#the world is burning and i have to just pretend its fine when a fucking nun has to put back $5 lettuce bc she cant afford it

[bluejayhaze]

everything is ads and companies suck and im already so sick of seeing older people with coupons trying to get 12 cents off their bananas and im so sick of seeing $45 and change for a pack of diapers and im sick of people needing to put veggies back bc they realize at the register they can't afford it bc the prices skyrocketed over a period of like 3 months and im so so so sick of seeing $200+ for literally 4 bags of food and ive worked at this grocery store for exactly 5 days and im in a state that doesn't tax food other than sugary shit

#people are fucking desperate abd the worlds on fire and yet no one who has power fucking cares bc were all expendable tools to them #i dont want to do this again but i need money and im just gonna torture myself until i can find something meaningful #but whats meaningful when the whole fucking world is like this #the world is burning and i have to just pretend its fine when a fucking nun has to put back $5 lettuce bc she cant afford it #i literally saw the price of rent for a crappy apt in my register today. the amount i got paid every 2 weeks working at sallys #2 weeks of work for 1 grocery trip #also yall can interact with this post if you want idc

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

Womanizer ft. Geto

womanizer!Geto is very much aware of how fine he is. Struts through the school with his head and nose way to fuckin high in the air. You think the hungry way the girls look at him might actually feed his energy, he seems to literally level up from it and its absolutely ridiculous. But don't think he doesn't notice how your burning gaze rake over him before you pretend it has no effect on you.

womanizer!Geto even though he's hella cocky, still has a soft heart; just doesn't want anyone to about it. Whether it's of monetary value or not, he'll help any way he can. Suguru might be sex on a stick and confident as fuck but he isn't heartless. Only Saturo knows this side of him.. Till one night when he tried to play match maker and end up spilling the beans to you.

womanizer!Geto isn't just a pretty face, so doesn't like his girls brainless. Unless its cause of his cock ofcourse. He doesn't keep em long but expects to get a bit familiar before he tries to hit. Doesn't think anyone not pursuing a higher knowledge is really worth his time. Interesting lil fact: of all the years Suguru's known you, he swiftly peeps how intelligent you are and always been.

womanizer!Geto obviously loves attention from the ladies. Like waaay too much. Turns you off matter fact. And he notices. Which is weird. Cause he usually only notices when women throw themselves at his feet. "Goin to Geto's party inna few weeks? Come on, hang with us? Could use another pretty face there." Suguru over hears Satoru ask you after class. "Hmmm.. Maybe. Though I think you two horny sluts have enough eye candy on the menu." You answer with a eye roll. "Me? We? Sluts?" He feigns ignorance as you shake your head laughing. Meanwhile, Suguru wonders when in the world has he ever thought bein called a slut was arousing cause.. His dicks startin to chub.

womanizer!Geto isnt really into easy women. Most of the cute lil thangs from school put out just watchin that talented tongue swipe across his bottom lip. Knows he doesn't have to do much work and sometimes that puts him off. He doesn't even like to talk with a woman if he doesn't think he's gonna hit but nothin gets his dick softer than a girl that open her legs to him before she even knows his name. Funny though.. Suguru notices you don't date. At all. Kinda wonders what it would take to get a chance with your pretty ass. So he asks you one day while you guys practice sparring. "Y/n, how long have we known each other?" Straightening from your fighting stance, absolutely befuddled as you answer. "Bout 5+ years, as you already know. Why?" Suguru steps closer, trailing his index finger down your cheek. "Cause I wanna know why in the 5 years that you've known me, you've never given me a chance." You tsk at him. Is he serious? "Boy, ya dick been in every one under the sun." You're response throws him off, makes him chuckle as he thinks about your words. You ain't lyin. He uses protection though.

womanizer!Geto has always had a high sex drive. Except lately. He just doesn't know why he can't get it up when he's not thinkin about you. Hasn't been interested in any of his usual conquests lately. To add to the madness, jerking offs become a pain in the ass if he doesnt let you swim into his thoughts. So he sulks and pouts about it in class one day- till he sees heading to your seat. Suguru's dark eyes are glued to how your tits slightly jiggle in your robe as you walk. Man, would bet every single penny he had that you're fuckin gorgeous everywhere. "Hi, y/n" "Hey, Sugu! Wassup?" Oh shit.. No, no, no, no.. Cute way you say his name, moist pretty plump lips, and that fuckin body.. His dick. His dick is definitely what's up right now.

womanizer!Geto usually has a harem of cute girls following him around like puppies. Not the night of his party, he trails after you like one instead. "Come on y/n, just gimme a chance." He a bit tipsy so you continuously evade him. You're soakin wet from dodging Suguru's advances, his nasty words and exploring fingers. So you head into the kitchen to poor yourself a drink and gets some space. Unfortunately for you he meets you there and you groan at his persistence. "Geto, quit it. You're just horny. And there's plenty of fuck toys round here for you to play with. So beat it." You grumble. Suguru whines at your rejection, cornering you as you try to side step him. "Don't like when you're mean to me. Or when you call me that." He lies through his teeth. Only one of those two sentences are true. "Fine, Sugu. Happy? Now go find one of your playthings. Fuckin manwhore." Okay now hes perplexed, your mean words having the same effect when you called him a slut. Suguru thinks you should know since it's your fault. He pins you to the counter, pressing his hard dick into you. You gasp, fingers gripping into the sides of his shirt, havin to fight not to let your eyes flutter shut at his bulge pressuring your tingly clit. "Can't, y/n. Dick never gets hard for them anymore. Have fucked in weeks. Can't even cum without you on my mind. Help me out, baby pleeaase." You've never seen him so desperate, pawing at your backside as he sticks his face in your neck. Won't stop dry humping and licking you as he inhales your scent. "Sugu-" He cuts you off, pleas wearing you down real quick. "Promise I can make you feels so good. Know how to make that lil kitty purr, baby. Lemme show you?" You're eyes trail off over his shoulder as you think about it. Fuck, why not? He's the most wanted attraction in town, how could not get a ride too? You accidently catch Saturo's gaze. Grin wide when he does a peace sign, sticking his tongue between the two fingers and wiggling it. He points at Suguru and gives you a thumbs up, signalling how good his BFF's pussy eating skills are. Shit, that seals the deal; you def need a demonstration. "Fine, Sugu." You feign irritation, pushin him back and pullin him towards his bedroom. "Better not disappoint me. Not gonna get another chance, playboy." Promises of your pleasure spill from Suguru's lips as you drag him by his t-shirt, him secretly hoping you'll continue your lil mean act while riding his cock.

#black reader #black fanfiction #black writer #all readers #all welcome #all women are beautiful #smut #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #getou suguru x reader #geto x black reader #geto x black y/n #getou suguru x you #getou x reader #getou suguru x y/n #suguru x black reader #suguru x reader #suguru x you #suguru x y/n #suguru geto x black!reader #dirty talk #suggestive

[hitlikehammers]

Starring Steve Harrington in a Leading Role as 'Mom Husband Disappointed in YOU PERSONALLY'

rating: teen tags: future fic, established relationship, Eddie commits a capital offense, bitchy Steve strikes again, Eddie loves him so much, married steddie, rockstar husbands ✨for @hbyrde36 at my BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST for the prompt: “I assume I deserve this, but can you tell me why you want to kill me this time?”

One look is all it really takes.

As in: Eddie doesn’t have to do more than pulls his key from the lock, kick the door closed behind him, open his mouth to spill his usual litany of adorations, multiple at least tenfold for the uncommon days—plural, two whole days—spent apart from his husband, from his beloved, from less his other half and more his entire whole, the soul and breath of him, the rhythm-maker of his heart entire, his—

Eddie gets so far as turning to start on spilling all the love he’s had to bottle up because Steve wasn’t next to him for a whole 63 hours, and voicemails are fine, phone calls are nice, texts are a gift from god but also the bane of his existence because they’re starting to pretend—as in, the wider-world-of-they—but they’re starting to pretend they’re sufficient, that they’re enough and, and…

Fucking never.

But Eddie’s been gone—label negotiations, shit they were digging their heels on being in person for no goddamn reason, as proven by the actual days in person—and now, as he takes in his husband at the island, sat on one of the bar stools, those legs danged low and crossed at the ankles, the fucking socks on him tantalizing, good goddamn, but he’s leans back from the waist and those…those arms. Crossed over his chest.

That’s never meant anything other than judgement. Than what the kids used to term Mom’s disappointed in you personally.

Except Steve is his partner. His til-death-do-us-part-and-then-some. And…

Oh. Oh, he’s got his glasses on when he’s not working—Eddie scans the countertop for papers, nothing obvious—which only enhances the effect of the look; gives it a whole new dimension of accusation as he looks over the tops of the frames and lets his gaze fucking…just sear into Eddie. Uncompromising. No mercy.

Eddie will not try to pretend his doesn’t fucking gulp, the violent motion of his throat around it undoubtedly obvious: but Steve doesn’t budge. Doesn’t grant him quarter.

Fuck. Right. Okay.

Diffusion tactics.

“I assume I deserve this,” Eddie starts, pitches the words to land gentle because, well, they’re honest. Steve’s a fucking drama queen, absolutely: but it’s never been without his reasons, and Eddie loves him with his everything, right, so he respects his reasons.

Even when they’re fucking absurd.

But there’s no evidence here yet either way, about the what, about the cause of the sheer fucking inferno blazing in those eyes, the venom that Eddie can almost taste in the air that seeps from his lips for just breathing, that could probably land a death blow on its own when he actually deigns to speak, and so: yeah.

Eddie does assume he deserves it, one way or another. Because Steve loves him with his everything, too, like for like and then some, both ways and all ways. So he doesn’t react quite like this; doesn’t pull this sort of shit lightly.

“But” and he’s still picking his way through the minefield, takes only the barest step closer palms open near his hips, plaintive-like as he…yeah, kinda he pleads:

“Can you tell me why you want to kill me this time?”

Steve—okay, so, in any other circumstance: the sounds Steve makes, the guttural fucking growl that rumbles from his chest: that’d be hot as shit.

In fact it’s still hot as shit, but: not the time. Because those eyes are still…like, third-degree-burn to the touch.

“You lied.”

Eddie blinks, because…he hears Steve’s words. They’re very simple, and very clear.

But they’re nonsensical.

“What?”

“You lied to me.” And then Steve’s grabbing something behind him, flinging it closer to where Eddie stands at the end of the island and oh, okay, a magazine and—

Oh. Oh.

Okay.

A magazine with Eddie on the front with some…

Wait.

“Stevie,” and Eddie’s not gonna be placating, he’s not going to be evasive or dismissive—Steve knows the other party hanging off Eddie in the photo, it’s Lance, the band’s media intern who has a not-so-secret infatuation with Steve of all people, and is about to be replace by a kid, Marvin maybe, in his senior year in PR and media studies who, honestly, Eddie suspects may have an even bigger infatuation with his husband, but that’s not a concern for right now; the concern for right now is that Steve’s looking at Eddie, glancing every half-second toward the photo again and looking…somewhere between enraged and betrayed.

And it’s so fucking sour in Eddie’s chest, god: he needs to fix it. He’s just, he’s got to fic it but—

He doesn’t know what the hell it even is.

“Baby, I would never, not ever lie to you. And you know Lance,” Eddie tries to point out soothing, rational, no hint of patronizing because he wouldn’t, he would never, especially not like this.

Steve’s scowl just depends, and he taps hard enough on the page to leave an indent, to score a line with his nail.

Right. Okay.

“Stevie—“

“You,” and Steve leans toward the far side, grabs something out of view before he points the something at Eddie almost threateningly:

“Lied.”

“Steve,” and Eddie’s eyeing the instrument leveled at him carefully before he notes what it actually is: a pen.

A red pen and oh. His Stevie. Always the consummate educator.

And Steve does the growling thing again, probably because Eddie’s face goes lax, all soft and shit in the face of Steve being all competent in his profession in the small, sweet ways that pop up all the time, that Eddie loves so deep, so hard, but then Steve’s scribbling and oh, it’s one of the fancy pens, more like a marker that’s bright against the magazine gloss and he’s circling, he’s making arrows, there’s no rhyme or reason—

“Lies!” Steve declares, definitive as he throws down the pen and shoves the marked-up photo toward Eddie so it’s skids across the island, so Eddie has to catch it, and he squint a second, tries to make sense of what’s circled over and again and—

“You fucking promised me,” and Steve…yeah.

Steve sounds like Mom’s disappointed in him personally to a fucking T.

But so much worse again: because this is his husband.

“I did—“

“No!” Steve cuts him off; “no more bullshit,” and oh, fuck, Eddie knows it’s serious, that word’s got a premium still in their household, and then Steve’s leaning closer pointing forcefully at the image, at the red-ringed offenders:

“That,” Steve snarls; “is fucking frizz, Edward,” and Steve looks up at him, again, some combination of livid and offended on principle; “why did I even bother to pack you the conditioner that you swore to me you’d use—“

“I did, Stevie!” Eddie protests, pleads for leniancy; “I did, I swear, my bag got delayed the first night, it was only that first night that I showered without it,” and fuck, how’d they even get that photo, how the fuck did it get to print and in Steve’s hands even, how—

“You cannot maintain your curl pattern without proper maintenance,” Steve grits through clenched teeth and yes, yes: Eddie knows. He’s learned, and learned again, and learned some more, for…for years.

He kinda loves it. But he’ll never love making his husband sad. So, because he’s skilled on his feet, he tries for a compromise. A Hail-Mary, in sports ball speak—or he thinks that’s the right thing to call it.

“Maybe you can salvage it,” Eddie proposes, damn-near begs, and yeah, yes: he means that wholehearted, too; “maybe we can go upstairs and you can save it?”

And Eddie’s not even trying to make his eyes big, knows Steve’s largely immune unless he chooses not to be, but his eyes are stinging for how wade they’re stretched, and he holds the gaze, stares pitifully at Steve, pleads so hard, and then—

Steve smacks Eddie’s forearm with the rolled-up magazine and makes to leave the room; Eddie just stands, a little frozen, a little bewildered, until—

“Well, get your ass up here,” he hears from the staircase; “you better hope I can work miracles, dipshit, else your photocalls are gonna be stringy and sad all goddamn week.”

And Eddie grins because like: he knows his husband—and the man himself is already kind of a miracle.

