#we hit very hard on the reminder that not everything is like okay

[earlgreyflowers]

59+Oscar. I was thinking they just had (vanilla) sex and as they’re lying in bed she says this and he’s immediately like, aight bet.

(Also this was the anon who sent in the 7 minutes in heaven one, thought I’d un anon myself, lol)

I am dropping everything to write this request immediately, you are an oscar piastri smut genius. I altered the prompt ever so slightly to match the reader's vibe but enjoy <3

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Your relationship with Oscar was relatively new, the two of you still getting to know each other's bodies. Oscar had always been quite a shy person, never really expressing much beyond a smile and a nod in interviews. With you he was different, soft and loving, very affectionate; something that translated into the bedroom. Hands held, missionary, forehead kisses - always very gentle.

Don't get it wrong, Oscar was a gentleman, always making sure you finished first, but there was only so much you could take before wanting to switch it up. Your head is currently lead on Oscar's hard chest, his arms wrapped around you as he breathes deeply. "You okay baby? You've been quiet since we finished." He questions, stroking his thumb up and down your arm.

"'m just thinking." You mumble, tilting your head to look at him.

"What about?" He asks, slight concern etched onto his features. You sigh, sitting up, "Do you ever want to try something different?" You ask. His eyebrows furrow, lips jutting out in a pout, "Different?" He questions.

"Like, don't take it the wrong way, that sex was good, it was so good. But next time, could you maybe do it harder?" You murmur shyly, avoiding eye contact with the Australian.

"Harder?" He asks, curiosity taking over. He pulls you into him, now straddling his waist, his hands resting on your hips. "Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you harder?" He questions, voice dropping with lust, his lips skating over your pulse point. "Want me to hold you down and fuck you like a whore?" He whispers in your ear, capturing your earlobe between his teeth, making you whine.

Your legs squeeze around his hips, yours beginning to grind lightly as he lays kisses over your neck. His pillowy lips suck against your pulse point, tongue laving over the red mark he left behind. His bite is slightly harder than usual, causing your nails to dig in to the flesh of his shoulders. He moans against you at the sting, turning you around and bending you over.

“Still dripping from the last time we fucked and my girl is just aching for my cock isn’t she?” He teases, watching the way you clench around nothing. He slips two fingers inside you, curling them down to press against your g-spot. Your knees almost give out with the pleasure but he’s quick to remind you that this was what you wanted.

Oscar positions himself behind you before sliding his cock inside you, groaning at your tightness. You moan out at the feeling of being stuffed full, your head drooping. Oscar’s hand loops your hair into a ponytail around his fist, pulling your hair back before he slams himself in and out of you.

“My girl’s taking me so well ay, is this what you wanted? Wanted to be fucked so hard your pretty little ass turns red?” He asks, his free hand coming down to hit you. You scream out his name, your walls providing a vice-like grip.

“There we go, that’s it, such a good girl for me. If I’d known this was how you liked to be fucked I would’ve had you cock drunk like this much sooner. Would’ve had those beautiful eyes crying for my dick.” He groans, pulling your hair tighter as he fucks you harder, faster.

“Oh god Oscar, please don’t stop, ‘m gonna cum.” You whimper, your legs slowly sliding down the mattress until you’re practically led on your stomach.

“Wanna feel you cum, wanna feel how good I make my perfect girl feel. Come on baby.” Oscar begins guiding you to your orgasm, gentle kisses to your neck contrasting the brutal pace of his hips. He feels your walls tightening further, your back arching into him. The moan of his name you let out is enough to send him over the edge, his cum filling you up.

He slides his cock out of your pussy, spreading your legs to watch the way his cum leaks out. Two fingers find the apex of your thighs, swiping through the combination of your juices before running over your lips. You open your mouth, eagerly taking in his thick fingers and he smiles, eyes beaming.

A gentle kiss to the forehead and a whispered promise of a bath is all it takes for you to fall asleep happy, dreaming of the escapades you and Oscar can now enjoy.

#f1 smut #formula one smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #op81 smut #op81 #smut requests #smut prompts #smut writing

[poeticallyspiteful]

Hi there.

Maybe a newt x f reader where reader its a healer ( doctor) . reader was a friend of theseus and they were working on a case from the Ministry of magic. Thank you so much ❤️

kiss it better

newt scamander x reader

fluff (making out)

cw: unedited, blood, a lil bit of ~suggestiveness~/(okay a lot a bit of suggestiveness i write like a romance novelist sometimes lol sorry not sorry), making out, newt is ripped and hot as hell

summary: newt gets injured and theseus knows the perfect person to kiss it better.

notes: thank you so much for the request love!!! i wasn’t sure exactly what you were looking for with this one so i just used my imagination so i do hope you like it. feel free to request something more if you don’t though :))

16+ please!!

“theseus, this is ridiculous, let go of me.”

it was a small cut, just a little one. a small mishap with alone of his creatures, that was all. such a tiny little ailment.

“it is bleeding profusely and goes all the way across your stomach, newt!” theseus exclaimed, pulling his brothers coat sleeve like a child dragging their parents through a candy store. “she’s very nice, you know that.”

oh, newt knew you were nice— that was the problem. you were so nice, so pretty, so incredibly everything that newt could hardly bare it. years and years of friendship with you and he could hardly even contain his joy at the sound of your laugh, at the mere sight of you. it made it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to exist when all he could focus on was you.

“you’re working a case, theseus,” newt sighed, allowing his brother to pull him up the stairs to your apartment. “she’s probably reviewing files or something, it would be rude to interrupt her work.”

but the scamander brothers were already outside your door, and theseus was already knocking. before newt could brace himself for the wave of love sickness that would inevitably hit him the second he saw you, the door swung open and there you were; nice, pretty, perfect.

“hi newt, theseus,” you greeted, chest heaving (you may have ran across the apartment the second you’d heard their voices coming down the hall) “what can i— oh merlin’s beard.”

newt looked down, unsurprised to see the blood had seeped through his white shirt. he gave you a lopsided smile and you rolled your eyes, a pitiful attempt to avoid eye contact with the boyish man before you.

“come inside.”

theseus all but shoved newt inside, already straightening out his suit and brushing the left over floo powder off of his shirt. he looked up to you and his brother, unphased by the confused look on your faces.

“well, i best be off.”

you gawked at him. “your— your not going to stay?” you asked. he shook his head. “theseus! your brother is injured and you’re leaving?”

“we have a case!”

“it’s really okay,” newt said, bashfully, suddenly reminding you of the reason they were there.

scoffing, you turned back to newt, waving your friend off. “workaholic,” you murdered as you began searching for your emergency bandage kit.

and with that, theseus shut the door— but not before sending his brother a mischievous wink. newt felt a shiver down his spine.

sneaky bastard.

you finally found the small red box, pulling it open and rifling through it for a disinfectant and some gaws, as well as a mini suture kit.

glancing up at newt through your eyelashes, you hummed expectantly. “shirt off,” you ordered, some foreign sort of confidence surging through you.

newt swore all the brain cells left his mind. “pardon?” he chocked, suddenly not too concerned with his injuries.

“i can’t exactly fix you through the shirt. now c’mon, we don’t have all day,” you explained.

quickly, newt obeyed, shedding his baggy coat and undoing the bloodied buttons. very quickly, he felt exposed, but the bashful look on your face made him feel more smug than anything.

you had never seen newt shirtless before now, but my lord, did you wish the sight to be engraved in your mind till the day you died. you could see the viens that traveled up his tanned arms, and as shocked to see his biceps had been rather toned under that jacket all this time. his freckles spanned all down his chest and arms as well, dancing around the thin scars across him.

for a man so cute and clever, he was sure an enthralling sight to see.

clearing your throat, you finally looked down at the wound intently, relieved to see it didn’t look like too hard of a fix. with some shallow sutures and cleaning, he’d be better in no time.

“not too bad,” you murmured without thinking, entire body going cold at the implication. shit. the clever smile on newts face grew. “i— i meant the cut isn’t too bad, doesn’t look, y’know, infected.”

“good,” newt agreed, leaning back on his arms. his abdomen tensed at the movement and he hissed at the pain. “ouch.”

before you could look at him too closely, or think too much apparently, you knealt down infront of him. however, as he opened his legs to allow you space between them, you realized the predicament you’d put yourself in.

holy fucking shit.

you looked up hesitantly, feeling your heart race at the way newt looked down at you; nervous and kind, like he was just as surprised by your position as you were.

“this might sting a little,” you announced, trying to redirect his (and yours) attention back to the real reason you were on your knees.

carefully, you wiped the cotton pad across the cut, cleaning up the blood around the wound. newt hissed again, hands gripping the blanket laid across your couch. you had to will yourself to keep your eyes on the wound.

“almost done,” you reassured, finally looking up to see newts eyes screwed shut in pain. quickly, you dabbed at the far end of the wound, bringing your hands down quickly. “all done.”

newt sighed in relief, swallowing roughly. he glanced down to his stomach, feeling his head buzz as you looked back up at him. “whatcha thinking, doc?” he teased.

you could’ve died at the irony. you could not tell him what you were thinking right now.

“well, it’ll only need a few stitches at the edges there on the left, but it should be fine otherwise. just some bandages and you’ll be good,” you answered.

“no magic?” he asked.

“sadly, my regulations to do these sorts of healing charms only spans as far as britain,” you replied. “i’m working on getting the papers here in the states, but for now, just my handy work.”

newt smiled, another grin which made you weak in the knees. “your handy work is quite good.”

you ignored the heat in your face from the praise as you began you sutures. you felt newt shiver under your hands as they fluttered across his stomach, tracing the stitches and looking for any imperfections. finally satisfied with the stitching, you taped some bandages across them, and stood up once you were done. three easy steps, and nothing went wrong—

as you took a step back, you stumbled over the edge of your rug, fumbling backwards as you tried to regain your balance. before you realized what had happened, you felt newts hands on the back of your thighs, pulling you forward.

and forward was onto his lap.

you had spoken too soon.

you caught yourself with a tight grip on his bare shoulders, the skin soft and hot under your hands. your face was barely an inch from his, and your eyes met his in a brief moment of panic.

“s-sorry, i just didn’t want you to hit your head on the coffee table,” newt whispered, eyes darting form your eyes to your lips and back again nervously. he seemed very regretful of his action at first, but he didn’t budge to move you off of him, hands gripping the flesh around your hips.

“t-thank you,” you stammered, gathering all your strength not to squirm in his arms, your heart beating faster than your blood could pump.

newts eyes found yours again, thumbs making small circles in your hip bone. “have i ever told you that you’re very pretty?” the low rasp of his voice could’ve made you faint on any ordinary day, but given that you were practically straddling him, nothing could’ve made you more lightheaded. “especially up so close.”

“newt,” you whispered.

“what, love?”

“please kiss me.”

newt closed the gap without a second thought, kissing you gently. his lips were soft, but needy, pulling away and coming back for more over and over and over again. his hands traveled from your hips all the way up to your head, resting on your jaw. you moved your hands up his neck, playing with the curls on the nape.

you whined as he pulled away entirely, pulling him impossibly closer to yourself. “why’d you stop?”

“isn’t there a rule about strenuous activities post surgery?” he teased, laughing as he pressed another kiss to your lips briefly; he had waited too long to do this and he didn’t wanna stop now. “making out seems pretty strenuous to me.”

“i’ll kiss it better.”

#newt scamander x reader #newt scamander #fanfic #fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fbawtft #newt scamander x y/n #newt scamander x you #newt scamander fluff #fluff #newt scamander imagine

[tumb1rprincess]

Okay, I just binged the rest of the Hazbin Hotel episodes.

Carmilla and Zestial are hot. And Carmilla is so interesting. I loved her and Vaggie's song. I actually didn't expect them to reveal who killed the angel so quickly. But I love how they're showing that even some of the top overlords in Hell care. The only question now is what Alastor is going to do with this information.

