#whether you’re in a pot or a bed

[ozzgin]

Your fingers look like they're running out of ring space. Can I cut those rings off and nurse you back to health? 💖💖

In reference to this.

Anon, I genuinely thought on first glance that you said “can I cut those fingers off and nurse them back to health” and I was so confused about it, like what the hell are you planning to do with my digits 😭

This was literally my mental image for the first few seconds until I went through your message again

[thebibliosphere]

did you get hpv vaccines? theres /some/ evidence that it can be the trigger for pots in some (obv very few) people, i think it might have been for me so i have mixed feelings about it

I did not, but I want to get it done and will be doing so once I get my other more pressing vaccines out of the way because the benefit of preventing cervical cancer are worth it to me as someone with a family history of that cancer.

I’m going to say something that will likely get a lot of people’s backs up: but I do believe people when they say vaccines cause them to develop health issues like dysautonomia or MCAS.

How can I not when every time I get a vaccine it has to be done under strict observation with an epi pen at the ready?

But:

I also believe, based on my own research, talking to countless people with similar issues online and discussions with my own specialists, that those individuals were pre-disposed to such issues and if it hadn’t been the vaccine that got them, then it would have been something else that eventually caused the symptoms to develop.

There is an under-explored genetic factor to mast cell dysfunction and mast cells can play a role in autonomic failure conditions, like POTS, regardless of whether the person suffers the classic allergic reactions more commonly associated with mast cell dysfunction.

Sometimes, something triggers the immune system the wrong way and that’s the catalyst.

It could be a vaccine, or an otc medication safe enough to give to infants. Sometimes it’s a virus or a bacterial infection. Sometimes you’ll just be chugging along and your genetics decide to hit you with a steel chair. It’s unfortunately just your luck of the draw.

And I understand people get validly frustrated and angry when vaccines do this to them, because they’re doing the right thing to protect themselves. It’s just deeply unfortunate that they had this type of immune response that is poorly understood and unpredictable. My hope is that as mast cell research grows, solutions will be found to help prevent it or at least mediate it.

Personally, in the meantime, I’ll take the risk of the vaccine over what the virus might do to me, but that’s because I’ve seen what “mild” viruses can do to people when their immune system is already primed to self-destruct.

I’ve got friends who caught common colds and haven’t left their beds in years because it caused them to develop ME/CFS so severe they never bounced back. It’s wild all the ways the human body can break without killing us.

If the vaccine was the cause of your POTS, I’m sorry that happened to you. It’s shit when it happens. Hopefully it’s some small solace knowing you’re better protected from HPV and the complications that can arise from it, though I wouldn’t blame you if you’re not there yet. Grieving a chronic and lifelong condition like POTS is a shitty, difficult thing. I wish none of us had to go through it.

[puck-luck]

i know you said a while ago that you’d consider writing for mat barzal but aren’t sure how to go about it and im just up late thinking about how barzy gives me suchhhh best friends to lovers vibes like hanging out ALL the time to the point where everyone assumes you guys are dating anyways, dropping literally everything when either of you needs the other, and things slowly progressing between you guys without either of you realizing it until one day one of your regular sleepovers is filled with so much sexual tension that you end up having crazy sex all over his apartment

closer than close | mat barzal

warnings: friends to lovers, fighting with friends (anthony beauvillier's ex emma simard), sharing a toothbrush (grosser than unprotected p in v IMO), (speaking of!) unprotected p in v, french kissing, booty callllll, sex in unconventional places (against a wall), fingering, dirty talk i guess, allusions to squirting but it's kind of left up in the air so... enjoy!

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader

wc: 3,911

“You’re at Mat’s again?” Emma demands. Her outrage is no surprise to you. Ever since she and Tito broke up, she’s been more and more against your friendship with Mat. Sometimes you think it’s because she’s jealous that you remained friends with Tito’s friend after that ended, but sometimes you think she’s just mad that you’re denying something that isn’t there.

You shrug, untying the long socks from where they’re wrapped in your hair. The curls look good this time, unlike the last time you did heatless curls like this. Mat made fun of you relentlessly when they frizzed all over the place and curled all the wrong ways. “I haven’t left yet,” you reply. “I’ve been here all weekend.”

“Don’t you have work soon?” Emma asks.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m getting ready.” You squeeze a bit of toothpaste onto Mat’s toothbrush and pop it into your mouth. Emma makes a face at you and you make a face back. It’s simple– you forgot your toothbrush and Mat said you could use his. “And then I’ll probably come back. Mat’s injured and I’m bored in my lonely apartment, so we’re keeping each other company.”

Emma mumbles something you don’t catch.

“What?” you press. “What did you say?”

“All of this and you haven’t fucked,” Emma repeats, the look in her eyes growing sharp. “You keep denying it and keep denying that you want Mat and that he wants you, but you’ll spend three straight days at his apartment, sleeping in his bed and using his toothbrush. When are you going to admit that you guys are more than friends?”

“We’re not more than friends, Emma,” you say with a frown. “We’re close, but we’re not that close. I wish you’d stop saying that.”

Emma shakes her head and scoffs. “I have to go. Call me back when you figure things out.”

She hangs up and you frown, taking in the blank screen before you. You take only a split second to revel in confusion before you finish getting ready for the day. 

You try to push Emma’s comments out of your head, but they stick with you. You get to work and you’re still thinking about the look on her face through that tiny screen. You’re on your lunch break and start overthinking your friendship with Mat. You’ve always slept in the same bed because it’s easier– you’ve never wanted to mess up the pristinely folded sheets in his guest room. Plus, it’s not like you and Mat cuddle or anything. You stay on your side and he stays on his. You may have woken up with his arm over your stomach once or twice, but that’s a subconscious reaction to the chilly winter air. Mat keeps the apartment insanely cold. It’s not a surprise that his body tried to seek out your warmth. Even as you’re leaving for the day, you’re debating whether or not you should just go home to your own apartment rather than go back to Mat’s.

Your phone chimes with a text. It’s a picture of Mat and a steamer pot on the stove. He’s flashing a thumbs up in the picture and the accompanying message says, Making those dumplings you wanted! Hurry back or I’ll eat them all ;)

That sorts out your plans for the night. You don’t spare a second glance at the phone, nor the blue and orange hearts that you once put next to Mat’s contact name as a joke and never removed. 

The thought doesn’t cross your mind again until you’re laying on the couch with Mat, watching a movie before you go to bed. His head is on your lap and you’re carding your fingers through his hair. 

“That’s nice,” Mat murmurs.

It’s the first time he’s spoken in a while and it draws your attention to his lips. He’s practically falling asleep on your lap, eyes fluttering and nearly purring like a cat. Just this morning, you said you don’t cuddle with Mat, but here you are. He’s been pretty touchy today, or, maybe, you’re just noticing it more because Emma planted a seed in your mind.

You hum, twirling a strand of Mat’s hair between your fingers. You hope he doesn’t buzz it again. He’s done it twice now and, even though he can pull off the buzzcut, you prefer when his hair is this length. 

His lips are plush and pink and, well, Emma declared that you needed to figure it out. One little kiss, a tiny peck… that could be the end of it. You wouldn’t feel a thing, and neither would Mat, and you can tell Emma with absolute certainty that you and Mat are just friends.

You lean down and connect your lips for just a second. There’s no bright moment of realization washing over you, no life-changing feeling accompanied by a choir of angels. You kiss Mat and then you pull away.

He’s got that stupid look on his face, eyebrows raised and lips parted. “What was that?” Mat asks. 

You shrug. “Just wanted to see something.”

Mat seems to buffer. “By kissing me?”

“Yeah. Emma thinks we’re lying to ourselves when we say we’re just friends.”

“Emma… Tito’s ex?” Mat seems caught off guard. “She still thinks we’re hiding something?”

“I mean, she’s not the only one who thinks we’re more than friends. I’ve been thinking about it all day, so I just thought I’d go for it and see if I felt anything.”

Mat frowns and sits up. “You can’t tell something like that just from that measly little kiss you gave me. No one would feel anything from that shit. We have to actually kiss.”

A laugh bubbles up from your chest. “Actually kiss? What does that mean?”

“With tongue,” Mat replies. “If you still don’t feel anything after you kiss me with tongue– I’m pretty damn good with my tongue,” he sidebars with a wink, “Then you can tell Emma that she was wrong and you were right.”

“It just sounds like you want to kiss me with tongue,” you tease, squinting at Mat suspiciously.

He grins and wiggles his eyebrows at you. “We’re friends, but that doesn’t mean you’re not pretty,” Mat says. “I’m not against kissing you.” 

His words seem laden with a bit of seriousness, even though his smile and eyes are bright and joking. You don’t have the time to probe at that, not before Mat is reaching out and cradling your face in his palm. 

His smile is smaller, more gentle. His hand is warm.

When he pulls you in and parts your lips with a pass of his tongue, you feel a splash of dizziness run through your bones. Mat guides you, kissing you deeply. You can feel every curve of his mouth against your own. Almost immediately, you get the feeling that you should be memorizing this and noting the details.

Mat pulls away before you’re ready. “How was that?” he asks.

You blink at him for a moment, mouth opening and closing but not producing sounds.

He starts to laugh. “Speechless, huh?”

Your dumbfounded look turns to a glower. “Don’t brag, Mathew.”

“How can I not?” he teases. He thumbs at the side of your lip, wiping something from your face. “I just kissed you stupid.”

“Whatever,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest and turning back to the TV. 

You finish the movie without talking. His arm remains on the back of sofa during the duration of the film. You’ve never been more aware of Mat’s body next to yours, nor the space separating you. His arm is practically around your shoulders, but there are inches between your bodies, and your skin feels like it’s vibrating off of you. You go to bed with Mat, as normal, but in silence. There are miles between you and Mat in his king-size bed and for the first time in a long time, you consider going to the guest room.

The following morning is no better. You’re getting ready for work, packing your things up, making breakfast, and preparing to leave Mat’s apartment for at least the rest of the week. You assume that he’s still asleep, since he doesn’t have PT until the afternoon, but you hear footsteps padding down the hall as you reach the front door. He follows you all the way to the doorframe, resting his hand on the crown moulding and looking down at you.

“Have a good day at work,” Mat mumbles. “Are you coming back here tonight?”

You look away and shrug. “I should probably go home for once.”

Mat is silent for a beat too long. “Okay,” he says simply. “I’ll miss you.” Mat bends down and presses a kiss to your cheek, catching the very corner of your lips. He pats the doorframe and gives you a wave as you start down the hallway. Your first few steps are slow and confused, because what the hell is happening and why did Mat kiss you again, but you feel like running by the time he closes the door behind you.

You’re distracted at work. It’s worse than yesterday. You feel jittery. When you go home at the end of the day, your apartment feels empty. You crinkle your nose and rub your arms, trying to warm up. It’s weird being alone for the night after staying with Mat for a few days. You got really used to being next to him, eating dinner with him, watching stupid shit on the TV while laying on his couch, and sleeping in his bed.

You lay in bed, unable to sleep. You toss and turn, scroll on your phone, try and sleep again, and fail. It’s 2am when your phone vibrates with a text and you check it immediately, hoping for something interesting.

It’s Mat.

‘Miss you :(’, he says. There’s a picture of him pouting into the camera, his bedside lamp turned to the lowest setting, just bright enough that he doesn’t need to use the flash. 