So miracle working is kinda his area of expertise.

permanent tag list (comment to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #peak drama #fluff #established relationship #established steddie #rockstar eddie munson #domestic fluff #domestic squabbles #over seriously the stupidest shit for real #married steddie #idiots in love #slice of life #rockstar husbands #but eddie LIED! #he PROMISED! #but stevie; baby; SWEETHEART! #it wasn't his FAULT! #(they're the most absurd: truly—no contest) #these two boys have been together for years at this point and it FUCKING SHOWS #stranger things #hitlikehammers' hobbit-birthday prompt fest #gift fic #hbyrde36

[samkerrworshipper]

the call up

leah williamson x reader

please keep sending requests in i need some fuel!

angst, panic attacks, pain, mentions of abuse of power, mentions of abuse, a short 4000 words im posting this at 2am so sorry for any typos or little things i might have missed x

my heart breaks for the espwnt as they navigate their current situation and i’ve been thinking a lot about it so here’s this little fic ❤️

blurb: you got the news notification, not a text, not a call, a fucking new notification that had broken your heart into a million different pieces

———————————————————————

I was consciously ignoring the sound of furious knocking against the bathroom door, but not on purpose. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, I’d felt that way ever since I’d gotten the news notification and then the follow up text from Alexia asking if I was okay. No I wasn’t okay, but I’d told her I was fine anyway. It was a blur to me what had happened after that, I’d thrown my phone at a wall, knowing that my phone was probably 30 seconds off of lighting up furiously with more notifications. How could they do this to us? How could they do it to me? After that I’d stumbled my way into my ensuite, finding it hard to see properly with the tears that were crowding my eyes. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think beyond the thought of how this was actually happening.

I’d staggered my way into the shower, cranking the water to its highest point and sitting myself down on the floor. I was bawling my eyes out but I couldn’t really feel it, all I felt was numbness, overwhelmingly numb. The shower water was boiling hot but the searing liquid felt perfect against my skin, it did wonders to comfort the iciness inside of me. It also drowned out the neverending sound of me sobbing furiously into my own skin. I was still wearing my clothes, still dressed in the same t-shirt and shorts that I’d been wearing when I’d gotten the notification. I was scratching furiously at my legs, seeking out the relief that the mixture of pain and burning gave me.

How was this the world that we were living in? How was it that in the current world that we lived in I didn’t even have a basic human right? I was a sobbing, trembling mess just thinking about it all.

How was I supposed to go there and pretend that everything was fine, that I didn’t want to claw my throat out just at the thought of being in the presence of some of those people. It was insanity, pure insanity. I was a fucking world champion, one of the best players in the world and yet here I was, back to square one. What was the point in us even signing a treaty if they were just going to flat out ignore it anyways. It made me sick to my stomach, in what world was this okay, in what world was this how we lived?

Leah would probably hate me, hate me for being ungrateful for the opportunity, hate me for not taking a chance to play when she couldn’t. I was being fucking childish, it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal, shouldn’t have been that upsetting. I was being given the opportunity to play the sport I loved for my country, so why did everything about it feel so wrong? Why couldn’t I find a part of my heart that was happy that I’d been called up, happy about the prospect of playing for my country. I should have been happy, should have been excited, should have been bewildered that they were asking for me to come back even after I’d told the press about all the abuse, it was a miracle really. My heart went out to Mapi, my best friend who I knew would be absolutely devastated that she’d been called up, she’d rejected a call-up to the world cup because of her views and now that was invalidated, everything she’d stood for was going out the window, much like the rest of us.

It was the knocking that brought me out of my spiral, it was non-stop, loud and furious.

“Y/n, I’m coming in sweetheart.”

It was Leah’s voice, both so gentle and stern at the same time. I didn’t take my head out of my knees as I heard the door to our ensuite open, I must have forgotten to lock it in the flurry of emotions that had gotten me to the shower floor. I heard Leah step cautiously into the room, probably taking in her surroundings and the state I was in. Then I heard the door to the shower opening and I couldn’t help but pull my head out of the spot in between my legs to look at her. She looked flustered, her hair and clothes dishevelled and nothing like what they’d looked like when she’d left this morning to take our dogs on a walk and meet up with Keira for coffee.

“Oh darling.”

I knew I probably looked like a mess, mascara smudged all over my red eyes. She reached out to comfort me but immediately recoiled when her skin made contact with the water, letting out a string of profanities towards the water,

“Fuck, you’re burning yourself,” She said, her eyes flashing with fear as she reached towards the temperature dial, immediately turning it down to a more luke warm temperature.

“No, I need to feel clean,” I reached up to turn the water controls back to my previous temperature btu Leah’s hand stopped me, her hands gently gathering my own in hers.

“You are clean y/n,” Her voice was a mere whisper, her voice hoarse as she hurriedly slipped off her shirt and shorts before climbing into the shower with me, just left in her sports bra and boxer shorts.

“Dirty,” I choked out, flinching away from her as she snaked an arm around my body.

“You are not dirty y/n/n,” her voice was stern, she was speaking to me with the intention to get past my internalised barriers that were trying to block her out, trying to block out her attempts to convince me that my self deprecating thoughts were wrong.

As soon as she noticed my hands falling down to my legs to continue scratching at them to get some release she put a stop to it, her own hands intertwining with mine and bringing them to her chest.

“I know there are a lot of twisted thoughts going through your head right now sweetheart, I know that this whole situation is so fucked up, beyond it being okay but I’m here for you.”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe, like every breath that I was taking in was lacking in oxygen and everything I needed to be able to fucking breathe.

“How can they do this? How can they make us do this?”

Leah just shook her head at me, because we both knew she didn’t have an answer, that as much as I leaned on her to give me an answer for everything she just couldn’t in this situation.

“I don’t know.”

Her words were rocky, splotchy, it reflected everything that I was feeling in that moment.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m being ungrateful, I mean you can’t even play and I’m sitting her complaining about the fact I’m being given the opportunity to play,”

“You aren’t being given an opportunity, you are being forced to play. You are allowed to be annoyed about that, it’s not being ungrateful. We live in a world where as women we are supposed to be grateful about every single fucking opportunity we are given but this isn’t a opportunity my love, it’s fucking abuse, especially after what those men did to you.”

I shivered at Leah’s words, just thinking about everything that I’d given to that team just to be fucking abused and assaulted, it had taken so much therapy for me to acknowledge that it had been abuse, that it hadn’t been deserved, that I deserved better.

“I can’t go back, I can’t do it,” Leah nodded at me, pressing her lips to my forehead under the spray of the shower and nodding against my skin.

“That’s okay, we’ll sort it out, I’ll call Ale and we’ll figure it out. If you don’t want to go you don’t have to, we can't risk your mental health for fucking soccer.”

“They’ll take my licence, they’ll fine me, I’ll never be allowed back, they’ll find a way to invalidate my passport and I’ll never get to see my family again,”

“That’s a bridge we can cross, we’ll figure it out, what matters most is that you are okay.”

I didn’t feel okay, I felt like I was tearing at the seams, like seeing that news notification pop up on my screen as I’d been catching up on the most recent episode of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills was probably the worst moment of my life.

“You do feel safe, y/n?”

I shook my head, burying deep into Leah’s neck, trying to get as far away from the world as I could.

“I love you y/n, I will never stop loving you, no matter what happens, you are stuck with me, so even if thats hard to believe I need you to know that, I need you to think about that. Let’s get you out of the shower, yeah?”

She was right, I didn’t believe her. I kept my cheek pressed into her neck as she lifted me up off of the floor and out of the shower, stripping off my layers and wrapping me in a towel, I refused to face her though, refused to look into those eyes.

“Can I carry you?” Her voice was so hesitant and before I could gather my thoughts, the ones that told me to push Leah away I found myself nodding.

She engulfed me in her arms so quickly it was as if she knew I was on the cusp of changing my mind, I still hadn’t stopped crying, my sobs had just quietened down into numb, soundless tears that somehow burned my cheeks as they dripped down my skin. My chest pressed against her own as she lifted me up and walked us into our room, our bedroom. I squeezed my eyes, trying my hardest to ignore how perfect it felt in that moment to be pressed against her, to be in her arms, how perfect it felt to be held by her.

She gently placed me down on our bed and I tried my hardest not to whimper at the loss of contact, she dashed off into our wardrobe, stumbling around in there for a few seconds before returning with a fresh matching bra and boxer set on herself and a sports bra and pair of boxer shorts for me. I didn’t even flinch as she pulled the items of clothing over my body, just went limp in her arms. Once she was done dressing me she climbed onto the bed beside me.

“Can I hold you?”

I nodded at her with tears in my eyes and she’d immediately wrapped both of her arms around me. She rested herself against the head of the bed and brought me into her lap so my back was pressed against her chest, it was the skin to skin contact that made me start to sob unapologetically and furiously. Leah was quick to tighten her grip on me and start to rock me back and forth in her arms.

“I’m so sorry this is happening to you sweetheart, I’ll do anything I can to fix it.”

Leah was a problem solver, furiously dedicated to helping out anyone that she could. In this instance though I couldn’t find anything that she could actually help with, what was there for her to do? No one could do anything, any effort, any attempt to try and make a change, for Jenni, for us all, was over.

“How am I supposed to go there and act all happy and grateful when all I want to do is tell them all fuck you, fuck you for doing this to me, fuck you for condoning the abuse for years, fuck you for covering it all up.”

My words came out in hiccups between the sobs, Leah waited for a few minutes before answering me, it got to the point where I was worried she wasn’t going to answer me at all.

“If you don’t want to stay and play you won’t have to, it’s against your rights and the FIFA code says so, fuck there bullshit law that says you have to go. We’ll talk with our lawyers, talk with Ale and Mapi and we’ll find a solution. If they make you play then you can sit on the field, you can fake an injury, get yourself red carded. We’ll find a solution, we’ll work it out.”

Everything Leah said made sense but it also didn’t, how was I supposed to go there, how was I supposed to walk in a building and try and reason with people I was terrified of, people that I now needed anti anxiety medication for, people that had given me years of trauma and PTSD.

It was then that we were both shaken by a furious banging from our front door, my mind went to the worst place possible. What if it was reporters, or people from fifa, or people from the Spanish federation? What if they’d come to take me, what if they were already here to take my licence or take me to jail?”

Leah sensed my distress and slid herself out from behind me.

“I’ll go take a look, stay here, it’ll be fine.”

Even her voice was unsure, like she didn’t even know if it was actually okay. She darted out of our room, I heard her thudding down the stairs and then making it to our front door. I heard her open it, which indicated to me it had to be someone we knew because if it was someone she didn’t want to see she would have looked through the peephole and left them. I heard the hushed voices of two people, maybe? Then the furiously fast footsteps of an amount of people I couldn’t make out. Within a few second though all was revealed to me as Alexia, Mapi, Lucy and Keira bursted into my room, Leah chasing after them. One look at them all had me sobbing again. Alexia and Mapi were quick to jump onto the bed beside me, I noticed the the tear tracks that were painting Mapi’s face as well and the red rims around her eyes. Mapi was my best friend in the entire world, we’d played with each other since we were kids. Alexia was like my older sister, she’d taken me under my wing as soon as I’d joined Barca as a rookie and she’d treated me like her own ever since. The two women meant more to me than anybody else, bar Leah and I knew that they both knew how much this would be tearing me up.

“How can they do this to us? After everything they’ve done?”

“Lo se mi amor, lo siento mucho.” (I know my love, I’m so sorry)

Ale’s voice didn’t do much to comfort me, if anything her familiar words that were spoken in our mother tongue just made it all pour out of me more.

The two english women in the room were lead out by Leah, the three of them sensing that this was a moment that us Spaniards needed to have on our own.

“No puedo hacerlo Ale lo siento pero no puedo hacerlo.” (I can’t do it Ale, I’m so sorry but I can’t do it.)

“It’s okay Mi amor, I understand. We are going to sort it out for you and Mapi, we’ll figure it out, you don’t have to be there if you don’t want to, they can’t force you.”

“Can’t they?”

It was the first time Mapi had gotten a word into the conversation and Alexia’s eyes immediately met hers in a glare, she was trying to stop me from working myself up even further and Mapi’s words weren’t helping.

“No they can’t María, we’ll work it out, I’ll sort it out for my girls, I’ll keep you protected, te prometo que.” (I promise you)

“You can’t make that promise, you didn’t protect us last time.”

The tension between the two was thickening and it was making me feel even smaller.

“I can try my hardest, last time it was different and you know it, this time we have an audience, we have people that we can trust to help us, we don’t have to be scared anymore, I am going to protect you, lo juro.”

I pressed myself further into Ale’s arms, finding solace and comfort in the older woman's arms.

“I’m scared, Ale.”

I felt Ale’s head nod against my own from its position balancing on top of mine, her head burrowing into my semi wet hair that Leah had partly dried with a towel.

“I know pequeño, you have every right to be scared, but I’ll keep you safe and if you want to go home after we negotiate with them then you can, no one is going to make you play.”

I nodded into Ale’s body, searching for Mapi’s hand and when I found it tangling it in my own, finding warmth and steadiness in her hand.

I could feel my body relaxing into Ale’s, the emotions of the last hour starting to hit me and affect my energy level.

“Go to sleep, cariño, rest, you need it.”

I’d nodded sleepily into Alexia’s body and let myself relax fully against her, letting all of the stress, fear and anxieties leave my body as the feeling of sleep started to overcome my senses.

When I woke up it was no longer light outside. I shot up in bed, realising I was alone and immediately clutching at my chest as I felt the anxiety overcome my body, I’d been deserted, because of my stupid fears about being called up, I deserved it, I was so weak, so stupid, so fucking unworthy of love and attention. It all came crashing down on me, like a massive wave, all of the feelings crashing down on top of me in an overwhelming cascade. I was gasping for air, frantically clawing the sheets of the bed off of my body, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, overheated and sweaty. I’d left a cold sweat patch on our bed sheets but it didn’t really bother me, I was so hot and it was so hard to breathe and I just couldn’t think.

The next thing I knew Leah was walking into our room with a cup of tea that she’d almost immediately dropped when her eyes had met mine, forgetting the cup and liquid and jumping directly onto the bed, her mind immediately reeling.

“Y/n/n, you're having a panic attack, I need you to breathe for me, how we’ve practised, you’re going to be okay, take some deep breaths for me.”

I’d gulped and nodded at Leah, we had practised it quite a bit, it didn’t make it any easier when this happened but it did reassure me that I knew how to do it.

Her hand had almost immediately found its way to my hunched over back, rubbing circles into the muscles along my back as I struggled to take in any oxygen.

“You’ve got it my love, deep breaths, in and out, it’s going to be okay, I’m right here.”

Leah’s voice was so soft, so comforting, like it was made of cotton and teddy bear fur.

“I thought I was alone and I-I thought you’d left me.”

My voice was so unsteady, so unlike me.

“I’m never leaving you honey, not if I can help it, I’m here for you, always by your side.”

She solidified her statement by pressing a gentle kiss to the side of my temple, I relaxed my scrunched up face against her mouth, trying to enjoy the feeling of it as much as possible.