I love Vox. He has a great voice and his rivalry with Alastor is hilarious.

Sir Pentious is such a fucking loser and I adore him.

Nifty almost reminds me of Little My from the Moomins with her little gremlin energy. I don't know if we'll get any serious moments with her like we have with the other characters, but I guess we'll see.

I love how Alastor's room is a literal bayou/swamp. And him eating the whole fucking deer was hilarious.

I didn't expect for some of the others to find out about Angel and Val's toxic relationship so quickly, but I did like how it showed an uncommon angle: how trying to save someone from an abusive relationship can make things worse for the victim. I can't think of any other media off the top of my head that shows that kind of thing. But with Charlie and Husker knowing about this (and Cherri Bomb if we're counting Addict as canon), how long before everyone else finds out? And what are their reactions going to be?

I haven't been the biggest Angel/Husker shipper, but holy hell, am I on board now. Husker once being an overlord and pretty much implying that he sold his soul to Alastor much like how Angel did with Val was a development I didn't expect, as well as drawing parallels between his addiction to gambling and Angel's addiction to drugs. Hell, I really didn't except this angle they took with Husker. We only saw his bitter attitude in the pilot, and we still get plenty of that here, but I didn't expect him to also be a good people reader and being able to see how the other characters really are and what they're hiding. He's almost empathetic in a way.

All of the songs are fucking bangers, Poison especially. I listened to it once before the show and I liked it okay, but seeing it in context, it hits you ten times harder. I almost cried.

The show is so good at making the viewer feel so uncomfortable with how Val treats Angel, it's almost too hard to watch. I've seen shows tackle abuse before and they've done it well, but this was very raw and in your face and it makes your insides twist. And I love it.

Looking at the show's cast, Vivzi got so many people with Broadway experience and I love that. I feel like a lot of popular media nowadays just like to cast popular actors regardless of whether they can actually sing or not (I'm looking at you live action Disney remakes). But every actor who's sung so far is fucking good at it and it shows.

So far, I am in love, love, love with this show. I remember first watching the pilot when it was causing some controversy and I fell in love with it immediately. It almost became a comfort thing for me for a while. I was watching it over and over during 2020 when Covid was running rampant and everything was shit. I'm so proud of Vivzie and everyone else for their hard work and dedication and love. This show is so different from everything else out there. I hope now that it's out, even more people can fall in love with it.

#spoilers #carmilla #zestial #vaggie #alastor #vox #sir pentious #nifty #angel dust #valentino #charlie morningstar #husker #cherri bomb #vivziepop #hazbin hotel

[ferrstappen]

maxplaining 2.0 l Max Verstappen blurb

note: hello! i was working on another piece and a TikTok popped up of mini Max and mini Charles, and it was so cute watching mini Max maxplaining already, and I just had this idea, hope you like it! Also, this is taken from the two previous dad!Max I've posted, so we're back with the twins!

Remember to please show it some love, feedback and reblog are always very very appreciated, and tomorrow I'll be working on some requests and the Taylor Swift collection <3

pairing: dad!Max Verstappen x female reader

warnings: none

summary: Luca Verstappen's first press conference during his karting career. turns out, he even speaks like his dad.

It was a small press conference, really.

Still, local reporters were covering and asking questions, also interested on the fact that Max Verstappen's son was following the very big footsteps of his father.

Mila was constantly asking why she was forced to come to her twin's press conference, she has to listen to him at home and school, wasn't that enough? A lot of personality for a ten year old girl, but was easily convinced by a pair Gucci ballet flats, ignoring the questioning glare from his wife, who reminded him that she has to learn that not everything comes with a recompense, and a ten year old does not need that many pairs of designer shoes.

He didn't care, though. Whatever Mila wanted, whatever she got. What was the reason of having all that money if he couldn't spoil his loved ones?

People sometimes forgot about the karting race in front of them, instead watching as Max's deep blue eyes studied every move made by Luca on the track. At the same time, he managed to squeeze your hand and waist whenever you gasp at the speed or turns, not being a fan of your son following the motorsport path.

Of course Luca won, he was every bit as talented as his father. Max smiled and hugged his son with pride, giving him his best smile, highlighting every good thing he did, lovingly asking him if he was okay and trying to reassure him.

That's what he would've wanted to hear from his dad, or at least that's what you thought before kneeling in front of Luca and giving him a short congratulatory hug, knowing he was at the age where every bit of affection ended with Luca muttering "Mum", trying to hide his embarrassment.

The three of you stood on the back, not wanting to get in the way of Luca's moment after winning. She'd deny it, but Mila gave her twin a thumbs up while making eye contact with him.

Of course the first question was for Luca, asking him about his race overall.

The young Verstappen boy took a deep breath before he started talking. And then he couldn't stop...

"This is my first win, we were very fast and my opponent made a mistake so I could pass him first and then stay in the first position so I could win. We still have more races but we are happy with the results and hope we can keep winning, but we have too keep working hard, I know I will work and try to better myself so that I can give my best..."

"Mama, he's talking too much. It's embarrassing," Mila whispered on your ear, earning a glare from you.

When he finished answering the question, he instantly started talking to the boy next to him, explaining something about the track and brakes, even gesticulating to make his point.

Of course, Max was oblivious to the fact that Luca was almost the same person as him, never really being aware of his own tendencies to explain things on his own words.

Back home, after putting Mila and Luca to sleep and heading to the bedroom where Max was already waiting for you, carefully hitting your side of the bed, signaling that it was time to go to bed.

So needy.

As soon as your body touched the mattress, Max rolled over and draped his arm over your waist, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck. Meanwhile, you opened TikTok to slow down before going to sleep.

The first video was one of today, Luca animatedly talking and moving his hands. Then, it cut to one of a flushed Max doing the exact same thing.

"What are you laughing about?" Max lifted his head to check whatever was on your phone.

Lucaexplaining? Maxplaining 2.0? Versplaining? What's the best name?

"What are they talking about?" Max frowned while reading some comments.

Laughing at his cluelessness, you kissed the top of his head and put your phone down, noticing Max's breaths slowed down as you ran your hands through his hair.

You'd choose your talkative boys any day.

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen au #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #dad!max verstappen #max verstappen blurb #f1 fic #f1 x you #f1 x reader

[nose-coffee]

you know what i DO want to talk about? that scene on top of the truck where nona’s arguing w varun, and varun asks “do you love?” and nona says, “yes - no yes. i don’t know what it means. i say it, but i dont know what it means. did i ever know what it meant?” which is truly heartbreaking to hear from a character who’s spent the entire book up until now loving most everything she lays her eyes on with nearly reckless abandon.

and fifty pages later - after paul’s birth (pyrrha saying, “it’s not love, what you’re about to do. it’s a mistake.” being almost immediately replied to with, “the perfect friendship, the perfect love.”/”life is too short, and love is too long.”), and kiriona’s interrogation (”okay. different question -- do you love her?”), a near constant barrage of “what does love really mean?” and “what is love?” and “what would love make you do?” “what lengths would you go to for love?” when she’s already struggling with the idea of knowing if she’s felt love at all - she very nearly gives in to that despair, the lack of certainty that she knows what her feelings mean and that she’s allowed to feel them. she’s mourning, and she’s not able to reach pyrrha through her grief, and everyone else she’s with is more broken than she’s ever seen them before. but then paul reminds her of noodle. and nona, in a moment of lurching panic, decides to live, if only just to save noodle.

to me, that’s a devastating moment of raw, human love. it’s like that moment in alien (1979) where ripley’s about to abandon ship, and then goes back when she realises jones (the ship cat) is still on board. nona was ready to let them all die, hopless and lost and sad, every one of them-- but noodle, a sweet yet unimportant pet, is what brings her back.

and i think that’s what make’s paul’s statement of, “it’s done, it’s finished. you can’t take loved away.” hit as hard as it does. she’s just had this crisis of faith in her own personal belief system of loving-things-for-the-sake-of-loving-them, only to have it reaffirmed, and is now facing the abyss of personhood, facing returning to a self who was hurt and was deeply angry, going so far as to say, “i’ll be different...and palamedes -- i won’t love him...i won’t love anything, i won’t know how.”

paul says, “don’t worry,” (even though she just explained why she was worried), “we loved you too,” because maybe nona’s right and she won’t know how to love anymore, but she needs to know that she did. she did love, and she was loved, and there was never a doubt in anyone elses mind that she loved them fully and completely and genuinely. maybe she thought she was faking it, maybe she thought she was just making it up, but it was real, and now it’s done, and no one can take it away. no one.

#i get so upset thinking about how she wasnt quite sure at the end there if it was real #like no babygirl!! it was!! you loved!!! you were loved!!!!! #ntn #nona the ninth #tlt #the locked tomb #the locked tomb spoilers #tlt spoilers #nona the ninth spoilers #ntn spoilers #nona tlt #paul tlt #kiriona gaia #pyrrha dve #fuck off lou #my post #long post #noodle tlt #i dont think people talk about that convo w varun enough #making her face the truth of her identity while asking why she'd protect people who essentially murdered her #i cry #essay #sort of #this has been sitting in my brain for a long time #esp the alien (1979) comparison #this is kind of meandery but i know what i meant to say

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Endings and Beginnings (Part 2) - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Fem!Reader (Wife!Reader)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Pregnancy, Labor and Delivery (Nothing Explicit, Fade-to-Black Magic), Hospitals, Stressful Situations, Use of "You" (Second Person POV), No Y/N, No Physical Description of Reader

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: Rooster gets you to the hospital to welcome Baby Bradshaw into the world.

A.N. Thank you so much for all of your support with the last one! I had no idea that it would get so much attention, so thank you and please enjoy Part 2!

Here's Part 1 if you missed it.

Master List

“Babe!?”

“What?” you called back, reaching the top of the stairs.

Rooster rushed up the stairs behind you, acting like a chicken with his head cut off, and followed you as you waddled into your shared bedroom.

“You’re in labor!?” Rooster asked, failing at not freaking out.

“It seems like it,” you replied, pulling out some new underwear from the drawer.

“We have to get you to the hospital!”

“I know,” you assured him, turning towards your closet.

“Let’s get you to the car,” Rooster insisted, following right behind you. “I left the go bag in the trunk, so all we have to do is call the hospital. And your parents. And Mav. And probably Phoenix and everyone else and—”

“—Bradley, honey,” you interjected, holding a hand to his mouth to get him to stop talking. “Can you just help me shower first? I’ve got stuff all over me right now.”

Rooster hurriedly nodded before leading you to your shared bathroom. He quickly undressed you and turned the shower on to a mild temperature. You stepped inside and started to wash away any of the residual fluid and leftovers from a long day at the beach and Hard Deck. Rooster washed your ruined clothes and hung them up to dry before quickly calling the hospital and your doctor.

“Okay, okay, the hospital said that they have a room available for you, so all we have to do is get you there. I called your parents and they said that they were going to try and move up their tickets. And I called Penny and she said that she would take care of everything at the Hard Deck,” Rooster listed off in quick succession as he strode back into the bathroom. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” you grunted out as a contraction hit you. “Just peachy.”

You leaned on the shower wall a bit and let out a groan, which instantly had Rooster concerned. Shutting off the water, he quickly grabbed a towel and stepped into the shower with you. Carefully drying you off, Rooster got you to rest your weight on him.

“It’s okay, just breathe,” he coached, just like you practiced.

You rocked your hips a bit as Rooster supported your weight and dried you off. When the contraction passed, you let out a breath and slowly straightened up.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, like you weren’t just doubled over in pain.

“Are you sure?” Rooster asked, helping you out of the shower.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured your husband as he grabbed your new clothes. “Just a contraction.”