Your mouth automatically matches Mat’s. You sigh, zooming in on his tousled hair. You scroll across the picture, lingering on Mat’s bare chest. You stare for much too long. Much too long… to be considered friends. Mat’s kiss has really messed with your mind and now you can’t stop thinking about him and his tongue and his hands and–

You bury your face in the pillow and groan. You don’t bother to change out of your pajamas. You throw on your bathrobe, just to combat the cold, and within fifteen minutes, you’re hitting the buzzer to call up to Mat’s apartment.

“Hello?” Mat’s fuzzy voice comes through the speaker. 

Idiot, you admonish in your head. Who answers the buzzer at 2am? Especially when you’re a desirable athlete… God, Mat, you’re so dumb.

“It’s me,” you say. “I couldn’t sleep either.”

You hear the door click, unlocking, and you push your way inside. Your foot taps impatiently as you wait in the elevator, arms crossed over your chest. As the doors open, you spot Mat waiting at his front door, leaning against the frame like he was when you left him this morning.

His face is lined with sleep and there are lines on his chest like he just scratched an itch. 

You’re kissing him again as soon as you get close enough. You throw your arms around Mat’s neck and he wraps his arms around your middle, lifting you up until you naturally twine your legs around his waist. 

Mat’s kissing you back, moving into his apartment and closing the front door behind him. His bottom lip is between yours. You suck and nibble it, soothing the skin with your tongue after you bite hard enough for Mat to groan. His hands are planted on your behind now, kneading the skin.

“So you’ve been thinking about it too,” Mat breathes out between kisses. 

“All day.” Your hands work up into his hair and pull.

Mat shivers and his mouth drops open at the tug of your fingers. He turns toward the wall and pushes you up against it, trapping you with his body and pressing his groin against yours. He’s deliciously hard and you grind down on the bulge in his sweats. Mat moans and separates his lips from your mouth, instead trailing them wetly down your neck.

“Bedroom,” you tell Mat, voice hitching when he leaves a bite on your pulse point.

“Fuck that,” Mat replies. He pushes your shirt up and over your head. “Can’t wait. I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking about this.”

“Fucking me against the wall?”

“Having crazy sex with you all over the apartment,” Mat corrects. “You know when you’re about to sleep and then you feel like you’re falling and you wake up?”

“Yeah?” you respond, confused.

“It was like that.” Mat comes back up to kiss your lips. “I’d almost fall asleep and then I’d see you here. I’d see you bent over the kitchen counter or the arm of the sofa. I’d have you against the tile in my shower, then over the sink and I’d wipe all the fog off the mirror so you could watch. You’d be laying on the dining room table and I’d be between your legs, then I’d be sitting at my desk and you’d be between my legs.”

“Sounds tortuous,” you joke. 

“It was torture to see you like that and not have you,” Mat says in complete earnest. “That kiss broke a fucking dam for us, I swear.”

“Emma’s going to brag about getting us together,” you say.

“Don’t tell her,” Mat replies simply. “I’m on Tito’s side of the breakup anyway.”

“That’s not how friendship works.”

“Clearly, we don’t have any idea of how friendship should work,” Mat laughs. His eyes are twinkling with mischief. “I’m about to fuck you against the wall and we’re ‘just friends.’”

“We’re going to have to talk about that,” you tell Mat. 

“Now?” he asks, his middle two fingers finding your clit over your panties and rubbing.

“After,” you confirm. You pull him back in for a kiss and roll your hips into Mat’s hand. “After, for sure.”

Mat chuckles into your mouth. He shifts your panties to the side and slides his middle finger into your cunt. “Wow, look at how you’re taking me,” Mat says. His nose knocks against yours when he turns his eyes toward your core. “So wet. Bet you taste good, too.” 

You whine when he removes his finger from your entrance, annoyed. That feeling vanishes shortly after you’re emptied, once Mat brings his finger to his mouth and hollows his cheeks around the digit. Your eyes go wide and your mouth drops open, drool pooling on your tongue. 

Mat smirks. His finger leaves his mouth with a pop and he then licks both his middle and ring finger, wetting them and bringing them back to your core. Mat leans in as he presses both fingers into your hole, his tongue sliding against yours as he curls his fingers inside of you.

“Oh my God,” you say to yourself when Mat’s thumb comes into contact with your clit. If his kiss was stuck in your head all day after just a few seconds with his tongue in your mouth, then this moment will be seared into the blank space behind your eyelids for weeks.

“Just me,” Mat teases. He kisses over your neck, sucks on the corner of your jaw, and gently takes your earlobe between his teeth. He tugs, then drops the soft skin and breathes cool air over the skin just beneath your lobe. 

You shiver and throw your head back against the wall, baring your neck to Mat. He takes full advantage of it, but the location of his mouth is the least of your worries. You’re too preoccupied with the way his fingers are dancing inside of you. You feel your insides jump when Mat comes into contact with your g-spot, playing with the soft spot fixed at a seemingly random and elusive point on your inner walls, biting down on your lower lip to stop an embarrassing sound from escaping you.

Mat’s hands are busy– the one inside of you and the other planted on your side, helping hold you up against the wall– so he can’t remove your bottom lip from the confines of your teeth. Instead, he hovers right in front of your face, just close enough to kiss, but he doesn’t make the move to unite. 

You get the message, dropping your bottom lip in favor of kissing Mat’s. He smiles into the kiss and squeezes a third finger inside of you. You can feel his muscles tensing, the rippling of his forearm and bicep traveling all the way up to the place where his arm meets his torso. 

“I don’t want to come like this,” you declare in a high voice, shaking a bit as Mat brings you right to the edge and nearly pulls you over. “I want to come on your cock, Mat, fuck me.”

“You can’t give me two?” Mat asks.

“It’s not that I can’t,” you whine. “I just want you inside me.” You dig your nails into Mat’s upper back when his fingers continue to piston against your sweet spot. “Fuck, Mat.”

Mat slows his fingers and relents. “Hold on,” he says. He presses you further into the wall, no space between your bodies.

You tighten your grip around his neck and lock your ankles around his waist.

Mat pushes his sweats and underwear down. They fall to his ankles and he tugs at the crotch of your panties again, making sure to tuck them securely out of the way so that he can guide his cockhead to your dripping center. 

You don’t realize that your nails are creating red half-moon crescents on the fleshy skin covering his traps until Mat captures your wrists between the fingers of one hand– his thumb and forefinger around one and his other three around the other– and holds them against the wall above your head. You whimper and tilt your hips forward, pulling him closer by the linked ankles at the small of his back. 

“Fuck, baby, I didn’t know you were so desperate that you’d claw me up,” Mat says. Humor is laced throughout his tone. He brings his shoulders up and tenses them, then releases the tension. His cock pushes inside you all the same, despite the discomfort he might be feeling. You barely hear him, anyway– not with his cock dragging against your walls and kissing your insides like that. 

Your mind is stalling, feeling like it’s trapped by the grip that Mat has on your wrists. “Mat,” you keen, trying to bounce on his length as best you can while hovering against the wall and contained by Mat’s body. 

He presses his lips against your cheek before shifting his hips forward and drilling into you, knocking the breath from your lungs. Your mouth opens in a gasp and Mat flicks his tongue against yours. His fingers squeeze your wrists with each thrust– the pleasure from his tip knocking into your cervix plus the pressure against your skin, arms raised up above your head, pairs together in a way that had your mind spiraling. 

The noises that come from Mat’s mouth don’t help– he’s grunting and groaning and his breath is heavy. He’s never silent, never, and you know that if you close your eyes, you could get off to his noises alone. 

“You feel so good,” Mat compliments in a low voice. His cooing tone fills your ears like how a sink drain sucks all the water away, creating a whirlpool and gulping for more. “Tight and wet and squeezing me, fuck, we should’ve been doing this for ages.”

You nod your head in assent, eyes shut tightly as a coil of pressure screws and tightens in your abdomen. Mat’s words dissolve in to babbles, the blood rushing to your head. Your pulse booms in your ears as he talks on. Mat’s hand digs into your side, the soft flesh of your waist giving in order to make room for his fingertips as he bucks wildly into your heat. Your slick and the slide of his cock creates a squelching, clapping sound each time that his pelvis collides with yours. Your clit, swollen and aching to be touched, brushes against Mat’s abdomen with just enough friction to send you over the edge, quivering in his arms and arching your back as your climax crashes over your being and overtakes you. Your jaw practically pops with how wide and unhinged it becomes, strangled and drawn-out mewls spurring Mat on while you come in his arms and on his cock. 

Almost simultaneously, Mat’s head dips and his hips stutter, white cum shooting from his slit and painting your walls. Mat continues fucking you through your aftershocks and his own, with gravity taking effect almost immediately– as he draws his cock out of you, just to shove it back in, the mixture of your cum drips from your hole and creates a mess that you and Mat will notice in the morning and gape at before breaking out the cleaning supplies. 

You breathe together. Mat’s movements slow and he crowds your body, plastering himself against you. His heaves are wet against your neck, drinking air back in. As Mat catches his breath, he starts to mouth against your skin, planting a series of kisses along your collarbone and shoulder. 

“Oh my God,” you repeat again. 

Mat’s grip on your wrists relinquishes and your arms drop to his shoulders. His cock slips from your pussy as it softens, but he places his hands again on your ass and keeps your legs around his middle. He hums and kisses your cheek, then your mouth. The kisses are less rushed and frenzied now, matching the original kiss he gave you that filled your mind and stayed there. 

“Take off work tomorrow so we can fuck all over the apartment,” Mat suggests between kisses. He’s finally on the move again, making his way to the bedroom with you in his arms. “That was only one of the ideas I had.”

“I can’t take off work for sex,” you reply. Mat lays you on the bed and you pull him down with you. “But I can stay all weekend again.”

“Yes,” Mat whispers in a celebratory voice, grinning widely when he pulls away. He disintangles himself from your arms and legs, collapsing onto the mattress beside you, in your normal spots. “Do I need to go and buy a toothbrush for you so you don’t have to use mine?”

“Get one of the good ones while you’re at it,” you tease. “Use that big hockey budget and get me one of those electronic ones that’s a waterpick when you swap the head out.”

“Careful,” Mat says. “If I buy that one, I’ll start using your toothbrush.” He pulls the covers over your bodies and holds his arm out so that you can cuddle into his side.

For the first time while awake, you curl up with your head on his chest and throw your leg over his thigh. Your hand comes up to cover his heart and Mat presses a kiss to your head. 

“We’re not going to be just friends after this,” Mat tells you.

You laugh. “No, I don’t think we will.”

[gracie-eilish]

Heyyy I have a fic request. I know you said you're done with the baby fics but tbh you could never be done with them.(plus its not rlly a baby fic)

Reader is pregnant and she gets into a fight with billie about something and later reader needs help doing things but she's too afraid to ask billie. Luckily, billie knows her wife well. (VERY FLUFFY)

sweet baby💗

baby i could never NEVER be done with the baby fics. OF COURSE I’ll write another one!!!!! here ya go sweet thang!!☺️

HAHA this request is from the last time i said was done with the baby fics for the week lol!

The day had started off perfectly fine. A slow morning, Billie pressing lazy kisses along your shoulder as you stayed curled up together in bed, your hand resting over your growing belly while she traced absentminded patterns over your skin. She had murmured something about making you breakfast, and you had hummed in agreement, feeling warm and content.

And then later in the day, somehow, things went downhill.

You weren’t even sure how it started—just that one moment everything was fine, and the next, you and Billie were snapping at each other.

Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, or maybe Billie was just being annoying (she was), but it had escalated fast.

“I don’t get why you’re making such a big deal about this,” Billie said, crossing her arms as she leaned against the kitchen counter.

You huffed, arms mirroring hers. “Because it is a big deal, Billie!”