“Good girl, keep taking those deep breaths for me, you're doing so well mi amor.”

Leah knew very little Spanish, I’d tried my hardest to teach her some, especially when she’d stayed with me in Barca but it just never stuck, she didn’t practise enough for it to stick, not that I minded, my mum was english so I’d spoken both since I was a child, my English was just as good as my Spanish so it wasn’t hard for me to converse with my partner.

Leah’s voice kept rubbing against my back, helping to guide me back down to earth from the panic induced cloud that I’d sent myself to. When I did finally come back down I started to take in my surroundings, the damp sheet below me, Leah’s breath against my neck, our dog and cat sitting on the edge of our bed, cuddled up together asleep.

“Hey angel, you back with me?”

Her voice was so gentle, so patient. Leah’s hand found its way to my face, brushing the loose brunette strands from my face and pushing them behind my ear. I felt shameful, I couldn’t handle looking into those eyes, those eyes that held a world's worth of care in them, the eyes that I knew could break me down into tears on their own accord.

“M’ sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

Her reassurance was what I needed, I craved that reassurance, craved her approval.

“I just want this all to go away, I just want to be able to me be, just live how I want to.”

Leah pushed herself back against our pillows and pulled me with her, wrapping her arms around me and bringing me to her chest, her lips fell to my forehead out of habit, it was one of her favourite things to do, I loved the connection.

“You can be you, you are allowed to be upset about this, there is nothing wrong about being angry about what is happening to you.”

I let my head find a nook in Leah’s body and relax into it properly, finding so much peace in her.

“I just want this to all be over, better yet, never have happened.”

“Fair enough, you’ve dealt with enough bullshit to last you the rest of your life, you are allowed to be angry about that, anything you feel is valid, your life has been turned upside down by a bunch of old white men who don’t care about anybody besides themselves and it sucks, it sucks that most of the men in power across our world are the same and that we can’t really do anything to change that. I’m here for you though, so is Ale and Mapi and everyone else that cares about you. It sucks, but that's what we have and maybe it’s enough, maybe it’s all we really need.”

I nodded along with Leah’s words, she was so wise, so smart considering her age. It was one of the things I admired her so much for, how she knew so much but was also prepared to educate herself on something that she wasn’t sure about. She was always wanting to be better, to learn more, it was jarring for me when I’d met her, having come from a very traditional family and set of views.

“Go back to sleep my love, we’ll work this all out in the morning, I promise.”

“Pinky swear?”

She’d rolled her eyes at me but nodded regardlessly, knowing that if she didn’t my anxieties would creep up and I’d probably send myself into another fit.

“I pinky swear.”

#woso #leah williamson #lionesses #woso community #marry me rn #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x reader #fc barcelona #espwnt #alexia putellas #mapi leon #gut wrenching #angst #depression #panic attacks #i’m crying

[kyleoreillylover]

Here’s a lil sneak peak into my sami zayn x jey uso x reader wip, coming soon 👀 can you guess the plot in the comments?

tag list: @southerngirl41 @venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996 @tbonesteakwithasideofmashngrav @hope4more @selena-tyler-564

You felt the tension you had been holding onto all these months finally crackling into a raging fire inside you, a fire which you hoped Jey and Sami could finally quench. But instead they seemed to have ignited even more.

"I didn't chose him over you." Jey spoke softly, and his eyes were even softer as he gazed at you. You felt that fire inside you again, burning brighter now, hotter and stronger than before. "I chose to protect you. And now, you have to choose the same thing for yourself."

You closed your eyes briefly as you fought the feelings and tension you always felt when you were around them. The heat that rose inside you threatened to burn you from the inside out. But you refused to give in. There was too much pain running through your veins to allow you to fall to pieces right in front of them.

The silence that filled the room was deafening, until it was finally broken by Sami. "Look, you can be as snarky as you want, you can insult us as much as you want, but that won't change the fact that when I look into your eyes, I see someone who needs my help." Sami hesitantly came closer to you- his brown eyes boring into yours. “Someone who's lost everything, and has nothing but hope left. That's not you. And if you continue to run away from this-"

You scoffed, cutting him off, not wanting to listen anymore to whatever he was going to say. You couldn't give in to them.

"Just stop! Just fucking stop! Stop acting like you care about my situation, or about me, or about us. Just... just stop!" Tears welled in your eyes, and it made you want to scream. The tension grew so strong, you thought your head was going to explode. You felt the walls collapsing, the flames starting to lick at your skin.

Jey shook his head, taking a step forward towards you. "Are you tryna convince us or yourself? Cause all your doing is deflecting, deflecting, deflecting, acting like we ain't know every inch of you and what makes you tick, what drives you crazy."

His voice was loud, commanding, hot, and demanding, causing the temperature in the entire room to skyrocket. "Acting like we ain't know you're just tryna make us mad so we'll just leave, well get this through your fucking skull-we ain't gonna go anywhere, we are staying here whether you like it or not. Cause we fucking care about you! Because we 're here for you! We're gonna help you and show you that you fucking deserve everything good in this world, you deserve the best, you deserve us!” His eyes were filled with a fire that matched yours that made your body heat up even more his voice low yet so demanding, his words harsh yet so caring. “Now, you gon' sit there, and tell us that you don't need help, you don't wanna accept our help because you think its weakness or somethin'? Well, that's just bullshit, baby. And we ain't gonna stand by and watch as you try to pretend like everything's fine when its not!"

Your eyes were blown wide, watching Jey take another step forward, anger blazing bright in his eyes. The heat radiating off of him, making your body heat up even further. You swallowed roughly, unable to speak, unable to process what you were hearing.

A tear escaped your eye, rolling down your cheek.

You didn't bother wiping it away.

But Sami did.

#wwe x reader #nxt x reader #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #wwe imagine #wwe x black reader #fanfic #nxt #wwe #jey uso x y/n #jey uso x black reader #jey uso fic #jey uso smut #sami zayn x jey uso #sami zayn x fem reader #sami zayn imagine #sami zayn x reader #sami zayn fanfiction #sami zayn smut #wwe smut #wwe fluff

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns - Part Twenty Two

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc x Chris 'Motionless' Cerulli

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, panic attack, stalking, online bullying, mental health issues.

❗PLEASE CHECK THE AUTHORS NOTE FOR THIS CHAPTER.❗

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. For everyone involved.

❗❗ author’s note: This chapter includes description of an emotional breakdown, I am not including skipping points this time as it is very integrated in a characters thought processes. However if this is triggering to you, please be aware of this.

tags: @tearfallpixie @cncohshit @jordynyingling0219 @faceless-mirror @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 @witchyweeb34 @black-damask1999 @jilliemiw86 @ilovesamkiszka @lyschko666 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @bngurngheart @collapsedglasshouses @laurpartyprogram

Tag List is Open, please let me know if you would like to be added to it or in general.

“I don’t know, but I think it’s about time we try to find out.”

Talia looked at Ricky with wide eyes when she heard that, she could tell him, tell him about her father’s connection to the clinic back home, the one with the doctors that he was friends with. She’d mentioned that he’d tried to have her committed to Ricky already, she remembered that, but not that he knew the people there who could possibly help them, personally. People that he could ask for help. Would they, help them? Would she even want her family's help after how they’d treated her for years? She’d been right, the very soulmate that they claimed she was delusional about having, was standing right here… Swallowing, hell, a sinking feeling in her stomach, she could just hear her mother now. Claiming that this feeling coursing through her veins never happened to them, not in her parent’s soulmate bond, or any of her siblings, cousins, aunts, or uncles, so obviously it's not supposed to happen. If it didn’t happen to any of them, why would it possibly have happened to her?

Her so-called delusion that he was her soulmate must have destroyed this poor man.. Fuck fuck fuck.. Talia’s eyes flew to the floor, she remembered her mother ranting about all the things that could happen if she were to ever succeed in meeting Ricky, how he would have to pretend for her, if only for a moment, how that ‘poor man’ would have to let her down gently, feed her delusion while they called security on her so she didn’t make a fuss before they had her taken away. Then gone into detail about how she’d end up in a worse facility than the treatments her father was trying to get her admitted into if she ended up being dragged away by the officials.

Talia didn’t even realise she was crying until Ricky reached for her and lifted her chin back up from where she’d looked to the floor. Tilting her face up had one of her hot tears falling from her face and hitting the hand that she had wringing before her. Taking in a soft, almost inaudible gasp of breath as she tried not to meet his eyes, she didn’t want to do this.

What if her mother had been right? Had they all been right? What if she was broken? Had she done this to their soulmate bond? Was there just something wrong with her? Something that happened that she’d caused that had fundamentally destroyed them? Or worse. What if her parents had been right, and she’d been delusional about her tattoo all along?

Ricky had been fine until he met her, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he!? Yes, Grace hadn’t been his soulmate, but there were those that were happy with people who weren’t their soulmates all the time, and she’d ruined it. If she’d never come into his life, if Vinny had met Ava on her own, if Talia had never existed in this, he’d have been fine. Ava would have a new best friend, Grace. She felt more tears fall, and she couldn’t look at him, she couldn’t even focus on the noise in her head, the pain in her neck as she started to panic, the noise that was his voice trying to get her attention.

“Talia, Talia, Sweetheart, look at me, please?”

The tears just fell harder, faster, feeling his fingers against her skin in her panic..

“Shit shit shit,”

Ricky pulled back as Talia cried, he couldn’t get through to her, and she wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, what was he supposed to do to get her to snap out of it? Slap her? No way in hell, after the shit he’d already done to her there was no way he was going to fucking hit her that was barbaric! Pulling out his phone, he called Ava,

“Pick up, pick up… shit Ava Pick… why won't you pick up..”

It rang out.. So he tried Vinny.. And he had no luck there either..

“The one fucking time I need you to pick up the damn phone and you idiots are probably sucking face, shit.”

Scrolling on his phone, he came to another name and selected the number, and this time the tone barely rang twice before the call was picked up,

“Chris, man, I need your help, it’s Talia, she’s, she’s just.. Shit just get here, I don’t know, please. Help.”

Talia was virtually hysterical by the time Chris got there, and Ricky, well, he was freaking out internally. But at least, this time, touching her didn’t have their soulmate tattoo distracting him, driving him to, questionable ends with Chris on his way. Rick had at least managed to get her from the kitchen and into the living room, sitting her down on the couch. For some reason she was not even pulling away from him, after everything that would be what he’d expect, her to pull away, shove him away.. But instead, she had shocked him to no end in that she was clinging to him, her hands gripping his shirt, and crying against it, sobbing uncontrollably. Just as he realised what, the sobs were coming from her,

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

That was when heard Chris’ car pulling up out front of the house.. What in the world would did Talia have to be sorry for that would cause this kind of reaction, of all things?

“DOORS OPEN!”

Ricky had made sure it was when he’d brought her into the lounge, not wanting to leave her alone again in her state, looking at her now, he was glad of it. Glancing up at Chris, as much as he’d felt such a severe intensity seeing him with his connection with Talia just days ago, there was a fresh wave of relief washing over Ricky right now. Relief that there was someone who could help him with her, right here, now. Someone who cared about her here with him now. Yes, he was his best friend, but seeing them together, he could tell Chris cared enough that it mattered what happened to her.

“What the fuck happened, Ricky, you were supposed to talk to her, you said you were going to come over and talk to her.”

Rick knew he wasn’t going to be in Chris’ good books over what had happened between them in the kitchen. He wasn’t sure how he could explain what had happened with the way the soulmate tattoo seemed to be affecting them both the way it was, not that it could excuse it.

“I know! I know, just help me calm her down, and I’ll explain, please Chris?”

He knew the odds were that Chris was going to be royally pissed at him for what had happened between them earlier, but the truth was, Ricky didn’t even care anymore. He’d deserve it, and more, what he cared about right now was that Talia was going to be okay. Furthermore, he might be fucked up right now, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hurt her, that he wanted to have her fall apart into a complete wreck like this.

It was when Chris sighed and got a better look at Talia as he walked around the couch, focusing on the way she was clinging to him, the sobs against his shirt, that was when Chris gave in. Rick always knew he’d agree to help, it was why he’d rushed over here, but whether he’d rip into him demanding an explanation first had been a question. Honestly, Rick was not sure if he could explain why she was like this, one second they’d been talking about figuring out the mark, and the next she was freaking out. If he was a paranoid person, he’d wonder if she knew whether she’d done something to cause this, but Talia seemed to be just as confounded as he was by their soulmate tattoos.

Chris moved by them to sit by them on the three-seater couch, his hand rubbing down Talia’s back. She didn’t seem to want to let go of Ricky’s shirt or pull away from his chest, so they settled her between them. Ricky was massaging lightly up and down her arms, holding her close, and Chris stroking little circles down her spine, talking to her softly. Chris had his cheek resting on the back of her shoulder almost, and the three of them huddled together on the couch. It would be awkward if Ricky wasn’t so worried about what had set her off in the first place. Slowly she was starting to calm down, her sobs soothed, and her tears dried, and eventually, she was just leaning against him until he almost wondered if she was asleep.

Sure enough, as Chris leaned back, and just let his hand soothing run up and down her back lightly, glancing at Rick as he sighed, she was out like a light.

“I could take her to her room, but I don’t want to just leave her here alone. Not after that.”

Chris nodded slightly, which he could agree with, talking low, not wanting to wake her, after all that crying, she needed sleep, she would have worn herself out.

“Alright, well, we stay here, but start talking Rick, out with it.”

Ricky sighed, what to say, but he knew he had to say something, he was the one that had called Chris for help.

“Well, I came over, we talked, we talked Chris.”

Ricky saw the incredulous expression on his face.

“I apologised for the way I’ve been treating her, I swear I did, and we got to talking about everything. She thanked me, she thanked me, for apologising.”

Yeah, he saw the frown on Chris’ face, and he agreed with the sentiment exactly. No one should be thanked for apologising for being a fucking asshole and acting the way he had. He’d been treating her like she was worthless, and nothing, like she didn’t even exist because she wasn’t his soulmate, and she was.. Had wanted nothing to do with her, hadn’t even wanted to hear her out. He knew Grace was a bitch, but not even talking to Talia was on him.

Not Grace.

“But then ah.. Things started happening..”

“What things?”

Chris shifted, but Ricky couldn’t really move, Talia was still leaning against his chest, asleep, and he didn’t want to disturb her, and where her head was against his shoulder, she mumbled slightly, shit.. He stilled, not wanting to wake her, and watched as Chris rubbed his hand lightly down her back again to soothe her, waiting until she was calm again before he continued.