“You’re in labor,” Rooster reminded you, helping you into a new pair of underwear. “It’s okay if you’re in pain and you’re not fine.”

“Just the early stages. We’ve still got time.”

Rooster got you dressed and brushed your damp hair before you two headed down the stairs. You held the railing and Rooster was suction cupped to your other side with his arm wrapped around your waist and his hand holding your free one.

“Bradley, I’m not dainty. I can walk down the stairs,” you reminded him gently.  

“You’re in labor.”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” you replied dryly. When he started to pull you towards the car, you pulled against him. “Wait, we need to clean up the kitchen.”

Bradley stared at you like you had grown two heads in the span of three seconds. He blinked rapidly and was very clearly trying to pick out his words carefully before responding to you.

“Honey,” he began softly, “the kitchen floor will be fine. We need to get you to the hospital.”

“But it’ll stain and get all gross if we leave it.”

“Then I’ll call someone to stop by and clean it up. While we’re at the hospital.”

“Oh, Bradley, the baby isn’t going to fall out of me. We have some time.”

You swore that Bradley twitched in place, but he acquiesced to your ‘ridiculous’ request. Leaving you by the stairs, Bradley hurried to clean up the fluid on the ground. He mopped furiously with the Swiffer, reminding you of Olympic curlers. You thought about taking a video of it for shits and giggles when you felt another contraction hit you.

Checking your phone for the time, you sucked in a breath when you realized the proximity of the contractions to each other. You let out a grunt and leaned heavily on the railing, rocking your hips again. Rooster, noticing your distress, practically tossed the Swiffer into the closet and sprinted over to you. Resting a hand on your back, he transferred your weight from the railing to him.

“We need to get you to the hospital, okay?”

You nodded, leaning against your husband as a soft whimper escaped your lips. After your contraction passed, Rooster led you down to the car and rushed back to lock up the house.

This wasn’t a drill. He was going to graduate from father-to-be to dad today. Tonight. Whenever the baby decided to actually join the world properly. There would be a little baby with you two for the rest of your lives.

And part of him was scared. No, absolutely terrified at that realization. But he couldn’t focus on that. He needed to be a rock, a pillar of strength for you right now. Even if you denied the fact that you were in need of support, he needed to be there for you. So, Rooster quickly locked up the house and hurried back to the car where you were rubbing your bump.

“How are you doing?” he asked, starting up the car.

“I’m fine,” you breathed out, cradling your large bump. “I’m fine, really.”

“Okay,” Rooster replied, even though he didn’t believe you. “I’m going to get you to the hospital. And if you need anything or want to hold my hand to squeeze, you just let me know. I’m here for you and the baby and I’m going to get you to the hospital as quick as I can. Okay?”

“Yes, okay,” you agreed, nodding along as you sunk a bit in your seat.

The drive to the hospital was not supposed to be too long but given the fact that you were driving at a rather traffic-heavy time, it took longer than it should have. Rooster was torn between driving erratically and thereby getting you to the hospital faster or driving safely and making sure that he didn’t get the both of you in the hospital for another reason.

“Oh, fuck,” you groaned, curling in on yourself.

“I know, honey, I know,” Bradley stated, clearly frazzled. You were sitting at the fifth red light of the drive and Rooster was really starting to lose his patience with it. “Just breathe. We’ll be there in about five minutes.”

“I’m. Fine,” you grunted out, squeezing the life out of his hand. You let out a half-scream that absolutely terrified Rooster to his core.

“Breathe. Just breathe,” Rooster coached, driving through the intersection. “We’re almost there.”

“It’s okay,” you whimpered out, taking a shaky breath. “I’m fine.”

As soon as you reached the hospital, Rooster got you into a wheel chair and hurried towards the labor and delivery wing. You were immediately admitted to the wing and Rooster could not hide the fact that he was relieved that a doctor was looking over you.

“Alright, Mrs. Bradshaw, you’re moving along quickly here,” the obstetrician stated, pulling off her gloves. “Your cervix is already dilated five centimeters and based on the current rate of progression of your contractions it looks like your baby is very eager to join us.”

“What?” you replied, somewhat dumbly. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, quite sure,” the obstetrician replied calmly.

“But this is my first pregnancy. Shouldn’t it go slower than that?” you insisted, wrapping your arms around your bump.

“That’s a general rule, yes, but every mother, baby, and labor is different. You’re just progressing quicker than most.”

“Oh . . .” you trailed off, anxiety clear in your features.

“I’ll come back to check on you in a little bit, but press the button if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Rooster stated on your behalf when you simply stared into space. The obstetrician left the room and Rooster immediately turned back to you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” you replied quietly, slowly stroking your bump.

“It’s okay to not be fine,” Rooster assured you softly, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. “Don’t feel like you can’t be honest with me. Or the medical staff.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though you looked on the edge of tears.

“Babe,” Rooster called, causing you to turn to face him.

You kept up a brave face—mask, really—so far during this process. But when Rooster gave you that look that screamed that he knew that you weren’t actually okay, you finally broke down a little bit. And by a little bit, you really meant a lot.

Rooster quickly sat up and gathered you in his arms, rubbing your back soothingly as you let out a tide of emotions that you held back. Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, Rooster quietly took a moment to compose himself before turning back to you.

“I’m here,” Rooster assured you, resting his head on top of your own. “I’m here and I love you and I love our baby so much and it’s okay if you’re not fine or you’re scared or anything like that. I’m here to help you. Just tell me what you need or what you feel and I’ll help you.”

“I just thought that we would have more time,” you croaked out, burying your face into his neck. “Why are they coming so fast?”

“Because they’re just so eager to meet you.”

You let out a half-laugh before latching onto your husband again. Rooster pressed a kiss to the top of your head once again and drew circles on your hip with his thumb.

“I just thought that we had more time,” you repeated quietly. “I’m not ready, Roo.”

“That’s okay,” Rooster stated softly. “It’s okay to not be ready.”

“We didn’t even pick a name.”

“I know, but maybe we’ll think up a perfect one once the baby’s here, okay?”

“Yeah . . . that’s a good idea,” you conceded, sniffling a bit.

“Thank you, I thought of it myself.”

“You’re going to be the worst with dad humor, aren’t you?” you sighed, shaking your head.

Rooster smiled down at you and pressed a series of kisses to your face. Pressing one final kiss to your lips, he rested his forehead against your own.

“You’re going to be okay. The baby is going to be okay. And I’m right here.”

“I know. Just . . . don’t leave me . . . please,” you requested, still clinging to your husband.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he assured you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m here. I’m here. And I love you and I love our baby so much.”

“I love you too,” you returned softly.

And just as the obstetrician predicted, you delivered Baby Bradshaw a few short hours later. Baby Bradshaw weighed in at eight pounds and six ounces, with ten fingers and ten toes, and a large set of working lungs. After checking you and your baby over, the medical staff gave the three of you some personal space to bond with your baby.

“I can’t believe that I was wrong,” you murmured quietly.

You stroked your daughter’s head carefully with your finger. She laid against your bare chest for some skin-to-skin contact and was peacefully sleeping. For now, anyway. You leaned back against Bradley, who climbed up into the hospital bed with you and held the both of you in his arms as you sat in between his ridiculously long legs.

“Just blame Hangman for it,” Rooster replied, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“I like that option,” you agreed, chuckling softly to not wake up your baby.

Rubbing her back soothingly, you leaned back against your husband’s chest. He pressed a kiss to your cheek and rested his head against your own as the two of you watched your daughter peacefully sleep against your chest.

“Thank you,” Rooster whispered to you, causing you to turn to him.

“For what?”

“For her,” Rooster stated, pressing a soft, loving kiss to your forehead. “For all of it. For giving me a family of my own.”

“Thank you for not passing out on me,” you mused, earning a chuckle from Rooster.

“I also won us fifty bucks with that.”

“What?”

“There was a bet that I would pass out during your delivery,” Rooster explained to you. “So, how about I treat you to some good takeout when we get home?”

“Sounds good to me,” you mused, leaning back against him.

Though you tried to fight it, the exhaustion of your last day was quickly catching up with you. And Rooster, the attentive husband and father that he was, quickly picked up on it. Carefully sliding out for behind you, Rooster settled you back against the pillows and gently took your daughter into his arms. Pressing a kiss to your lips, Rooster adjusted your blanket.

“Get some rest, honey. I’ve got her.”

“You sure?” you whispered out, already half-asleep.

“I’m sure. Get some sleep. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you murmured out, falling asleep about thirty seconds later.

Rooster walked over to the coach that he planned to sleep on for the night. He temporarily placed your daughter down in her hospital bed before pulling off his shirt to get some skin-to-skin contact of his own with her. Laying down with your daughter carefully resting against his chest, Rooster smiled down at her as he stroked her back.