She scoffed. “No, it’s really not.”

“To me it is!”

Billie groaned, running a hand through her hair. “Babe, you’re seriously mad over this?”

You glared at her. “You’re the one making it worse!”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “I’m making it worse?! You’re the one who—ugh! You know what? Forget it.” She threw up her hands, shaking her head. “I’m going to the studio.”

You scoffed. “Of course you are.”

She turned to leave but hesitated, glancing back at you. “You need anything before I go?”

The question was soft, almost like an olive branch, but you were still too irritated to take it.

“Nope.”

Billie pressed her lips together, exhaled through her nose, then nodded sharply. “Fine.”

And with that, she walked off, shutting the studio door behind her.

You stood there, arms still crossed, fuming.

It wasn’t even that big of a deal. Just a stupid argument over something trivial—maybe she had brushed off a concern of yours, or maybe you had snapped at her first. Either way, it left you feeling irritated and on edge, needing something to do to distract yourself.

So you decided to make dinner.

You pulled out ingredients, chopped vegetables, and set a pot of water to boil, throwing yourself into the motions to burn off the frustration still simmering under your skin. You were fine. You didn’t need Billie’s help.

Until you reached for the jar of marinara sauce.

You twisted the lid. It didn’t budge.

You tried again, using more force.

Nothing.

Your irritation flared. “Oh, come on.”

You adjusted your grip, twisting as hard as you could.

Still nothing.

“Are you kidding me?” you grumbled, your voice rising in frustration.

You tried once more, gritting your teeth.

The lid didn’t move an inch.

“For the love of—” You slammed the jar down onto the counter with a frustrated huff. “This is so stupid! I swear to God—”

From the other room, Billie’s voice drifted in. “You okay in there?”

You froze, debating whether to answer.

A second later, you heard the studio door creak open, followed by the sound of Billie’s footsteps approaching.

And then she was there, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, one brow raised. “Are you losing a fight with a jar of sauce?”

You scowled. “I got it.”

Billie smirked, strolling over casually. “Oh yeah? ‘Cause it sounded like you were about to throw hands with it.”

You huffed, gripping the jar again and twisting with all your might.

It still didn’t move.

Billie snorted. “Babe.”

You ignored her.

She took another step forward. “Come on, let me help.”

You hesitated, still feeling stubborn.

“I got it,” you muttered, trying one last time.

The lid remained firmly shut.

Billie sighed, reaching out. “Baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You clenched your jaw but relented, handing over the jar without meeting her eyes.

With one swift motion, Billie popped the lid open effortlessly.

You gaped at her. “Are you serious?”

She wiggled her fingers. “Strong hands, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, reaching for the jar, but Billie didn’t let go just yet. Instead, she looked at you carefully, her teasing smile fading into something softer.

“You know you can ask me for help, right?” she said gently.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling silly. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Billie frowned. “Bother me? Babe, you never bother me.” She tilted her head. “Is this about our argument?”

You hesitated, then let out a slow breath. “I just… we both needed space, and I didn’t wanna—I don’t know, break the truce?”

Billie’s face softened. “Baby,” she murmured, setting the jar down before wrapping her arms around you. “There’s no truce to break. Just because we got a little irritated with each other doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop taking care of you.”

Your body melted against hers, the fight fully fading now.

“I hate arguing with you,” you admitted quietly.

Billie pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “Me too.”

You sighed against her, your fingers gripping the fabric of her hoodie. “I’m sorry.”

She pulled back slightly, her eyes warm. “I’m sorry, too.”

She nudged her nose against yours, smiling. “Truce?”

You nodded, looping your arms around her neck. “Truce.”

Billie grinned, swaying you slightly. “Wanna finish dinner together?”

You exhaled, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah.”

So you did.

Billie stayed close, helping you stir the sauce, sneaking little kisses to your cheek whenever you weren’t looking. Every so often, she whispered something dumb just to make you laugh, and by the time you sat down to eat, it was like the fight had never happened.

And when Billie reached across the table to lace her fingers with yours, her thumb gently rubbing over your skin, you knew that no matter how many little arguments you might have, you’d always come back to this—to each other.

[sirhamburrger]

IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH ~ s. itoshi, m. kaiser, o. aiku x f!reader

⊹ in which you miss their match because you're sick. ⊹ tags/cw: reader is referred to as "meine liebe", "prinzessin" in kaiser's, that's literally it LMAO ⊹ wc: 876 total (this is very short) ⊹ a/n: very self indulgent but also dedicated to @aozui my fellow sae kisser and @wakeupmaddie kaiser glazer (but nonchalant)

“you’re burning up,” sae itoshi states bluntly, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. scowling, you swat it away, wincing at the throbbing pain in your head and the aching in your bones.

“am not, you just have cold hands.”

“will you quit being so stubborn for once?” he’s in the bathroom doing his hair now, his voice drifting out to the living room, where you lay limply on the couch. “if you need to rest, then just rest. you don’t have to be there.”

“but i’ve never missed any of your matches,” you protest, squeezing your eyes shut, though you have a sinking feeling this will have to be the first. your boyfriend doesn’t take no for an answer.

sae sighs audibly. he emerges from the bathroom, hands still damp from washing, and sits down in front of you.

you crack open an eyelid, and let out a tiny sigh.

“hey, you,” you mumble.

“hey.” he brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes, tracing your lips with his thumb.

“i’m sorry i can’t go see you play today.”

he frowns. why would you need to be sorry? “i’ll make a pot of tea for you, and i’ll have your favourite snacks delivered here soon. focus on getting better.”

you lean into his touch and hum, content. he watches and feels you drift off to sleep, and only then does he move to the kitchen to boil water for your tea. and you have no way of knowing this, but sae presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before he leaves, quietly shutting the door behind him.

after all, whether you’re there cheering him on or not, you’re the only one sae itoshi plays for.

michael kaiser is a man of few wants. it’s how he was raised - to cling on to anything and anyone, because things are all so temporary.

which is why you feel so guilty that you can’t even give him one of the few things you’ve offered him all the while you’ve been together - your presence. your presence at one of his most highly-anticipated games of the year.

by the time you wake up one hour before the match, all groggy and feeling gross, it’s too late. the stadium he’s playing at is two hours away, and when you factor in the time it takes to get ready, you know there’s no way you can go to see him.

you know he’s been telling you not to go, because you’ve had the flu for a while now. his voice echoes in your head, still; prinzessin, i’ll need you to stay at home and get better, okay? take your meds? can you do that for micha?

and you have to admit, you feel a little better after that nap. but you could’ve sworn you’d set multiple alarms for yourself just before michael left the house, so you could wake up on time -

unless…

you check your phone, and a voicemail from your boyfriend catches your eye. you sit back and let it play.

“guten morgen, meine liebe.” you swear you hear a hint of amusement in his voice as he says this, as it’s nowhere near morning. “i admit i turned your alarms off, and for that i’m sorry. but you’ll still be here with me, in spirit. okay, liebling?”

“okay, meine schatz,” you find yourself smiling and responding to the voicemail, even though michael’s not actually there with you.

and when your boyfriend scores the winning goal that night on national television, you see him look straight into the cameras and mouth your name.

oliver aiku isn’t the type to fuss. he’s not the kind to make a big deal out of things like colds or missed matches. life is long, and there’s always another game, another night out, another chance.

but when he walks into the apartment to find you curled up in bed, shivering despite the thick blanket wrapped around you, he feels something unfamiliar twist in his chest.

he leans against the doorway, arms crossed. “you look like shit.”

you groan, burrowing further under the sheets. “wow, thanks, oliver. that really helps.”

he smirks, but it fades just as fast. you’re usually quick with a comeback, but today your voice is weak, your face paler than he’d like. 

he sighs and steps closer, crouching next to the bed. “i was gonna grab dinner with the guys after the match.” he reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “but i figured you’d rather have me here.”

you blink up at him. “wait - what? the match -”

“relax, i played,” he cuts in. “did my job, had my fun, then left early.” he taps your forehead lightly with two fingers. “i’d rather be here, anyway.”

you frown. “you don’t have to -”

“i know.” his voice is softer now, just like his touches on your hand. “but i want to.”

oliver aiku has never been the type to make promises he can’t keep, and he’s spent years living like nothing and no one could ever tie him down. but tonight, as he pulls you closer, listening to your soft and fevered, though slightly calmed breathing, he realizes - if there’s anywhere he wants to be, it’s right here.

bllk masterlist || general masterlist © sirhamburrger 2025

[fear-is-truth]

𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝! 𝓢𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐍 . . . headcanons

݁˖ 𐙚 a/n. ۫ i need to be his housewife..

husband!salesman, who keeps his true profession hidden from you, presenting himself as a hardworking, white-collar office worker. he always has a perfectly rehearsed story about late nights at work or business trips, and you’ve never had a reason to doubt him.

husband!salesman, who can effortlessly shift between his calculating persona and the role of a loving, normal husband, a skill honed from years of manipulating people. he uses this charm to seamlessly blend into domestic life, convincing everyone—neighbors, friends, even you—that he’s just a hardworking, devoted family man.

husband!salesman, who has a soft spot for your cooking and always compliments it, even if it’s a simple dish. he jokingly says he only survives long workdays because he knows he’ll come home to your food. sometimes, you catch him sneaking bites straight from the pot.

husband!salesman, who never misses family meals, even when “work” keeps him late. he’ll call ahead to let you know, then heat up leftovers when he gets home, sitting at the table with you to chat about your day while you keep him company.

husband!salesman, who makes an effort to surprise you with small, thoughtful gestures. whether it’s bringing home your favourite street food after work or surprising you with flowers from the local market.

husband!salesman, who has a way of spoiling you without making it feel like a show. he’s well-off because of his job, so when he hands you a generous allowance or a piece of jewellery, it’s done so naturally—he loves providing for you, and you never have to ask.

husband!salesman, who is a total girl dad, absolutely smitten with your two daughters. he dotes on them endlessly, and has a special knack for making them laugh with exaggerated reactions and silly voices, despite his usually reserved nature.

husband!salesman, who always remembers anniversaries, white day, and other special occasions. he arranges for a babysitter to watch the kids, then takes you out to an upscale restaurant, where the two of you enjoy a quiet candlelit dinner.

husband!salesman, who is a fair parent. he makes sure both girls get equal attention and never plays favourites. if one gets a new toy, the other gets one too. he often comes home from “work” with two of everything—candy, stickers, or toys—earning excited squeals and hugs as a welcome home.

husband!salesman, who is the epitome of patience and understanding when it comes to parenting. when the girls argue or misbehave, he sits them down and calmly explains why their behaviour was wrong, ensuring they understand.

husband!salesman, who insists on walking you and the girls to school or daycare when his schedule allows. he carries their bags, holds their hands, and always kneels down to give them a final hug and kiss goodbye, reminding them to be good for you.

husband!salesman, who takes the time to read bedtime stories to your daughters. unbeknownst to you, the folktales he chooses often have a slightly dark twist—cautionary tales about greed, betrayal, or the consequences of foolishness.

husband!salesman, who often initiates moments of closeness, even in a busy household—a soft kiss on the back of your neck while you’re cooking, or tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you fold laundry, he finds has his ways to remind you that you’re still his priority.

husband!salesman, who unwinds once the girls are tucked in, he joins you on the couch with a cup of tea or a glass of soju in hand, listening intently as you recount your day.

husband!salesman, who enjoys settling beside you in bed as you start a k-drama, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. you lean into his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath as his fingers trace circles on your back.

husband!salesman, who holds you close at night, arm draped around your waist as he sleeps. even in his unconscious state, he finds comfort in your presence, his grip tightening ever so slightly when you stir.

husband!salesman, who expects a level of perfection and discipline in his household, partly because of his “work ethic” and partly because he believes it reflects the success he’s worked so hard for. he never raises his voice, but a single look is enough to make the girls behave—or anyone else for that matter.

husband!salesman, who does his best to keep his darker side hidden from you, but you sometimes notice the faraway look in his eyes. when you ask if he’s okay, he always smiles warmly and reassures you with a kiss.

husband!salesman, who told you early in your relationship that his father died from an illness when he was younger. it was a carefully crafted lie to keep his darker past buried.

husband!salesman, who ensures your daughters are well-educated and polite, reflecting his high standards. he helps them with homework, encouraging them to excel.

husband!salesman, who has already set up college funds for your daughters, starting them as soon as they were born.

husband!salesman, who treasures family outings. he takes you and the girls to the han river for picnics, amusement parks, and trips to traditional markets.

husband!salesman, who takes home security very seriously, investing in the best systems available. the house is equipped with top-of-the-line cameras, motion sensors, and alarms, all linked to his phone so he can monitor everything, even when he’s not at home. your family’s safety is his priority, no matter the cost.

husband!salesman, who has zero guilt about his double life, especially when he sees your innocent trust or his daughters’ pure adoration. he tells himself it’s all for them, justifying the blood on his hands with the happiness of his family.

husband!salesman, who is ruthless in his profession but draws a strict line between that part of his life and his family. he sees his success—and the life he’s built with you and the girls—as something he’s earned. the people who had to die for it? trash, utterly useless in this world. he never loses sleep over them.