“Well, yesterday, since the party actually, I’ve noticed my soulmate tattoo has been doing strange things-”

“Ricky-”

“Wait, I know, it sounds insane it does, but it's been happening, and yesterday, I noticed, that Talia was reacting the same time my tattoo was getting these strange sensations. I didn’t say anything because of the video and needed to get it done, but then, when it started happening again today, I said something, I, well, I asked her if she could feel it.”

Hearing what Ricky was saying had Chris raising his eyebrows, looking down at the sleeping form of the tiny woman between them. He had heard things about soulmate tattoos potentially doing things like this, but never seen it, and it was only ever rumours from the people that he’d talk to. Some things could never be proven, some things that none of the doctors wanted to admit that they just never could know for certain. Like why, and how, the tattoos chose the people they did. They always talked about those kinds of things like it was down to a science like it was never wrong, but Chris was never sure, because if that was the case, why did some never even get the chance to meet their soulmates, and so many lived with so much pain from a loss of a bond that probably should never have been forced on them in the first place.

Chris had strong opinions about that, especially because he knew first-hand.

“And?”

“And it ah.. It got heated, extremely.. It was both of us, Chris, neither of us could help it, I fucking swear.”

Ricky remembered the way she told him how much she needed him, she just needed to touch him, and he swallowed slightly, shuddering, glancing down at her, what were they going to do, how were they going to handle this if he couldn’t be around her, alone with her, without their tattoos, doing that to them? Everyone said they could at least be friends, and how, how could they even be friends when that happened? Anyone that said it was just about self-control, Rick would personally take a fire poker and stick it in their eye because the feeling from his soulmate tattoo was like a fucking brand sometimes, and how was that not overwhelming?

Chris frowned just the same, it didn’t make it better to hear it, it didn’t make it better at fucking all that they were both been affected like this, that they were both being driven, and then his eyes flickered down to Talia, if she was driven to do something, and she thought, and Ricky..

“Did you walk away again?!”

Oh, the only thing sparing Ricky right now was Talia asleep against him, Chris’ terse words were only hushed for her benefit,

“Is that why she broke down Ricky? I don’t care what happened, I don’t care what she might have done, you both are going through this, and you need to figure this out together, not you walking away all th-”

“I didn’t walk away! I pulled away yes, but only to stop touching her, every time I touched her, even close to that, I couldn’t stop.”

Swallowing. He took in a slow breath, Chris still didn’t look happy, not in the least,

“This, this seems to be okay, I guess around other people, maybe I guess, seems to be okay.. But when we’re alone, it just, it’s like everything kicks into overdrive Chris, and these feelings from the soulmate tattoos, they’ve been building up, it’s just, it’s immense Chris, I, I can’t-”

Ricky choked off, he didn’t know how to handle any of this, he had been struggling even before this development, and now what the hell was he supposed to do? No, no, what were they were going to do? Shit. No, no they weren’t together, and even Talia agreed, they didn’t have to be, but dealing with this alone led them here hadn’t it? Sighing, if they kept going like this, they were just going to destroy each other, he wasn’t so stupid he couldn’t tell that.

“Then what caused this Rick, why’d she break down?”

Closing in his eyes, trying to focus on before, Talia had her meltdown even if all he could think of was that fear, that pain in her eyes as she started to cry and he couldn’t calm her down before he called Chris.

“I pulled away from her, okay yes I did that, not touching her, we talked, about how we couldn’t be, together”

Ricky sighed heavily,

“Chris, we were talking about this fucked up bond, and everything that happened with Grace, and how I can’t even handle being in my house let alone a relationship, how she deserves a better soulmate-”

“Rick-”

“Yeah, don’t worry Chris, she shut me down too. She gave me a talking too, told me to listen to all of you, and that just if I couldn’t trust myself, I should trust you-”

“Such a smart girl, our Talia.”

Ricky rolled his eyes at the smirk Chris gave him at that, which just made the singer laugh softly as he reached over and punched his upper arm lightly.

“Smart arse. Unfortunately, that brought up a thought that I really didn’t want to think about..”

The curious look on Chris’ face was clear, he wanted to know what Ricky meant.

“How everyone has been encouraging me towards her since I broke it off with Grace, it’s been feeling like you’ve all been pressuring me, pushing me as much as this fucking soulmate tattoo is now. It just -”

“Shit, Ricky, that isn’t what we -”

“I know, I know you guys only meant good things, but it didn’t feel good. I felt like shit, so in turn I took it in the worst way, in turn I spiralled with everything you said. Then with Talia saying I should trust you, and feeling like everyone was pushing her on me, thinking every time we were alone we couldn’t control ourselves, the whole conversation brought up the soulmate tattoos and thinking about them.. It all basically led to shit skyrocketing and the tattoos reacting pretty badly.”

Ricky didn’t want to admit that it was Talia talking about her time with Chris that had the tattoo reacting the way it had, because it made him feel like an even bigger asshole. He had no problem with her having friends, he didn’t, hell, right now, Chris sitting here with them, his hand rubbing up and down her back like that, didn’t both him at all, so where was the line? What was going on here?

“So, I said we should find out what’s going on, and the next thing I know, she starts getting upset, and soon it’s a full meltdown. I don’t know Chris, I just don’t know.”

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

#motionless in white #miw #ricky olson #ricky horror #ricky olson fanfiction #ricky olson x ofc #original female character #soulmates #vinny mauro #fanfiction #miw band #rick olson #ricky horror olson #soulmate au #soulmate #tattoos #ricky olson fanfic #vinny mauro fanfic #chris motionless #chris cerulli #chris cerulli fanfic #mental health #fic: every rose has its thorns

[aurevell]

❄won't mean a thing, dear (if you're not here with me) ❄ Steter | 34k | M

Stiles, who was just about to comment on the blinding glare from the Christmas lights, slowly shuts his mouth. Realization is dawning, and he feels like an idiot not to have seen it coming. “Surprise! Christmas isn’t your thing,” he guesses, resigned. Peter gives him a look like he’s insane to even bring it up. He probably is.

Peter and Stiles’s whole relationship is built on sarcasm and disdain for the world at large. No topic is safe from mockery. (Unfortunately, they may not be on the same page about the holiday season.)

*

Some days, Stiles is convinced Peter’s only dating him because the guy gets off on pushing buttons. That’s Peter’s main source of amusement. He knows Stiles is never more than a second away from some minor crime at any given moment, and he likes watching Stiles reconsider and bend his already flexible morals. Likes being the one to urge him on.

Some days, Stiles likes to let him.

Some days.

“Yeah, I dunno about this,” Stiles mutters dubiously, peering through the chain-link fence. When he grabs on, squinting for a closer look, the metal is icy against his skin. “It’s kind of a stretch, dude. Even for me.”

“What’s the harm?” Peter inquires, his tone even. Still, Stiles can hear the smirk without looking. “It’s just a peek. Sixty seconds.”

“Psh. Yeah, right. Sixty seconds now, until we actually get in there and look around.”

It’s late, maybe a little past one in the morning, and the two of them have been meandering a slow circuit through the neighborhood around Stiles’s apartment. Which, yeah, is kind of a weird or even suspicious thing to be doing at this hour, depending on who you ask. Dangerous, too, considering the area. But it’s safe enough when one of you is a literal creature of the night and the other knows his way around a curse book.

It’s also kind of a necessity. Late-night walks are sometimes the only thing that helps Stiles nod off when he’s got too many thoughts rattling around in his head. The rhythmic steps, or maybe the familiar neighborhood setting, always calms his nerves somehow. Or else it just burns off his restless energy. Stiles hasn’t psychoanalyzed himself or anything, but it does the trick.

As for Peter’s presence, that’s a semi-recent thing. He used to just pretend to get offended that the sex alone wasn’t enough to tick the right boxes and knock Stiles’s lights out. But it must have gotten boring sitting around indoors and waiting for him to come back, and the guy has never been one for pillow talk anyway, so he’s started tagging along. Plus, he likes fucking with evening joggers who don’t expect to find someone lurking around the corner in the dark. (See? He’s all about the amusement factor.)

Anyway. They’ve paused here by the fence because Stiles has been keeping an eye on this city block for months. Construction has rattled the ground and diverted local traffic forever. Gleaming in its wake is a new building, freshly raised: a mixed-use space, with apartments above and a couple shops at ground level. One of which, the signs promise, is a coffee shop. A coffee shop, and this cannot be emphasized enough, that is only one block away from where Stiles lives. It’s like some beneficent cosmic being decided Stiles Stilinski does deserve nice things, after all. Things like fresh coffee after an all-nighter. Wi-fi when his shitty router kicks out. Maybe even sandwiches and pastries and stuff—he’d sell his soul for decent bear claws within walking distance.

“You did say you wanted to see the inside,” Peter reminds him idly. The building’s been done for weeks, but the fence still blocks half the sidewalk, keeping pedestrians away from the new facade. Even to Stiles’s human nose, the whole area smells pleasantly of sawdust and fresh paint.

“Yeah, but c’mon. I meant when it was finally open. And anyway, can see it fine from here,” Stiles retorts, and it’s kind of true: with the glow of the streetlight behind them, he can make out the gleam of new machinery and the dark shadows of tables and chairs. “Hey. Look, they even have folding windows. For when it’s nice out.”

“Those are nice.” Peter observes. “Easy to break into.”

Stiles tries his best to fight back a grin, because you can’t encourage Peter at times like this. Give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. “Ok, babe, just so we’re clear. We are not breaking—”

“—into your new favorite coffee shop, which you haven’t shut up about for more than five minutes at a time in weeks? I’d think twice about passing on the opportunity. Once they’ve set up their security system, it won’t be as easy.” He hums, as if a thought has just occurred to him. “You know, they probably have all kinds of decor in there. For your sign collection.”

There are a bunch of dark shapes spread out on the walls, some kind of decorations. A few large ones that are probably just menus or something, but smaller ones too. Could be signs, could be art. “I don’t have a—it’s not a collection.”

“It’s eleven signs. What’s that you always say? Two’s a coincidence, three’s a pattern? ‘Eleven’ is probably a collection.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Stiles laughs.

The squeal of bending metal cuts through the quiet. Stiles drags his eyes away from the cafe windows to find Peter peeling up the bottom of the chain link fence, all casual, like it weighs no more than a sheet of paper.

Peter smirks. “It’d be a crime not to.”

“Peter,” Stiles replies, amused, “this is a crime. This is a literal crime.”

“I bet they have those deluxe espresso machines you get so hard for.”

Stiles heaves out a long-suffering sigh, taking in those dark shapes through the window, and pretends to still be thinking about it. He briefly glances around, like anyone else is crazy enough to be out in the cold this time of night, like Peter wouldn’t hear anyone within earshot anyway. Peter lifts the chain-link fence a little higher. An invitation. The same way some boyfriends might hold open a door.

“Alright, fine,” he mutters under his breath. He ignores Peter’s triumphant smirk as he ducks beneath the fence. “Sixty seconds.”

*

A week and a half later, Cuppa Life Cafe opens to very little fanfare. It’s just a tiny cafe on a tiny street in a tiny town—who cares? But to Stiles, it’s revolutionary.

It’s a shiny new distraction to break up his days. When he’s doing research for his magical consulting clients, when he’s combing through digitized bestiaries for Scott, when he’s delving into police files he one hundred percent did not swipe from his dad, he’s got somewhere to go. No more is he confined to slogging away within the four walls of his cramped and arguably dim apartment (he likes the vibe of his scattered ritual candles, but they don’t always do the trick for him, focus-wise). When he needs a change of pace, he can head downstairs for a three-minute walk to sugar and caffeination and sunlight.

And then there’s Peter, who’s trekked here four times already for dark roast coffees he continually claims are beneath him. Either he’s full of it, or he knows Stiles is more likely to peel away from his work if Peter’s within easy walking distance as well.

Presently, Stiles’s phone chimes with a text from a contact listed as Big Bad Creeperwolf, a label he hasn’t changed since their first meeting. (Anyway, it’s still accurate.) When Stiles checks his messages, there’s a snapshot of the Cuppa Life menu and a text that just reads, Unfortunate.

Stiles stares, squinting and wondering what Peter’s point is, but he can’t work it out. He could text back, or he could grab his current working bestiary from the bed and go around the corner to figure it out.

The place really is cute. They’re clearly going for that modern chic look, with chalkboard menus, lighted glass cases full of Instagram-ready pastries, and graphic art peppered across warm, red-bricked walls. At a glance, you wouldn’t know anything’s missing at all. Stiles only feels a little guilty about nicking his latest sign, inasmuch as he ever feels guilty about nicking anything (and then, you know, returning to the scene of the crime afterward). Look, the display was probably a free one the coffee brand shipped to the cafe as an ad. And Stiles is a regular customer now, and he always tips well, so it’ll probably even out in the end.

Peter’s snagged a table toward the front, right where the late fall sunlight streams in. It’s just barely warm enough that all the windows are folded to the side—they really are a nice touch, even if Peter’s right that they’re easy to sneak through—and when he spots Stiles walking past outside, he glances up with a knowing smirk. Because of course Stiles was going to jump up to visit. Annoying, Stiles thinks, how that one look sends a coil of pleasure into his stomach every time.

“That wasn’t an invitation to drop by,” Peter drawls, typing into his laptop, when Stiles appears at his table.

“Then you shouldn’t have announced your location, babe,” Stiles counters, dumping his book. The pet name slips off his tongue without thought again: he started using it ironically a few weeks back, almost taunting, just to dig at Peter for his condescending little “sweethearts” all the time, and now…

Peter smirks at the face he’s making. “Can’t stop it, can you? Cute.”

“Shut up,” Stiles says without bite. He sinks into the opposite chair, his attention catching on the little cardboard table menu. It’s done up in red, with glittering holly leaves, to cheerily advertise the seasonal specials. “About time! Peppermint hot chocolate?”

“Didn’t you see my text? We’ve gone from pumpkin spice to peppermint season,” Peter informs him, voice dripping with disdain. “It’s all Laura’s been complaining about for days.”

“Is that why you sent it?” Stiles asks distractedly, flipping the menu to check the drinks on the back. “And—wait, what are you even talking about? Peppermint’s the best.”

It’s all the good stuff, he finds: butterscotch caramel coffees, peppermint mochas, gingerbread spice cold brews, s’mores lattes. Man, this place does not disappoint. Stiles must have accidentally done a good deed to deserve it, but hell if he knows what it was.

It’s not until he lowers the menu that he sees Peter’s dismay. Too late, he picks up on the haughty tone, which is Peter’s default whenever they parry insults or dogpile on something they mutually believe to be garbage.

“Is that a joke?” Peter demands. “Peppermint is nature’s mildest poison. Who wants to eat something whose primary flavor is ‘cold?’ The whole place reeks of it now—even you should be able to smell it with that chunk of marble you call a nose. We’re going to have to avoid every cafe in town for the next two months.”