“You really scared your mama back there. And you sure as heck tired her out,” Rooster mused quietly, glancing over at where you were sleeping. “But we’re really happy that you’re here, sweetheart. And we love you so much.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before leaning back to simply observe the perfect little baby that you and him made together.

~~~~~

The next morning, your recovery room was flooded with visitors, since your daughter was conveniently born after visitor hours the day previous.

“Ha, I was right. You were wrong,” Phoenix whisper yelled at Hangman, who rolled his eyes in response.

“She’s so precious,” Maverick breathed out, cradling your daughter in his arms.

“Just make sure that you support her head,” Rooster reminded Maverick softly.

Bradley held his hand against your daughter’s head to make sure that it was properly supported. And maybe they should have made his callsign ‘Hawk’ based on the way that he was watching over your daughter. He was overprotective over you, especially when you were pregnant. But now that your daughter was born, he was overprotective over her as well.

“He’s holding just her fine, Brad,” you assured your husband supportively.

“Here we go,” Hangman huffed, shaking his head. “Mother Hen is here to stay.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Rooster warned him, half-joking, but really deadly serious.

“I think that she looks more like her mom,” Penny commented, standing to Maverick’s right.

“That’s why she’s so beautiful,” Rooster replied softly, keeping a close eye on your daughter.

“Aw, thanks Roo,” you called back.

“Kiss up,” Hangman coughed under his breath, earning a smack to his arm from Phoenix.

A.N. I decided to leave the baby's name up to you guys to avoid repeating anyone's name. I hope that you enjoyed this little sequel! I don't think that there will be a Part 3 to this little series, but if there is, I'll tag from the replies on this one. Thanks!

Tags: @cherrycola27

#rooster x wife!reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun: maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #rooster fanfic #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw #tgm #tgm fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader

[chessholic]

　ー　Feelings　ー

11th Doctor

(feat. 10th Doctor)

Summary: You didn't expect to meet the Doctor with a totally different face.

Author's Note: Hey! I am not super pleased with this. However I hope you enjoy it. Bare with me, I am getting better at this. :)

You cheerfully exited the TARDIS skipping down the cobble stone street. The Doctor couldn't help, but smile while his eyes shined all the love he held for you. You just didn't see it, maybe you were too afraid to.

"So, what are we doing?", you asked curiously turning to face him. You were in London shopping for something.

"I just need to buy some-", the Doctor came to a stop raising a finger to his chin. He seemed to be in deep thoughts.

It was rare because usually he was all over the place and you needed to watch out his hands that moved almost as fast as his rambling. So this quiet moment was something new.

"Blimey...", he muttered under his breath.

"You forgot again?", you asked smirking at his sarcastic smile to you. You skipped back to him and took his hand.

"Let's explore and maybe it will find us", you told him and pulled him with you.

The Doctor couldn't ignore how nice your hand felt in his, your hand was comforting, you couldn't get lost when you held his hand. And you tried your best to calm your beating heart and thoughts. The Doctor was your safe place, he gave you comfort.

If you only knew that the feeling was very mutual.

You two have dated for a while now, but you both were a bit afraid. The Doctor was already afraid of losing you and you were afraid of the pain it would cause him. You two hadn't kissed yet, the tension and idea lingering in the air, making it thick to breathe.

Sometimes the tension felt suffocating, so many emotions, but no one said anything.

The love you held for each other was evident, but neither of you had said the three magical words.

I love you

ー

You and the Doctor were exploring a huge market that was packed with people. At some point you two got separated. The panic was filling you, suffocating you. People were hitting your shoulders and making you lose your balance. All the sounds and people yelling seemed to quiet down, like the time had stopped.

Closing your eyes and trying to stop hyperventilating you prepared for the fall waiting for the hard ground. However you felt someone taking you in their arms.

"I got you", someone said with a comforting voice. Carefully you opened your eyes meeting warm looking brown eyes that had a hint of concern in them. However the thing that struck you was the fact that his eyes were oddly familiar. The man carefully helped you to your feet.

"Please, can you help me away from-", you quietly asked, but stopped when a person almost knocked you over again.

"Yes, let's get you away from here", he stated determined to get you away from the crowd that seemed to cause you your distress.

ー

Finally you found a quiet sideway and you leaned against a wall breathing still a bit unevenly.

"Are you okay? Can I help?", the man asked awkwardly, you were reminded of the Doctor. Your Doctor always wanted to help everyone, often forgetting himself in the process.

Doctor!

"I need to find him", you muttered closing your eyes trying to steady everything, your body and mind. The world was spinning and you could see black dots.

Why did you agree to this trip? The Doctor was your safe place and only he could get you through these situations.

"Find who?", the man asked and finally you took a good look at the man.

He was wearing Converses. Why? He had a light brown faux-suede duster coat on and he had a tie. Your Doctor always wore bowties. How would he look with a tie?

The man was odd, but at the same time you felt something familiar.

"Thank you so much, my saviour, what is your name?", you tried to joke, but you felt awful.

The man perked up and apparently tried to make himself look important because he raised his chin and pushed his chest out a bit.

"I am the Doctor", he announced flashing a charming smile.

"No, you're not", you said furrowing your brows.

A smile on the man's face faltered and turned into confusion.

"What?", he asked, that was not a reaction he was expecting.

"You are not the Doctor", you repeated nervously and tried to get away from the man.

"You are from the future? Do you travel with me?", the man asked with curiosity, but kept a distance between you two. His eyes were honest, just like your Doctors.

They also held the same wise look in them. Could he really be? He once mentioned something about regeneration.

Carefully you walked closer to him. The Doctor watched curiously what you were going to do.

You lifted your hands up close to his face. You waited for permission. The confused man didn't say anything so you gingerly touched his face. Your face breaking into a toothpaste commercial smile made the man's hearts skip a beat. He could see how much love your eyes hold for the future him, for him.

"So you have always been handsome, but not ginger", you whispered your voice a bit shaky from the unexplainable emotion that was in your throat.

A small chuckle escaped his lips. "And who you might be?".

"I am not sure if I am allowed to tell you that", you answered a bit cheekily making the man grin.

You carefully took your hands away from his face suddenly craving to find your Doctor.

"Y/N!"

You both turned to see where the shouting was coming from.

"Doctor!", you yelled back tears streaming down your face, however they were happy tears.

Finally down the alley ran a tall lanky man who was nothing like the skinny spiky haired man next to you.

His brown wild hair was messier than usual, probably from him running his hand through his hair in stress. His green eyes were frantically searching for anything that would indicate you would be hurt.

"You are okay, you are okay", he rambled pulling you to his arms. He buried his face to your neck inhaling your scent.

"Blimey, I was so worried. I will never let go of your hand again", he muttered taking your face in his hands.

"I am okay, Doctor. Nothing bad has happened", you reassured him bringing your hands on top of his that were holding your face carefully while his eyes scanned you throughout.

"I love you so much Y/N, I cannot lose you", he confessed voice thicker than usual.

Before you could even answer to him, his lips captured yours. Regardless of the storming emotions the kiss was gentle and loving.

It made you weak in the knees. Oh how many nights did you imagine what this moment would be like, how this would feel. You needed to admit that it felt better than you could have ever imagined.

After a moment you two pulled away catching your breaths.

"I love you too Doctor, with all my heart", you whispered making the Doctor smiling brighter than the sun.

"What are you doing here?", the Doctor asked after a moment of silence.

"Oh you-", you looked where the past version of him used to stand. However the skinny man had disappeared into thin air.

"I just needed to get away from the crowd", you explained, it technically was the truth.

He accepted your answer and took your hand smiling giddily.

"Let's get back to the TARDIS"

"That sounds great", you responded leaning against his side resting your head against his shoulder.

Near the TARDIS you felt eyes on you. Turning around you were met with brown eyes that seemed to shine brighter than the stars you had seen.

You blew him a kiss and winked before disappearing into the TARDIS.

The Doctor watched as the TARDIS disappeared. Oh how he wanted to find you. He didn't know you, but he could already feel how you were a missing piece from his soul.

He really loved you already.

ー

"Why on earth did you wear sandshoes?"

"Oi!"

ー

#doctor who #doctor who image #11th doctor x reader #11th doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor

[rs-hawk]

Idea since I saw you might want to work on more trans monster works, thoughts on an MTF orc? I already saw one on an FTM orc so why not give some love to the transfems too?

I haven’t done much with Orcs in general so this should be fun 🤗

When you saw her, your entire body felt like it was on fire. Your eyes trailed down her physique, a lump forming in your throat as you watched her muscles ripple under her clothes. Rationally, you knew that you should be terrified of her. One of the beasts that had been destroying your home, hunting survivors down, was mere feet from you. If she looked up, she would certainly see you.

Yet, you couldn’t help yourself. She was gorgeous. How could you do anything but stare? Even when she tilted her head up, sniffing deeply, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. It was clear she was about to find you. As her eyes locked onto yours, despite the branches and leaves hiding you from view in the tree. You felt a clenching in the bottom of your stomach. Her eyes were intoxicating.

She smirked as she reached for you. Despite finally snapping out of it and trying to back up, she still grabbed you, pulling you out of the tree.

“Hello little human,” she chuckled as she tossed you over her shoulder.

“Please don’t kill me,” you whimpered out, knowing it was pointless to try to fight her to escape.

“Kill you?” she repeated as she carried you deeper into the forest. “No, that’s not why I want you.”

You swallowed another lump in your throat but didn’t respond. After a brief hike, she brought you to a cave. It was lit up with torches that lined the walls. It was sparsely furnished but what was there was fur lined or made of animal hides. She set you on a mound of furs that reminded you of a nest.

Before you could ask anything else, she started to shed her armor. “Humans and Orcs are very compatible,” she said as she tossed her clothing to the side, revealing more of her hard muscles. Your mouth was watering as you watched her. “We even often have mates that are human. We can smell them.”

“Yeah?” your voice was hoarse and your throat tight that it was all you could get out.

She chuckled as she stopped taking off her clothes, her hard she-cock straining in her underwear. You could see a wet spot from her precum already forming. Your cunt started throbbing excitedly as you wondered what she looked like. How big she was

“Yeah,” she muttered as she crawled on you, grinding her cock against your cunt through both of your clothing. “That’s just why we’re here. Why we’re all here. We just want our mates.”

“Okay,” you whispered as she palmed her cock over her underwear before pulling it out. She was huge. Far larger than any human could ever hope to be.

She slipped her hand into your pants, teasing your clit as she started stroking herself. “You’re so wet for me already. Can you feel the mate bond?” she asked in a gruff voice, breathing and panting in your ear.

All you could do was nod and whine as you felt her start to draw an orgasm out of you. Then, without warning, she plunged two of her long, thick fingers into you. Just those was more than anything you’d ever taken. You clung to her, panting and whining as she kept fingering you, letting go of herself to strip away your pants and underwear. You didn’t even care that she was spreading your legs, watching with hungry eyes as your greedy cunt took everything she gave you.

You had to stretch around her fingers, but you were glad she’d done that because as she drew them out, she lined her cock up with your soaking wet hole. She kissed you deeply, forcing her tongue into your mouth just as she forced her too big cock inside of you. Her lips silenced your cries as she ravaged you, hitting every part of you as she tried to force her entire cock inside of you. You were stretched wide, but even then, you couldn’t take all of her yet.

She pulled back, watching you whimper and cry out now as she rammed into you. She set her hand over your stomach, pushing on the bulge her cock caused each time she bullied into your cervix. Your cunt was spasming as she drew orgasm after orgasm out of you by hitting your g-spot and playing with your clit as she filled you.

Just as you felt like you were on the verge of passing out, she flipped you on your stomach, pushing your face into the furs and lifting your ass up. Just as you realized what she was doing, she forced every too thick inch inside of you. In this position, it felt even larger. You don’t know how you took it.

Tears pricked your eyes as she drew her tusks along your back, leaving angry marks and kisses as she pumped rope after rope or hot cum into your poor cunt. You couldn’t even think. You just laid there as she picked you up, continuing to use you like a toy, filling you with her cum and cock. Vaguely, through the haze of pleasure and pain, you watched your blood drip off her tusks from where she had cut you with them.