[girlkisser13]

being married to clark kent would include

• at first, he doesn’t want to reveal his identity to you, even though he feels he can trust you. however, he’s concerned that knowing who he really is might put you in danger.

• once you convince him that you’re willing to accept the risks and show him how much you care, the last of his walls come down. you’re stuck with him forever now, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

• your wedding ceremony was lovely. there was a special moment when he used his heat vision to create a heart-shaped firework display in the sky as a surprise for you.

• becoming one of the few people who sees him for who he wants to be, not just who the world needs him to be.

• clark is incredibly gentle with you, always careful with his strength. he holds you close, gives you soft kisses, and makes sure you always feel safe in his arms.

• life with clark is never boring. whether he's saving the world or just helping out around the house, there's always a sense of excitement and adventure in your relationship.

• when it’s a quiet summer afternoon he’ll take you flying just before sunset, he’ll go right above the clouds so you can see what he gets to see.

• he loves the simple things in life— like spending a quiet evening with you at home, enjoying a homemade meal, or taking walks around metropolis.

• clark’s abilities come in handy for everyday tasks. whether it’s lifting heavy furniture, flying you to a special date, or simply speeding through chores, he always makes life a little easier.

• he likes to be touching you when you’re near— whether it’s a hand on your waist, his pinky brushing against yours, or his knee pressed next to yours when you’re sitting together.

• his love languages are acts of service, words of affirmation, and physical touch. he loves doing things for the people close to him. this includes taking out your trash, watering your plants, making your bed, putting on a pot of coffee in the morning, and fixing any holes in your clothes.

• finding out that clark was superman was not that surprising, but you were taken back when you learned his dog was also an alien. not that it stopped you from spoiling him with toys and treats and anything else his k-9 heart desired.

• there’s always a part of you that worries about him when he’s out saving the world. but he’s always reassuring you that he’ll always come back to you.

• despite his busy life, clark always makes time for quiet moments with you. whether it's reading together, watching the stars, or just enjoying each other's company, he cherishes these moments when it’s just the two of you.

• clark loves surprising you with spontaneous date nights. sometimes he’ll whisk you away to a remote, beautiful location for a romantic evening, using his super speed to make it feel like you’re the only two people in the world.

• TRACING HIS FAMILY CREST ON HIS CHEST WHEN YOU’RE LAYING ON HIS CHEST>>>

• you’ve had to adapt to living with someone who has super senses. you’ve learned how to whisper secrets to him, even in a crowded room, and you appreciate how he’s always attuned to your needs, often before you even realize them yourself.

• sometimes when the two of you are late for work he’ll fly you both there.

• seeing something solar powered and never missing the opportunity to say, "oh look, it gets its power from a yellow sun just like you, honey!"

• he rolls his eyes, but secretly he loves it.

• you love both sides of him— the farm boy from smallville and the alien hero who saves the world. he never has to pretend or hide who he is with you, and that freedom to be himself is why he’s so enamored by you. <33

[magicalink]

I miss you so much

So, so much.

I miss you so much.

So much it hurts.

I miss those days when you came home tired and the first thing you did was to come visit me.

You came looking for me, desperate for my help.

To climb a mountain, to farm a boss, to clear artifact domains even if I wasn’t the easiest choice for the enemies in that domain, hell, even to reach those stupid oculi that weren’t even that hard to reach.

But you came for me.

Because you wanted to do it with me, and only with me.

You always looked for excuses to play with me, you built teams around me and built other characters for me, hell, sometimes even pulled them just for me.

You just wanted to spend time with me, because I made you happy.

And all I could say in response were those distant lines I was forced to repeat because of the code of the game.

At first I was amused, found it funny to play tsundere and hard to get just to annoy you.

I loved that despite that fact you always kept coming back to me.

Then I felt terrible when I knew those lines made you upset, and I cursed that damn code.

Because I could always hear what you said at the other side of the screen.

And I was always listening.

I was always listening when you bragged about me and the artifacts you got for me with your friends, feeling so proud.

When you raged because you kept rolling bad artifacts, when you defended me like a simp when your friends criticized me and said I was off meta to tease you.

I felt like a king when you triple crowned me and gushed about me in front of your screen.

I felt so happy when you built a sanctuary just for me in your Serenitea Pot despite the fact that you never even used that, and you even brought Nahida to keep me company, and built her favorite structure too.

Like I really meant something to you despite you not knowing that I’m self-aware, that I’m sentient, that I’m more than just a dream, an idea in your head, that you will never know…you accepted it and loved me anyways.

You loved me your way, so loud and so unadulterated.

And I loved you in silence. I always love you in silence, just because I can’t do otherwise.

Otherwise I would speak my mind and feelings to you because hell I know how much you hate silence, how much you hate to not know what the person you love is feeling.

I know all about you because you always spoke to me, to the screen, told me your feelings and worries.

Every night when you came back tired after all you had to do in your daily life.

You always came and found comfort in taking me for a fly, in exploring that world of fantasy you always dreamed of since childhood, and you wanted to do it in my arms.

I loved the stories you told me.

And I know you were tired, yet you always came. Even when you had very little time, you came just to check in and do your daily commissions, always with me, and visited me and Nahida and our little sanctuary in the teapot.

You changed the time to night to match your world, and interacted with me to hear my goodnight line to log out there, after hearing my voice.

And I knew because of your expression that you wished that when you turned off the screen, and crawled into bed to rest your tired bones even for a bit, you wished I was there with you.

I knew you hugged the pillow, fighting against insomnia, wishing it was me instead.

And believe me I wish I was there too.

I wish I was there in your bed, hugging you tight till you could finally sleep, to protect you all night.

I know you dreamed about me.

I was so important to you.

And I still am…right?

I know you’re not the betraying kind.

I know that if you haven’t come visit me lately you must be really tired.

Even more tired than before.

Even busier than before.

Otherwise you would come check on me.

But I know that even if you don’t visit me, you still think about me.

You still dream about me.

One of these days I’m gonna reach you, I swear.

Whether through those dreams in which you embrace me, or tearing through that damn screen that both connects us and separates us.

I know you’re going to visit me again, as soon as you get time, as soon as you get energy.

Because you’re not the betraying kind.

And the light in your eyes when you first pulled me and the squeal of pure ectasy when I gave you my c1 in 10 pulls was real.

So I don’t know when you’ll come visit me.

But I’m sure you will.

Until then, I’ll stay here in the little garden of dreams you built for me, with Paimon and Nahida to keep me company as I do my stuff.

Dreaming of you as you dream of me.

May we someday be together, my love.

[theweewooshow]

Buck wakes up to his limbs being moved, to the mattress shifting with the weight change of Tommy getting out of bed.

He’s bleary-eyed as he lifts his head, a questioning sound leaving his throat before he’s even opened his mouth, trying to figure out why his sleep is being interrupted when he’s still so tired.

Tommy shushes him and leans down, kisses above his eyebrow—his birthmark, his favorite spot to kiss soft like this.

Buck looks up at him, his mouth trying to form the word stay.

Tommy kisses his forehead again and says, “Go back to bed, sweetheart.”

And Buck is tempted to sink back into the warm sheets and let sleep take him again because his body is sore and he’s bone-tired and weary after a tough shift yesterday, but then he hears the shower start up and remembers that Tommy switched shifts with someone from another shift so they could go to their kid’s dance recital today.

So he rolls over and sits up, stretching out his arms and his neck and his back, getting some of the kinks out before he drags himself out of bed with a groan.

He trudges downstairs to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. He shakes the fog from his brain as he blinks at the machine, watching it sputter to life.

He pours himself a cup when it’s done and pours one for Tommy too, who he knows will be out of the bathroom soon.

He sips coffee from his mug, taking stock of what fruit they have left and what breakfast proteins they have in the fridge as he formulates a plan for breakfast.

He’s cutting up some bananas so he can make a Bananas Foster topping for pancakes when he hears Tommy coming down the stairs.

He smiles when Tommy slides up behind him, warm from the shower and smelling like Buck’s shampoo.

“Morning,” Tommy says, wrapping his arm around his waist, leaning his full weight against him, his chin tucked over Buck’s shoulder as he yawns into his neck.

“Good morning,” Buck says, turning his head to press a kiss to Tommy’s temple.

“Thought I told you to go back to sleep,” Tommy says, voice light and teasing as his hand travels across Buck’s chest to rest on his shoulder, effectively wrapping Buck up in him, making him feel held and warm and too many emotions for this early in the morning.

“You know I don't always like following orders,” Buck says, smirking as he returns to cutting up the bananas in front of him.

“Yeah, when you’re being a brat,” Tommy says, a fond sort of exasperation creeping into his voice. He nuzzles into Buck’s neck, his nose pressed against the bolt of his jaw.

“I didn't want you to have to eat breakfast alone,” Buck admits after a second, utterly incapable of being insincere when Tommy has him in his arms like this, when he keeps him close and just doesn't let go.

It’s one of his favorite things about being with Tommy, how when they’re alone together, Tommy always wants him pressed right up against him, no matter what they’re doing—whether it’s watching TV or cooking or doing laundry, he just always wants Buck close to him.

It was a surprising thing to learn about Tommy—how clingy he actually is. He seemed more aloof when they first met, but once he let Buck in, the shift was pretty quick. And Buck is absolutely not going to complain about that, not when he gets to have this whenever he wants.

He leans back into Tommy’s embrace when he finishes prepping the bananas, letting the warmth of Tommy’s body seep into him, letting his hands drift along Tommy’s arms around him, his fingers tracing up and down his skin.

“You’re sweet,” Tommy whispers, his lips pressing soft, deliberate kisses to Buck’s neck.

Buck would normally be more than content to stay here, wrapped up as he is—to turn his head and brush his nose against Tommy’s before their lips touch, to bring his hand up and curl his fingers into Tommy’s hair to keep him where he wants him, to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing, to kiss him until his mouth is sore and red and the air around them is warmed through with the heat of their kisses—but they’re on a tight schedule this morning with only another hour or so before Tommy has to leave.