Stiles shakes his head, amused. “Every now and then, I feel really grateful I don’t have all your wolf stuff going on. There are definite downsides to super sniffers. But you’re right about pumpkin spice, I guess—that stuff’s a travesty. RIP to Laura and all the pumpkin spice girls probably crying into their scarves as we speak.”

“You’re a witch, and fall's barely over. Are you even allowed to voice a dislike of pumpkin spice?”

“I’m a spark and you know this. And yeah, I guess they’ll probably revoke my card,” Stiles jokes.

With his stuff now scattered across the table, he heads off to the counter, deliberating over his drink choices. He ends up going with the peppermint mocha, partly because he does, in fact, really love peppermint and needs to carpe diem the fuck out of it while it’s still in season, and partly because he knows it’ll annoy Peter.

Once he grabs his order and gets back to his seat, he takes his first taste while making pointed eye contact with the werewolf. Unfortunately, Peter’s crinkled nose just makes Stiles snort into the drink, and he ends up choking on a puff of whipped cream for his trouble.

“Lovely that I’m only learning now that you enjoy drinking toothpaste,” Peter snarks. He looks almost disgusted, but he’s still wearing the delighted smirk that means he’s back in his element. “What other dealbreakers don’t I know about you?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Stiles coughs, still laughing a little. “Out of all the shit I’ve done, peppermint’s the dealbreaker?”

“I already know about the live theater thing. The—musicals.”

“What, that I’ve witnessed some without fleeing the theater?” Stiles asks, covering his grin with a sip of his drink. It really is good, with just enough peppermint to boost the chocolatey taste of the mocha without being overpowering. “I stand by Heathers, my dude. J.D. is hot. I won’t apologize for that.”

“Sickening. What else do I need to know? Do you put motivational quotes in your email signature? Do you unironically follow astrology? If you’re a secret cryptobro, you’d better tell me before this goes any further.”

Stiles snickers into his drink. “No to all of the above. But if either of us was gonna turn into some condescending asshole trying to peddle something skeevy, it’d probably be you.”

“Excuse you.”

“Speaking of dealbreakers. Met this cute guy earlier today.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Did you now.”

“You’d better watch out.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Fat. Tan.”

“Tabby?”

“Maybe, but the fur was pretty long. I took pictures. Wanna see?”

He’s grinning: it’s a bluff, of course, and they both know it. Peter just grunts. There are few things the werewolf finds more boring than pictures of small animals. He’s insane that way. Like he would honestly rather pry his own eyes out than witness a cute cat displaying its belly for scratches. Stiles doesn’t even know what to do with him sometimes.

“Keep your beaus to yourself,” Peter replies, returning to his book.

“Your loss.” Stiles pulls his laptop to him, booting it up. “By the way, did I tell you Pudding’s rash is gone? Saw her this morning.”

“If I have to hear another word about cats,” Peter sighs, “and especially a cat’s skin condition, I’ll swear to god I’ll find a way to get you banned from this cafe.”

Stiles mimes zipping his lips and gets back to work, though Peter looks at him with distrust for a full minute before he resumes reading. But while Stiles does sometimes get a perverse sense of enjoyment from Peter’s poor attempts to feign interest in his interests, he’s got shit to do today. Peter’s off the hook. For now.

Harassment has always been one of Stiles’s love languages. At least when it comes to Peter.

The feeling is clearly mutual, though. And Stiles knows Peter well enough to tell he isn’t the type of guy who’d stick around if he were actually offended.

They’ve come a long way since their first meeting, the first formal introduction of their respective packs. Back then, they were all circling each other warily, a prospective alliance built on contract negotiations and polite adherence to ceremony.

Everyone except for Peter. Peter was an immensely egotistical shit the entire time—not that he did or said anything outright insulting, anything to make the McCall pack cut their losses and back out, just things that were right on the cusp. Snarky insinuations. Snubs. He clearly thought them an insignificant pack of amateur shifters, and bitten wolves at that, a term he used with this pitying tone that suggested he wanted to turn up his nose but wouldn’t for propriety’s sake. It rubbed Scott and Isaac the wrong way right off the bat, and even Kira got sour about it. And Kira believes in peace and forgiveness and pixie dust for literally everyone.

Maybe Stiles only found it so funny because he knew how wildly wrong Peter was about them. The McCall pack, after all, is a bad enemy to underestimate and a good ally to have in your back pocket.

And then, somewhere amidst the getting-to-know-yous and the haughty diplomacy, it became clear that sure, Peter may have been sneering and abrasive, but he backed a lot of the same things Stiles championed: an aggressive defense, strong tendencies toward revenge where appropriate, doling out the harshest possible punishments against offending packs. His mean streak, in fact, aligned very neatly with Stiles’s.

For half the alliance negotiations, Stiles found himself arguing beside Peter, who looked delighted at the unexpected support, especially when it was just the two of them against ultra-forgiving alphas who indulged their reasoning but came down firmly on the side of living and letting go and other bullshit.

“Fine,” Peter had said when it was all done. All pleasant and smirking, of course, because he’s always refused to show weakness after a loss. “Well, I’m sure none of us will ever regret this.”

Talia just rolled her eyes with the exasperation of someone who’d borne this kind of barbed statement all her life. And Peter turned and gave Stiles this meaningful look, the first of many designed to invite his judgment as well, as if to say Can you believe this? You and I are the only ones who truly understand.

Stiles was a little bit in love. Even then.

After they all dispersed for friendlier conversation, Stiles sidled up to him, phone held out imperiously. “Give me your number.” At Peter’s raised eyebrow, he added, “Don’t tell me you don’t want the backup. My alpha wasn’t the only one who said the words ‘minor territory breach’ like it’s not an oxymoron.”

It was hard to disagree. And Stiles wasn’t misreading the exasperation: by the time Peter finished entering his contact info, the werewolf had already begun to complain of all the extra work he often put in just for his own peace of mind given Talia’s relaxed policies. There were no known hunters or magical threats in the area—a feat only accomplished because of strict border enforcement, thanks very much—and the Hales were diligent about maintaining alliances with several nearby packs. But you never really knew. The Hale library, Peter added, was brimming with insights on defenses and known threats for that very reason.

Stiles perked up at the magic word. “A private library, huh? So…we’re officially allies now, right? When do I see it?”

Peter’s grin turned sly.

The attraction was clear as day. Even Stiles could read it, and most people’s flirtations went right over his head. Regardless, both of them were reluctant to make a move right away, both of them aware how disastrous the fallout could get for their respective packs if things went south between them. Or at least Stiles was aware of it, and Peter—perennial schemer that he is—must have at least considered it.

But maybe it was inevitable.

On a totally normal day, Stiles showed up uninvited at Peter’s, just to annoy him into loaning out a bestiary, and then they were just—on top of each other. It was the first and only time Stiles understood what people meant when they said they had sex by accident, a phrase he used to think was a stupid excuse people used for not bothering to control their own impulses, but holy shit, it was like someone just flipped a switch: one second they were staring, and the next second Peter’s tongue was down Stiles’s throat and Stiles was so fucking turned on that he was trying to climb him like a tree about it. He could not stop, could not stop for anything, like the only way out was forward, and forward meant tasting every inch of Peter’s skin.

The sex was amazing. Stiles was fucking wrecked. And of course when they came down, they said they should probably not do it again, absolutely never, because of pack reasons. And that they probably should not even mention it to anyone.

But those turned out to be more impulses they couldn’t rein in.

They became a thing. Somehow.

God knows they still rub each other the wrong way: Stiles is and always will be an annoying little shit, and Peter keeps making condescending offers to help broaden the tiny McCall pack—the implication being, again, that they aren’t perfectly fine as they are.

But somewhere along the way, Stiles has realized that all Peter’s stupid negging and random hints about his current location might be construed—if you looked at them through your dealing-with-a-manipulative-prick lens—as indirect attempts to coax Stiles into spending time with him. They’re the efforts of someone who has never bothered to invite anyone anywhere, and isn’t any good at it, and doesn’t even know how to do it without trying to manipulate the person in question into wanting it.

And now? Well. Peter’s never been one for grand, romantic gestures—he’s allergic—but it’s turned out okay. Do they have a relationship the average onlooker would describe as “normal” or “tender” or even “level-headed”? Hell no. But Stiles feels more comfortable with Peter than he does with just about anyone, and it’s clear Peter feels the same, and that’s enough.

Even now, the silence stretching between them is warm and companionable, with Stiles’s books and notes covering more than his fair share of the little table, and one of Peter’s legs stretched out beneath it to lean against Stiles’s, and the occasional question swapped between them to punctuate the calm.

A while later, after Stiles finishes the peppermint mocha and finds his limbs stiff, he stretches and returns to the front counter. When he comes back, he’s got a plain black coffee to replace Peter’s empty cup and, because he sometimes decides to be a just and merciful boyfriend, one of the gingerbread cold brews for himself instead of the peppermint.

That’s the kind of thing you end up doing when you get a little too invested. Not that Stiles would say it aloud.

Read the rest on AO3

#steter #steter fic #warning in advance that i will be having a little too much fun with this one #this is probably where i will be outing myself as a Christmas Freak #mine

[andydrysdalerogers]

Cross-Checked ~ Chapter Eight

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!. 

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world., 

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again? 

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

A/N: The tag list is open!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Previous: Chapter Seven ~ A Little Boston Magic ~ Andy/Leia

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter Eight ~ Nothing But Lies ~ Andy/Leia

Andy 

I feel like I have been here before.  

I’m pretty sure I’ve been here before.  

The pain in my back is getting worse the longer I stay in this position. I finally pry my eyes open and am blinded with pain. Why is my room so bright? And why am I so uncomfortable? I blinked a couple of times and realized, I’m on my couch.  I slowly sat up. What the fuck happened?  My mind runs throught the previous night. I remembered watching Leia and Jeremy and then heading to the Red Line. I frowned as I remember Stella being there but then, nothing really.  

“Oh, you’re wake.”  

I snapped my head up (which was a terrible mistake) and saw Leia coming down the stairs, fully dressed. Oh shit, there was a game today.  I scrambled for my phone before Leia stopped me.  

“Its ok Andy, its only eight. Practice is at ten. I’m going to make some coffee.”  

I sat back with my head on the cushions. Fuck, being hung over for the second time in three months is not a good look for a captain of an NHL team. I took a moment to breathe before Leia came back in with two mugs. “Thanks,” I muttered.  

“Wanna talk about it?” She took a sip, looking at me.  

“I’m fine.” I took a sip and avoided her gaze.  

“Ok, why are you getting drunk the night before a game? That isn’t like you, Andy.” The look on her face was breaking me. But how can I tell her?  How can I tell her that her new boyfriend is a tool bag and I’m so in love with her, it kills me to see her with her.  What do I say? How do I tell her about what I overheard in the locker room a couple of weeks ago.  

Two weeks ago... 

“That is such a sweet shot you took on Ullmark,” Luke said, laughing as he and Andy walked down to the locker room.  

“It’s all in the wrist,” I replied with the pretend flick of the wrist.  “Are we heading to the bar after?” 

“Yeah, Cubby said she’s be our designated tonight after the game.” Luke high-fived me when they heard laughing coming from the locker room. They were about to burst in when they heard Swayman’s voice.  

“Dude, she had a thing for me.  When I was talking with her on the plane, she was playing hard to get. But I know, she’s into me. I’m gonna ask her out.”  

“You really want to ask out the assistant captain’s sister?” Andy could hear it was Ullmark. “Is that wise?” 

“Why not? You heard Andrews.  He gave his blessing.”  

“That’s because he doesn’t know your reputation.”  

“He knows.  I’ve been with him at the bars and stuff. He was just as bad before he met Miranda.” He heard him chuckle. “I just want a taste. She is sexy as hell and I can feel like she is a devil in the sheets.”  

“You better make sure that Barber and Andrews don’t hear you talk like that about her.”  

“What is Barber going to do? He’ll ruin his friendship with her which is ok by me. I just want a piece of her. Fuck her and leave her. Make it look a mutual thing so there’s no bad blood. Trust me, I’ve done this before and I’ll do it again.” 

It took everything in Andy to restrain Luke.  

It took everything inside of Andy not to tell Leia. 

Present 

I lied.  

“Fiona called and she was trying to convince me we should make another go at it. I told her to fuck off but it messed with my head. Got to drinking to numb the feeling.”  

I lied big time.  

“Oh Andy,” Leia came to sit next to me and held my hand.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.” She leaned over my shoulder. “She is the worst.”  

I never wanted the feeling of her body pressed against mine to ever stop. “Yeah, I know. I’m not even sure why I answered the call.” I am a complete asshole for lying to her but the truth would hurt her more and I can’t do it. 

“Well, I’ll be home tonight after the game. You don’t fly out until tomorrow so we can relax tonight, ok?” She gave me her smile, the one I go weak over.  

“It sounds like a plan, Princess.”  

I have to remind myself that he is my teammate and I can’t fuck with that. It would screw everyone else and I can’t do that.  

But boy, do I want to.  

Practice went as practice goes but my head was not in it. Warm ups for the game are the same and I know everyone can see it.  Its obvious, especially when Swayman looks at me with concern. “You ok, Cap?” 

“I’m fine,” I mumble, lacing up my skates. “Leia told me what happened.  Thanks for helping her.”  

“It’s no problem.” He frowns. “But everything’s ok?” 

“Fiona called.” Yep, maintaining that lie. “It just got to me. I just want to skate.” I pushed past him and start taking laps on the ice. I know Luke knows the lie because Leia told him. But I can’t face him. I can’t face anyone. My heart is broken right now and I just can’t do it.  

The game is a tire fire right from the start.  

I can’t focus. I just see Leia and Jeremy and the happiness on her face and it makes me sloppy. So sloppy that coach has to bench me in the third period, probably for safety reasons. I sat there, watching the game, knowing that if we lost this, it would be my fault. Luckily, Luke was able to take control of the team and pull out the win.  

I was sitting in my stall, trying hard not to show emotion. I just wanted to go home and cuddle with Leia. I just wanted to be with my girl.  

Fuck.  

She's not mine.  

I’m still totally fucked.  

Leia 

15 Weeks 

The last few weeks with Jeremy had been amazing. He is such a gentleman. We had the road trip right after for ten days and Jeremy made it a point to sit across the aisle from me so we could talk. He would carry my bag when we got off and made sure that Stella and I are safely in our rooms. In the mornings, he would bring me a tea, make sure my gloves were on and then hang out if he was done for the day.  

We would go out every couple of days, some days I just can’t from how tired I was. I still hadn’t told him about the baby.  I spoke with management and they agreed to modify my duties but it was up to me on who I told.  I love the Bruins.  