#writers on tumblr #writing #fantasy romance #author #monster lover #monster romance #fantasy smut #monster fucker #monster fuqqer #smut #monster wife #monster kink #monster smut #monster gf #monster girlfriend #monsterfucking cw #monsterfucking nsft #tw monsterfucking #monster fudger #monster k!nk #br33d1ng #breeding k1nk #mtf nsft #mtf smut #queer smut #queer ns/fw #queer fantasy #wlw romance #wlw ns/fw #wlw nsft

[niphredil-14]

ROTTMNT With a Witch! S/o

Just a quick reminder that requests are open!

Leonardo:

- we all know that Leo is a magic nerd, though he may have a slight preference for stage magic over the actual, less show-y magick.

-i feel like Leo would love to have a witch as a partner, and would probably get into some basic, low energy types of spells as a result. He would be your biggest fan, and would want to help with most of your spells.

-he will be devastated if you say no, but sometimes it's just easier without this tease-prone ball of energy inside of the circle, you know?

-will BEG for you to do spells for him!! even for the smallest issue, he would be kneeling at your feet giving them the biggest puppy eyes with a matching pout.

-i can see him getting into glamour magick as a primary form of magick for him.

-all the magick-themed pick up lines. anytime you do anything he just tells you how you've enchanted him and how he's completely under your spell, how he's convinced that he must have drank a love potion, etc.

Donatello:

-not a fan for a good long while. will go on about his "science is fa superior to your little dumdum magic!!" until you hit him with the "magick's success and cause and effect has stood the test of time, people would not use it if it did not work. and btw magick is just science that we don't yet have the technology to understand."

-after that he would be like "okay challenge accepted!" and would probably conduct a ton of experiments on the movement and manipulation of subtle energies, and how the placebo affect effects spellwork, etc.

-i feel like he wouldn't participate in any spellwork outside of his experiments, at least not until he got his ninpo, at which point he would do a ton of studying about the occult.

-he'll warm up to it eventually, but i don't think it would ever be something that he ever really found a passion in.

-i could see him combine some of his chemistry knowledge with your occult knowledge to help you with potions though!

-he might like tech magick, or adding spells/sigils in with his tech, but i don't think you'd ever find him doing any more than that unless you get him to.

Michaelangelo:

-IS ENTRANCED

-loves magick, loves mystics, loves you

-would take any and every oppurtunity to engage with/ help with your magick! He wants you to teach him everything you know, and I feel like he would learn a whole lot on his own, and the two of you would just bounce ideas off of each other.

-we all know that Mikey becomes a super powerful mystic, so with you by his side?? power couple!! (everyone is afraid of the two of you.)

Raphael:

-supportive but does not understand. like at all.

-will bring you every crystal he sees, every rock, every branch, every flower, and (if you're a vulture culture kinda witch) every bone.

-he likes to watch you do magick if you're comfortable with it, but wouldn't dare try to participate in the spell. he's just a big ol' fanboy.

-i feel like he would love protection magic, it's very important as someone with a job as dangerous as his. if you were to make him some kind of protection amulet, he would probably cry. He's the oldest, he's used to having to protect everyone else, he's not used to anyone trying to protect him. He would never take it off, and if it ever did it's job as much as it could, and finally broke, he would cry, please make him another.

-he would probably crochet some blank poppets for you, that could easily be customized.

April:

-SO FUCKIN INTO IT

-(please help her make fun and flashy assignments that won't backfire like Donnie's tech does!)

-I think she would love to help out in your spells as much as you'll let her, but knows better than to overstep. This is your thing, she understands that you're the boss when it comes to mystic stuff, and just enjoys being along for the ride.

-would pay you to do spells for her, she isn't a fuckin freeloader (like LEO), she knows that it's a craft, and that the hard work you do deserves to be compensated, and if you don't let her paay you for spells because you love her, then she'll just insist on paying for your next date, or buying you that trinket you've had your eye on for a while. you can't stop her.

Cassandra:

-she only cares if you can do spells to help her conquer the world (and if you can hex her enemies c:<)

-no but forreal i think she would love to have a witch lover, and would want to participate, she'd be the BEST at raising energy for spellwork and ritual!

-i think she'd actually make a super powerful practitioner once she learned how to direct her energy

-she would 100% collect bones, so if you're the type of witch to like that, then she may just give you a few from her collection.

-bitch would SLAY at baneful magick

Casey Jr.:

-an alt boy and his witchy partner, is there a better combo than that?

-seriously though, I feel like he would love to just sit around while you were doing magick, he likes to watch, and likes it even more if you teach him anything.

-i feel like he would really only ever use magick for others though. Like if he was struggling, the thought of doing a spell to help himself doesn't even cross his mind, but one of his friends or family members has even the slightest issues and he's jumping for his athame (he would def mainly use an athame, a pretty basic and minimalistic one though).

-another one who just brings you anything he can find that's even slightly related to your craft, and brags about how amazing you are to everyone, all the time.

-please teach him how to use tarot, he wants to commune with the spirits. he'll be responsible, he swears c:

#rottmnt #tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt leonardo #rottmnt leo #rottmnt leonardo x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt raphael #rottmnt raph #rottmnt raphael x reader #rottmnt raph x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt michaelangelo #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt michaelangelo x reader #rottmnt mikey x reader #rottmnt april #rottmnt april o'neil #rottmnt april x reader #rottmnt april o'neil x reader #rottmnt cassandra jones #rottmnt cassandra #rottmnt casey jones #rottmnt cassandra jones x reader

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Jack Harlow: “I just think your eyes are really pretty.”

Warning: suggestive

You let out a content sigh as you watched Jack get dressed in front of you at the foot of the bed, his abs flexing as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. Your eyelids hung heavy from exhaustion as you traced the line of his body, red bite marks and purple bruises on his shoulders and chest a reminder of the fun the two of you just had in bed, and you couldn't help the smile that formed on your face.

"What?", Jack asked as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, pulling his jeans up over his hips. He bit at his bottom lip as he caught a glance at your naked body before you pulled the sheets over your chest, your cheeks heating up bashfully. "Hey! My eyes are up here."

"Ha!", he let out a deep chuckle, "are you really gonna pretend like we didn't just get to know each other "biblically?" You giggled at his eyebrow wiggle. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean you have unrestricted access to look at my body whenever you want." You were of course kidding, but you had just committed the filthiest of acts, your legs still shaking from muscle fatigue, so you were trying to retain a bit of your dignity.

"Fine, fine." Jack held up his hands in resignation. "Doesn't matter anyway. If I close my eyes, I can replay the exact moment in my mind when you hit your org-". His mouth hung open, making a slight o shape in imitation of you.

"Jack!" You felt the very familiar warmth pool in your stomach at his words, your toes and fingers beginning to tingle. He climbed onto the bed toward you, his hands moving to frame your face. You toyed with the chain of his necklace, twisting it around your fingers. "I hate to hit it and run", Jack chuckled when you playfully hit him in the chest, "but I gotta go, babe."

You pulled him down to you by the collar of his shirt, pressing a hard kiss to his lips. "Bye." You expected him to lift away, but he lingered, chasing after you for another kiss. You obliged, smiling against his mouth. "Bye, Jack", you hummed out, but he didn't want to leave.

"Just one more", He edged out before pressing your lips together again. "Okay, now go, so you're not late." You gently pushed him off of you, and even though everything was telling him not too, he got up to leave.

"Have you seen my glasses?" He patted his back pocket and searched his jacket while he scanned the room.

"Nope." You popped the p with your lip, your tone immediately giving your guilt away.

"Did you hide my glasses, again?" Jack's eyebrows flashed as you tried to hide underneath the comforter. It had become a thing with the two of you lately, and even though it was very juvenile, it gave you a couple more minutes with him every time he tried to leave.

"Babe, I need my glasses. I can't drive without them."

"Sorry, maybe you left them in your car?" You were doing everything you could not to burst out laughing. Jack jumped on the bed, making you squeal as he wrapped you up tightly. "No, because I distinctively remember that I took them off when I was about to go down on you."

"You don't need them, anyway. I just think your eyes are really pretty, and I can't see them when you wear your glasses." You cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs grazing at your cheeks.

"You really don't want me to go, do you?"

You nodded pitifully. "I think your music career has been good up until now, you should probably call it quits while you're ahead, so you can stay here with me." Jack's hands were roaming your body as you spoke, his fingers molding to the contours of your curves. He pressed his forehead to your chest as he seriously contemplated your offer.

"No, I have to go, babe." You felt the vibration of his groan against your chest, before he pressed a kiss to your collarbone and let you go. "Neelam is gonna kill me if I don't show up. Can I have my glasses please?"

You let out an exasperated huff as you laid back against your pillows. "They're in my purse on the dresser."

He quickly found the case in your purse and slipped his glasses on before turning back to you. "Don't move. I want you in the same spot when I get back." He closed his eyes and let out a small chuckle.

"What are you doing?", you asked.

"Just playing it in my mind one more time." Jack opened his eyes just in time to dodge the pillow you hurled at him from across the room. "I love you!", he called over his shoulder.

"Forever and always." You replied loud enough for him to hear as you sunk further into the bed and allowed yourself to drift off to sleep.

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow imagine

[captain-mj]

omg i thought of this while in the resturant! (We were ehatchign fail army and they were doing scare pranks)

and i thought like "what if soap tried to scare ghoast?"

this could go two ways

ghost isnt fazed at all

or

2. ghost reacts poorly and ends up hurting johnny or worse..

Apologies for being so absent! Here ya go!

Ghost disliked pranks. Ever since his little brother used to scare him with the mask, they just rubbed him the wrong ways. Even the innocent ones like putting salt in the sugar so it would ruin his tea were enough to spark up old anger issues.

Obviously, this went against what the 141 knew him as when it comes down to humor. While outsiders would think a prank on Ghost would end with their heads on pikes, they also didn't know he liked dad jokes and dumb one liners.

So when Gaz and Soap started their prank war, they automatically included Ghost. In retrospect, Ghost really should've sat them down and said no with a little more force, instead of brushing them off and assuming they'd get the picture. But he thought it was over by now and he doubted they'd actually do anything again after he told them he wasn't interested.

Ghost had no way of knowing the man that jumped out at him, a spur of the moment idea on Soap's part and not something planned, as he doubted he could really sneak up on Ghost on purpose, was not going to stab him immediately. Luckily, he had been unarmed, so Soap did not end up with a gaping wound in his throat. Instead, Ghost backhanded him hard enough for his teeth to rattle in his skull.

Soap hit the ground hard and Ghost felt the adrenaline rush through his veins like he got hit by a stim. Giant blue eyes, apologetic but also shocked, blinked up at him.

Ghost wanted to hurt him. Soap must've seen it, but he didn't run. What an idiot.

Ghost turned away and took a deep breath. Noticing just now a very, very startled Gaz and Price.

Price quickly helped Soap up, glancing at Ghost like he might fly off the handle.

Soap took a breath when he got up and slowly let it out. "Hurts like a bitch, but I'm alright, Captain. You okay Simon?"

"I just almost cost you some teeth and you're asking me if I'm alright?"

"Your hands are shaking. You're breathing heavy. Thought you were having a panic attack for a minute."

Ghost shook his head. "You two are like fucking little brother. Always getting yourselves into fucking trouble. Either of you pull that shit again, I'm not stopping at one fucking hit." He hissed it at them and stomped off.

His hands were shaking.

He couldn't tell if he felt more angry at Soap for startling him, himself for getting startled and hitting him or if it was just embarrassment at the whole situation.

Soap found him in his hiding spot. "Simon?"

Ghost sighed. "I'm not going to apologize."

"Neither am I. I'll say getting bitch slapped makes us even." He pulled himself up into the perch. It was hard to get to and overlooked everything.

"I didn't actually hurt you, did I?"

"Nae. Put some ice on it and I was good as rain. Glad you didn't have any rings on though." He smiled but Ghost could see the imprint of the back of his hand. "Did I get you that bad?"

Ghost sighed. "Reminded me of someone."

"Your little brother. So you said. I hope you don't actually think we're alike considering you've kissed me."

Ghost made a face and even through the mask, Soap could tell. "He used to do shit like that. Jump out at me. Fucking hated it. And you're not getting another fucking kiss from me until I know for a fact you're both leaving me out of your little prank thing."

"I can't control Gaz!"

"Learn to."

Soap sighed. "You're breaking my heart, Simon." He smiled at him though, knowing the kiss embargo wouldn't last. "Alright. Changed my mind. I am sorry for scaring you. I know you. While I don't think I could've predicted the backhand, I could've predicted your reaction wouldn't be pleasant."

Ghost sighed loudly and Soap tilted his head. "What's wrong?"

"I hate how weirdly emotionally mature you can get, Johnny." He grabbed him and forced him to turn his head. "I'm sorry too."