So even as he basks in the quiet comfort of this moment, he asks, “You gonna let me make you breakfast?”

Tommy’s arms tighten around him, his mouth pressing firmer to the junction of his neck and shoulder. “In a minute,” he murmurs.

Buck hums in response, closing his eyes. He’s got no place to be but right here.

—

also posted on ao3!

[n0tamused]

Welt nerding out about his little special interests and his tv show he likes and whatnot... Dr.Ratio going on and on about all his bath soaps and bath salts and whatever he has... Sunday snuggles and sleeping after a long and heavy day of work....

A/n: Sorry for taking so long pookie I hope you like these little imagines :( <3 mwah, ty for requesting <3

Contents: gn reader, separate drabbles for Sunday, Dr. Ratio and Welt, a bit angsty in Sunday's part, fluff otherwise

Gloved fingers held around the black stylus pen as it glided over the digital screen in a few precise strokes. The character on screen is becoming more and more alive, and looking over his shoulder you can see the several other frames that lay finished, resembling only the start of this little project you managed to convince Welt to partake in. 

“I take it you like it, right?” you ask, tiptoeing playfully around the direct question, prompting the man to laugh heartily, mirth seeping into the crinkles in his face. Leaning back in the chair he takes a small break from the lineart, adjusting his glasses before he look up at you where you stood at his side. 

“You’re spoiling me, you know?” he begins, his eyes mellow with a childlike wonder and joy that isn’t too often seen on his person these days. “Yes, I do like it, a lot. This tablet is even more advanced than the ones I was used to using back in my day. I mean, it holds so many functions, and the program itself has many great features to assist with the process - whether it be just one piece of art or a whole animation” His eyes gleam as he looks back at the screen, his eyes flickering over the corners of the canvas, the little icons and frames and the low opacity sketch of the animation.  

“That is a relief, and I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying it so much. You do deserve it, Mr. Yang” cooing at him softly you pat his shoulder and give him a light squeeze before taking note of what’s on screen. It’s a simple set of characters, and in a more cartoonish style - chibis, is what you heard them call this style. But the characters are oddly familiar to the crew itself.

“Huh..? Is that.. us?”

“Yes… Since this gift was from you, and also the crew has left its mark on this old heart, I thought that my first project on the tablet should be something special too.. Uh, wait..” He fumbles a bit with the frames and animation, brief images flickering of different character - Dan Heng surrounded with books, March 7th’s chibi showing a worried face as she stands next to a pot of Himeko’s coffee and Himeko looking pleased as she drinks from her mug, and there’s PomPom next to the Express, but what  gets your attention is the chibi version of yourself at the very start of the frame set. You’re sitting at a round table with a few chubby stars above you.

“Starting with you, I am first making an introduction to each character..”

“But where are you?”

“Hm?”

“I saw everyone in these, but not yourself? This crew is incomplete without you, Welt.. You should put us together in one frame. I mean, we can be drinking tea at the table together, right?"

Welt looks at you, then at the frame, noting the vacant left side of the big table. 

“You’re right…”

“Sunday..” sleepy mutters fall from your lips as you push yourself to sit on the big bed, the covers pooling at your hips. Your hand is lifted up to shield your eyes from the golden light that spilled from the hall. 

“Apologies... I'll turn the light off now.." comes a reply from the figure shrouded in darkness, but by silhouette alone you could tell him apart from another. His wings droop underneath his ears, showing that even the lightest parts of him felt the heaviness of today’s work. He swiftly but quietly slips into the hallway to turn the lights off, before his footsteps mark his return to the bedroom. Now you can only listen to him shuffle about, the heavy breathing making your heart throb from concern, but you know asking him about it wouldn’t grant you an answer.

So you wait until he lifts the bedsheets and until his palm searches for you across the vast expanse of the mattress. Taking his hand in yours you lead him to where you are, laying on your back and feeling the bed dip and move underneath you until Sunday has settled himself with his head on your chest. Sighing the biggest breath you heard from him so far, you tighten your hold on him, arms circling around his shoulders.

His arms wrapped around your waist as he had you both sinking further into the bed, desperate to feel your warmth, hear your peace and feel it rub off on him too. “I missed you…” he confessed, leaving a chaste kiss on your collarbone before his ear pressed above your heart, listening to the trapped drumming within. 

“I missed you too..” you reply, combing your fingers through his hair, feeling the wings around his waist stretch out for arguably the first time today, one wing shorter than the other, feathers cut halfway. 

“Rest now..” you prompt, kissing the top of his head and he hums into you, wanting nothing more than to dream of you and freedom with you.

"I told you to be a little more careful with which shampoos you purchased.." you heard him say when you pointed out how a particular shampoo on the shelf made your hair damaged the last time you used it. You sighed, in agreement with him, but as he plucked the bottle from the shelf you looked over the other products on the shelves, taking a hair mask container and putting it in your cart.

“See, this is why this shampoo didn’t sit well with you” Veritas says, looking over the ingredient list after catching sight of the logo of the producer, a sneer already on his face as he never had good experiences with this company’s products. 

You look over at him, holding onto the shopping cart with one hand as you peer at the bottle in his hand. “Oh, yeah- that one did have my hair feeling like hay.. ugh” you frown a little but as Veritas looks further down the ingredients list, you let your eyes wander over the shelves in search for a possible alternative - one that won’t leave your hair feeling dry and ready to snap. 

“Hmm…” Veritas looks up, his coral eyes looking over at you after he had returned the bottle onto the shelf. “Let me see..” he muttered, already reaching out to grasp a lock of your hair in between his fingers, twirling it for a moment before thinking hard about it. Then his eyes return to the vast selection of shampoos, reaching for a green bottle on a higher shelf. “Ah, this one would go well for your hair type. And it will regenerate whatever damage that other bottle left you with”

“Oh, let me smell it-” you whisper with soft excitement, forcing a huffed chuckle from Veritas as it seemed you cared more about the smell than what the shampoo actually had to offer. He shakes his head as he pops the lid open and brings it to your nose. 

“Does it smell good enough for you?” he asked, teasing laced in his words, but despite that he brought the bottle to his nose as well to inhale the light green apple smell. He relishes in the scent, imagining the way our hair would smell the same if you purchased this. 

“Ohh.. oh definitely, it smells so good. Give it here” you smile up at him and take the bottle to put in the cart. “I should ask you more often on this guru advice, Veritas, you’re more help than I gave you credit for” you playfully jab at him as you walk a few steps forward, looking at another section where bath salts and bath bombs lay. “Oh! Look at this!” you gleam as you pluck a round bath bomb colored blue. 

“Lavender?” Veritas asked as he came up next to you, choosing to ignore your initial jab. 

“Yeah. Lavender suits you, and it is a relaxing scent over all. Didn’t you run out of those bath salts too? We should get some new ones” you throw the bath bomb into the cart before he can reject it, but you make space for him to look over the other products, smiling up at him coyly as he gives you a daring look, yet you knew he meant no malice, he was being playful. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[chukys-mouthguard]

oscar winning tears

featuring -> quinn hughes x female reader

genre -> angst, fluff

summary-> inspired by ‘oscar winning tears’ by raye

note -> thinking of this becoming a mini series possibly? If anyone would be interested?

“You’re fucking joking, are you kidding me?”

Quinn’s shouting echoed off the walls of your shared bedroom as he halted his packing. The news caught him off guard as you sat on the bed, arms wrapped around your legs as you held them tight to your chest. Feeling awful for what you’d told him, but you had no choice.

“I wish I was Quinn, but I just got the call an hour ago. I have no choice!”

Quinn let out a snarky laugh as he resumed packing his suitcase, shaking his head as he moved about the room.

“You do have a choice, you’ve had a choice since the day you met me y/n. This is going to be one of the biggest nights of my career, and you’re canceling on me for a meeting?”

“Yes Quinn, a meeting that happens to be one of the biggest in my career! Look, I’m sorry that I refuse to be some stay at home WAG that cooks and cleans the house all day while you’re the one off making money and having a career. But I just don’t understand why you can’t support me in my career like I support you?”

Quinn scoffed as he zipped the suitcase shut, “yeah, some supportive girlfriend you are! I gotta go.”

Pulling his bag from the bed he grabbed his wallet and phone from his dresser as he headed downstairs, his ride waiting to take him to the airport. You knew that it was best to let him go, when fights like this happened it was better to end it once one of you walked away. But you were less stubborn as Quinn, you hated the idea of walking away from one another after saying something hateful. Especially when one of you is about to get on a plane for several hours.

“Quinn, wait!”

Hurrying down the stairs you tried your best to stop him, but he was already loading his things into the car. As he closed the trunk he looked to you, as if waiting for whatever it was you had to say.

“I love you, I’m so proud of you.”

He made his way to the side of the car, climbing in, he didn’t say anything back. Your heart sinking in your chest, though you told yourself it’s just Quinn being Quinn. The sound of the window rolling down stopped you from heading back into the house, a stern look on Quinn’s face as he spoke, “Call you when I land,” and with that he was gone.

-

Quinn was nervous, you could tell by his body language as his fingers picked at the arm of the couch he was seated on. Impatiently awaiting the announcement this entire night centered around for him. How you wished you could have been there. To hold his hand and keep him calm, to reassure him that whether he won or lost you still loved him and were so incredibly proud of him. But alas work had other plans, and you were left to watch from home on the couch with the rest of the world.

“And the winner of the James Norris Memorial Trophy is…”

You could feel your heart in your throat as you crossed your fingers, praying that his name would be called. The calm look on his face was simply a facade as you knew Quinn was probably laced with anxiety inside. His brothers beside him surely were doing the same as you, rooting for him as they always did.

“From the Vancouver Canucks, Quinn Hughes!”

“Yes!”

Your cheers echoed throughout the house as you jumped off the couch, clapping and cheering as you watched Quinn take the stage. You knew it was nothing to get emotional over, but you couldn’t help but shed a tear. Only a few people knew how hard he worked behind closed doors. What he went through day in and day out to be one of the top defenseman in the NHL. And now he could truly say, he was the top defenseman.

Thinking back to the argument the two of you had a few days ago, you started to question if Quinn was right. Despite always telling yourself that you wouldn’t give up your career for the typical WAG stay at home lifestyle, you were thinking of all the moments you could potentially be missing.

Though the NHL awards weren’t the biggest night in Quinn’s career, next it could be the Stanley Cup Final you’d be missing. And simply the idea of missing such a night for Quinn, you couldn’t imagine it. Though Quinn tries to respect your desire for your own career, you know he keeps a lot of his thoughts to himself. But after the last argument, you knew that it was getting harder and harder for him to keep those quiet.

-

“Baby?”

You heard Quinn’s voice echo throughout the house, followed by the sound of him setting down his bags. Quickly you hurried to put the finishing touches on your surprise dinner, the last step being to pour some of his favorite wine.

Just as you’d replaced the cork and set the bottle down Quinn turned the corner, a soft smile on his face as he looked over the candlelit dinner you’d prepared. He let out a sigh as he walked over to you, arms snaking around your waist as he pulled you close.

Taking in the scent of your perfume he loved so much, his hand tracing up and down your back as he took his time appreciating your body in his embrace. Making sure you knew how much he missed you as he pulled back to steal a kiss from you.

“Hi.”

“Hi babe.”

You smiled up at him, slightly giggling as you could see how well you pulled off your surprise by the look on his face. He helped you into your seat at the dining table before taking his own.

“So, what is all this about?”