The only thorn in my side is Andy.  He’s been distance since my first date with Jeremy. Not just distant but angry even a little hostile.  I’ve noticed that sometimes he is sharp at practice with his teammates, especially Jeremy. Its so unlike him.  I decided to text Luke to see if he knew anything.  

Leia: Do you know what’s wrong with Andy  Luke: No  Leia: You are so helpful  Luke: Seriously, I’ve asked and he says nothing  Luke: You know Fiona called  Leia: its still from that?  Luke: I guess so  Leia: I guess I’ll talk to him to see what’s up 

I frown at my phone. Its near 8 pm and Andy still isn’t home. Its weird for him not to come home after all of his meetings and stuff but lately he’s been coming home later and later. Sometimes, especially on days when I got out with Jeremy, I won’t see him until the next day.  I decided to cancel plans with Jeremy and head home.  I sit in the living room, reading when I hear his car pull up. He walks in. “Oh, hey.” 

“Hey Andy. How was your day?” My voice is super sugary sweet and Andy narrowed his eyes at me.  

“What’s going on? Why are you talking to me in your ‘I’m pregnant and don’t feel good so can you help me’ voice?” Andy crossed his arms over his chest. Normally I would find this very attractive, because he’s still in a dress shirt and slacks, and fuck, focus Leia! 

“Just realizing that I haven’t seen you around much.” I smiled softer at him. “I missed hanging out with you.” Andy snorted and went to grab a beer. He had been drinking a little more than usual. “What? Don’t you miss hanging out with me?” 

“Of course, I miss hanging out with you.  I didn’t realize that you and Swayman were not serious and that you would be home more often.” He took a long pull.  

“Jeremy and I are fine. What is the matter with you?” My tone was sharp.  

“Me? I’m not the problem. I’m giving you space to grow in your relationship.” He raised his hands and move towards the stairs. “I’m going to bed.”  

“You can’t do this Andy.  We live together, we’re roommates...” 

“Yes, Leighton, we’re roommates. Doesn’t mean I have to share everything with you or acknowledge your relationship.” I could feel the tears forming in my eyes.  “Oh, here we go, the crying.”  

“You’re being such an asshole right now Andrew.  You are not like my best friend right now.” I wiped at my eyes furiously.  

His face turned angry. “A best friend? You want me to be a best friend to you. Fine! Jeremy is not this great guy you think he is. He’s a douchebag and a womanizer. He’s going to hurt you and you’re just planning your entire future with him and your kid.”  

“You’re just jealous because I’m finding happiness with him. I’m moving on unlike you!” 

“That’s rich, moving on. You’re not going to move on with Swayman.”  

“That’s not your decision!” 

“I’m not deciding anything. Its facts; you’re not going to find what you are looking for with him.”  

“Stay out of my life Andrew. I’m happy and that’s all that should matter.”  

“He’s going to hurt you and I’ll be left to pick up the pieces again. Just like your high school boyfriend and just like Bret.  You can’t even see what’s right in front of you. You keep choosing fuckboys when you could have something better.  I don’t know why I would think you would look at the bigger picture with Swayman. He’s a fuckboy hockey player just trying to sleep with you so he can say I fucked my teammates sister. You are just a warm body to him and you’re too stupid to see it.” His words vibrate against the walls and his face falls with realization. “Leia...” 

My heart cracks at his words, his mean and awful words.  “Fuck you! I fucking hate you!” 

I ran past him up the stairs and slammed the door, locking it behind me. I slide down to the floor and sobbed. I’ve never had a real fight with Andy but he’s so wrong. Jeremy and I are just starting. Things are different this time and I know it.   

I woke up the next morning, my eyes sore and raw from crying. Its still early but I can’t face Andy again. I got up to shower, using the hot water to loosen my muscles. As I’m drying my hair, I stand in front of the mirror and gasp.  

Between my hips is now a distinct bump. I grab my phone and check my pregnancy tracker. 15 weeks, one day. My bump popped and now there is no way to hide this. I can get away with it while I’m out because of jackets and scarfs but at work I tend to wear leggings and sweaters. I run my hand over my belly as I stare in the mirror.  Hi baby, I croon softly.  I move to open the door to tell Andy but I stop.  

He lost the right. 

I sneak out the house and head to the coffee shop for my morning tea and muffin. I work on my notes for work when my phone chimes.  

Jeremy: Morning beautiful  Leia: morning handsome  Jeremy: so since we bailed on dinner last night, can we try again tonight  Leia: I would love to 

I smile as I think about the date with Jeremy. And then my smile falls. I don’t know how I can hide my condition.  I have to tell him about the pregnancy. But maybe I should wait.  

Perfect. 

Andy isn’t home when I get there so I take advantage of it and start getting ready. I put on a fit and flare type dress with stockings and booties. My nice coat and scarf will hide my secret until I’m ready to talk to Jeremy.  He’s prompt like always and we head out.  

I’m nervous because this is like date four and every romance book has told me that by now, the man is hoping to get lucky.  And I would, I totally would follow this except I feel so uncomfortable in my body.  Having Andy and Stella tell me all the time that I look gorgeous is just getting to my head. What if he is grossed out about my body? What if he finds me repulsive? My mind is spiraling.  

“Everything ok Leia?” Jeremy smiled at me as he placed his big hand on my thigh. His finger are long and I can feel the warmth, strength and roughness in them.  A hard working man.  

“Yeah, just upset about Andy is all. He’s still being closed off and that’s unusual for him.” There was no way I would tell him what Andy said.  That would be just asking for an argument.  “He’s never been so distant before,” I say before smiling.  “But, I’m going to let it go because I’m excited for our date.”  

“Good.  I was thinking of just going to Lou’s for pizza and North Park has those Christmas lights up. Could be really pretty. “His fingers are dancing over my skin and it feels so good and distracting.  

“Sounds like the perfect night.” God, I am falling hard for this man.  

After pizza, he drove us to the park for the festival of lights. As we are climbing out, Jeremy hands me a soft ball.  I look at him curiously. “Because I know you forgot them.” I open the bundle and its a pair of mittens. I blush because I did forget and I look down.  Jeremy touches my chin to lift my head. I look into his eyes and all I see is kindness.  “Its ok, beautiful. Its our thing.”  

Our thing.  

Swoon.  

As we walk around, all the twinkling lights are setting a mood of romance. An aphrodisiac of scents fills the air from the food stalls. Jeremy gets some hot ciders to keep our hands warm as walk trough. “Ok, Halloween or Christmas?” he asks. 

“Christmas. I don’t like to be scared.” I shudder at the thought. “Plus why does it involve so many spiders and clowns. Spiders are poisonous and they are creepy.  Clowns... well, clowns eat people and just no.” I take a breath and look at Jeremy’s face. His face is surprised and unmoving.  “What?” 

“That is the most passionate speech I have ever heard about Halloween.” He burst out laughing. I huff with mock indignation and cross my arms, hip jutted while he is bent, hands on knees trying to calm himself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says wiping his eyes. “Sweetheart, are you afraid of spiders and clowns?” 

“It’s not funny.” I pouted at him and begin to walk away.  

“Sweetheart!” Jeremy chases after me and pulls me to him. “I’m sorry,” he says with puppy eyes.  

I can’t be mad at this man. “It’s ok,” I say softly.  

“Let me make it up to you.” He smiles. “Let’s go back to my place, I’ll start a fire, some hot cocoa, we can cuddle on the couch.” He kisses me softly. “What do you say beautiful?” 

Shit. He’ll try to touch me and he’ll know. He’ll know and I’m not ready.  I’m not ready for this bubble to burst. “I would love to but I have a six am call with a club in England. I need to be up early and presentable, at least, from the waist up.” I smile.  “But that sounds amazing. Maybe another night?” 

“Of course, sweetheart. I like that you are working to conquer the world.” He kisses my cheek and whispers, “maybe one night I can dominate you and take you to places you never knew existed.”  

I blush as he gives me a sexy smirk. Refusing this man is hard.  

And I don’t know how much longer i will be able to delay it.  

Its been a week since Jeremy has asked me to go home with him and I know now my time is up.  My baby belly is growing and I don’t want to lie to him.  I ask him to lunch and he said he would meet me at a cafe near the house. I bundle up as the falls weather has now turned to the colder side.  It also helps with the bump hiding mission.  I’m putting on my coat when Andy walks by.  “Going out?” 

“Yep.”  

“Princess...” he face falls at the lack of energy in my voice but I don’t want to hear it.  

“Nope.” I walked out the door and drove to the cafe.  Jeremy is sitting there in a hoodie and jeans, his black peacoat over the chair.  He looks like a goddamm snack.  “Hey!” 

“Hey sweetheart!” He gets up to kiss me on the cheek. “Its cold today.”  

“Yeah, winter is coming,” I say with a giggle.  

“Nice,” he smiles.  We order and chat but the more I chat the more i start to get nervous. I mean, how do you tell the man you are seeing that you are pregnant with another man’s baby? Now he can tell something is wrong because he asked me something and I completely spaced. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Leia, you are a thousand miles away. What’s going on?” 

I take a breath and hope for the best. “I need to tell you something.”  

“Okay,” he says slowly.  “You can tell me anything.”  

“So, I’ve been dealing with some life altering news for a few weeks now and I didn’t know if I should tell you earlier because I hadn’t finished making some decisions.”  

He frowns. “Is everything ok? Are you sick?”  

“No, not sick. Just... pregnant.”  

Swear I feel like a pin could drop and I could hear it. Jeremy’s face froze and I know, this is the end. Finally, he says, “you’re pregnant?” 

I nod slowly. “Yeah, I didn’t know if I was keeping it or what I was going to do but I decided that I wanted the baby.  I’m sixteen weeks pregnant. I told management last week but I needed to wrap my head around it and I needed to tell you because I know you want more with me and I just couldn’t while lying.”  He still sitting there, not moving a muscle. “Say something, please.” 

“Wow.” I blink, not sure what he is going to say.  “I mean, wow, that’s big news.” He takes a long sip of his drink as I try to blink back tears.  

“I understand if you don’t want to keep seeing me...” 

“No, that’s not it, sweetheart.” He takes my hand.  “I just need a moment to process this.” He smiles. “You’re gonna be a mom.”  

“Yeah. Its big but I’m determined to give my baby the best life.”  

He smiles. “Anything I can do to help, ok? Just let me know.”  He cups my cheek. “I believe in you, sweetheart.”  

Its exactly what I needed.  

NEXT

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@sunnyhummingbee

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@peaceinourtime82

@saucy-sassy-sparkly

@kmc1989

@kandis-mom

@lokislady82

#andy's shenanigans #andy's hea #cross checked #found family #pregnancy #best friends are idiots #best friends to lovers #brothers best friend #best friends sister #hockey au #idiots in love #andy barber fiction #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber au #chris evans fanfiction #NHL au #boston bruins au #andy barber fanfic #andy barber x ofc #andy barber #jeremy swayman #swayman #goalie obsession #barber vs swayman #the competition for Leighton's heart

[judasrpc]

LYRIC STARTERS BASED ON MY CURRENT "ON REPEAT" SONGS

aka, subtly exposing my music taste by slamming a bunch of songs onto one post, even if these probably exist as separate ones somewhere. the sections will be separated by the song titles & artists. this only includes my top 10, because we would be here forever if i included any more.

add context & change gendered language to your needs !! if multi, please specify which muse(s) !!

INVISIBLE - DURAN DURAN

" Living without choice is a life without a voice. "

" Has the memory gone? Are you feeling numb? "

" Will you say my name? "

" Hindsight is falling on my face. "

" When you don't hear a word I say […] "

" But a voiceless crowd isn't backing down. "

"Can you say my name? "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

FLIGHT OF THE CROWS - JHARIAH

" I cannot help but think I've overstayed my welcome. "

" The company's quite nice on crimson nights like these. "

" Well, I think that I've gotta go, and I don't know why. "

" I need you to promise that you won't cry. "

" Let those old memories go. "

" Please understand that I will find a brand new life. "

" So just let me out of your mind. "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

BLOOD UPON THE SNOW - HOZIER & BEAR MCCREARY

" Nature offers a violence. "

" The world that hardens as the harsher winter holds. "

" The ground walked here is a wonder. "

" And all things nature's given; she takes all things back from the living. "

" I've walked the earth, and there are so few here that know. "

" It's not my arms that will fail me. "

" This world takes more strength than it gave me. "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

RISK, RISK, RISK - JHARIAH

" We would've never worked out together. "

" Wager all you've got, and run me all that shit. "

" I can't take another day! I need some change. "

" There's things you just can't see with such precautious eyes. "

" I don't think I need to tell you; you'll see me when I do. "

" Better bite your tongue! "

"I don't second-guess a vision. "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

EAT YOUR YOUNG - HOZIER

" Let me wrap my teeth around the world. "

" I want to feel the edges start to burn. "

" If there's something to be gained, there's money to be made. "

" Throw enough rope until the legs have swung. "

" You can't buy this fineness. "

" If there's something still to take, there is ground to break. "

" Putting food on the table selling bombs and guns. "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

CARELESS WHISPER - GEORGE MICHAEL

" I feel so unsure. "

" Something in your eyes calls to mind a silver screen, and all its sad goodbyes. "

" Though it's easy to pretend, I know you're not a fool. "

" To the heart and mind, ignorance is kind. "

" But there's no comfort in the truth, pain is all you'll find. "

" I wish that we could lose this crowd. "

" We could have been so good together. "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

APOCALYPTICISM - MOON WALKER

" We fight fire with silence and pray somebody hears. "

" No one said the world can't change in just a couple nights. "

" We want a revolution, but only with condition. "

" He came baring the heart of a liar; wearing the face of an honest man. "

" Start feeding the dogs of war. "

" We're in your head and hiding in plain sight. "

" But I don't see any difference, they both look the same to me. "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

DIGITAL SILENCE - PETER MCPOLAND

" I won't ask a question; I'll state the truth. "

" This is the way that it is. "

" Something you love turns to something you miss. "

" This is the way that I know. "

" I feel it inside me like a pulse; it's starting to slow and the meter dips. "

" This is the sound of the truth. "

" There is nothing you can do. "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

KINGSLAYER - BRING ME THE HORIZON & BABYMETAL

" Are you looking for the other side? "

" I need to know where your loyalties lie. Tell me, are you gonna bark, or bite? "

" Wipe the system and back the fuck up. "

" You are modified. "

" You're a puppet! When they cut your strings off, don't come crawling back. "

" You're on your own. "

" I'll fight for you until I die. "

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I'M AFRAID I'LL GO TO HEAVEN - MOON WALKER

" I don't wanna live forever, 'cause I don't want what's coming next. "