"Kiss it better?"

Ghost glared at him before giving him a small kiss through the mask. "There. Fucking bastard."

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost #ghoap

[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 22

Find the series masterlist

Here we are folks! Three more chapters after this. I will be posting one chapter a week until this is done.

Hopefully that's enough incentive to keep y'all from mobbing me. Hee hee.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, stressful situations, threats of violence, deceitful practices and language, swearing, injury.

Word count: 1.3k

John parked in front of the building, which looked as nondescript as ever. But it felt like it had been much longer since you’d last been here, longer than the hours that had actually passed.

Less than a day. Less than one full day you’d been gone, and your world had tipped sharply. 

Thinking about it made you nauseous, so you shunted the thought aside. Kate. You were here for Kate. Everything else would wait. 

“Stay behind us,” John insisted, handing you the gun again. He held your gaze, waiting until you nodded to release the gun to you. 

You followed the two of them up the stairs, for once itching not to run away from something, but towards it. You needed to make sure Kate was okay, get her away from Gray and home safely to her wife.

Anything else, you could handle. But not losing Kate. 

John slowed as the three of you approached the top floor. He shot you one single look, a very clear reminder to stay behind him. 

You didn't need reminding. You had no intention of acquiring more bullet holes any time soon. 

John and Roach went first, pushing open the door to the top floor and sweeping the space. You moved a little more slowly after them, swallowing hard. 

Find Kate and leave. That's all you cared about. 

The door to the conference room shattered with a gunshot from inside. John and Roach both moved, and you ended up being pushed into the wall by Roach. The second shot hit the wall harmlessly. 

The fire alarm went off, likely pulled by someone on a lower floor. You grimaced at the loud siren, the extra noise doing nothing to help the situation. But Roach just motioned you to stay put. 

What remained of the door opened with a crash. The mercenary had barely stepped out of the room before John shot him, the body falling in front of the door. 

“I see you are still alive,” Gray called through the open door. “A pity my men did not do their job.” 

“And they still won't.” John kept his fury leashed, voice cold. “Give up now and I might let you live.” 

Gray laughed, sending goosebumps up your spine. “Such bravado! I am not surprised. But you see, you are outnumbered. I have something you want, whereas you… have nothing.” 

Roach pushed you back harder into the wall, which was good because you had just opened your mouth to protest. Instead you made a tiny wheezing noise as half the air in your lungs was forced out by the soldier in front of you. 

Fucking rude. 

“That so?” John remained calm, staying out of sight of the open door. 

“Price,” Kate said from inside the room. 

You clenched your hands as tight as you could around the gun. Fuck. She sounded okay, but… 

“Laswell.” John, somehow, was still not audibly responding. 

“You see? Something you want.” Gray sounded far too smug. 

John was silent for a few long moments, shifting his position just enough to be able to look at you and Roach. He lifted one finger to his lips, holding your gaze, and waited until you nodded to look away. 

“I do have something you want,” John pointed out, calm but cold. He had a plan, clearly. 

At least, you hoped he had a plan. If he didn't, he was faking it very well. 

“You?” Gray laughed. “What could you have that I want?” Derision dripped from every word, his amusement clearly mocking. 

John didn't seem to care. “Ace. And a way out of this building alive.” 

“You think I won't kill you too?” Gray hissed, the still-screeching fire alarm only making him sound more unhinged. 

“You're welcome to try,” John ground out, voice lowering to an absolutely threatening growl. 

Silence from the meeting room for several long moments. If you had to guess, Gray was debating his options. Debating the best way forward to get what he wanted. 

You fidgeted behind Roach, swallowing back nerves as best you could. It was not in your nature to stand by and listen to people haggling over your life. 

Roach reached back and tapped you twice on the side. You weren't sure if that was supposed to be reassurance or a reminder to stay quiet. Either way, you drew in a deep breath. 

“What is it you're proposing?” Gray asked finally. 

John was quiet for a moment, and you could see his gaze flick to you. “An exchange,” he finally offered. 

If you trusted him any less, you would have been outraged. As it was, Roach's tap to your side was unnecessary. You weren't going to jeopardize John. 

“Intriguing,” Gray said, curious. “I do appreciate a man who can weigh the worth of two lives and choose one.” 

Your jaw clenched tight at that, a memory slamming into you, of Gray standing before you father. Something about the weight of lives… But it was gone again, shoved back deep where you'd buried it. You needed to focus. Not fall apart. 

“Then come out,” John goaded. “Get this over with before more people get involved.” 

As if to emphasize his words, the fire alarm screeched once more and went quiet. The sudden silence was almost worse than the constant noise. Almost. 

The silence stretched. Five seconds. Ten. Too long, much too long. Gray was planning something, he always was, John had to know–

Gunshots broke the silence, and Roach pushed you harder back into cover, obstructing your view as he did. But you could hear the gunfire continue, then a masculine shout. Two more shots, a little different sounding than the earlier ones. The sounds of a struggle - grunts and thuds. 

Then three more shots, so close together you almost couldn't hear the difference. 

“Do not shoot,” Kate barked.

You perked up, straining to try to see around Roach. He didn't move, keeping you covered for now. 

There was a brief choking noise, spluttering, another thud. The steady beat of boots against the floor. 

“Need help?” John asked, further away now. Glass crunched under boots. 

“Move,” you hissed at Roach. “Let me see–” You pushed past him with a little bit of a struggle, half-running past the bodies on the floor without a second glance at them. 

There were exactly two people you cared to see right now. The bodies weren't either of them. 

You skidded to a halt outside the shattered glass door, peering into the room. Two more bodies on the floor, blood slowly seeping into the thin carpet. John, standing over Kate and Gray, where Kate had Gray pinned face-down in what looked like a truly agonizing hold. 

Blood smeared from Kate's temple into her mussed hair and down her cheek. 

The floor next to Gray's head caved in under the bullet, bits of carpeting flying away from the impact. Gray shouted something indistinguishable, thrashing a little under Kate. 

“Ace,” John soothed, turning to face you. “We've got him. Give me the gun.” 

You didn't give him the gun, gaze trained on Gray. On the man who'd haunted your nightmares for years. 

“Ace,” John repeated. “Give me the gun.” One hand stretched out slowly towards you, careful not to spook you. 

He needn't have worried. You would never shoot him. 

Kate said your birth name softly, and your gaze snapped to her instead. She watched you, holding Gray down with little effort. The pain he was in likely helped with that. “I've got him,” she told you, steady and calm. “Steady.”

You blinked once, looking back down to Gray. He was no longer moving, breathing hard against the carpet. You hadn't seen him last time, when Kate had captured him that first time. You didn't know if this was quite the same. 

But you did know that this time, you weren't a scared little girl. 

“I'm sorry, Kate,” you said sincerely. “But you had him last time, too.” 

You pulled the trigger.

#waking lions #john price x reader #john price x you #f!reader

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Rewatching s1e9 and I really love how Ed and Stede are just on such wildly different wavelengths. It sets up Stede's panic and Ed's resignation when Stede doesn't meet him at the docks so well.

Stede in this episode cannot catch a fucking break. Ed was visibly not thrilled to be signing the Act of Grace - even though we know Ed wants to leave Blackbeard behind, no one wants to serve the English, and Stede obviously blames himself. Then he gets a reminder of the family he abandoned and learns that Mary reported him dead, and immediately after that, he sees Ed's shaved his beard.

He feels so lost. He's being hit constantly with reminders that he's a failure, that he's ruined things - he thinks he's forced Ed into this terrible thing, and Ed shaving is such a potent symbol of that.

Meanwhile, Ed? Thriving. He doesn't really care that they're in the service of the English, all he cares about is he's with Stede and he doesn't have to be Blackbeard right now. He's worried that Stede's upset, but on the whole? He wants so badly to believe things are okay.

Then comes the kiss and Ed's plan to run away to China. Obviously, that plan was never going to work - this isn't a show where characters are rewarded from running away from their problems. Wherever they go, there they are. But Ed is still trying to believe that this whole situation is everything he wants, he's trying to believe that running away will fix things. And Stede? My guy is riddled with guilt. He is obviously reluctant to agree to the plan to run away, although he doesn't tell Ed. Ed is so excited he's practically vibrating after the kiss, I don't blame him for not picking up on Stede's obvious reluctance here, but it's so clear they're not on the same page at all.

Would Stede have actually met Ed at the docks if Chauncey hadn't found him? Personally, I think he probably would have, but the guilt would have made him need to return to his ex-wife and kids sooner or later. It was always going to need to happen. When Stede says "we were moving so fast" in s2e4, I don't think he's just talking about the kiss - it was the plan to go run away, it was how all these reminders of his guilt were hitting him constantly from every fucking angle during this entire episode.

When Stede never shows up at the docks, I'm not surprised that Ed doesn't go looking for him. I'm not surprised that he doesn't seem that surprised. This entire episode, Ed has the air of someone trying very hard to believe that everything is okay, and at the docks that all comes down around him. He thinks Stede left because there's something wrong with Ed, that Ed's unlovable.

I think it says so much that their first kiss is in Ed's "I love Stede!" montage in s2e3, but not in Stede's in s1e10. I think that speaks so well to what different headspaces they were in. For Stede? He had so much going on that while he kissed Ed back and obviously liked it, I'm not sure it even fully registered. But for Ed, it was finally working up the courage to admit he just wants to be Ed and show Stede he wanted to be with him.

#ofmd #our flag means death

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not wanting to fix my relationship with an ex-friend in a toxic relationship?

CW domestic violence

I have a group of friends I met in college, but we remained friends after graduation. Let's call them Dora (26F), Megan (25F), Gabriel (25M), George (29M), Lauren (27F) and me (26F). Just for context, Megan and Gabriel are married, Dora is married with Phillip (30M) and Lauren just divorced from Jake (25M). I know, a lot of names, but all of this is important.

In the beginning of 2023, Lauren's husband Jake hit her and she went to the police. He was arrested for a short time and after that Lauren put a restraining order against him and filed for divorce. We were by her side during the whole thing and it was a very emotional time for all of us, especially for Megan, who suffered domestic violence from the boyfriend she had before Gabriel. It's important to note Megan is my best friend in the group.

Everything turned out okay for Lauren, but shortly after that Dora confessed to us her husband Phillip also hit her. That was a surprise for us because, to be honest, Dora looked way more toxic than Phillip at first sight; she was always making fun of him and she even hit him in front of us once or twice. Gabriel and I confronted them about it but Phillip said he didn't mind, because she is small so it didn't really hurt.

Anyway, Dora told us he hit her and there were, indeed, bruises on her ribs, legs and arms. She took a beating. She was too scared to go to the police, but we promised we would find a way to help her.

After that, our group, but especially Megan, Gabriel and I spent months doing everything we could to help Dora. Megan went to the police by herself to ask for advice and she also talked to Dora's mom asking for help. I talked to social workers looking for resources to help her. Gabriel pretended to be Phillip's friend to keep an eye on him and ensure Dora's safety. Dora herself seemed to change her mind everytime. She would ask for help and then tell us to mind our own business the next day. She even filed a police report against Phillip with Megan and Gabriel's help, but she cancelled it. Needless to say, it was emotionally draining for all of us, but since we were successful in helping Lauren when she went through the same, we thought we would be able to help Dora too.

We weren't. She kicked Phillip out for a month, but they kept talking in secret everyday and, in the New Year's Eve, while Megan and I were cooking for the party our group always does every year since 2018, she sent Megan a text saying she wouldn't come to the party and, in fact, she would no longer talk to us because she made up with Phillip and she knew we didn't approve that, so we couldn't be friends anymore.

We were devastated. We could barely enjoy our party because we worked so hard to help our friend and she threw that in the trash. All those months tolerating that man - which was triggering to both Megan and I since he reminded her of her aggressor and me of my abuser -, all the effort, all the stress and fear for nothing. To be discarded with a text on our special day.

I was too hurt and blocked Dora on everything. Gabriel blocked her on Instagram. During these last months, we talked a lot about the whole situation and we came to the conclusion that Dora was a very toxic person herself. We remembered several times she was offensive and aggressive with us, and her sister Barbara (18F), who lives with her, told us that she threw plates and books at Phillip while they fought, and their arguments were always the two of them beating each other up. In the end, we came to the conclusion Dora stayed in that relationship because she knew no one else would want to deal with her own aggressiveness. There was nothing else we could do for her and we decided to leave it at that.