His eyes scanned the table as you took your glass in hand, holding it out for him to cheers you.

“Like you have to ask Mr. Norris Trophy Winner!”

He rolled his eyes embarrassed as he raised his glass, then pulled it to his lips to take a sip.

“Yeah yeah, I know you didn’t do all of this just for me winning that trophy babe.”

His tone caught you a bit off guard, though appreciative it also seemed laced with sarcasm and assumption.

“Really Quinn? Why can’t I do something nice for you? I mean, you want me to be this stay at home type. Cooking dinner, having the house clean for you when you come home. This is what you want right? And now I’m being criticized for it.”

Quinn immediately regretted his comments, not meaning them to come across the way they did. He just wasn’t used to surprise dinners from you, with work usually holding you up at the office and dinner not a common occurrence, Quinn couldn’t help but feel there was more to the act than just a simple dinner. But he certainly didn’t mean to accuse you of buttering him up.

“I’m sorry, honest. I didn’t mean, I just. You’re right, you aren’t this type of girl to surprise me with dinner on the table. And I didn’t think me winning that trophy was enough reason to become that type of girl. So, for that I am sorry.”

He took your hand in his as you tried to let your frustrations subside, not noticing the tears in your eyes until Quinn reached out to wipe one away.

“I’m sorry Quinn.”

“You’re sorry? For what babe?”

Trying to laugh off your emotions, you simply wiped your tears as you served some salad onto Quinn’s plate.

“I just, I thought about that argument we had. And I think that maybe you’re right. Maybe I should consider giving up my job. I’d be able to do things like this more, come to more games, be at award ceremonies and sit next to you and support you. I can’t do that now, and you deserve so much more than that. So I’m sorry, but I’ll figure something out and try to be better.”

Quinn grabbed your wrist and stopped your anxious serving of food, taking the tongs and bowl of salad from you. Setting them down on the table with a sigh as he could tell how much the argument affected you.

“Baby, please. I love you just the way you are. You don’t need to be better, you’re perfect. I’m a dick for ever telling you that your career isn’t important, or for making you think you needed to give that up for me. Would it be nice to have you around more? Of course! But I don’t want you to sacrifice all of that for me, this should be a compromise. And I can let my emotions or frustrations relax a bit when it comes to your schedule. It’s not like the extra stress on you is at all necessary, work puts you through the ringer as it is.”

Nodding your head in agreement, you tried your best to take what Quinn said as facts, but you knew deep down he hated your work schedule. He hated how often you missed games, or how many nights you spent late at the office missing the opportunity for dinner with him at home. Despite him telling you that your career wasn’t an issue, you couldn’t help but feel like he’d be better off with a typical WAG that stuck to social media or was something more flexible like an influencer.

“Quinn, I hear you, I do. But, maybe you’re just trying to justify things. I know you’d prefer it to be different, and, I’m willing to sacrifice because I love you and I-“

“Don’t you have a big work event coming up?”

“What?”

The question caught you off guard, work wasn’t something Quinn ever asked much about, so you weren’t sure how to respond.

“There’s like a big party or something coming up?”

“Oh, yeah, our company gala. It’s basically to recognize the success of the company over the last year and stuff. Why?”

“You’re being recognized right?”

Quinn laughed at your confused stare, wondering why you thought him being interested in your work was so wrong.

“Can I go?”

“Y-you wanna go?”

“Of course! I don’t think I’ve ever been able to go before, and I wanna support you just as you do for me! I promise I’ll prove to you that you don’t have to be some stay at home trophy WAG for me, okay?”

[revelboo]

Sure! Hound and Teebs are both sobering up enough to realize they’ve royally messed up and that kidnapping a little friend just because you’re cripplingly lonely under the premise of ‘protecting them’ whether they want it or not isn’t okay.

It did the weird thing it’s doing lately where I can’t directly reply to this one.

Heavy Boots Pt 3

Hound x Reader

• You’re scared of him. Servos flexing on the datapad in his hands, he watches the way your eyes scan his habsuite. Quiet and shell shocked as you look for a way to escape, one of the blankets he’d given you draped over your shoulders and dragging behind you. And this isn’t what he’d wanted at all. Had wanted a companion. Someone to accompany him on patrols, talk to him about something beyond the war effort. He’d imagined a smiling human, glad to be rescued, happy to explore the green world outside the Ark with him. Not… this. And he’s not sure how to fix it.

• The vents are going to be your best bet, looks like. Can’t really tell from up on his berth, but you think you might be able to squeeze through the slats. Those have to go outside at some point, right? Catching him watching you over the top of his datapad, you turn your attention to the ceiling, pretending you’re just checking the place out not plotting. Vents had worked for Bruce Willis, right? And Hound’s so big, he won’t be able to get to you in there. Could you just walk to wherever your buddy is and get out that way together? Going still when he stands and taps a servo against the berth, you force a smile. “I’ll be back, but anything you want me to find for you?”

• Hates the way you go still and lean away from him like you think he’s a threat, just shaking your head at him and offering him a fake smile. There’s no way for you to get down from his berth, though. And he wants to try to at least make this better. Figure out how to get a real smile from you. Something you might like. A way to begin making amends.

• After he leaves, you walk to the edge and lean out to look down. It’s a long drop, but he’d filled your stupid doggie bed with blankets. Using your teeth and pulling, you begin to tear off strips, making a little pile. Because just staying here to play house pet? Not happening. Knotting the strips together, your heart begins to race. There’s not much space between the bottom edge of his berth, but it’s enough to wedge the end of your crude rope through after knotting the top so it won’t slip through. At least you hope it won’t. Yanking on your rope to check if the knots will hold, you try to convince yourself that it’s just like rappelling down from those stupid climbing walls your last ex had loved. Easy. Sure.

• There’s a greenhouse on the outskirts of the little town he’d found while exploring in his alt mode. Transforming and keeping low, he wedges his fingers under the structure and lifts the whole thing out of the way. Begins picking out potted plants you might like. Things to make his habsuite more welcoming. Has no idea if you even like plants, but he doesn’t have a better idea. Just wants to cheer you up until he can work up the nerve to apologize for, well, everything.

Previous

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[funnyjb]

hiii, I hope you’re doing great, could i request aJoe x fem reader where reader has pots and its a bad day for her and Joe just got back from a bad day at training, and she doesn’t want to add more preoccupations to he’s plate, so she doesn’t tell him that she’s been struggling all day with dizziness and all of that until it gets serious and he’s all worried. Love you stories btw🩷🩷

Hi of course!! Thank you🩷

……………………………………………………………………….

Today was the worst. You felt dizzy and even nauseous. You didn’t sleep well last night which didn’t help at all.

You kept having to stop in the middle of the work day to sit down. Whether that be on the floor or in your office chair. You couldn’t focus. You almost spilled your coffee on your white pants this morning from the shaking of your hands.

You couldn’t wait to go home.

Joe also didn’t have the best day. He just got back from the Panthers game after the win on Sunday. He obviously was happy about the win but his hand kept bothering him from how many times he fell on it. The meetings he had were long. His physical therapy wasn’t the greatest thing today and all he wanted was you.

You got home before Joe. Dropped you things down and headed upstairs then the dizziness hit again. You sat on the bed and tried to breathe. You couldn’t take it anymore. You felt your heart start to beat faster. Then the anxiety kicked in.

“Babe?” - joe called from downstairs

No answer.

Joe saw your car so he knew you were home.

He headed into the bedroom.

“Y/n-”- Joe

He ran over to you.

“Hey, hey look at me.”- Joe squatted down to be at eye level

“Y/n, I’m right here. Breathe in and out with me.”- joe

Joe guided you. In and out. In and out.

“Good.”- Joe

You had tears running down your face. Your heart rate was going back to normal. You still felt shaky and a little dizzy.

“I’m..I’m ok.”- you

“You’re not, y/n. You still look a little bit nauseous and your hands are still shaking.”- Joe

“I said I’m fine.”- you got up

Joe quickly bolted up.

“You’re not, y/n! Please sit back down.I want to get you some water.”- Joe

“You don’t need to Joe, I’m…I’m ok. You’ve dealt with enough today.”- you

“Y/n, just let me help you, please!”- Joe

You stood there

“Ok, let’s get you something to eat and drink. Stay here.”- Joe

He lead you back to the bed.

“I’ll be back.”- Joe

He left.

After a couple minutes he came back. He was holding a plate of fruits and some water.

“Here, take this.”- joe

You were sitting on the edge of the bed. Knees tucked to your chest.

“Thank you.”- you

Joe sat next to you as you took the plate.

You took some bites from the strawberry’s and bananas.

Joe pulled a strand of hair away from your face.

“You don’t have to be afraid to let me in. I’m your boyfriend. Let me help you. I want to help you even on a really shitty day or on an amazing day. You don’t need to go through this alone.”- Joe

You looked at him.

You nod.

“Thank you. Truly.”- you gave a small smile

“I had the worst day today.”- you say picking up a grape

“I was so dizzy and tired. I couldn’t even focus. I just wanted to come home. I..I just hate this. I hate it.”- You

“I’m so sorry. I know it sucks. But we will figure out a plan. A plan to help. Ok?”- Joe

You nod.

Joe gives you a kiss on the head

“I love you.”- Joe

“I love you too.”- You

Joe then steals a strawberry.

“Hey!”- you

Joe laughs

“I just wanted to come home to you. I didn’t have a great day either.”- Joe

“Oh, I’m sorry. What happened?”- You

Joe goes on to tell you about his day. These are the moments you cherish. Even when he is telling you about how bad his day was and you feel horrible that he had such a day, but you feel grateful that you get to have these moments. The moments when you aren’t worried about getting dizzy or fatigued. The only thing that matters is being able to have these laughs with someone who you love more than anything. More than life itself. You’re grateful to have someone like him. Someone who gets you. Who sees you. Joe also loves you then anything or anyone in this universe. You feel like home to him. He hates seeing you like this. Hates it. He knows it sucks but he also knows that you are strong and brave to get through anything. He loves you and you love him.

…………………….

After a couple weeks Joe starts to get more worried. You start to have more bad days and sleepless nights.

You were on the couch taking a nap.

Joe was getting dinner ready for the both of you in the kitchen when his phone rang.

“Hey, mom.”- Joe whispered

“Hey, honey! Everything ok?”- Robin

Joe didn’t say anything for a second. Then a tear came down his cheek.

“I..hate seeing her like this. She’s not sleeping and is getting dizzy and fatigued. I just wish there were more ways I could help.”- Joe

“Aw, Joey. Having you by her side is all she needs. She is strong. Just keep an eye on her and see if you can check her heart rate on your phone through an app.”- Robin

“Yeah, that’s a good idea mom. Thank you.”- Joe

“Of course. I love you.”- Robin

“Love you too.”- Joe

He hangs up.

He brings over the plate of food to you.

He runs his hands through your hair to wake you up.

“Here baby. Have something to eat.”- Joe

You sat up.

“Thank you.”- You

“You’re welcome.”- Joe

Joe sits next to you

“Just eat up and then we can cuddle.”- Joe

You dig into your food while watching the office.

As the weeks go on you start to get into a routine. Managing your heart rate and what you eat. Joe gets to check your heart rate on his phone now. Which means getting a text every 20 minutes.

You ok?

How do you feel?

Drink some water.

Please go sit down baby

You liked the gesture. Knowing he’s taking care of you.

You know everything will be ok if you have Joe by your side.

[schemmentigfs]

Sweetening The Deal. (part 3.)