" Don't think we stand taller together, 'cause half of us ain't got no spine. "

" My biggest fear ain't no red Devil, it's being near you people all the time. "

" I'll be fine as long as you go somewhere else. "

" They tell you truth is what you make it. "

" It's like we don't even gotta try no more. "

" I'm sure your god would love to keep it white, but I think that me and mine will be alright. "

#rp memes #rp meme #rp prompts #rp prompt #roleplay prompts #writing prompts #ask box meme #askbox meme #rph #rpc #judasrpc #// can i say as an aside: i love that these vastly different songs have similar thematic elements #// that when stripping the lyrics down. you get such similar messages? #// i'm sure that says smth about me BUT--

[tiredstressedemotionalmess]

NO BC YOU DONT UNDERSTAND. I AM NOT AFRAID TO KEEP ON LIVING AS MYSELF EXCEPT CLEARLY I AM BECAUSE I KEEP REINFORCING THIS ONE FUCKING WALL EVEN THOUGH THERES BARELY A REASON TO ANY MORE UTS JUST THERE FOR THE ILLUSION AT THIS POINT BUT I. AM. NOT. AFRAID. I AM NOT AFRAID TO WALK THIS WORLD ALONE BECAUSE WHEN THE WALL FINALLY COMES CRASHING DOWN I KNOW ILL SURVIVE AND I KNOW ILL MOVE ON BUT IM STILL FUCKING TERRIFIED OF LETTING IT FALL EVEN THOUGH IN THE END I KNOW IT WONT MATTER BECAUSE I WONT LET IT MATTER. AND HONEY IF YOU STAY- IF I STAY- ILL BE FORGIVEN IF I CHOSE WHAT THEY SO CLEARLY WANT AND I STAY IN THIS TOWN AND I NEVER TELL THEM AND NEVER LET THEM BE DISAPPOINTED ILL BE FORGIVEN. EVEN IF I LET THE WALL COLLAPSE ILL BE FORGIVEN BECAUSE WE CAN JUST IGNORE IT AND I CAN PRETEND LIKE I HAVE BEEN AND IT'LL ALL BE FUCKING FINE RIGHT? EXCEPT NOTHING YOU CAN STAY CAN STOP ME GOING HOME. NOTHING THEY SAY CAN OR WILL STOP ME FROM BEING MYSELF BECAUSE IM AWAKE AND IM UNAFRAID AND I WILL FUCKING WALK THIS WORLD ALONE IF I HAVE TOO. BUT AT THE SAME TIME NOTHING THEY OR ANYONE ELSE CAN SAY WILL STOP ME FROM EVENTUALLY RETURNING HERE TO THIS POINT TO THIS PLACE BECAUSE ITS FUCKING INEVITABLE I CAN FEEL THE CERTAINTY OF IT OKAY AND IT FUCKING STINGS BUT ITS OKAY I THINK BECAUSE I JUST NEED ENOUGH TIME FOR THE BURNING TO STOP AND. FUCK. NOTHING THEY CAN SAY WILL KEEP ME FROM COMING HOM. NOTHING I SAY WILL KEEP ME FROM HAVING A HOME HERE. AND I HATE THE FACT THAT I EVEN WANT A HOME HERE BUT GOD I CANT FUCKING FACE WHAT IT MEANS TO WALK ALONE BECAUSE IM JUST AS TERRIFIED AS I AM UNAFRAID OH MY GOD.

#yes ik this should just go sit in my drafts but im posting it bc holy fuck i need someone to say they understand #i need someone to hear me right now #save

[onceuponastory]

raindrops on windows - court gentry x reader

Plot: In the aftermath of another agent's betrayal. Y/N and Court rethink their feelings for one another. Pairing: Court Gentry/Sierra Six x Agent!Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of death/reader almost dying, violence (nothing graphic though), reader and Court doubting themselves and their feelings. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: I swear I've been listening to Ryan singing I'm Just Ken at the Oscars on repeat since it happened, so it somehow led to...this. But I also missed writing for Court :)

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

Apart from the rain pelting down outside. Y/N rests her head on the window, watching as the raindrops race each other down the window. She’s only just calmed down after the horrible events of the night, since she came face to face with death. Sniffling, she rubs her eyes. 

How could she have been so stupid? 

How could she not have known?

“You alright?” Court’s husky voice asks as he gets in beside her, the sound making her jump. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay. And yeah, I’m fine.” She lies. He raises a brow. 

“You know I can tell when you’re lying.” Dammit. He’s good. Court sighs. “You almost got killed by a double agent tonight, Y/N. Nobody expects you to be fine. You don’t need to pretend, least of all to me.” Usually, Court teases her about how he knows her better than anyone. Most of the time, it’s about his constant snarky and sarcastic comments at her expense, and how much he knows she likes them, despite her insisting otherwise.

But this time… she notices there isn’t any snark or a sarcastic comment building.

No. Court Gentry genuinely cares about her feelings for the first time in well… forever. 

“I know. I don’t need the reminder.” She snaps, a little harsher than intended. Each time she closes her eyes, the agent’s face looms, poised to take her life. At the last second, Court came in and rescued her, beating the agent to a pulp. She owes her life to him, yet here she is, snapping at him when he’s being nice to her for once. “Shit, sorry, just…. It’s been a horrible night.” She sighs, and Court nods.

“It’s alright.” He smiles. 

“No, it’s not. If it weren't for you, I would have been killed. You really saved my ass, and I should be more grateful.” Y/N sighs. “So, thank you for saving my life. Really.” He cracks a grin at that, one which drives her crazy.

“Let me take you home.” He suggests, and she nods, glad to not be alone right now. Although there’s not really another alternative, save for Court dragging her back to the car the second she tries to leave. So, the drive continues in silence. Court glances at Y/N every so often, concern filling his gut. This isn’t what he’s supposed to do. Care for someone else. Or at least, it’s not what Court does. He works alone, he always has. He can’t let anyone else into his life.

Especially not Y/N. The agent he just loves to tease, the one he frequently snarks at. And the one who snarks right back at him, too. 

The one he’s so irrevocably in love with. Honestly, he probably has been in love with her for a long time, but tonight was the first time he actually realised it.

When he found out she was in danger, he almost ripped the door to the warehouse off its hinges to get to her in time. That agent was lucky the others got to him before Court. Because Court would have killed him for daring to hurt a hair on Y/N's head. Honestly, he’d burn the world down for her, and she doesn’t even know it.

But he’s always such a pain in the ass to her, annoying her when she’s just trying to do her job. If he told her the truth, how much he loves her… she’d probably just think it’s a joke, or tell him to fuck off. And maybe he deserves it, after the shit he’s been through in this life. Another bad thing to add to the many he’s already experienced. He glances over at Y/N, who's still avoiding his gaze.

Yet, he saved Y/N. That’s one good thing he’s done.

In fact, in Court’s eyes… That's the best thing he’s ever done.

“It’s not your fault.” He murmurs. Y/N shakes her head, not even looking at him, still watching the raindrops as they batter the car. He hates seeing her like this. Usually, she’s so outgoing, ready to take his sarcastic, witty remarks and fire them right back. He’s never seen her so quiet before, so upset.

And it scares him to death.

“Yes, it is. I worked right next to him. I should’ve seen something was wrong. I could’ve stopped this!” she insists. “I’m smarter than this.” Court shakes his head.

“I met him too, remember? We all did. And none of us spotted him.” He points out. “Stop beating yourself up. Please.” His voice carries a hint of begging, an urging she’s never experienced from him before. It’s strange, realising he cares so much about her. But…she likes it.

“I’ll…I’ll try not to.” She says, and Court nods, going back to driving. Y/N looks over at him. He’s focused on the car in front of them at the stop sign, so he doesn’t notice her staring. The street lights illuminate him slightly, and her breath catches in her throat.

God, he's so handsome.

The silence continues, but this time, it’s more awkward, with each person suddenly realising that the feelings they hid for so long, the ones they ignored, might actually mean something different. Y/N gulps. What would happen, if she laid her heart on the line, admitted that she might be falling for the Sierra Six himself? She opens her mouth, wanting to speak.

“I think you should take some time off for a while.” Court says.

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts.” He cuts her off. Y/N sighs, deciding it’s best to stay quiet than argue with Court.

And besides, if she does, she doesn’t trust herself not to admit that she might be falling in love with him. And that’s not a chance she’s prepared to take, to admit everything. After all, maybe she only feels that way because he saved her life? Surely she doesn’t actually love him…

Yet, she can’t ignore the way her heart twinges when she thinks that. 

Court soon pulls up outside her apartment, turning to say goodbye. In an instant, the scent of Court’s cologne, mixed with his sweat, hits her nostrils as he leans in closer, and it sends her senses ablaze. “Think you’ll be alright? Want me to walk you inside?” He asks, his voice husky. Y/N’s cheeks heat up. Court raises a brow at her, something else that sends her heart into a frenzy. “Hm?” He asks.

“Y-Yeah. I’ll be okay.” She murmurs. “Thanks again.” He looks her up and down, and she gulps. Now her heart is beating so much she swears it could break free from her chest. 

Just tell him. What’s the worst that could happen?

Everything could crash down around you. That’s what.

“Night Court.” She murmurs. For a moment, his face falls. But before she can dwell on it, wonder if it’s because of her and if he feels the same way about her, his smile is back, and he nods.

“Night Y/N.” Y/N reaches for her door handle. A strange feeling builds in her gut, as if she wants him to tell her to stay. But she pushes it down and opens her door, stepping out into the night. With one last wave, he drives away.

And Y/N is alone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Please follow @onceuponastory-library and turn on notifications to be notified when I next post!

#court gentry x y/n #court gentry x reader #court gentry #sierra six x y/n #sierra six x you #sierra six x reader #sierra six #the gray man fanfic #the gray man #the gray man fanfiction #the grey man #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

[hlficlibrary]

umm hello, i need your help... i havent read a fanfic in a few months and it's starting to feel weird coz i'm literally always reading but now whenever i open a new fanfic i end up skim-reading it and it feels like a dishonest thing to do

so could you please recommend me some angsty fanfic under 20k which are very gripping....

THANKYOU

Hello, anon! You're very welcome! This was an interesting challenge because I wanted to get you closer to 20k than super short ones. And for some reason the angsty ones I could think of are either short or over 20k. That being said, I knew I'd be able to find you some. (ALSO, I promise you that just skim-reading something is a perfectly fine thing to do and there's nothing dishonest or bad about it. Sometimes, we just find ourselves in a place where it's harder than other times to get into a story. That's no one's fault! I do understand the feeling of wanting to really get into a story though, so I hope these fics will do that for you!) I'll put the word count with these so you know how long these are and also I fudged the first one because I think it's JUST what you're looking for and it's just a little over 20k.

what's left of my halo's black by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove (E, 22k)

As Harry sucks lovebites into Louis’ neck, Louis hopes that one day those marks will cover the way he can still feel Alex’s handprints burned into his flesh.

As Harry’s nails drag scratches along Louis’ back, Louis hopes that one day the scabs on his heart will heal and drop away just like the scabs on his skin.

As Harry fucks him down into the mattress, the bed shaking with every thrust, Louis hopes that one day his mouth will forget the shape of Alex’s name, won’t trace it over and over as the heat builds inside him, won’t want to scream it when he comes. Maybe one day he’ll open his eyes, as he slowly floats down from his post-orgasm haze, and won’t expect to see Alex’s face smiling back at him.

But today is not that day.

A year after a devastating breakup, Louis is still trying to put himself back together - but getting over a breakup is hard when you work as a wedding planner. Thankfully, his coworker Harry is the most supportive friend Louis could ask for. But Harry has some secrets of his own, and they send Louis' world spinning off its axis all over again.

bonded by @juliusschmidt (M, 20k)

Louis cannot remember his life before Harry. He had one- Harry is, after all, two years younger than he is- but he cannot pull up even one memory that is not somehow intertwined with Harry.

the one where they are bonded, but it's not like that and they have to pretend like it is

No Easy Love (Could Make Me Feel This Way) by @allwaswell16 (E, 17k)

There’s never been anyone for Harry but Louis. He had always thought their love would last forever, despite society’s pressures on an alpha/alpha relationship. When Louis breaks up with him and moves to Chicago, he’s suddenly left behind to pick up the pieces of the life they once shared. Instead of moving on, he finds reasons to keep Louis in his life and in the process begins to piece together what went wrong.

Or an Alpha Louis/Alpha Harry au where they get a second chance to make things right with the love of their life.

You're A Universe by Jiksa / @jiksax (E, 15k)

Harry doesn’t ever mean to hurt him; Louis doesn’t know how to tell him that it’s the only thing he ever does anymore.

Or, Louis’s a stay-at-home dad in London and Harry’s a business expat in Qatar. Louis doesn’t know how much longer their marriage can survive the distance.

give me things to stay awake by embodied (E, 10k)

It’s shitty and it’s counterproductive and it’s self-indulgent, but he lets it become a thing. On Saturday nights Harry goes out and gets so pissed he can’t stand, and when the bartender cuts him off he rings Louis and is in his car within an hour. It’s not a cycle he’s proud of, but it’s also something he can’t resist, and he keeps doing it as long as Louis keeps showing up.   AU. It's been a year since Louis broke up with Harry.

#ask #anon #angst #ficrec #embodied #jiksa #allwaswell16 #juliusschmidt #livelaughlovelarry

[valdomarx]

Crowley + the Seven Deadly Sins

Crowley doesn’t fall from grace. Rather, with eyes wide open, one step at a time, he walks away from what he has been taught and towards something else entirely.

Greed

Money wasn’t one of Crowley’s inventions — he has to give credit to the humans for that one — but he has come up with some ingenious demonic uses for it. Payday loans, they were his idea. And microtransactions, he’s particularly proud of those. He’s got this great new idea for a thing called an NFT that’s going to be absolutely hellish, and he can’t wait to unleash it on the unsuspecting world. 

He’s never concerned himself much with trivialities like bank accounts or paying the rent. But when he hears that a developer is buying up all the properties on the Soho street where Aziraphale’s bookshop is and squeezing out the tenants, he decides it’s time for a demonic intervention in the property market. A tweak here, a poke there, and the developer inadvertently donates all its cash to a local homeless shelter and goes bankrupt. Azirphale never knows a thing about it.

Anyway, fuck landlords.

Gluttony

Crowley has never cared much for food himself. It’s fine as a passing distraction, a moment’s novelty, but after centuries even that appeal fades. Until he dines with Aziraphale, that is. Aziraphale approaches every meal like a holy communion, like each mouthful of food is a fascinating delight, and Crowley could watch him eat for days. The way his eyes sparkle when they alight on a new dish on a menu, the way he inhales deeply before his first bite, the way he puffs up with excitement whenever the words “dessert trolley” are mentioned in his presence. 

