on your stomach. That meant he now knew where you lived. “I’m in Miami now. Back for the start of the semester.”

You hear Javi ruffle some papers again. “I’ll talk to the director today. Let her know what the plan is. Then I’ll call you back, alright? I promise.” You close your eyes as the feeling of tears welling up comes back for another moment. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You wanted to tell him that, but somehow you couldn’t allow yourself to say it.

“Okay Javi.” You bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying. You have so many suppressed feelings coming to the surface right at that moment, and your whole body desperately wanting to give in and let out all of the emotions you’ve been containing, but you really didn’t want to flood Javi with it, giving he’s at work. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“I’ll see you soon, hermosa. I miss your beautiful face.” You can hear the smile playing on his lips, and you stifle a giggle. You hear his name being called on the other end, and you know you must let the moment pass for now. He’d already given you a lot of his time. “I love you. Talk soon.”

You barely manage to say the words back to him before he’s hung up the phone, and you once again throw your head back against your pillow. Now there was a possibility that you could see Javi the following week. God, you wish it would happen. You needed to see him. You didn’t know what part of you longed for him most – your heart, your mind, your lust, or your conscience.

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“Peña.” His voice sounded nothing like she had expected. It was definitely a mature voice - a voice that had been strained from many years of usage. She could also hear the roughness that had probably come from smoking countless cigarettes. No good sign, so far.

“I’m calling on behalf of my daughter.” She stated into the phone, and she heard the man hold his breath on the other end of the line. “I don’t know what you have told her or what the two of you have been doing, but I know one thing. You’re going to leave my daughter alone and pay for what you have caused.” There was no tremble in her voice as she spoke to him.

“Ma’am, I have no idea wha-“ Javi started, but was cut off by the pitched voice of the woman on the other end.

“You have no id- oh my lord. How can you be so selfish? Or was she just an easy target for you to sink your predatory fingers into?” She spat back, feeling the heat of her flash of anger spread from her cheeks and into the skin of her chest.

“My sweet girl has been defiled by a man who won’t even take responsibility for his actions. I don’t know how you sleep at night, knowing a young woman is now on a crash course because you decided you needed some young meat to settle your urges with! I am disgusted beyond words!” The words resonated within his mind, and Javi felt his mouth run dry.

“Ma’am…” his fingers rubbed over his forehead, trying to relieve the tension drawing in his eyebrows. “If this is about this summer with your daughter, I reassure you that every intention I had was good. I would never, and didn’t force anything upon your daughter.” He heard the woman huff on the other line and decided to speak up again before she could start.

“Those weeks I spent with your daughter were some of the best in my life, and believe me when I say I would let nothing bad happen to her. With all due respect ma’am, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Javi heard her sputtering again before retracting the phone from his ear - her voice still clear as day as she screamed into the phone. Javi felt his attention slowly dissolving into nothing.

“You son of a! She’s barely entered her twenties and you… oh my. Are you a complete imbecile?” Javi halfway agreed with her, barely listening. His eyes landed on what his pen was scribbling on, and he muttered out a ‘shit’, noticing what he had been doodling on. He held the phone between his head and shoulder, removing the important information he had just ruined… a little.

“She is pregnant! You do know what happens when two people take the Lord’s name in vain before marriage?! You are dishonoring our beliefs!” Javi sighed and, against his good will, barely continued listening with half an ear to your mother’s spew of profanities. “You have sinned! You have taken the innocence of an unsuspecting young woman!”

If Javi hadn’t been listening before, he certainly was trying to recall what your mother had just said. It couldn’t be. Your mother continued talking, and Javi could hear her voice going through many different emotions while she switched between weeping and screaming.

“Ma’am I’m gonna have to call you back…” Javi slowly ended the call before drawing out a cigarette and lighting it with no emotion. Steve looked up at Javi from his paperwork, having listened in on a bit of their conversation, calling out his name.

Javi’s eyes met Steve’s over the table between them, and it felt like a drum was being pounded upon inside his head. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. He hoped to God it wasn’t true. It sounded harsh, but it was definitely a situation he didn’t want to find himself in.

Javi didn’t know how to feel. Or rather, he didn’t want to. He reached into the cabinet below the desk and pulled out the bottle he’d been storing in the darkness of the confined space, silently wishing he magically would fit in there as well.

Steve was watching him from behind some paperwork, having gained a little insight into the phone call Javi had just received. Somehow, Steve already knew. You could call it a gut feeling, or just the fact that Steve truly knew his partner. He just hadn’t expected this situation to become a reality.

Steve felt sorry for the man on the opposite side of the desk as he watched him screw off the lid and gulp down some of the brown liquid. Then he followed the tan hand as it reached into the pocket of the jacket slung over the armrest of the chair Javi was seated in, and watched as a cigarette appeared between the long fingers.

He watched in silence as the tip of the cigarette disappeared under the curtain of the brown mustache, eyes flickering to where nimble fingers flipped open a zippo and lighting the bared, encapsulated leaves of the tobacco. Silently, Steve wished for Javi to open up to him. He was tired of the way his colleague always shut himself up like a clam when something happened.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” The smoke left Javi’s lips along with the words, and Steve couldn’t help but laugh. Javi’s eyes darted to Steve’s face, taking in the way the skin around his eyes drew up into crinkles, as he smiled at the older man.

“I have to go see her.” Javi breathed, cigarette smoke twisting its way around his words as he spoke. Steve nodded, understanding with the little context given. It was routine by now. He knew Steve knew him like the back of his hand, no matter how reluctant Javi was to admit it.

“You can stay with us. No rush. I’m sure Con would be delighted to have you staying.” Steve was transferring back to Miami, and the two colleagues were wrapping up some last minute ties in Medellín before Steve’s departure the following week.

Connie had moved back to Florida the year before, leaving with their adopted daughter to ensure their safety, and Steve had decided to stay. It had taken a lot of convincing on Connie’s end, but Steve had finally given in and was moving back to the states after two years in Colombia.

Javi, on the other hand, had no intentions on moving back to the states in the near future. Maybe because all he had was his father and some broken relationships to people from his past, or because, no matter where he was, he never felt like he properly fit in.

He never felt like he could do his job right, meet the right people or even spend his time right. That was, until he met you. In the short period of time you were in Colombia, you managed to give him a feeling of belonging - something very foreign to him.

He loved the few days when he got to go home to you. He loved the feeling of coming home to someone, and having someone who actually admired him, talked with him, laughed with him, and didn’t judge him for his line of work.

Javi had to admit it - dating, as a federal agent, was hard. There was the unforgiving hours of work, there were unforgiving people wanting to hurt him and the people around him, and then there was the way of getting information in the god-forsaken country of Colombia.

Sometimes, Javi wishes he could get lost. Lost, and having no responsibility. Maybe just disappear? It would definitely be easier that way. Especially right now. Javi secretly wished he would just melt into a puddle and be dried off the floor by the cleaning lady.

What the hell was he supposed to do with a baby? Was he supposed to bring you into this life? Was he supposed to bring a baby into this life? He never knew if he was safe, if the people around him were safe. He could already see you kidnapped, beaten up, what was worse. He couldn’t lose you that way.

He felt a hand land on his shoulder, and it pulled him out of the spiraling of his own thoughts. He looked up at Steve, who offered him a warm smile. “It’ll be alright, man.” Javi leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, letting out a deep sigh.

He needed to figure this situation out. And quickly.

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