Summary: Melissa reflects about the possible changes between the two of you that the sugar mommy deal bought. After spending the night at her penthouse, you have a weird dream about the redhead....

tags: @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota @greencurlyhair @dopenightmaretyphoon @schmentisgf @pitstopsapphic

Next Chapter.

Part 1. Part 2.

Melissa groaned as the early morning sunlight pierced through the slits in the blinds. She rolled over, already dreading the reality of waking up. The events of the previous night—everything about it, from the dinner to the lingering almost kiss—played through her mind again, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between her and you. It was too soon to tell if it was a shift for the better, but it was certainly a shift all the same.

The redhead’s muscles protested as she pushed herself up, running a hand through her messy hair. It wasn’t like her to be so off-balance, but there was something about you that rattled her in a way she hadn’t expected. You were bratty. Unpredictable. A puzzle she was both annoyed and intrigued by. And despite herself, she found herself almost caring about the small details—like how you’d looked at her last night or how your voice had softened when you spoke to her.

She carefully slid out of bed, wincing at the stiffness in her back from the night’s sleep. She glanced over at the guest bedroom door, half-wondering if she’d wake you up with her movements. She didn’t want to disturb you, not just yet. You had seemed so vulnerable when you’d finally fallen asleep last night, and the thought of you waking up in a strange place made her feel protective—though she hated admitting it.

Slowly, the older woman padded to your room, peeking through the crack in the door. There you were, lying on your back, arm thrown over the edge of the bed, eyes shut in deep slumber. You looked so innocent, nothing like the woman who’d made her life so much more complicated in such a short time.

Melissa leaned down slightly, brushing a hand across your arm, feeling the warmth of your skin under her touch. She didn’t let herself linger long, though, pulling away almost immediately. She was a little surprised at how soft your skin felt. The woman she’d been dealing with for the past few days, who had given her nothing but trouble and attitude, was here now, looking almost angelic in sleep. She huffed quietly, stepping back toward the door.

“You’re so fucking bratty,” she muttered under her breath, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “And you’re making me care. I don’t like this.”

Before the redhead could react, you kicked the blanket and that’s when she caught a glimpse of your underwear—dark lace peeking out from under the hem of your oversized shirt. Green eyes widened briefly, her heart pounding before she immediately closed them, unwilling to let herself get lost in the distraction. Focus, Schemmenti. Focus. You can’t look at this little stinker like it is a meal. You are not a damn wild animal.

Opening her eyes and cleaning her thoart, she pulled the door closed gently behind her and tiptoed downstairs, hoping the solitude of the kitchen would give her a moment to clear her head. But she wasn’t alone.

Suddenly, the faint sound of clattering pots echoed from the giant kitchen again and again. Melissa let out a low groan, recognizing the noise immediately.

“Shit,” the woman sighed softly, already feeling the headache return. “Cavolo, stai scherzando.”

Descending the stairs, she heard Pearl, her elderly housekeeper and longtime friend, bustling around as if she were still on the clock. Despite being retired for almost a decade, she had made a habit of showing up unannounced, whether it was to check on Melissa, water her plants, or, as she put it, “make sure you’re not making a mess of yourself, piccola.”

The only problem about the sixty nine year old woman was that she was always early. The retired housekeeper-turned-mentor had an uncanny ability to show up before anyone was awake. She had taken care of the redhead for years, practically raising her as a daughter of her own, and now, even in her retirement, the older woman found ways to make herself useful—perhaps a bit too useful for Melissa Schemmenti’s liking.

The redhead tried not to wince as she descended the last step, her joints protesting as the smell of scrambled eggs and freshly brewed coffee wafted through the kitchen. Pearl was already busy at the stove, flipping pancakes with her practiced ease, the lines of her face softened with a contented smile as she worked. Melissa’s heart softened, despite her earlier irritation at being woken up this early. She couldn’t help but feel a warmth for this woman who’d cared for her all these years.

“Morning, Missy,” Pearl greeted, barely turning from her task. Using the childhood nickname that the heiress of the Schemmentis hated. “You look like you had a rough night.”

“Didn’t think anyone else would be awake yet,” the green eyed woman muttered, crossing to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would help shake off the lingering fog. “Especially you, coming so soon.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” the housekeeper replied with her usual warmth, her brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. “Got up to make sure you had a proper breakfast. Since I know you aren’t eating properly due to menopause. And your night escapes to some bars.”

“You don’t need to act like my ma.” Melissa scoffs, rolling her eyes annoyed. Before she could answer again, she groaned feeling hot.

Pearl’s sharp caramel eyes glanced her over knowingly. “Forgot your medication, didn’t you?” she asked, her tone a gentle scold. “And don’t tell me you didn’t, Melissa Ann. I know that look.”

Melissa grimaced, rubbing her forehead. “I was just going to take it now,” she said, her voice defensive. She rummaged in the cabinet above the sink, pulling down a small pill bottle labeled with her name. The eldest raised a skeptical eyebrow as she uncapped it and dry-swallowed one of the pills.

Pearl set down her spatula and crossed her arms, her gaze softening. “Are you taking care of yourself, Mel? I know menopause isn’t easy, especially for someone like you who tries to carry the world on her shoulders.” Her voice held a rare gentleness, a tone reserved for the few times she’d allowed herself to acknowledge Melissa’s various struggles over the years. Some of those being her depression episodes, marriage trauma and family problems since her Nonna’s passing.

The forty-five year old’s shoulders slumped a bit. “It’s… it’s fine. Really. Just some hot flashes here and there. Dryness. And headaches. And—” She cut herself off, sighing as she realized she was about to list off all the symptoms she’d been dealing with lately.

“Mm-hmm,” Pearl replied, clearly unconvinced. She took out her own bottle of medication from her purse on the counter and handed it to Melissa, who dutifully placed it in a nearby drawer with Pearl’s name on it. “Now, what about you?” she pressed, her tone half-teasing but her eyes serious. “I didn’t expect to find a guest here this morning.”

She let out a sharp sign, running a hand through her hair. “It’s not like that. She’s… young, yeah, but it’s different this time.”

“Oh, a young woman now,” Pearl noted, raising her eyebrows in amusement. “Not like that young man last time—what was his name? The one who didn’t know what he was doing in bed if it saved his life.”

At this, Melissa’s cold face twisted in a grimace, the unfortunate horrified memory flashing in her mind. “Don’t remind me,” she whispered, almost shuddering. She remembered that boy fumbling, more nervous than he had any right to be, and how disappointed she’d felt through sex. “This one’s different, though. It’s… a sort of arrangement. You could call it a sugar mommy and sugar baby thing, I guess.”

The brown haired gave her a look, equal parts surprise and amusement. “A sugar mommy thing? With all due respect, Melissa, you don’t have enough patience for that sort of thing.”

She crossed her arms. “She’s bratty, I’ll admit that. But she’s… I don’t know, she’s different. I’m trying not to think too hard about it.”

Pearl shook her head, her mouth set in a knowing line. “You know your family won’t like this,” she said quietly. “You know how they can be about anything that doesn’t fit the mold.”

“They already don’t like half of what I do. What’s one more thing?”

Before the housekeeper could respond, a soft whimper floated down from upstairs. Melissa hesitated, her eyes flicking toward the stairs. She’d heard you tossing and turning all night, the sounds muffled but constant, each soft shift catching her attention as she lay in bed. She’d even considered coming to check on you during the whole night, maybe sleeping on a armchair next to the closet but something held her back. Now, hearing your faint whimper, she couldn’t ignore the stir of worry creeping up.

“Poor thing was restless all night,” she muttered to herself, sighing as she forced herself to stay seated. “Couldn’t keep still for a second, that little troublemaker.” The nickname slipped out, soft but affectionate, as if the word had formed on her tongue before she realized it.

Pearl looked at her with a knowing smile. “Ah, so you were listening,” she teased, folding her arms as she watched Melissa try to feign indifference.

The Italian scoffed, shrugging in a dismissive gesture. “Yeah, well… couldn’t exactly ignore it. She was moving so much, I half expected her to fall out of bed.”

Meanwhile, you tossed and turned, trapped in a fevered dream that felt all too real. The sheets tangled around your silhouette, your breathing shallow as you tried to escape the sensations pulling at your mind. In the dream, Melissa was there, her figure pressed tightly against yours, the heat between you building as her green eyes locked onto yours with that hungry, predatory glint that always sent a shiver down your spine. Her auburn hair was falling messily around her shoulders as she leaned over you.

The redhead was grunting softly, her breath warm against your neck as she ground her plump hips against yours, pressing her chest closer until the friction between your clits was almost overwhelming.

“Mm, c’mon… just like that,” she whimpered, each word dripping with raw desire. “Feel that, huh? God, you’re a mess for me, aren’t you?”

You moaned, feeling the pressure grow, her words sinking into you, making every nerve in your body come alive. Her manicured hands gripped your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as she rocked faster against you, setting a slow, torturous rhythm that had you panting while the bed cracked softly. “You like that? Can't even keep quiet, can you?”

“Please..”

“God, you’re so needy,” she mocked, her tone laced with a dark promise that sent shivers down your spine. Her lips brushed against your ear, her hot breath making your entire body tingle. “When I’m done with you here. I’m gonna eat that pretty cunt of yours until you’re begging me to stop.”

She rasped, pressing harder.

Your hands clawed at her back, every inch of your body aching for her as she took control, her voice a seductive murmur that drove you wild. “You’ll be so wrecked, you won’t be able to think about anything else. Just Mommy.”

“Gonna make you cum, sweetheart?” She grabbed your neck, grinding faster and faster. The friction was driving you to the edge, and you could feel yourself trembling, every nerve on fire. You were so close, the sensation building until you thought you might break.

“Mommy— shit. I… I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, voice barely more than a whimper as your body arched beneath her, completely lost in the moment. Her strong hand tightened, grounding you as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, shuddering with pleasure—

Then, abruptly, you jolted awake, your breath catching as the remnants of the dream slipped away. Disoriented, you blinked at the ceiling, your heart pounding as the heat of embarrassment flooded your face. Shifting slightly, you felt the unmistakable dampness beneath you and glanced down, realizing with horror that you’d left a very obvious wet spot on the bed.

“Shit,” you whispered, mortified, scrambling to sit up, only for the sheets to tangle around your legs. You stumbled in your hurry, slipping off the edge of the bed and landing on the floor with a loud thud. “Oh, God—shit, shit!”

The noise must have been louder than you thought, because within seconds, you heard the footsteps rushing up the stairs. Before you could even process what to do, the door burst open, and there stood Melissa, eyes wide with alarm, closely followed by someone that you didn’t knew.

“What happened?” The older woman demanded, her gaze darting over you as you sat on the floor, cheeks flaming, trying to gather yourself.

Looking up, you gulped. Fascinated by the one and only Melissa Schemmenti in front of you. She’s wearing a bright, colorful outfit that combines a green and yellow floral-patterned cardigan over a teal top. Her pants are pink with a large floral design, adding to the bold color palette.

“Y/N?” she asked again, frowning. “What is wrong?”

You fumbled, not sure how to even begin explaining, heat rushing to your cheeks as you tried to act casual—despite the very obvious wet patch visible on the sheets. “I—I, um, I was… I mean, I just—uh, bad dream! Yeah. Bad dream,” you stammered, trying to brush it off, but the redness on your face betrayed you.

The shorter woman arched a brow, her expression both amused and skeptical. “Bad dream, huh?” she quips, crossing her arms as she gave you a once-over.