As he eats, Aziraphale analyses the textures and the flavours, ponders over cooking methods, and he motions Crowley over to “Try a piece of this, you must, it’s simply divine,” and as Crowley shyly takes the morsel from Aziraphale’s proffered fork, willing himself not to blush, he thinks that perhaps humans might be on to something with this food business after all.

Wrath

It’s Mesopotamia that really makes him angry. God is sending a great flood to wash all the humans and animals away, as if that were justice. There’s a persistent wrinkle in Aziraphale’s brow, a knot of consternation and concern, and Crowley longs to smooth it away with his thumb. It’s not right that God should punish all these innocents just to make a point, to keep them afraid and in line, and it’s not right that kind, gentle Aziraphale should have to watch this destruction, squirming and muttering to himself about the divine plan. 

A deep red rage thrums behind Crowley’s eyes as he watches the rising tide of human misery. What kind of a way is this to rule a world? If this is what the almighty’s divine righteousness looks like, she can get buggered.

Envy

Aziraphale returns from meetings with his angelic compatriots with his shoulders slumped, the weight of both heaven and earth laying heavily on him. 

Crowley pretends not to care what heaven is up to. After all, it’s hardly his business any more. But he can’t help but notice how Aziraphale looks a little more worn, a little dimmer, every time he has to interact with the heavenly host. 

They don’t deserve him, Crowley thinks, and it’s a bitter, rancorous thought. The rest of that sentence, the not like I do, like I want to, like I’d try to be deserving for him, remains unspoken even in his own mind.

Pride

The world not ending turns out to be rather an anticlimax. There are no great revelations, no interventions from on high, no blaring newspaper headlines. Just another ordinary day, except now they share one more secret.

“If no one else is going to say it, I will.” Aziraphale raises a glass to him. “I’m glad you were here, Crowley. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Something hot and bright burns in Crowley's chest, a long-forgotten ember flaring to life as Aziraphale looks at him and sees something more than his fall. 

Lust

After the armageddon that wasn’t comes this: a quiet moment in a cosy flat over a bookshop, a bottle of good scotch and an old tartan rug, a breaking free of long-held obligations, a flash of catharsis and of clarity. 

Soft sheets, softer caresses, bodies running together like rain on parched soil. Aziraphale glows like this, like the illumination that’s usually hidden beneath layers of primness and convention and human clothing suddenly bursts to the surface, and Crowley wants to bask in this light forever. 

When he moves his fingers just so and Aziraphale moans, when he bends his lips to soft skin and Aziraphale gasps, when this most holy of beings lets Crowley open him up and invites him in deeper and begs for more, please Crowley more, just like that, then Crowley feels like for the first time in thousands of years he is truly seeing the divine.

If the price for witnessing this miracle of the flesh is damnation, he’ll pay it gladly. 

Sloth

“Crowley.” The voice in his ear is thick and rich like honey. “The sun’s long past up, and it’s time we got up too.”

He shifts under the covers, throws an arm around a warm, squidgy belly, and nuzzles his face into a mop of angelic hair. “‘s early,” he grumbles.

“Darling.” Gentle fingers stroke his arm. “It’s really not. Come on, I’ll make breakfast.”

“Stay in bed a while longer,” he wheedles, and it is a demonic temptation, thank you very much, and absolutely not a whine. “Stay with me.”

“Oh.” He feels Aziraphale let out a fond huff. “I suppose, when you put it like that.”

Aziraphale snuggles back up against him and Crowley allows himself a small preen of satisfaction. 

Temptation accomplished. 

#ineffable husbands #good omens #my writing #crowley no. 1 wife guy

[akoyaxs]

Okay so like... story idea?

I've recently been getting back into writing but not rlly on here as real ones would know (sorry for my absense I've missed u pookie pies), and I think I want to write a book/story or whatever.

I haven't got my idea all fleshed out yet but here goes:

Synopsis

Memories. The most precious resource in the world – the grandest luxuries and the deepest shames – are now dredged from the deepest corners of shadows and strung across the gilded necks of  high society. Escapism at its finest, new memories are hard to come by, and can only be stolen and pried from minds whose hearts have stopped beating.

She (the main character whose name I haven't decided on yet) was murdered. Blood inking over cold white skin. That was before she was woken up. But now she's awake, and she knows something is missing. Memories were stolen from her.

Now she's thrust back into what she's told is her old life, trying to piece things together without the glue of her memories, hiding the truth of her murder from those who surround her. She was warned not to trust anyone.

Not even the person who wishes to help her, and certainly not the other one, the one in the shadows.

Aspects of the book

I would say definitely a LOT of mystery. A couple time jumps throughout the story as she finds some of her memories back and of course it's also about her trying to solve her own murder and why and what's missing from her mind.

Of course there's some of my favourite tropes in it as well: "who did this to you", grumpy and hates everyone and pretends to hate her but doesn't really, sunshine/golden retriever, mysterious unveilings, backstabbing etc, love thats not rlly allowed (i forgot the name for that) :)

Unbearable, searing fucking tension and slow burn and miscommunication and a shit ton of angst because why tf not, still deciding whether there will be spice but ill see....

BUT THE THING I NEED HELP WITH IS THE SETTING!!!! I don't really know when this novel will be set, whether it's a sort of dystopic novel world where it's a little bit futuristic a LITTLE like never let me go but i dont rlly like that book so idk, or if I should do it a little bit old but non-descript fantasy, a little bit like Priory of the Orange Tree if anyone's read that.

Okay THANK YOU and if u can, pls repost or share so I can get max max max input on this pls and thank you ily

@hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re@yootvi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @vminlvxr @elegantfankidsoul @blue-slxt @neteyamssyulang @theunfortunateplace @lala-1516 @strongheartneteyam @kiskso @deadpool15 @vampirefilmlover @tysirya @universal-s1ut @cozmicwonder @sunet-lore @torukmaktoskxawng @fkarelyxoxo @pandorxxx @pandoraslxna @theblueflower05 @tojisun @vivid-ink @neteyamsyawntu @aperiraa @hotdsworld @xstarsdiary @xylianasblog

#new story #pls help me #pls pls i need it #send help #dystopia #story ideas #memories #mystery #who did this to you #old and non-descript fantasy bc i cant think of a good word to explain it ?

[slocumjoe]

⚡Gage Catchup Lightning Round⚡

Since I haven't written him in every post, just going back and giving him his very own variety hour of everything he's missed

Biggest complaint about writing; I absolutely hate that the Minutemen can't be recognized as the absolute juggernauts that you can turn them into. It's everywhere in the game, but with Gage, in particular, its such a missed opportunity. I talked about this in earlier but just know I still hate it. Nuka World on a Minutemen playthrough is kind of a flop in general. You go there, you kill everything, done. Being able to confront Gage with a Minutemen army that blows the dick off of any raider gang he's ever seen in comparison is, like, a golden goose egg. But its fine 🙃

Sole breaks down crying in his arms; 1/10 C.C, 0/10 I.C. Doesn't matter what kind of relationship they have. Gage was not the person to do this out of the blue to. If they're close, he'll care, and want to help, but tough shit, he's Porter Gage. He's not meant for that kind of stuff. Maybe if he had a lead up, some kind of warning, he'd be better suited to...not be useless. Honestly, most likely companion to straight up duck when they go for him, flip them over on the ground. If he lets them, Gage keeps his arms and face up, stares at the ceiling and pretends it isn't happening. That's if they're close. If they aren't, whether they're mostly strangers or just buddies, you're getting flipped like a pancake.

1 headcanon; Stress eater, but doesn't want to waste food as a nervous tic, so settles for smoking. Keeps his mouth busy. Will also chew on shit, like necklace chains or pens.

2 headcanons;

Was very close with his family until the day he left. It wasn't a growing resentment, it was an epiphany one day after a raid. Before that one day, no one would have ever thought that Porter, who was shaping up to be a fine young man, a good older brother, great with the cows and goats, would run off in the night, and later become a raider. Was a momma's boy, always helping her around the house. Especially close to his grandparents, got a lot of his personality from his crotchety ass grandfather who rarely had a good thing to say about anyone. Except Porter. Porter was the favorite child.

Never returned home because he knew, for a fact, that his name was going around after the Conner incident, and the idea of seeing his family when they knew what he was now, made him sick to his fucking stomach. He says he doesn't care. But 16 year old Porter Gage sat in a backroom of an old bar with a cold beer to his now-blind eye, and bawled.

Physique headcanons; Dad bod for daaaayyys. Strong, lean arms, very broad shoulders, tiny little waist and hips. Taller, 6 feetish. Toned body but with a softer belly. His hands are square, veiny, boney, and have long fingers. Scarred around the nails from chewing obsessively he was younger. Not about physique, but about his body, so; has tattoos. Very simple designs, your basic tribal patterns on the torso and shoulders. Would get more if he wasn't older, and now smart enough to be wary of strange needles. Missing more teeth than he's comfortable with. Lot of body hair all around, but centered mostly on his chest and happy trail. As for the eye, the injury was the fusion cell on his rifle getting shot and blowing up...as he was aiming down the ironsight. The eye is still there, just completely fucked and useless. The skin is obviously burned, and becomes itchy and painful in colder weather. Needs the patch so he doesn't scratch or rub it. Doesn’t use laser weapons anymore. Insecure about his appearance if in a meaningful relationship, even more so if his partner really is, as he says, a stunner.

Laughing headcanons; Doesn’t laugh often, keeps that shit to himself. But...if you can catch him, his laugh is very rough, snorting, lots of little catches of breath. Crosses his arms and covers his mouth when laughing. His eyes squint heavily, and his crows feet are much more noticeable. His laughing is on the quieter side, snickering to himself. But if its a full-blown fit, will tear up laughing. Wheezy. Kind of seal-like in his laughing-laughing.

Variety NSFW headcanons; Bit on the bigger side but not enough to be worrying. Has a scar on his dick, under the foreskin. Will not explain because he himself has no fucking idea. B.O IS SO FUCKING BAD. Would die happy if given a titjob. Once crossdressed for a partner and has to take a moment to cringe every time he remembers it. Not the crossdressing thing, the guy he was fucking. Not someone worth doing that for. If he's in a shower, he's jerking off. Its like...the only reason he takes them.

#fo4 #fallout 4 #companions react #porter gage

[treeofnonsense]

❤️ Wake/Pyrrha

I think I may have flipped the prompt from what you'd first think of.

Pyrrha’s body felt wrong – well of course it did, it wasn’t her body at all. You’d think you’d get used to that after a couple thousand years, but nope, just her fucking luck. Her eyeline was still too high, her arms too long and muscly, and she kept bumping her boots into corners if she didn’t pay attention. And rubbing her chin – Gideon’s chin – because apparently that oaf hadn’t even bothered to shave again. Fine, she’d do it for him after. He was lucky she didn’t slit his throat while she did it.

It wasn’t a long walk to the center of the Mithraeum, and she knew she’d come to the right place when she found flower petals under her feet. Cytherea’s body lay on a pedestal with her arms crossed over her chest, serene as could be. John must have patched her up, and then he’d decorated the room with the whole funeral shebang: flowers, softly burning candles, the works. Cyth probably would have loved it – she’d always been the drama queen. Pyrrha thought it looked fucking stupid, especially now that half the candles had melted into little ugly lumps.

God, I hope they didn’t hold a memorial like this for me. It had taken her a few months to manifest the first time, so she’d never really gotten to check.

Carefully, she maneuvered Gideon’s big body through the petals and coils of smoke, until she loomed over Cytherea’s tiny form. Ever-so-carefully, because Gideon had big meaty paws and Cytherea’s bones looked like glass, she cupped her old friend’s dead face in one hand. “You deserved better than this,” was all she could think to say; it was the only farewell she’d ever managed for a Lyctor. She bent down and gently kissed the body on the lips.

The corpse opened its eyes. One bony hand snaked out and seized Pyrrha by the collar, the grip like iron. Pyrrha froze and instinctively went for her spear, but of course she didn’t have it because Gideon liked to walk around the Mithraeum unarmed when he couldn’t sleep, protected by his magic. Pyrrha didn’t have that luxury, so she stared down into dead, milk-white eyes, the natural color so decayed that she couldn’t tell the soul within. But it wasn’t Cytherea, that was for damn sure. Cytherea could never look so fierce as that.

“I know it’s you, Pyrrha,” the corpse said, with a voice raw and burbling from disuse. She smiled, and Pyrrha’s blood ran cold. She knew that smile, even on different lips in a different face, though she’d never expected to see it again.

“Wake.”

“Yes. This is so much more comfortable than a sword.”

Pyrrha’s shoulders felt heavy with the number of questions she was carrying. She decided on the most pressing first. “How are you here? What are you doing here?”

“I’m finishing my mission.” And just like that the smile was gone. All that was left was the intense look, the burn-the-world-to-ash look. It was dangerous and a million times more attractive, which was what had gotten them all into this situation to begin with, dammit.

“You mean your daughter. Harrow's eyes…”

“Blood is nothing compared to a cause,” Wake said, which was both ironic given her organization and quite possibly the truest thing she’d ever uttered. Pyrrha knew she’d do anything to open the Tomb, and Wake knew she knew it, so she said, “Are you going to try and stop me?”

Pyrrha could, probably. If she got in a sneak attack while Wake was pretending to take a dead nap, or maybe just bodied her now. Wake didn’t have necromancy, but she was in a fragile little necromancer’s body. Granted it would be a risk, and it would mean hell for Gideon once the rest of the Lyctors found out, and who knew what splash damage could be done to the station or even the new kid Lyctors… damn. Damn it all.

“No. Not yet,” Pyrrha sighed. Wake smiled, released Pyrrha, and laid herself back down on the pedestal. “How did you know it was me and not him?”

Wake snorted. “I’ve always known. You kiss different. Fuck different too. Honestly, a lot better some nights.”

“A thousand years of practice does wonders,” Pyrrha said, because it was just instinct at this point. Wake didn’t respond; Pyrrha studied the body laid out before her and felt a pang in her chest. She realized she missed the red hair. “Don’t you touch those kids, Wake. They didn’t ask for this.”

“None of us asked for your necromantic subjugation,” Wake hissed. “If you’re not going to kill me or tell the world the truth, then kindly step off. I have some pretending to do, and I’ve gained a lot of patience over the last two decades.”

Pyrrha left, crunching rose petals into dust under her heels. She needed a smoke, and so she was going to have one, even if Gideon’s lungs paid for it. He deserved it really. Hadn’t anyone ever told them not to fall in love with crazy?

#the locked tomb #ask game #commander wake #pyrrha dve #my writing #thank you!