Then, two days ago, Gabriel received a text from Dora on his Whatsapp. It was basically her complaining he blocked her on Instagram, saying she liked him so much and he was such a good friend for her and she wanted to know why he blocked her. He simply blocked her on Whatsapp too instead of answering her. Then she texted Lauren asking why she blocked her on Insta (which was super weird since Lauren didn't block her at all). Lauren also didn't answer her. Then she started to follow George on Instagram and he saw she posted a story written: "Love your friends for who they are and not for who you want them to be."

We all met yesterday to talk about the situation. We deduced she had a fight with Phillip and must be feeling lonely since we were her only friends, so she's getting desperate. But we are also so tired of all the drama this situation brought and none of us want be her friend anymore. So we all decided to block her (I mean, they decided to block, I have done that already) and call it a day.

Maybe she needs help, but after the way she treated us, she will need to look for it somewhere else.

AITA for that?

#aita #am i the asshole

[stayandot8]

Heart and Seoul

Genre: tooth-aching fluff

Relationship type: married nonidol!Chan x fem reader

Important Contents: thank you the request friend :) I immediately got an idea when you sent this to me and I'm sorry it took so long to write. I hope you like it.

request can be seen here.

WC: 1.8k

masterlist

Hubby: Guess what I got???

A picture arrived a second later of three plane tickets, all with the same destination: Seoul, South Korea. A flash of shock hit me and my fingers worked faster than my brain could process. 

“Isn’t it awesome?! My parents helped pay for them so don’t worry, I didn’t spend too much money. Well, not yet anyways. I’m going to buy a snow suit for Celeste because she’s never seen snow before and she’ll want to play in it because if she’s anything like me but that’s beside the point!” Chris was so excited and when he was excited, he rambled about everything and anything. A change that occurred after he became a dad, but a welcome one at that. Getting him to share his feelings wasn’t too too hard when I came along, but ever since his daughter was born, he was a babbling mess. A good change, really. After five years, he’d really mellowed out with her safety. She had too many clothes to begin with with the overexcitement of her arrival from her uncles, but now she was down to only a few new outfits a week, and now he at least acted like he was thinking about it when he changed his mind from a ‘no’ to a ‘yes’. He couldn’t deny his little girl anything. 

“Chris, she has snow clothes. Her grandmother bought some for her the last time we went to Korea in the winter just in case it snowed, which she’s still upset about.”

“I know, the weather app is stupid, they never know anything.”

“Chris! She has enough clothes! We’re going to have to give her our master closet if you keep buying her more things!” He was quiet to this, like he was actually thinking about the logistics of it. “Babe, she’s not getting our closet.”

“I know!”

“You were thinking about it though.”

“...Maybe. Then I was thinking about everything else I could buy her with all that room.”

“Chris…” I said warningly. 

“I’m done, I’m done. She’s not getting our closet.”

“Good.”

“But she is getting a snow suit. Okay, love you, bye!” I clutched my phone as he hung up, shaking my head and wondering where in the world he was going to put one more thing she didn’t need. It wasn’t like he was buying nonsense, it was just that he couldn’t tell her no if she really wanted something. He was a good dad like that. 

Me: Christmas with the uncles sounds good :) 

Hubby: Start packing. We leave in three days :) 

Me: Won’t mom be upset we won’t be in Sydney for the holiday?

Hubby: My mom will be fine, she’s used to holidays without me. 

Me: Don’t remind me 

Hubby: It’s yours we have to worry about. 

It was true, I was worried that my mother would be upset about a holiday without her grandchild. She loved them more than anything, cherished her truly. The more I thought about it, the worse I felt about it. 

Hubby: We’ll tell her together. We’re adults now, we can choose to spend the holidays wherever we like. 

Always reading my mind, my husband. 

The front door opened and shut, letting in the Sydney breeze along with it and a head of dark hair waltzed right in. Heading straight for the fridge, she reached for a small bag of apple slices just out of her reach. 

“Mommy!”

“Yes, baby, do you need some help?” I was already off my stool at the kitchen island and heading towards her. 

“Yes please!” She turned her shining eyes towards me, just as warm and comforting as her father’s. Her smile pushed her round cheeks upwards toward her eyes, just like his. Chan said she had my nose and he was more thankful for that than anything. He hated his nose. 

She was still reaching for the bag, knocking a bottle of water to the floor. “Whoops! I’ll get it Mommy.”

“Oh thank you Cece, that was very helpful of you.” She loved hearing these things, loved hearing how she helped someone. Anyone. More of her father’s features shining through, she just loved to help in any way she could. I opened the bag and handed it to her. “There you go, baby .Do you want to watch some TV before your grandmas and grandpas come over for dinner?” 

Once in a while, all the grandparents came over for dinner to spend time with the three of us. They wanted to see their Cece before all the holiday craziness came and they had to get busy with everything else that came with the holidays. 

With the house smelling like grilled meat and rice, the doorbell rang like chimes in the wind, a touch from Chris when we bought the house. Cece ran to the door, yelling “I got it, I got it!” She opened the door to both sets of grandparents flinging their arms wide open at the sight of her at the door, her red sparkly dress swinging as she lept for them. They hugged her, bags swinging from their arms as all four of them came around her. 

I was luckier than most with my in-laws. They had welcomed me with the most open of arms into their family and made me feel like a part of the family, like they had always been there just waiting for me. My parents got along with them, his mother bonding with mine over their love of plants and house decor. Our fathers got along with sports, the only issue ever being who was paying for the wedding (they both wanted to pay for it). They loved me and I loved them. I knew this situation wasn’t common, so I cherished it whenever they all came together. 

“Cece, are you going to let them come in?” I laughed while they hugged her, knowing they wouldn't let go until she did. 

“Oh, it’s fine, she’s fine.” Chris’s mom said while the others were putting their belongings in the hall closet. She picked up her favorite grandchild and held her until she arrived in the living room with all her toys neatly stacked. Celeste had a habit that she picked up from her father of finding joy in organization. It had to come from him because it definitely did not come from me.

As the other grandparents gathered around Cece on the floor, my dad followed me out the back door to find Chris hard at work grilling. They hugged and we watched Chris grill. 

“How’s the producing business, Chris?” Neither took their eyes off the meat.

“It’s good! Keeps me busy, but I get to meet celebrities so it has it’s perks. And the company is still good with letting me off for time with Cece. So I can’t complain.”

“That’s because you still work on your days off. I still haven’t been able to stop him.”

I sighed and gave Chan’s back a reproachful look. My dad chuckled. 

“Honey, you haven’t been able to stop him from working since you started dating. Remember Valentine’s Day a couple years ago?”

“Hey!” Chan finally turned around, mouth open in mock shock. “You said you were okay! You know how hard it was to get Tiger JK to actually sit down and work with me.”

“I do! And I’m still proud you managed to get it done in time.” I smiled and took his free hand that wasn’t holding a giant pair of tongs. “That doesn’t mean I can’t be a little salty that you had to miss our second Valentines together.” His eyes squinted. 

“And have I made it up to you every year since?” He cocked his eyebrow. 

“I need a beer! Anybody else?” My dad quickly jumped up to head back inside for said refreshment. I shot Chan a smirk. 

“Was that necessary?”

“Hey, he could’ve done the math. Cece was born in November.” I rolled my eyes. His tone suddenly got serious. “Do you want to tell them now or after we eat?”

“After. Let them enjoy their time with her now.”

*

“You what?!”

The plates were cleared, Cece was passed out on the couch watching her favorite show, and the news had just come out. My mother, ever the drama queen, was fanning herself from the news. My father was helping her, if only to save himself the pain of a scolding from her later. 

“Well, they’re adults now, honey. They can do what they like.”

“But they’re taking her for the holidays too, Richard. Did you think about that?”

“Yes I did. They’ll be fine, they’ll be back afterwards.”

“And besides,” Chan’s mom interjected. “You can spend it with us! We can get wine-drunk and celebrate Christmas ourselves without the kids.”

Chris grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers. My mother just watched us smile at each other. 

“We miss Korea, mom. And Christmas is such a wonderful time of year, I just think this year we want to spend it differently. We’ll pick you up some of your favorite face cream while we’re there, too.”

“So the trip won’t be a total waste for you!” Chris tried to placate her, but her face remained unchanged. “Alright Mom, what about this: when we get back, you guys can have Celeste for a whole weekend, just her and you.” She perked up at that.

“Friday to Monday?”

“You can even bring her back Monday night.” Chris, ever the diplomat. A rush of pride went through me. My mom thought about it for a moment. 

“Deal.” 

Chris’s dad piped in.

“What about us?!”

*

Celeste did really well for her first plane ride. We arrived at the Incheon Airport around noon, but we didn’t know what awaited us outside until we stepped outside to our car waiting to take us to our hotel. Driven by Hyunjin with a passenger seat occupied by Felix, they waved us over before climbing out of the car to fling their arms open for Celeste, who stopped halfway to them, noticing the white fluff all around. 

“Daddy, what’s that?” she asked, her voice dripping in wonder. Her eyes shining with pure curiosity, she ignored her uncle’s waiting arms to hold her arms out to catch the falling flakes. They disappeared as quickly as they had landed in her hand, but that didn’t stop her from trying to catch all of the snowflakes in her immediate vicinity. She jumped and reached, trying to reach the clouds they were falling from. This insanely cute action was met with laughter from all angles, and before she knew it, she was hoisted into the air by her uncle to get a closer look. 

Chris and I stood by and let them catch up and enjoy the cold.

“She’s so cute. She takes after you, you know.” I placed a hand on my stomach. 

“I dunno. Maybe this one will be just as cute.”

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[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 ꒱ 이민호

summary : it's coming up on your boyfriends' death anniversary, and something's finally telling you to let go

genre : angst, minho x afab!reader tws : angst, death, grief, depression, various substance abuse, mentioned suicide, various suicidal thoughts, very slight reference to religion author notes : maybe i cried idk word count : 3.4k

skin to skin. it’s what most humans crave. the contact and warmth of someone; romantically, familiar, platonically. all humans are the same. we are designed to crave a comfort since birth, to form connections beyond intellect. we look for anyone and everyone who could fill that desire… and when abandoned, nothing will ever feel like enough.

“you’d never leave me, right?” you said, tracing small circles on the tan skin of your boyfriend, whomst you love with your entire heart. he was everything to you, and you him, “you’ll stay with me forever, right?”

you bounced lightly as he chuckled, “of course,” you felt his hand grip your bare side harder, “forever.”

“promise me.” you held up a pinky, and his eye cracked open at the shade behind his lids.

he stroked your side gently as he brought his other hand up, locking his smallest finger with yours, “i promise, y/n.”

the bitter reality hit as your eyes opened. you couldn't figure out the time, and honestly you didn't want to check. the void of color in your room — life — was enough to always put a dampen on your spirit, and ultimately, day. you turned over, and for it being a relatively good dream, you were drenched in sweat. you reached across the bed, the sheets wrinkled where you hadn't been sleeping. but, you were alone, and it sunk whatever was left of your heart.

you grumbled, borderline whined as you turned over. you don't know why there was an actual pain shooting throughout your body. you don't know why the impending desire to just lay there until the end of time consumed you. you don't know why your eyes teared up, creating a watercolor painting against the dimmed colors of your room.

you don't know why you were always questioning what was real and fake nowadays. you could've been caught up in a nightmare — you figured you could wake up any moment and not feel this jaded in your everyday life — but it never subsided.

you didn't want people to tell you that everything would all be okay. you didn't want people to tell you that depression passes. you didn't need anyone to know that what you felt right now was less than human. you didn't need the memories to remind you of what can't be washed away; of what you can't get back. you didn't want to lose those moments in time though, like you had lost the real thing, because it was all you had left, but knowing that you couldn't make any more felt like ripping stitches.

it was acid on a never healing wound knowing that peace was something you only felt when asleep. and the only way you got to sleep nowadays was with the aid of various drugs.

it was an unhealthy habit. a struggle you knew shouldn't feel as good as it did. but a vice is still a vice whether it has that name or not.

your hand reached to the side table, finding your phone and ultimately leaving it face down. you continued to search until your hand found a rattling bottle — an orange pill bottle — that peers would say you practically lived off of. and you did. only ever feeling remotely like yourself when a couple were thrown to the back of your throat to dissolve into your bloodstream.

you truthfully didn't know the dose you were supposed to be taking, everything dulled down by your seemingly never ending high — you never being sober because it was too hard to — and you definitely didn't know why your psychologist kept prescribing them. maybe she had no idea that you were on the edge of a cliff, just desperate for an excuse to topple off it, but you found it hard to believe that she was that bad at her job.

you felt like you were just a lifeless vessel being controlled by the fumes clouding your brain. yet, if you wanted to stop, you would, right? it wasn't an addiction if it was willing, was it?

maybe. but truthfully your secondhand high was too strong for you to care. so, you lit up another carelessly thrown about blunt, inhaling the smoke until you were completely numb. until you couldn't feel your fingertips. until you couldn't form a coherent thought.

until you couldn't remember why you wanted to die, too.

you trudged the scene your bedroom was in: clothes, packages, bottles and other miscellaneous things littering the hardwood. despite being alive, you felt like you were drowning. a physical sting in your chest. a deep sigh that never escaped your lips. you were walking on broken glass with every step, but the pain would never be comparable to the turmoil you already find yourself in.

if this wasn't hell, you didn't want to know what was.

you never turned on any lights, the windows being covered by curtains 24/7. you could see through the flimsy fabric that the sun was barely still up, or maybe it was just gracing the sky with its' presence. you didn't know, and if you didn't have to make a living in a capitalist society, you wouldn't care either.

you would be contempt living (more like going about) your day inside the confines of your home. sure, you hated being alone, especially with your thoughts, but you were never truly alone; haunted by the ghosts that paint your walls in a dark shade of red; and you were never sober enough to think anymore.

never letting yourself feel the gravity of grief, quoted from your therapist, is not allowing you to receive closure, to heal from the loss of someone you gave your entire heart too.

however, closure, in your fucked up mind, meant forgetting. and as much as it pained you, chained you down in the depths, you couldn't let go of the memories. even if you ended up dead because of them. at least, you thought there was a chance you'd be able to meet again that way.

you weren't in denial, like your all-knowing doctor seems to think. no, you knew what happened. you remember it clearly despite trying your hardest to cloud it out. you couldn't be going through the stages of grief if they never changed — they couldn't even be considered stages if they've turned into your despised lifestyle.

you loved, but hated the never changing facial expression. you loved, but hated the liquid that made you so slurred. you loved, but hated the fact that someone you couldn't have left you with the door wide open. you loved, but hated knowing that maybe you weren't good enough to make him want to stay. you loved, but hated that you are still so in love with him when he's, where? if he could see you in this state, would he be able to say that he once loved you too? if he could see you crying every night, dressed in the clothes of his that you have yet to wash, would he still think that out was the only way in?

he was your everything, even after everything had ended.

so, why weren't you his last thought? why didn't he even have the decency to write you a letter in embodiment of his dying wish? why couldn't he just give you the answers you used to so desperately yearn for? even in death, he had to be the selfish one. wasn't leaving enough? you didn't know.

but, it's been 12 months.

those answers never came, and now you didn't expect them to magically appear. not after you tore apart your entire apartment, inch by inch, crevice by crevice, coming up empty like it was a cruel fucking joke. like you were a rat trapped in a cage, on the hunt for cheese that was behind an unreachable wall.

you used to wonder if you had done something differently, complained less, listened more, would he not just be the rain that splotched your skin.

it's as if the sky was mocking you. as if it's asking if you really had the audacity to be upset with something you couldn't control.

but you were only half alive, barely half a mind to think of anything rational when your stability was ripped from under you like it was just a flimsy rug to being with.

you were free falling, and you never learned how to fly.

“y/n,” your eyes tried focusing as best they could, but the flashing lights were making your head spin more than it should, “we have to check inventory before opening. the boss said someone’s been stealing — and we’re not accusing you because we know what you take.”

the woman in front of you, your coworker of a couple years brought her hand to rest against your forehead. “are you okay? you seems worse than normal.”

“u-uh, yeah.” she eyed you in disbelief, “i’m good.”

you weren’t, but you still followed her behind the bar to crouch down and count the bottles. you’d probably use most of them anyways, as tonight was always the busiest of the week.

truth is, you weren’t even sure what number you were on when you fell onto your butt, catching your coworkers attention. the booming music making your chest bounce with the bass, and the in-time lights spinning and flashing and changing was throwing you off.

even if you were crossed, you’ve never had a problem getting your work done. you could even fight back the nausea, the discomfort and dizziness that it caused your body — but today, today was different.

you weren’t in-tune with anything. not being able to beat the funk. even when you tried to stand back up, you put your hand on a bunch of napkins, slipping and falling right back to the ground. it was frustrating, borderline humiliating. even as she tried to help you up out of the good in her heart.

you felt tears brimming, “y/n. it’s okay, let’s just get up. i can take inventory. you seem like you need to rest for a little bit before opening.”

stupid, useless, unbelievable.

why couldn’t today just go the way it was supposed to? you kept wondering if this was a cruel joke. today of all days had to be the worst on top of everything it stood for. it had to be someone’s doing. and whoever’s been controlling your life must’ve been one sick individual.

you, at least, hoped they were happy in your misery.

you huffed, forcing yourself onto your knees, hands splayed over them. you looked at the bones of your knuckles, wondering how hard one had to hit to get knocked out — you were always better unconscious than conscious.

then, your eyes set on a clear bottle. it was filled to the brim with a blue liquid that you didn’t even bother to read before pulling it off the shelf. you opened it and took a long swig. when you finally put it down, your coworker had a horrified look on her face.

you gave the bottle up easily when she reached for it, “y/n… what’s the matter with you today? you need help. seriously, i’m so sick of you fucking everything up!” she grabbed at your hands, trying to get you to stand up, but you were too heavy for her to even begin to move; a dead weight, if you will. “oh my god, get up! all you do is get high and throw a pity party! how long is this going to be? how do you even live like this?”

it was a question you heard often. how do you even live like this? but they didn’t know living would be such a painstakingly long journey. sure, maybe they were only asking because they cared, because they were genuinely curious, but you had no answer.

and you feared you never would.

was living truly worse than dying? all signs would point to yes. maybe he had the right idea after all…

you heard whispering above you, “it’s his death anniversary today, j-just — let’s just send her home. we can deal with it tonight, right? customers aren’t going to want to see her drinking their drinks. help me get her up. she’s miserable.”

you felt like you had lost all control — seemingly having none to begin with — you got up on your own, something within possessing you, and stumbled to the door.

maybe your coworker was right. maybe you do fuck everything up. maybe you were miserable. maybe that’s why you’re here and he’s not. maybe that’s why you can’t seem to grasp the sand that keeps slipping through your fingers. maybe you were better off with the same fate as the one you loved so dearly. maybe the depression would finally consume you, like your therapist said it would if you didn’t intervene, like you’ve been praying day and night for.

you wanted to die, but you always thought it would’ve been in his arms.

now, you were cold. a wondering spirit searching for the only thing that could set them free; and what you feared is knowing that that thing wasn’t something that you’d ever find.

you swear you could feel a hand on you. a grip on your shoulder that kept pulling you back. but maybe that was your diagnosis of trauma-induced hallucinations. because truthfully, your derealization and depersonalization had gotten so bad your doctor thought about prescribing you anti-psychotics.

however, you’d have to un-ghost your psychiatrist for that to ever happen.

your breathing was labored, the earth spinning too quickly for your liking. you tried to blink away the blurriness, but the sky was also too bright, despite the rain, making you squint.

it seemed everything was retaliating all at once. it’s said karma catches up with bad people, and were you finally falling victim to it?

no, you were just falling.

falling so hard that you can’t even remember what happened next. did you pass out after hitting your head on the concrete? did you die? you could only hope for so much.

your eyes opened, but the world seemed different, colorful once again; a dusty orange hue to the air. you looked around confused as to how you ended up back in your room.

did someone find you? so you hadn’t hit your head hard enough to die; maybe next time, you thought.

you looked to your feet as they left wet footprints behind on a clean floor. all of your boyfriend’s clothes were folded nicely on the bed, as if someone had just washed them. it no longer smelled of mildew and various rotting substances. you couldn’t even find the couple grams that were on your nightstand this morning. but there was also another smell wafting through the air; a smell of tea and cherry blossoms.

much like that night 12 months ago.

the night everything in your world had come crashing down upon you. the night you lost every part of yourself to the grim reaper. the night you lost the game you thought you were winning. the night you lost the only love of your life.

the night minho, your boyfriend of six years, committed suicide.

he left you to relive every waking moment without him like life was a cruel fucking joke on you. left you with the pitiful looks friend and family would give you. left you with funeral preparations and arrangements. left you with heaps of chrysanthemums. left you to weep as the cherry blossoms fell from the trees and snow from the sky.

he left you in every season, and you never knew why.

you never knew why the radio static sounded like him. never knew why the smoke would bounce off his silhouette. never knew why you prayed to someone who clearly wasn’t real — who clearly didn’t care to hear your pleas — but, god did it bother you once you’d figured out you wasted all that time. you never knew the why of a lot of questions, and it left you feeling nothing but empty; numb; jaded; hallow; anything that spelled out that you were just a walking corpse with very low cognitive recognition.

you found it hard to believe he loved you as much as he did. but if face-to-face, you’d forget that thought ever crossed your mind, because at the end of the day you were beyond devoted to him. he was your soulmate, and you’d find him in any lifetime, you were sure of it.

so, why couldn’t you let go? why couldn’t you do yourself the favor and move on? whether that be in this or the next life. why couldn’t you follow his lead and find him once again.

maybe you would finally awake from this torturous nightmare —

“minho?” you all but shouted out against the gentle breeze of an opened window, “minho? are you there? is that you?”

you heard the pattern of steps on wood, soon met with the face you’d not grown to forget. he looked confused, concerned at your obvious state of disbelief, “are you okay, baby?”

you felt his hands on you, watching as they slowly followed the length of your arms, finally pulling you into his chest.

you wanted to ask how, but you know that you only ever see him when you’re high. but you didn’t feel high right now; and you obviously knew what it would feel like if you were, after abusing anything you could get your hands on for a year.

you wanted to come up with any excuse, but the very real scent of his cologne (that had faded from his hoodies after a couple months) filled your nostrils. you felt comforted, which hasn’t been something you felt for what seemed like decades. minho was the only one who brought you solace, but he had left you. so how was he — no, how were you here right now?

god, you must’ve finally hit your wall. you must’ve finally found the breaking point and flew past it. you had finally gone insane, that was the only real explanation you could come up with.

your therapist said it would happen if you didn’t quit, but why would you ever listen to her? hell, maybe you should’ve. but, if this was insane maybe you didn’t really mind being enclosed in his arms.

but it felt wrong. how could you spend months of your precious life grieving the fact that he was dead, if he’s hugging you right now? how could you spend all your time getting high enough to not feel sad if he was right here in front of you?

his flesh felt real, but so did the ache in your heart.

“h-how?” he hummed, not entirely hearing what you said. you pushed him back, but the grip on your forearms remained, “how are you he-here? how are you alive? y-you killed yourself, minho.”

he seemed confused, a slight smile still adorning his features though, like he couldn’t believe the prank you were playing on him. but to you, he looked so real, just as you couldn’t erase from your memory — a snapshot in time that you captured oh-so-long ago.

“you’re dead, i-i was there. i buried you!” the room seemed to lose all color — like it’d been splashed with arctic water, a shiver running up your spine — which once had an orange hue, was now a dark shade of blue, like the depths of the ocean.

his face lost the smile, ice lacing his fingertips almost like he had been deep in the dirt rotting away. “i found you minho. i-i tried to save you but it didn’t work! i tried, i swear i did, b-but,” tears brimmed your eyes, quickly making their way in valleys down your cheeks. your voice was weak, but you hadn’t used it much in the last year anyways, “you were dead, minho! the emt’s pronounced you dead at the scene. y-you’re not real. y-you left me. i watched them put you in the ground. i cried for hours, minho! i stayed with you for days. i prayed to a fucking god i don’t believe in to make you come back to me! i only ever saw you inside my head, when i wished upon every star it was real! minho, you’re gone.”

his words were a push to the knife that only ever danced upon your skin, never plunging and never drawing blood, “then, why won’t you let me go?”

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