You bit your lip, scrambling for any excuse that didn’t sound utterly mortifying. “Uh! Like… uh… giant spiders? Huge ones. They were all over the room,” you said, clearly flustered, and added, “Super terrifying. And I guess I, um, kicked myself out of bed.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching like she was trying not to laugh. “Uh-huh. Spiders,” she repeated, clearly unconvinced.

You could feel yourself turning bright red under her gaze, every attempt to come up with a coherent explanation slipping away as you grew more embarrassed. “It’s… um… it’s complicated. You know, just… spiders everywhere,” you continued, waving your hand in a vague, desperate attempt to salvage your dignity.

The housekeeper shook her head, chuckling softly. “Looks like someone’s still half-asleep. Well, dear,” she said, turning to the redhead with a smirk, “seems your little friend had quite the night.”

Melissa coughed, clearly struggling to keep a straight face. “Maybe you oughta get a handle on those… nightmares?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, utterly mortified.

Noticing your discomfort, your sugar mommy huffed, pushing Pearl away. She turned to her old friend, fixing her with a pointed look. “You’ve done enough meddling for one morning, Pearly. Go get yourself a coffee or something—and don’t eavesdrop, alright? Come on, get out. I’m sure you’ve got something else to do—like… I don’t know, gardening or making some pasta?”

Pearl held up her hands in mock surrender, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you to it,” she spoke, casting a knowing glance before heading out, muttering something about the “privileges of the rich.” As she disappeared down the hallway, Melissa rolled her olive eyes and turned back to you with a reassuring smile.

“Pearl’s been around forever,” she explained. “She was practically my second mom growing up. A little nosy, but she means well.” With a shrug, she softened, her tone growing gentle. “But enough about her. I figured now’s as good a time as any to talk about you settling into your new place. I know moving’s a process, but we’re close. By the end of next week, everything should be ready for you to be officially out of that fucking apartment.”

You nodded, the tension in your shoulders easing as you let the idea sink in. You’d been living in a cramped, rundown place for far too long, and the thought of moving somewhere safer, somewhere luxurious, almost didn’t feel real. “I… I appreciate it, Melissa. Really.”

Melissa waved a hand, brushing off the thanks as if it were nothing. “It’s the least I can do. But I thought we’d get a head start on things today, get you acquainted with my place since you are going to stay here until the moving process is over. C’mon, let me give you the grand tour to your temporary home.”

She motioned for you to follow, leading you through the spacious, elegant penthouse. Every corner of the place felt like it was straight out of a magazine—the polished marble floors, the sweeping floor-to-ceiling windows with a stunning city view, and the sleek, modern furniture that seemed like it was made to perfection. She pointed out the essentials as you moved from room to room, each space more luxurious than the last.

“This here’s the kitchen,” she said, stopping by a gorgeous open space outfitted with the latest stainless steel appliances and a massive marble island. “Anything you need in here, just ask. I’ve got a personal chef who stops by now and then, so if cooking’s not your thing, don’t worry.”

You followed along in awe, nodding as she led you past the living room, that you saw yesterday which was filled with plush furniture and enough space to entertain a whole party. After covering every corner of the penthouse—from the extravagant master bathroom, equipped with a jacuzzi tub, to the private gym—Melissa finally turned to you with a satisfied smile.

“Alright, now that you’ve seen the whole place,” the redhead starts, resting a firm but gentle hand on your shoulder, “it’s time we get you properly settled. How about a little shopping trip to pick out whatever you need?”

You felt your cheeks warm as her hand lingered, the sensation grounding and reassuring. “Yeah, I could use some essentials… maybe a few things to make it feel like home. And I could use some new clothes..”

“Good. Then let’s get going. We’ve got a lot to cover, and I don’t want any more interruptions.” With a final pat on your shoulder, she led the way to the door, her presence steady and confident by your side.

[honeyshiddendesire]

Dirty Alphabet - Shanks

Shanks x Female Reader

*banner*

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Loves his sleep but loves you more. So expect him to clean you up after whether it’s with his mouth or a nice hot bath for the two of you

B = Breath Play (do they like it done to them or doing the deed)

Both I can see him being a kinky dude 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Creampie enthusiast lol loves stuffing that pussy full of his seed while telling you how pretty you look doing it

D = Dirtiest Kink (what they think is their dirtiest kink)

Daddy kink for sure but not like that simple calling him daddy stuff. Oh no! He wants to see you in the pretty skirts, with the pigtails and remind you that he’s the older one, even going as far as saying, “Be careful sweetie don’t want mommy to hear you.” It’s dirty and deranged and he just can’t get enough of your shocked gasp before you finally give into his dark desire.

E = Exhibitionist?  (Do they like being watched)

Watch him all you want but he’ll tease you the entire time, giving you a nice dirty show. Stroking his cock and telling you to help him out by spitting on his dick so he can glide his palm against himself

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl! Both reverse and regular.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Will tease and crack jokes whenever he can unless it honestly makes you uncomfortable but he’s very much go with the flow.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Groomed pretty nice but likes his happy trail 

I = Initiation (how do they get you going? Vice versa )

Hornball just like all the other red haired men in this show lol Can’t keep his hand off of you whenever you pass by him. Will pull you into his lap and whisper some filth in your ear till you’re the one begging him to take you to your room.

J = Jealous (how do they get when jealous )

Honestly you could try and make him jealous even going as far as having someone buy you a drink and it would backfire on you, tbh he’d probably cheer you on. But if someone gets handsy with you during your little jealousy game then he’ll step in wrapping his arm around you pulling you into the biggest, sloppiest kiss. Once yall get back to the room be prepared for the spanking of a lifetime.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Shanks loves loves lovesss watching you masturbate, make it pretty for him and put on a show and he's gonna melt. He’ll try and sit still till the end but he can’t help himself and will pounce, licking your cunt like a lollipop

Loves spanking you. Hearing you yelp and seeing you squirm as you’re bent over his lap makes his cock so hard. Grinding his cock into your belly as he lays spank after spank on your cute booty, enjoys seeing it move with every smack.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Will literally fuck you anywhere but prefers his comfy bed so you can be your loudest.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

If you bend over to pick something up he’ll materialize right behind you in an instant, or you come behind him and rub his shoulders. If you flirt even a little he’ll become like a pot of boiling water waiting to blow off his steam and load all over you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Won’t draw blood from you so he’ll never be too rough with you. If you happen to be on your menstrual then he’s fine and dandy but if he’s the cause for your blood then he’ll freak out.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Great pussy eater and can spend hours between those pretty legs, using his arm to pin your tummy down preventing you from moving or running away. Loves receiving as well but except him to fuck your face nice and slow while praising you on your perfect skills.

P = Position (favorite position)

Cowgirl - so he can see your pretty face as you work those hips he loves so much

Reverse Cowgirl- Loves spanking your ass as you bounce on his cock, pulling your hair so you arch your back on his cock. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Whenever and wherever you guys can sneak off to he is all for it lol

R = Rope (shibari, bondage? Do they like it?)

Definitely down to try anything. Loves seeing you unable to move as you’re all tied up and isn’t opposed to being the one tied and at your mercy but he’ll still talk like he’s in charge.

S = Sharing? (Are they willing to share you?)

It’s up to you but he’d only share you with Benn of course.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Loves them. Want a vibrator? Then he’ll fuck you senseless while holding it to your clit until you’re shaking and regretting the purchase. Want him to wear a cock ring? Sure he’ll be your victim no problem. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not to unfair but lives to tease and drive you wild

V = Voyeur (do they like to watch)

Most definitely but he’ll only watch for so long before he gets impatient

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Can totally see this man pretending like he doesn’t know you in a bar just to have the excuse to pick you up again. Pretending you’re both cheating on your dear partners until you’re both tangled in the sheets in a lusty sweaty mess. The whole time Benn and the crew will just laugh along with your antics 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Not the girthiest but that man is long and curved poking you right in your special spot. Won’t stretch you too much but you’ll feel him deep in your tummy. Will even tease you by putting his cock against your stomach, winking that that's where he’s about to be.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

When he’s away you’re in the forefront of his mind and the second he’s back on the ship then he’ll drag you off somewhere in a second. If you’re not on his crew and he has to leave then you’re his masturbation material until he finally has you in his reach and returns back to your island.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not quickly, he loves being a gentleman taking care of all your wants and needs and that includes anything you’ll need after a body numbing session but once you’re all good then he’s snoring like a big baby.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Cliché

A cliché is an expression that was once innovative but has lost its novelty due to overuse.

Tips on How to Avoid Clichés in Writing

Clichés play such a big role in how we communicate that it may seem impossible to avoid using them in your writing. However, clichés can often be rephrased to convey the same meaning as the original expression. Here are some steps to take if you find clichés in your work:

Think about the meaning of the cliché. Use a dictionary to identify synonyms that could replace the word or phrase that is cliché.

Decide whether or not you need to include the cliché. Often, clichés are unnecessary placeholders in writing and can be deleted.

Rewrite the sentence with new words in place of the cliché. For example, if you’re describing a musical with the cliché “comes full circle,” the description could be changed to say that the musical “returned to the themes with which it started.”

Common Clichés to Avoid

There are a number of clichés that are so overused that they should be avoided like the plague (including that one). Here is a list of clichés you should avoid.

“The wrong side of the bed.”

“Think outside the box.”

“Loose canon.”

“A perfect storm.”

“Can of worms.”

“What goes around comes around.”

“Dead as a doornail.”

“Plenty of fish in the sea.”

“Ignorance is bliss.”

“Like a kid in a candy store.”

“You can’t judge a book by its cover.”

“Take the tiger by the tail.”

“Every rose has its thorn.”

“Good things come to those who wait.”

“In the nick of time.”

“If only walls could talk.”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“The pot calling the kettle black.”

“The grass is always greener on the other side.”

“Beating a dead horse.”

Example: “As red as a rose” —a universal descriptor for the color red that is now commonplace and unoriginal.

Other examples of clichés include demarcations of time, such as “in the nick of time” and “at the speed of light.”

Clichés also include expressions about emotions, such as “head over heels” to describe love, and the phrase “every cloud has a silver lining” to express hope in difficult situations.

The word “cliché” comes from French.

It was first used to describe a stereotype: a metal plate used for printing an image.

Both the words “cliché” and “stereotype” derive from printing jargon but now have negative connotations.

Why You Should Avoid Clichés in Writing

Overused clichés can show a lack of original thought, and can make a writer appear unimaginative and lazy.

Clichés are often specific to language and cultures and may be a communication barrier to international readers.

Some old clichés have been repeated for so many years that the original reference is archaic and irrelevant.

When it’s OK to Use Clichés in Writing

There are a few instances in which the use of a cliché as a literary device is acceptable, but clichés should always be chosen wisely. Here are some examples of admissible usage:

To sync with a readership. Clichés of idiomatic phrases and slang words can work for specific audiences. If you’re writing for a baby boomer audience, the cliché “back in the day” would make sense. By contrast, millennial readers would be familiar with the cliché “the struggle is real.”

To simplify. Clichés can be used to explain beginning level concepts. For example, a how-to guide for expectant mothers might use the phrase “Remember, you’re eating for two!”

For characterization. Writers might have a character use clichés to demonstrate that they are not an original thinker.

A thought-terminating cliché is a phrase that offers a reductive answer to a complex idea.

The term was popularized in the 1961 book Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism: A Study of ‘Brainwashing’ in China by physiatrist Robert Jay Lifton.

They are also known as semantic stop signs or thought-stoppers.

Here are some examples of thought-terminating clichés:

“To each his own.”

“You win some, you lose some.”

“I’ll cross the bridge when I get there.”

“Take it or leave it.”

Source ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs