#{ and I miss them constantly in replies even when checking them over }

[wosohours]

commitment - leah williamson x reader

You always heard about “don’t date athletes” and “athletes are players," but of course when good advice comes your way, you ignore it.

It was a bit insane to think that you could start talking to the one girl who could not be bothered with being in a committed relationship. That gut feeling telling you “Don’t get too close”, “Don’t entertain her”, or “Don’t fall in too deep” but you once again ignored it.

Honestly, you could not help it. It was like a craving to be around Leah all the time. It almost felt like an obsession of wondering, “What is she doing?”, “Where is she?”, “Is she thinking about me?”

Constantly checking your phone to see if she messaged you. Looking at her social media every hour on the hour. You were in deep and you knew it would eventually lead to hurting yourself. Yet, being someone with the typical heart-eye delusions, the thoughts in the back of your mind kept saying, “She will change for you.”

Trying to distance yourself never worked because every time you were at a safe enough distance she kept pulling you right back in. Leah knew that she had some type of hold on you and constantly used that to her advantage.

Just last week she was barely texting and calling you back. You understood that she was not obligated to do so since you two were not officially together, but you were most definitely a little…maybe even a lot more than “just friends.” The dates, the romantic gestures, and the PDA all confirmed that but you could never understand her constant pushing and pulling.

Leah knows exactly how to make it up to you though. She texted three days ago saying how sorry she was not keeping in contact, how she misses you like crazy and how she planned a whole day for just the two of you. You were strong this time, wanting her to feel how she makes you feel by not texting back and declining her calls those three days. Yet one slip of weakness and here you are right back in her bed.

____________________

“I missed you so much you have no ideas.” Leah tells you as she feathers kisses all over your face as you both lay in bed naked.

“Oh really? I would not have guessed.” you said as you sat up from her chest and moved away from her a little. She froze looking at you with that cute frown that is usually stuck on her face and said, “Baby I told you I am truly sorry, I really mean it. I have just been a bit busier since the launch of my third book. You know this.”

Leah wraps an arm around your waist pulling you back down closer to her. “I am here now though, aren’t I?” You hesitantly relax into her and say, “I know but a simple text or any sort of reply would have been nice. I just missed you.” You can feel Leah smiling against your hairline after she lays a soft kiss there. “I missed you too babe.”

After a moment of you two just enjoying each other's company she says quietly, “How about we get up, you come shower with me, and then we can go out and get some breakfast?”

____________________

Once again the cycle repeats itself with Leah distancing herself. No longer answering calls or texts. Although it hurt, you thought it would be best to leave things the way they were to protect your peace, even pushing yourself to be petty enough to block her number. It was almost like you were putting her up to the test to see how far she would go to get your attention.

Although she did swipe up on one of your Instagram stories of you in a tight shirt with no bra saying, “I’ve seen it, now delete it,” but you ignored that as well.

____________________

Since being friends with Leah for many years you have grown closer with some of the Arsenal girls and with them loving your company, a couple of them have asked you to join them in celebrating the end of their USA tour at a local pub. People are either mingling by the bar, doing karaoke, or sitting around the reserved private table in the back.

Currently, you are at the bar getting a drink and you can feel Leah’s eyes burning into the back of your skull.

“What’s going on with you two? You have been more grumpy than usual,” Katie teases Leah as she sits in the empty seat next to her. “She's ignoring me,” Leah sighs, still looking at you.

“What have you done this time?” Alessia asks from across the table. “I’ve been kind of avoiding her again. I don’t mean to but I don’t know what I’m doing.” Leah replies.

“Have you tried talking to her about how you feel? Do you actually want to have a serious relationship with her?” Katie asks.

“No, I haven't talked to her. Every time I try to talk about us my mouth goes dry and all of a sudden I can’t think, and of course, I want something serious with her I’m just nervous,” Leah shakes her head and looks down at her fidgeting fingers.

Lia, who has been listening to the conversation from her seat next to Alessia, speaks up, “Well you might need to tell her soon because the bartender is flirting with her heavily.”

This causes Leah’s head to shoot up in your direction and sees the bartender smiling at you and reaching her hand over to rest on your forearm. “Yeah, not happening.” Leah quickly stands up from her seat and pushes past people to make her way over to you.

When she gets to you she gently wraps an arm around your waist not to startle you and pulls you back into her chest. She gives her glare that she usually saves for the pitch to the bartender, making her quickly release your arm and turn her attention to another customer waiting at the other end of the bar.

Leah smiles when you relax into her and she whispers in your ear, “You’ve been avoiding me.” You slowly turn around until you are face to face with her and say. “Hurts doesn’t it?”

“I deserve that. Why don’t we go have a chat and I will explain myself?” Leah says, moving her hand to grab yours. “Really? You want to talk now and here?” you scoff.

Leah just nods and gently pulls your hand so that you follow her out to the back patio of the pub. She sits on a bench that is a little bit away from the loud building and pulls your hand down to sit next to her.

“You know you shouldn’t just flirt with anyone, she could've just been charming you into being her next one nightstand,” she says.

“Hmm, pot meets kettle huh? You would know,” you scoff pulling your hand away from hers.

“No, I wouldn’t, because we are more than that,” she firmly replies.

“It sure doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”

“I know,” she sighs, focusing on her shoes, “but I can explain.”

You look at her and slightly nod your head giving her the indication to keep talking.

“I love everything about us. I love how we are with each other. How easy it is to be around you and the connection that we have. I’m just scared of the reality of us being together because it seems too good to be true,” she confesses. “Don’t get me wrong I do want to be with you and I am serious about you but there is this nagging feeling in my head that I am going to screw it all up.”

You grab her hands gently and say, “That’s completely understandable Leah, I wish you would have communicated with me about how you felt earlier. However, you can’t make future assumptions about something you or we haven’t even tried yet. Neither of us has any idea of what could happen but it doesn’t mean push away and hide from it.”

You continue, “You are looking too far into the future when you should be focusing on right now. That self-sabotaging brain of yours is going to stall you for great things one day.” you giggle pushing her head away making her laugh too.

After the giggles die down she says, “You are completely right. If you allow me to give this…us another try I am willing to put my all into it. I just ask that you give me that reassurance.”

“I can give you that, but you have to promise to communicate with me.” you nod raising your hand to move a piece of hair out of her face.

“I promise to communicate my feelings to you,” she replies leaning into your hand.

You smile and stand up from the bench pulling her up with you to give her a hug resting your head against hers. Leah pulls back a bit to give you a few quick pecks on the lips causing you to giggle and move away.

“My girl,” she whispers, pulling you back against her and laying one last kiss on the side of your head.

____________________

Since that day Leah has kept her promise of communicating more and you have kept yours by reassuring her when she needed it. She even asked you to officially be with her a couple weeks later and it had felt as though something shifted in the air.

She was constantly texting, calling, and wanting to be attached to your hip. When you too were with each other in person she would constantly cling to you but you were okay with it since that is what you were wanting from the beginning.

[ddiidi]

bf!Bangchan x gn!reader (ot8 mentioned)

Masterlist

When he calls you clingy, so you distance yourself

Pt. 1

Next Pt. 2

!Warnings: angst, fake!texts, swearing (lmk if i missed anything)

Side-Note: I tried something new, I hope y'all like it :3

You and Chan had been dating for good 3 years now and just a few days ago it had been your anniversary and if anything, the past 3 years had been the best years of your life. You guys met when you were put in charge for one of Straykids's album and since then, the two of you grew really close. Of course Chan was a busy person, but he mad time for you whenever he could and never got mad at you for anything. Not even your clingy and sometimes overcaring personality, which had been a big problem in your previous relationships, bothered him. Or so you thought.

You were currently in the Kitchen of your apartment to make yourself breakfast. Chan stayed over last night to which you decieded, it would be for the best to sleep a little longer, and stay longer at work, even though you've still got to pack your things since you'll be moving soon.

You opened the fridge to get out some blueberries and other stuff, when you saw the Lunch made for Chan sitting in it, untouched.

You frowned and took your phone out, to notify him that you'll stop by at the studio to drop it off.

You let out a sigh and put your phone in your bag. I should just get over and drop it off, you thought to yourself and made your way down the hallway, between some boxes you've packed, while waiting for a reply the past hour. You stepped out the door, greeted by the shivering cold winter air and made your way to the studio, with your bag in one and chan's lunch in the other hand.

By the time you arrived at the building, you were freezing cold, mentally cursing yourself for not taking the car. You stepped inside the building, greeted by your co-workers. You gretted them back, making your way to the studio, knocking on the door once. No respond. You knocked twice. Again no respond. You decied to just let yourself in.

When you stepped in the room, you find a busy chan, howering over his Laptop, aggressivly clicking on his keyboard.

"Hey Babe, I texted you earlier but you didn't respond..you forgot your Lunch at my apartment, so I thought I'll bring it over" you said, and put the lunch next to him on his desk, with a smile on your face, which immediately dropped, when he just ignored you. You decided to shrug it off and came behind his chair, resting your chin on his shoulder.

"What are you working on?" No respond. "Chris do you hear what I say?" you ask and stare at him, but he just continues typing on his Lapotop. "Chris-" "Jesus fucking Christ Y/n, can't you just leave me alone?!" He bursted out and turned to you in his chair "But I-" you try to explain, just to be interrupted by him again "DON'T YOU GET THE HINT?!?" he yells, and you instantly stiff "Obviously I'm hearing what you say I'M NOT FUCKING DEAF OKAY?! I'm just ignoring you because I'm trying to have some alone time and do my fucking work without you constantly breathing down my neck!! Can't I just have like 5 minutes of alone time without your clingy ass being right here, next to me, like always asking me stupid questions and breakthing down my neck!?? And your overly caring personality is really getting too much, ever thought I left the Lunch there on purpose??? Or that I don't have time to constantly check my phone because I actually have work to do?????? Get you clingyness under control and LEAVE. ME. ALONE."

You didn't know what to say. You didn't even know if you should say something. You've never seen him like that. He sounded really mad, and you couldn't help but tremble and blinking your eyes so no tears could escape, but they did and didn't get unnoticed by Chan. "And here comes the river.." he sighed out and rubbed the bridge of his nose. You sobbed your cries in and turned around to leave, only mumbling out a weak "I'm sorry..." before rushing out of the room, running towards the exist, when you bump into Felix.

"Um Y/n is everything okay?" he asks, genuily worried but you just smile at him and nod, before hurrying to get home.

You just wanted to stay in bed for the rest of the day, but you couldn't even do that because you had to pack you things.

It's so cruel.

Everything is so cruel.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

[pastryfication]

Oscar with a brunette girlfriend who burns really, really, really easily in the sun

i loved writing this so thank you for requesting!! i didn’t specify the hair colour, so you can imagine whatever you want xx

it’s also based a bit on my parents (my dad burns so easily and my mum is constantly fussing over him), so i really hope you like it

beach day precautions | oscar piastri

the sun is glaring down with a fierce intensity that promises a day full of warmth, as you set up the towels. smoothing them out on the hot floor of sand and unpacking your things from the beach bag you brought is quickly done, and as soon as you ready yourself to lay down, oscar reaches for the sunscreen.

"hold still," he demands teasingly, squeezing a generous amount into his palm. you roll your eyes, but you don't resist. you know he's right. if you had your way, you'd probably be a lobster by midday.

his hands are gentle but thorough as he applies the sunscreen, ensuring every inch of your exposed skin is covered. while he works, he mutters something about spf 50 and how it should be spf 100, just to be safe. you smile, appreciating his care even if it borders on obsessive. it’s one of the many ways he shows he loves you.

when he is content with the job, he pulls back from you slightly, eyes roaming your body to make sure he got everything covered.

"you missed a spot," you tease, pointing to your nose.

oscar huffs in mock frustration but dabs a little extra sunscreen on your nose, making sure to spread it evenly. "there you go. happy now?"

"ecstatic," you reply, giving him a quick kiss before he can fuss over any other potential missed spots. “but now it’s your turn.”

after you’ve covered oscar in sunscreen as well, making sure to smooth your hands over every part of him, spending extra time on his abs, you’re ready to take on the beach.

the two of you spend the morning splashing in the surf, building sandcastles with nothing but your bare hands, and lying together on the towels, watching the waves crash onto the shore. every so often, oscar stops to check your skin, scanning for the telltale signs of a sunburn. despite the layers of sunscreen that he keep adding, you know it's only a matter of time.

by early afternoon, the inevitable happens. a pink tinge starts to appear on your shoulders. it's faint but unmistakable. oscar notices immediately. "alright, that's it," he declares, pulling his t-shirt from your bag. before you can protest, he's draping it over your shoulders, shielding you from the rays of the sun.

"osc, i'm fine," you insist, but he shakes his head, his expression solemn.

"no arguments. i don't want you getting burned." he gently adjusts the shirt to make sure it covers as much of your skin as possible. "we should head back under the umbrella.”

you sigh, knowing he's right, but you can't help but feel a bit disappointed that your beach time is over already. he seems to read your thoughts and smiles. "hey, we can still enjoy the beach from the shade. plus, it's a perfect excuse for some ice cream."

his optimism is contagious, and under the umbrella, with his shirt still draped over your shoulders, the two of you savor the sweet, cold treat. oscar sits close, his arm around you, as if shielding you from any more harm the sun might inflict.

"thank you," you say, leaning into him. “for taking care of me.”

"anytime," he replies, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "that’s what i’m here for."

[thedensworld]

Location App | C.Hs

Pairing: Vernon x reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: You finally found the right function of the share location apps

Vernon isn’t a man of many words—he’s a man of action. He doesn’t tell you to quit your job at the event organizing company or give up your dreams of becoming a writer. Instead, he quietly hands you an allowance and pays for a writing course, making it clear that he's got your back. He even takes it a step further by personally checking in on your progress almost every day, making sure you're staying on track.

When it comes to food, Vernon doesn’t bother asking about your favorite dishes. He just brings everything you could possibly want to the table. You might crave vanilla ice cream tonight, but he’s already stocked up on both vanilla and chocolate for tomorrow’s cravings, always anticipating your needs before you even voice them. And each time, your heart swells with gratitude for the way he cares for you.

Vernon isn’t one to hang out much, either. Even when he does go out twice a week to catch up with his friends, he never stays long—two hours at most before he's back home. Without missing a beat, he slips into your arms, eager to share everything about his day, all while showering you with the little tokens of affection he picked up for you along the way.

“What’s wrong?” Vernon’s voice breaks through your thoughts, his brows furrowed in concern.

You blink at him, raising your eyebrows in surprise. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem restless. Are you in pain?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

Every time he instinctively picks up on how you’re feeling or goes out of his way to make your life easier, you find yourself wanting to kiss him right then and there, overwhelmed by how effortlessly amazing he is as a boyfriend.

“What’s this?” you asked Vernon as he showed you an app he had just installed on your phone.

“It’s a shared location app. I’ll always know where you are, and you’ll know my location anytime you open it,” he explained, his tone casual.

Ever since you joined a writing course last year, you’ve started attending small gatherings with fellow authors, usually at libraries or cozy cafes.

“Since you’ve been going out more without me, I just want to make sure I know where you are,” Vernon added, his eyes glancing at yours for a reaction.

“You could always just text me,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“I know,” he replied, “but sometimes it’s better if you can have your day off without feeling the need to update me constantly. You should have fun and not worry about checking in.”

In the beginning, you found yourself using the app frequently, but after a few months, it slipped your mind. You could barely remember where the app was on your phone. Vernon, on the other hand, kept checking it now and then, making sure you were safe when you weren’t together. He never intruded but would casually ask about your day, subtly referencing the places you’d visited.

“How do you know?!” you exclaimed one afternoon when Vernon asked what you were doing at the flower shop near his work. You hadn’t mentioned anything because you were preparing a surprise for him.

“I saw your location this afternoon. I was surprised to see you so close by,” he admitted with a soft chuckle.

You grinned and pulled out a bouquet of flowers you had arranged just for him. “My friends and I attended a flower arrangement event, and I got these for you!”

His face softened, and he leaned in to kiss you. “Thanks, babe. I was actually planning to drop by and see you, but things got crazy at work. These are beautiful—thank you.”

With a warm smile, he kissed you again, and the simple moment of shared affection made you realize how much thought he put into even the smallest aspects of your relationship.

*

"Hey babe, I see you’re at the convenience store. Can you grab me a tampon and some sweets?" you called him, feeling curious after checking his location and noticing he was near her apartment.

“Yeah, I’m actually about to head over to see you and pick up your monthly essentials,” he replied smoothly.

"Babe, are you near the snack aisle? Could you grab me some chips, too?"

"Alright, love. Anything else?" he asked with a smile in his voice.

"A milkshake, please? Hehe."

"Snacks and a milkshake coming right up," he said, humoring your request.

“Wait, you’re at Kimbap Heaven? Can you swing by the pet shop two doors down? Kiwi hasn’t been eating her regular dry food!” you called after you found out he was out around Hongdae.

"Send me a list of everything you want me to grab, and I’ll get it done," he said, always efficient and patient.

You smiled, feeling so lucky to have someone who knew how to make even the smallest errands feel like an act of love.

As the days went by, you found yourself checking Vernon's location more and more. It became almost a habit. Whenever you craved something or needed him to pick up something, you'd open the app, locate him, and call him with your requests.

One evening, you were lying on the couch when you checked the app and noticed Vernon was at the grocery store. Without hesitation, you grabbed your phone and dialed him.

“Babe, can you pick up some ice cream? And maybe a few packs of those cookies I love?” you asked casually.

“Already got the cookies in the cart, but I’ll grab the ice cream for you now,” he replied, used to your requests by this point.

A few days later, you noticed him at the mall. Your mind immediately went to that cute hoodie you’d been eyeing. You picked up the phone again.

“Hey, babe, I see you’re at the mall. Could you stop by that clothing store and see if they have the hoodie I wanted in stock?”

“Sure, love. I’m already near that area. I’ll check it out.”

It became a little routine—wherever Vernon went, you’d check his location and call him to ask for favors. He never complained, always happy to run the errands or pick up whatever you needed. You loved how he made you feel so taken care of, and he seemed to enjoy it too, never missing a beat.

"Where is he?" you muttered, surprised when you couldn’t find Vernon’s location on the app. His profile was completely offline, leaving only yours visible on the map. You had texted him earlier, letting him know you’d be out with a friend, but that was over three hours ago, and he still hadn’t replied.

You didn’t want to call him. After all, you’d been asking for his help a lot through the location app lately. Maybe he had turned it off intentionally because he was busy, you thought, trying not to overthink it.

Just as you were about to distract yourself, the sound of your door unlocking caught your attention. Kiwi, your cat, sprinted toward the door, her sixth sense alerting her that only one person could be invading her territory—Vernon. Sure enough, he stepped in, holding Kiwi in one arm and a paper bag from your favorite bakery in the other.

You let out a squeal of excitement. "How did you know I wanted this?" you exclaimed, rushing over to grab the bag from his hands.

Vernon smiled warmly. "I saw your Instagram story where you said you missed the cake. I checked around and found a branch that still had some, so I picked one up for you."

Your heart melted on the spot. In a fit of affection, you scooped Kiwi from his arms and said, “Kiwi, listen carefully—Chwe Vernon is your only father. If anyone else claims they’re your dad, they’re lying!”

Vernon burst out laughing at your playful words, but then your mind drifted back to his location being turned off. Your smile faded into a pout as you looked at him.

“I couldn’t see your location today,” you told him, a little hint of disappointment in your voice.

“Ah, yeah, I turned it off,” he replied casually. “Why?”

“If I’d known you were on your way here, I would’ve asked you to grab some tissues,” you said, half-jokingly.

Vernon chuckled. "Tissues? I actually got you some in the car, i accidentally left them. I figured you were running low, so I picked some up yesterday."

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Thank you! You always think of everything.”

He smiled softly, stepping closer. “Honestly, I like surprising you like this, getting what you need or want before you ask. That’s why I turned off my location today. It feels more special.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling even more grateful for his thoughtful nature. He always managed to find ways to care for you in his own quiet, yet deeply meaningful, way.

"You want to get married, babe?" you asked playfully, your voice full of gratitude as you grinned up at Vernon. He let out a laugh, clearly amused by your sudden question.

“You want to marry me because of this?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Of course!” you exclaimed, holding up the bakery bag. “This is amazing! You shouldn’t underestimate your thoughtfulness and how considerate you are. It’s everything I could want.”

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “Alright, then,” he said, leaning in closer with a mischievous smile. “Let’s get married.”

Your heart fluttered, and for a moment, you both stood there, the playful banter hanging in the air. But behind the jokes, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of what he’d just said linger, making the moment even sweeter.

[dilfl0v3rss]

ony is the best baby daddy like he just has that energyyy 😫

rightttttt like he gets the kids on time and if he’s late he will always let you know. he knows how to do his daughters hair and always makes sure his son has a haircut. his kids are always dressed nice and he always makes sure they’re taking care of each other as well as taking care of their beautiful mother.

he still finds himself looking out for you too, always telling the kids to “order sum for mommy” when he takes them out to eat or to “always make sure mommy’s not working too hard”. even on days he isn’t supposed to have them he’d gladly take them if you were feeling overwhelmed. if you’re feeling sick he’ll literally sleep at your house, soup and medicine sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch as he slept just incase you were to wake up in the middle of the night.

he’d constantly “forget” money at your house after he leaves too, telling you to “just get yourself sum nice”. if you give the money back anyways he’d give it to his oldest child, telling them to put it in your wallet for him.

when it’s his weekend with the kids he’d call you every couple of hours to let you know he has everything under control since he knows how worried you could get when you haven’t heard from him i awhile.

he always speaks highly of you to the kids, telling his daughters stories of when the two of you were young and in love and telling his sons stories of how strong you were for him when he couldn’t be strong for himself. your kids would honestly be what got the two of you back together. they’d constantly tell you the stories their father would tell them, reminding you of how happy the two of you used to be and making you realize that you didn’t even know why the two of you called it quits in the first place.

as soon as you called ony he’d answer on the first ring, throwing millions of questions at you since you never really called unless he had the kids. you’d shut him up by asking if he could come over to talk for a little in which he replied almost instantly with a yes. he’d be over there in less than fifteen minutes letting you lead him to your bedroom to talk just incase your kids came downstairs for some water or a late night snack.

of course the two of you didn’t get to talk for more than ten minutes, his dick shoved deep into you as he held his hand over your mouth. “shhh mama you gotta be quiet. ion want you t’wake the kids” he’d whisper, fucking into you deeper as he watched your teary eyes roll to the back of your skull. you’d mumble back a muffled “mhm” as you felt the pad of his thumb begin to circle your clit. you’d whine and moan for him loader and loader, turning him on to the point where his grunts and groans began to come out at a higher volume as well. soon enough the both of you were deep in bliss, fucking on each other just like you used to. you’d tell him how much you missed him and how you’ve never stopped loving him and he’d gladly say it back, deepening his stroke as he left passionate kisses on your lips.

as the two of you finished ony would lay you back down, letting sleep claim you as he moved towards the door to check on his little angels. as soon as he turned the doorknob loud shuffles could he heard from the hallway, the sound of a bunch of feet running towards one of the bedrooms and little whispers of “sh sh shh” and “be quiet” coming from it as he made his way down the hall to check on his “sleeping” children. he couldn’t help but smile when he seen them cuddled up together on a large blanket of the floor, some of the smaller ones in bed with the oldest. they had different rooms, but chose to sleep together often since they were all so close.

ony couldn’t help but notice the small smiles on each of their faces, nothing but excitement and joy rushing through them as they thought about how happy much happier their parents will be now that they’re together again.

i didn’t even mean to write this i just let my brain leak all over the place…

[fictionally-driven]

In Sickness and in Health - Part 1

Pairing: Jiyan x f! reader, Scar x f! reader (Separate) Plot: Some headcanons on how WuWa men would take care of a sick f! reader followed by a small plot on them finding the reader to be ill. trigger warnings: illness, caregiving, nausea, vomiting, unconventional remedies, predefined relationships, mentions of pregnancy (no one is pregnant!) , pet names

AN: Part 2 will be Mortefi and Calcharo, Part 3 will be Aalto and Yuanwu. Inspired by @local-x-reader 's work - Flowers for me?

JIYAN

Headcanons:

Ever since you and Jiyan started dating, his medicinal gourd has become your personalized first-aid kit. Allergies bothering you? He has antihistamines at the ready. Monthly menstrual woes? He stocks up on the best menstrual products and painkillers. Prone to migraines? He never forgets to carry tablets. Jiyan is always prepared to care for you at a moment’s notice.

Jiyan's keen senses pick up on your illness before you even realize it. The slightest change in your behavior or the faintest hint of discomfort doesn't escape his notice. He's there with a gentle hand on your forehead, a soft question about how you're feeling, even before you can put it into words.

Jiyan's cooking skills come in handy when you’re feeling under the weather. If you have stomach problems, he’ll make something light and easy to digest like a soothing broth or plain rice with some gentle herbs. If you’re suffering from cramps, he’ll whip up a meal rich in omega-3 fatty acids, such as a salmon dish or chia seed pudding. For colds, his go-to is a hearty soup filled with anti-inflammatory ingredients like turmeric and ginger. His cooking isn't just delicious; it's a heartfelt remedy tailored to your needs.

The General in him takes a backseat when you're sick, letting the compassionate medic take over. Jiyan becomes incredibly attentive, constantly checking on you, ensuring you're comfortable and have everything you need.

Jiyan is always on top of everything when it comes to taking care of you. He keeps track of your medication schedule, making sure you never miss a dose. He adjusts the room temperature to your comfort, brings you extra blankets, and even stays up late to monitor your condition. If you have a fever, he gently wipes your forehead with a cool cloth, and if you're nauseous, he's there with a basin, ready to hold your hair in place while calming you down with soothing words.

To brighten your day, Jiyan will bring you a bouquet of your favorite flowers. He knows how much you love them, and their presence always brings a smile to your face, no matter how ill you feel.

Returning from your latest mission, you could feel every step weighing heavier than the last. The water you had drunk during the mission had left your throat feeling like sandpaper, and a fever had begun to creep up on you. But this was a busy time for everyone, and you couldn't afford to show any weakness. You pushed through, ignoring the throbbing in your head and the chill settling in your bones.

Jiyan was away in Jinzhou for some official business. You didn’t want to bother him with something as trivial as a cold, so when your Pangu terminal rang, you straightened up and forced a cheerful tone.

"Hey, Jiyan!" you greeted, trying to mask the hoarseness in your voice.

"Hello, love," Jiyan's voice came through, warm and comforting. "How was the mission?"

"Exhausting," you replied, attempting a laugh that came out more like a cough. "But nothing I can't handle. Just really tired, you know?"

Jiyan’s keen senses picked up the strain in your voice. "Are you sure you're just tired? You sound a bit off."

"Yeah, yeah, just tired," you reassured him, forcing a smile even though he couldn’t see it. "I’ll be fine after a bit of rest tonight."

"Alright," he said, though his voice carried a hint of doubt. "Make sure you get plenty of rest. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Of course. Talk to you soon, Jiyan."

You ended the call and sighed, leaning against the wall for a moment before pushing yourself off to file your mission report. The sooner you finished, the sooner you could collapse into bed.

You were slower than usual as you prepared the report, almost dozing off in between. What would usually take you an hour, took you three this time. As soon as you filed the report, you pushed yourself off the chair, ready to greet your bed. The sky was littered with scars and you could hear the chatter of the Rangers who were allocated to the night shift. By the time you headed towards your allocated room, your vision was starting to blur with fatigue and fever. You barely registered the figure waiting by your door until you got closer.

"Jiyan!?" you whispered, shocked to see him standing there with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

Before you could say anything else, Jiyan closed the distance between you and placed his palm against your forehead, his expression shifting to one of deep concern.

"You’re burning up," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?"

"I didn’t want to worry you," you mumbled, leaning into his touch. "You have so much going on already."

Jiyan shook his head, slipping an arm around your waist to support you. "You’re my priority too, love. Come on, let's get you inside."

He guided you into your room, helping you sit down on the edge of the bed. Setting the flowers aside, he went straight into medic mode. He placed a cool cloth on your forehead and fetched a glass of water.

"Drink this slowly," he instructed, holding the glass to your lips. "We need to keep you hydrated."

You took small sips, feeling the cool water soothe your parched throat. "Thank you, Jiyan," you murmured.

He smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You don’t have to thank me. I’m here to take care of you."

Jiyan then moved to unpack his medicinal gourd, pulling out various items. He gave you some fever-reducing medicine and an antihistamine to ease your symptoms.

"Here, take these," he said, handing you the pills. "And I’ve got some soup cooking for you in my quarters. It’s got ginger and turmeric—good for fighting off infections."

You nodded, taking the medicine obediently. As you settled back against the pillows, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for his presence. "How did you get here so fast?"

"I took the fastest route I could," he replied, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "I knew something was wrong when we talked. I couldn’t just stay in Jinzhou knowing you were unwell."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached out to take his hand. "You’re amazing, you know that?"

Jiyan chuckled, bringing your hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. "I just care about you. Now, rest while I finish up the soup."

You closed your eyes, feeling the fever slowly begin to abate under his care. The scent of ginger and turmeric soon filled the room, and before long, Jiyan returned with a steaming bowl of soup.

"Here you go," he said, sitting beside you. "Careful, it’s hot."

He fed you spoonful of the warm, nourishing soup, and you could feel the effects of it.  "You didn’t have to come all the way here," you said, feeling tears prick at your eyes

"Of course I did," Jiyan replied, his voice softening. "I can’t focus on anything knowing you’re unwell. Never think you're a bother to me," he continued, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter despite your condition. “You mean everything to me," he said softly. "I hate seeing you like this."

"I’ll be okay," you assured him, reaching out to take his hand. "Especially with you here."

He squeezed your hand gently. "I’m not going anywhere," he promised. "I’ll stay right here and take care of you."

As you finished the soup, Jiyan continued to fuss over you, making sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed. He brought the flowers closer, their sweet scent filling the room and lifting your spirits.

"These are beautiful," you said, admiring the bouquet.

"I thought they might cheer you up," he said, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"They do," you said, feeling a surge of affection for him. "You always know how to make me feel better."

"That’s because I love you," he said simply, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"I love you too, Jiyan," you whispered as you laid down, your eyes feeling heavier by the minute. "Thank you for coming back…" you said, your voice heavy with sleep.

"I’ll always come back for you," he replied. “Every time.” You felt his lips brush against your forehead as you closed your eyes. And with that, you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, knowing that as long as Jiyan was by your side, you’d always be well taken care of.

SCAR

Headcanons:

Despite his chaotic nature, Scar is utterly obsessed with you. If you so much as sneeze, he’s immediately by your side, eyes wide with concern and hands hovering as if unsure where to start.

The first time you fell sick, you didn’t expect Scar to be so devoted. His usual unserious demeanor disappeared, replaced by a palpable worry that made his antics seem like a distant memory. Even with just a simple migraine, he insisted that you see a medic, his anxiety clear in every word and action.

He constantly checks in on you, whether through calls, texts, or physically being there. He needs to know you’re okay, and his concern manifests in frequent, albeit endearing, interruptions to your day.

Scar is relentless in his encouragement for you to rest and take it easy. He’ll do everything in his power to ensure you don’t overexert yourself, including taking on your responsibilities.

Scar refuses to leave your side when you’re sick. He’ll camp out in your room, insisting on being there for anything you might need, and his presence, though sometimes a bit overwhelming, is undeniably comforting.

Scar's methods of care might be unconventional, ranging from brewing bizarre herbal concoctions to attempting ancient rituals he read about somewhere. Despite their eccentricity, his intentions are always pure—he just wants to see you well again.

Once you start feeling better, Scar continues his care with aftercare rituals that are part sweet and part eccentric. He might insist on daily massages or reciting protective chants to ward off any lingering illness.

The night had been restless, your stomach churning uncomfortably from something you ate the previous evening. As dawn broke, waves of nausea swept over you, accompanied by clammy sweats and uncontrollable shivers. By morning, you were pale and weak, unable to keep anything down.

In your dimly lit room, you clutched your stomach, hoping the queasiness would pass. Scar's usual chaotic presence was nowhere to be seen, which almost felt like a relief in your current state of misery. However, just as you began to resign yourself to a day of suffering alone, the door burst open with a bang.

"Guess what, little lamb!" Scar's voice echoed through the room, filled with a strange mix of excitement and triumph. "I managed to trick a few more Rangers into joining our cause! Can you believe it? They fell for the old 'lost patrol' routine like it was their first day out of the academy!"

You winced at the noise, trying to shield yourself from his exuberance. "Scar, not now," you managed to mutter weakly, your voice barely above a whisper.

But as Scar's gaze swept the room, his excitement faded into pure shock. His eyes widened as he took in your pale complexion, your trembling form, and the obvious distress etched on your face.

"What's going on?" he asked, his voice suddenly serious.

You barely had time to mutter a weak reply before another wave of nausea hit. You hurried to the restroom, barely making it to the toilet before retching once more. Scar followed close behind, his usual exuberance replaced by a rare seriousness as he knelt beside you, holding your hair back and rubbing your back soothingly.

"Are you... pregnant?" he blurted out, his concern mixing with his usual lack of filter.

You shot him a dirty look as you shuddered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "No," you managed to mumble, leaning back against the cool tiles. "Ate something bad..."

"Little lamb, why didn’t you tell me you were feeling like this?" he asked softly, helping you to sit back against the wall.

"I didn’t want you to see me like this," you admitted, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable.

Scar shook his head, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You think a little sickness is going to scare me away? Tsk.” He looked almost offended. He got up to leave you in the bathroom, only to return a few moments later.

He fetched a glass of water and a damp cloth, gently wiping your face and neck. "You need to stay hydrated," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "And rest. I’ll take care of everything else. Let's get you cleaned up, first, Hm?"

Throughout the day, Scar remained by your side, his usual antics subdued by genuine concern. He fetched cool cloths for your forehead, brought you small sips of water to keep you hydrated, and even attempted to brew some bizarre herbal remedy he claimed would settle your stomach.

"You know, I read about this plant that's supposed to cure everything from heartbreak to the plague," he mused, stirring a pot of leaves and roots that smelled surprisingly pleasant. "I figured it might help."

Despite your skepticism, his efforts were oddly comforting. Scar's presence was a constant, his chatter and eccentric care slowly easing your discomfort. He stayed close, ensuring you didn't feel alone in your misery.

As the day wore on and your symptoms began to subside, Scar insisted on continuing his aftercare rituals—massaging your shoulders to relieve tension, reciting what he called protective chants to ward off any lingering illness, and even preparing a simple broth to tempt your appetite.  His care was unconventional—his attempts at chanting ancient healing spells were met with your amused disbelief—but his presence was undeniably comforting. He refused to leave your side, camped out on the floor beside your bed with a makeshift nest of blankets and pillows.

As evening fell and you finally managed to keep down some broth, Scar sat beside you, his usual chaos subdued to a quiet vigilance. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his gaze soft with a rare tenderness.

"You really had me worried, little lamb," he admitted quietly. "I don’t like seeing you like this."

"I’m sorry," you murmured, feeling guilty for not letting him know sooner.

"Don’t apologize," he said firmly, his hand finding yours. "Just promise me you’ll tell me next time. I’m here for you, no matter what."

Despite his eccentricities and chaotic nature, Scar’s devotion to you was undeniable. His antics might drive you crazy on a daily basis, but in moments like these, you couldn’t imagine anyone else by your side.

"You should get some rest," he said gently, tucking the blankets around you a bit tighter. "I’ll be right here, little lamb."

You reached out to squeeze his hand, the nickname now a term of endearment. "I know," you replied softly. "And I appreciate it, Scar."

He smiled, a genuine expression that softened his rugged features. "Anything for you, even the world, should you ask." he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

You closed your eyes, feeling the exhaustion pulling you under, but not before whispering a heartfelt thank you to the man who had barged into your life in the most unexpected and chaotic of ways.

"Goodnight, Scar," you murmured, already drifting off.

"Goodnight, little lamb," he whispered back, bringing your hand, closer to his lips, pressing feather light kisses on each of your finger. Scar stayed true to his word, watching over you with a protective gaze that spoke volumes of his love and unwavering devotion

WuWa Masterlist

[rogueddie]

I'll Be Here T | 1,187 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is being willing to wait for them

Eddie has always known that, one day, Steve would move to the city with Robin so he can finally go to college. Eddie has grown too aware of Steve, his tells and how much he needs Robin.

When he first brought up college, he was venting about how horrible it would be to go so long without seeing Robin.

Eddie had struggled to hold back his laughter, painfully aware that he wasn't actually venting. He was trying to find an excuse to follow her. He was trying to convince himself that it would be worth putting the effort in to go to college too.

So, when Steve shuffled in one day, concerned but excited? Eddie wasn't surprised.

"I got in," he'd started. "To college, I mean. I applied with Robin and... I got in."

"That's amazing," Eddie said. "Baby, I'm so proud of you."

And he was. He was so extremely proud and excited.

But, when the day finally came for Steve to leave, he found it hard to bring those emotions back. He hated how clearly Steve could see through his forced grins.

"I'm fine," Eddie had insisted when Steve asked. "Really. I'm going to miss you, but this is so good for you. I'm so excited to hear about what you're going to do."

"I'll call," Steve promised, arms tight around him in a hug. He only pulled back to litter Eddie's face with kisses.

And, as promised, Steve called as soon as they arrived in their new dorm. Eddie could hear Robin babbling in the background, excited about their tiny little space, whilst Steve tried to hold in his laughter long enough to spew his usual romantics.

He'd called the next day too, to let Eddie know how they'd settled in and talk about all the different activities he was planning on checking out. There was even a D&D group that made him think of Eddie, that he didn't join simply because he wants his first game to be with him.

It wasn't until the next week that he called again. Steve spent the entire call gushing about a teacher who'd sat down with him and talked him through all his options.

"I'm going to be a teacher!" Steve had finished his speech off. "For, like, middle schoolers!"

"That's amazing!" Eddie replied. "That's- Stevie, that's perfect for you! You're gonna be amazing!"

"Yeah? You really think so?"

"I know so."

Steve had warned him that he would be busy, that he wouldn't be able to call as much.

It still made something deep in Eddies chest ache when another week would go by with no news from Steve.

Eddie wasn't worried though. Not really.

Especially when he came back with Robin for Christmas.

He hadn't been able to stay more than three days but, the entire time he was back in Hawkins, he was glued to Eddie. He grabbed and held on, as if he was finally able to breathe. As if he would die if he didn't get to touch Eddie for one second longer.

Robin constantly joked that she was going to need a crowbar to pry him off of Eddie.

She was almost right. It had taken him so long to say goodbye that they left more than an hour later than they had originally planned.

Eddie waved to them as they drove off. He was surprised at how excited he felt- it would only be a year until he got to see Steve again.

They'd been reluctant to admit their plans to stay in their dorms over summer break, but Eddie had encouraged them.

It was a good idea after all.

"But he could be doing anything," Mike had frowned, confused at how calm and content Eddie was. "With anyone. And he's not talking to you! Doesn't that make you... I don't know, worry?"

"No?" Eddie frowned back. He didn't understand why the kids were so confused. "Steve wouldn't do something like that. I know that, so what do I have to worry about?"

"You're just gonna wait around forever then?"

"Nope. He's just at college, kid. He's gonna come back and, when he does, I'll be right here."

When Steve went into his second year, he had settled enough that he started calling once a month.

It quickly became Eddies favorite time of the month and, if anyone tried to get him to do anything else on the day, he would blow them off. He couldn't be late home- not when Steve was going to call.

"I miss you," Steve would always say, in lieu of a greeting.

"I miss you too, baby," Eddie always mumbled back. He would cradle the phone close, with both hands, as he did.

"I keep thinking about you," Steve promised.

He would say it every call, repeating it as though worried that Eddie might forget. That Eddie might doubt that.

Eddie would always divert the conversation before Steve could spiral too much.

He always gave the same farewell when it came time for Steve to hang up so he could study or take part in whatever activity Robin has dragged him into that week.

"I'll be here," Eddie always said. "Don't worry about me. I could wait forever for you, big boy."

The third and fourth year went the same as the first.

Each Christmas was glorious. But, for the third Christmas, they'd managed to organise enough so they could spend a whole week in Hawkins.

Eddie insisted on taking polaroids of them. His favorite is the one he'd snapped of Steve, who was unaware, soft and sleepy in Eddie's kitchen.

"This is the last year," Steve told him, at the start of his fifth year. "Just this year, then I'm coming home."

One more year. It was the phrase that had been getting Eddie through the waiting, but it didn't help anymore. It only made it worse.

He couldn't stop thinking about how, when Steve does come back, he's staying.

Wayne helped him move out the trailer, and into his own. It wasn't any bigger than Wayne's, but it was enough for Eddie. He knew it would be enough for Steve.

The hideout didn't pay well, but Eddie was careful with his government hush money. He had plenty, more than enough to last a lifetime if budgeted right.

He made sure everything was ready for Steve. He made sure their home was ready.

And, when Steve does come home, all Eddie feels is love.

"Welcome home," Eddie says, leading him into their trailer.

"Oh, it's perfect," Steve whispers.

Eddie can hear the genuine awe in his voice. He grabs Steve, turning him around so he can finally see the expression too.

"You're so beautiful," Eddie says. "God, I missed you so much."

Steve practically throws himself at Eddie, their teeth clashing harshly with how hard Steve kisses him.

"Fuck," Steve groans, holding Eddie's face in both his hands. "You really waited for me all this time- Eds, God, I love you so much."

"I love you, too. I love you, more than anything, baby. You're worth the wait, you're so worth it."

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 5

Poly!141 x chunky!reader tw: little stalkerish at the end

Sunday Morning. 

You woke the next day to a bouquet of white lilies of the valley and yellow roses from Price for his “ungentlemanly actions” the night before and you found yourself immediately forgiving him. It was nice to know that despite what Kit had said, you were desired by someone. And how could you hold that against John? 

🪻: I suppose I forgive you. 🥃: How magnanimous of you, little bird. Does this mean I can expect a second date? 🪻: I guess. :P 

Your phone was now constantly blowing up with messages from Johnny and Price. And then Kyle was added, asking for your number from Price who’d asked you and you’d given your permission. You didn’t know what was going on. This time last year, you couldn’t get your husband to even look at you and now three very, very attractive British S.A.S members were clambering over each other for your attention. You didn’t know what they saw in you, but you weren’t going to complain. Eventually, the four of you ended up in a group chat when both Johnny and Kyle decided they wanted to take you out too. 

🪻: Alright. Do you guys even know the others have asked me out? Cause while I’m not complaining, ya’ll are friends.  🧼: Aw Petal. Just a wee competition between mates. 🥃: They’re just worried that I snagged you first, little bird.  👀: Excuse you. We’re giving her options for when she decides she doesn’t want you, old man.  🥃: Kyle, I am barely 10 years older than you. That doesn’t make me elderly. 🪻: -grabs popcorn- This is entertaining. I’ve never had men fight over me before. 🧼: Just you wait, they get worse than this.

And it did.

On Monday, Kyle showed up at your job and insisted on taking you out for lunch, his treat of course.

On Tuesday, Johnny brought flowers to you AND your boss who immediately told you that he was the one to pick. 

On Wednesday, Price picked you up from work and took you to a little bookstore, buying anything you even glanced at.

On Thursday, no one showed up to dote on you and despite numerous messages, no one replied to you.

On Friday, you received a single message from each of them.

🥃: Being deployed. Be safe, little bird. We’ll be thinking of you.  🧼: Heading out for a mission, petal. We’ll miss you. 👀: Will be gone for a bit, dove. Don’t miss us too much. 

On Saturday, you tried to find something to do all day besides checking your phone every five minutes. 

On Sunday, you visited Magda.

When you finally received a text from Price two weeks later, telling you they were home safe and inviting you over, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. You’d missed them terribly and were eager to see each of them. So after work on Friday, you rushed home, changed into some leggings and an oversized sweater and headed to the address you’d been sent. 

Pressing the buzzer, they let you in and when the door to their flat opened, Price was standing there with a warm smile. Your arms wrapped around his waist immediately, feeling his thick arms coming to envelop you while he kicked the door closed. 

“Aye, lass. He the only one that gets a hug?” Johnny asked as he rose from the couch, opening his arms with a laugh. “Johnny!” You instantly released Price and launched yourself into Johnny’s arms, hugging him just as tightly. He smelled fresh, like he’d just gotten out of the shower and you breathed in the clean scent of him. 

You felt Kyle wrap his arms around both you and Johnny, pressing against your back and sandwiching you between the two. If you thought it was weird that the three guys you were dating lived together, you didn’t say anything.

A few minutes later, you were tucked into the corner of the couch with a steaming cup of tea while you watched Johnny and Price interacting in the kitchen. It wasn’t lost on you how Price’s hand rested on the small of Johnny’s back or the way Johnny’s eyes softened when he looked at Price. You thought to ask Kyle who was taking up the other corner of the couch, but then you caught him gazing over at the other two wistfully and you felt a little like a fourth wheel. 

A door slid shut somewhere down the hall and it startled you before your gaze slid to Kyle with a raised brow. “I assume that’s Simon?” you asked, nodding your head to gesture down the hall. “Yeah, he’s not much of a people person, but he’ll warm up to you the more you’re around,” Johnny replied instead, making you look at him where he came to sit between you and Kyle. “You make it sound like I’m going to be over here a lot,” you replied with a raise of your brow. 

“Well, we’d like ya to be,” Kyle answered this time, a warm smile on his pretty face. But it felt like there was something that wasn’t being said and it put you on edge. Price could feel your apprehension as he went to sit in his armchair, noticing it on the edges of your eyes and the way you straightened up in your seat. “You look like you’re about to spring out of your seat, birdie. What’s going through your head?” Price questioned, tilting his head slightly while his eyes studied you. 

You froze at his words. You didn’t think you’d been that obvious with your discomfort, but Price had a keen eye and didn’t miss much. “I feel like there’s something I’m missing here,” you theorized, staring into your cup of tea like it was the most interesting thing in the room. Price pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, standing from his chair to sit on the coffee table in front of you. Your eyes widened when your gaze lifted to meet his sparkling blue eyes, feeling as though he was about to tell you that they no longer felt the same and you needed to leave. 

“When you work as closely with a team as we do, things…develop,” Price watched you with trepidation while you nodded, urging him to continue. “The four of us, myself, Johnny, Kyle, and Simon, we’re a team in more ways than one,” Price paused, seeing if he needed to clarify any further. You stared at him for a moment, letting his words process in your head.

“So you’re all like together together?” You clarified, bringing your cup to your lips and sipping, using the moment to gather your thoughts. “Aye, petal, we are,” Johnny replied, reaching over to pat your calf. “So what am I doing here?” you asked, trying to figure out where you fit into this with their doting and dates. Kyle’s laugh was light and airy as he moved to sit next to Price on the coffee table. “We were hoping you’d join us, dove. Don’t worry about Si. He knows what’s going on,” Kyle explained, looking at you with those dark, hopeful eyes. 

Who were you to deny these men? They’d treated you better in the weeks you’d known them than anyone else ever had and there was no question about your safety with them. “I don’t know how to do this,” You stated, hand coming out to gesture between the four of you. “I barely know how to date one person, let alone three,” you continued, feeling the shame of your past settling into your chest. 

Johnny’s hand on your calf squeezed and he flashed you a lopsided smile. “We can figure it out, together, if you want?” He offered, hope filling those cerulean hues of his. You looked between each of them, quiet as your mind swirled with questions. The most prominent being the fourth man in the equation, Simon, but you couldn’t be assed to worry about him right now. If they say he knows and would warm up eventually, you believed them. 

“Okay,” you stated, a soft smile on your lips as the boys processed your single word response. The first to react was Johnny, leaping across the couch to smother you in a bear hug while he buried his face in your hair. Price, always the mother of the group, snatched your tea cup before Johnny crushed you, setting it off to the side before pulling Kyle into his side with a wide smile. 

When you left that night, you felt at ease and dare you say it, happy. You were blessed with three men who doted on you, cared for you, treated you as if you were the world to them. Humming a little tune, you entered your apartment and immediately noticed something was different. You checked every nook and cranny, double checking the locks on the windows and even checked the door handle for pick marks. Everything looked right and instead of calling one of the boys, you sighed and shook it off, telling yourself you were imagining it. 

“Si, you’re going to have to face her at some point. She’s going to be around a lot more now,” Johnny chided while the two laid in bed. “I know, Soap, but she’s not ready,” Simon countered, staring up at the ceiling with an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. “Are you sure it’s not you who isn’t ready?” Johnny asked, propping himself up on his elbow and looking down at the behemoth of a man next to him. Simon just grunted and slipped from the bed just to shove the window open and light the cigarette. 

“What are you scared of?” Johnny asked as he joined Simon at the window, both of them looking down over the street below. “I just don’t want her to think I’m stalking her or something. It was over six months ago and I suddenly show up again? Not likely. I was lucky to even see her again.” Simon had never been an optimist. And that wasn’t likely to change any time soon, so Johnny let it lie as he rested his head against the man’s shoulder. 

On the roof across from your building, your shadow stood with his skull mask in place. Watching. Waiting.

Uh oh. Reader may be too happy. Hope nothing happens to her.

Thank you so much to everyone who is liking and reblogging this story! I appreciate every single one of you!

[bluecollarmcandtf]

M O O N L I G H T ™

Pulling into the lonely gas station, my eyes quickly find what I'm looking for, a pair of blue lights emanating in the darkness. The glow is coming from the gas attendant's skull: clear indication that he's a Moonlight™ employee.

"Good evening, sir," he says with the overly-endearing tone of a gracious host, "How may I be of service tonight?

I don't hide my distaste for the pathetic menial worker, leaning on his mop and waiting for my reply like he's got the best job in the world. He doesn't actually believe that. He doesn't even know what he's saying, let alone doing!

"Just fill her up," I grunt.

"You got it, sir!" he beams, tending to my car with a pep that's out of place for the late hour.

Moonlight™ was the app that revolutionized working culture forever. It allows the user to sign up for a job while they sleep. All they have to do is doze off and some insufferable AI from Moonlight™ will resume control of the body via remote connection. People like it because they get paid work without experiencing all the boring hours and insincere customer interactions. Subsequently, they always get the same unbearably eager personalities stuffed in their bodies. Even without the glowing eyes, their idiotic grins would make them stand out a mile away!

"How has your day been, sir?" he contines mopping as the gas slowly pumps.

"Don't try to chat," I snap.

"Of course, sir," he doesn't miss a beat, smiling as he returns his neon gaze to the sidewalk he's swabbing.

I just roll my eyes and wander inside. The app doesn't record memories while it's in control, so this guy has no idea how humiliated he should feel. No one should have a shit-eating grin on their face working the night shift as a gas station janitor! I'd die before I gave up my dignity to Moonlight™ like this fucking loser!

On the TV behind the register, an ad plays...

The costumed man on the left steps forward and announces, "Join the revolution. There are over forty-two-million Moonlighter's taking advantage of their sleep! That could be you!"

The statistic makes me cringe. It's nearly doubled since the last time I checked...

The man on the far right of the screen happily taps in, adding, "We're constantly expanding our scope, so check with your employer! If your job doesn't already have a Moonlight™ option, then ask your boss to give you one!"

God, they're pressuring people now? Some jobs should not be done by an AI puppeteered Moonlighter...

Finally, the man in the center steps forward to deliver his lines, "Remember, Moonlighting is a safe and healthy way to not only make money but also get a good night's rest! Why work all day, when you can do it in your sleep!" his head turns, making it seem like he's smiling at either of his coworkers, "After all, we are!"

The three men laugh in unison, like true colleagues chumming up at work, but I know the truth. These three are worse than actors, they're empty marionettes for the Moonlight™ corporation. I doubt they'd ever even met each other in real life...

"Shut up!" I groan, smashing the power button to turn it off.

This world is going to shit. Moonlight™ has grown too large over the past year for there not to be some conspiracy or ulterior motive. I don't know what it is: the elite keeping the working class in their place, our government influencing our decisions, a foreign country converting us into their slaves! It all sounds crazy, but I don't think a single theory is impossible with an app like Moonlight™.

I'm the only one probing into this mess. I may have only worked as a detective for a few years, but I never did any of it fucking asleep!

A few days later, I track down my first lead...

"Good morning, sir," the garbage man says in that unnaturally smooth cadence they all have, "Is there any trash you need collected?"

"I just have some questions," I snort.

One hand pulls the hem of my shirt over my nose while the other swats at the flies. These garbage trucks are absolutely filthy. I doubt the garbage companies even bother washing them out anymore, but why should they if their workers are soulless husks without the ability to care? The man in front of me seems completely oblivious to the mixture of rotting smells and accompanying bugs. His glowing eyes don't even blink as a fly lands on his face, crawling through the hairs of his beard. He's probably lucky that he goes home with no memory of this downright awful job.

"Are you looking for employment with Moonlight™ incorporated?" his smiling lips stir the bug on his face, but it quickly buzzes into the moist retreat of the man's dark armpit, "I'd love to help you install the app and-"

"No," I cut, "Just open the truck. I accidentally threw out something I shouldn't have."

I study the man's frozen grin for anything. It's a test. The Moonlight™ AI is designed to accept demands from free-willed customers, but I have a suspicion that the building nearby is an undocumented base for the company. If I'm right, the company would hate for anyone to root through the garbage of their secret lab...

"...I apologize, sir, but the garbage has already been compacted, and it is unsafe for non-employees to look inside. Please let me know what it is you are looking for and I will search for you."

His artificial glee didn't wane, but the blue light in his eyes did flicker just barely. This guy might be asleep, walked around by remote AI tech, but I could still tell he was lying. I'd like to see one of the Moonlight™ detectives figure that out. As I said, some things are better done the old-fashioned way...

"Well, thanks anyway," I snark, planting a slap on his sweat-soaked back. He says something about it being his pleasure as he resumes handling the garbage, flies eternally buzzing around his smiling head and glowing eyes.

Continuing my investigation, I pop down in the sewer, looking for an underground entrance to Moonlight™'s secret lab...

"Are you lost, sir? Let me help you."

I've had to breathe through a mask to put up with the heavy cloud of steaming sewage, but the Moonlight™ septic worker seems fine, smiling with an open mouth, specks of God-knows-what dried on his teeth.

"No, I'm where I should be," I dismiss him and march past.

Suddenly a muddy glove sticks out and holds my chest. "I'm afraid you cannot pass, sir," his smile is as strong as ever, but the trademark glow of his eyes intensifies.

I've never felt more sure about my suspicions. This mind controlled worker seems ready to fight rather than let me pass. I wonder if this poor soul knows he's being used as a guard as well as being a Moonlight™ sewage worker.

"Why don't you show me the way out then," I relent.

"Of course, sir," his hand removes itself from my chest, leaving a dirty print, "The sewer is a dangerous place for civilians."

I follow as he marches me out of the sewer. It's better to leave and come back later with a plan. Today, I confirmed my suspicions, but tomorrow, I'll finally see what secrets they're cooking up in that lab. I return home and end the day with the satisfaction of being close to a major discovery. Sleep finds me quickly...

Waking up in my bed, I check my phone and find an unsettling message waiting for me...

"Congratulations on finishing your first shift with Moonlight™!" the text reads, "Here is a photo of you hard at work last night!"

"What the FUCK!"

I jump out of bed, but instantly everything feels off. My back aches and my legs are more tired than they were last night! My pajamas are uncomfortable, pinching in areas like someone else dressed me in them! My mind is racing with confusion, and an overwhelming sense of self-consciousness rushes over me. My face burns from the violation, but most of my fear is focused on the strange feeling lingering in the back of my private area.

"What did they do to me?" I try to be pissed, but all I can do is whimper.

Suddenly my phone rings...

"Hello," I growl.

"Good morning, sir," a familiarly gracious man's voice rolls through the call.

"Tell me who the fuck this is!"

"Someone who noticed you snooping the other day, sir," his voice sounds like it's smiling.

Suddenly it clicks. Whoever's calling me from Moonlight™ would never use their own phone and voice. They must be using some poor schmuck that thinks he's working an honest job right now. How am I ever supposed to find who's behind all these layers of lies?

"You can hind behind your brainless puppets," I sneer, "But I will not stop looking into this fucked up company!"

"But now you're one of our puppets, sir. I'm not sure how much credibility a detective has if he spends his nights working the room at the dirtiest club in town..."

"That's sick..." I whisper, thinking about the picture on my phone. The idea of me gleefully stripping for a room of disgusting old men makes me shiver.

"Good luck with your investigation, sir," the voice continues, "But just understand that every time you sleep, your body will get up and report to that club. I have to admit that you're hiding a rather tight body under that trench coat of yours."

"You were there?" I mutter.

"Oh I had to meet the man poking his nose where it didn't belong, sir. I got very familiar with you. You were very friendly last night, so I poked something of mine where it didn't belong."

The voice on the other line laughs, and all I feel is utter humiliation. I hang up the call and stare at the photo he'd sent. It was me alright, smiling like a maniac in the gayest outfit I've ever seen. I didn't like my body being dressed like that. I hate that I was happily busting my ass for the enemy. He had to have been getting off at my humiliation last night. I'm sure he relished every second of what he did to me. I don't even want to think about the sensation left in my ass.

I need to push this investigation faster.

Because tonight, when I go to sleep, I'll be helpless to prevent this from happening again.

[nerdlvr]

hiii just a lil req of this idea i can't get out of my head, but like you wanting to surprise jeno w his fav snack/drink only to find out he did the same for you 😭🤚🏼 if that even makes sense

this is so cute omg, that scenario is so jeno i swear. i hope you enjoy!

jeno had been gone for about a month now traveling every 3 days to perform in different countries. but finally the first part of the tour was over, and he could come home to rest. that's why you had decided to surprise him with his favorite snacks that you knew he'd been missing while away. he had whined to you on facetime about how the convenience stores didn't have the specific candy and chips he had been craving.

everything was laid out on the table as you waited for him, wrapped up in a blanket, a random show playing softly in the background. you were constantly checking your phone wondering when jeno would walk through the door. you knew his plane landed at 10 pm but it was now 1 am and you were worried that there may have been a delay in his flight. you sent him a quick message asking if everything was alright, to which he replied with a pic of him in the company car captioned: i'm on my way to you now, just had to pick up some stuff.

not long after you heard the jingling of the keys at the front. you got up from your spot sprinting to the door to greet your boyfriend. as soon as the door open you jumped into his arms, kissing him all over his face as he giggled at the feeling,

"hello to you to you too, glad to see that my girl missed me as much as i missed her."

his arms wrapped around you pulling you impossibly closer as he leaned down to plant a kiss on your lips. behind you you heard the noise of plastic bags rustling. you backed away from jeno grabbing the bags to inspect them. his hand came up to scratch the back of his neck nervously,

"uh, i stopped at the convenience store on the way, just got some of your favorite snacks so we can share."

your eyes lit up as you started to take out the treats he had brought for you.

"no way! i literally did the same thing for you!"

you grabbed his hand dragging him into the living room.

"ta-daaaa!"

you shook your hands in front of the snacks, presenting them to him. he laughed at your silly expression, grabbing a bag of chips to eat. as soon as he opened the bag he grabbed a handful and filled his mouth, moaning at the taste.

"oh my god, i love you so much baby, thank you, you're the best."

he moved towards you, puckering his lips and giving you a quick peck, as he backed away from you he couldn't help but snort looking at the cheese dust he left on your lips. he reached his hand towards your mouth, brushing the remnants,

"sorry baby, i got too excited."

[tiramissyoucake]

Trying my hand at angst, I don't like this but here you go fjsjfdj

Gojo misses reader and is a mitski fan here, sfw, 1.6k words

Satoru knew he was clingy, he knows he can be overbearing with you at times and you've constantly reassured him that it's one of the many qualities you like about him; you even called it cute and compared him to a lost kitten. However, the longer you're gone, the more stressed he gets, thoughts of worry plague his head if they go unanswered for too long—how you are doing? Is everything going smoothly? Did you eat a full proper meal? Are you sleeping well? He never had to worry for long because he would get an answer the next time he sees you, which would usually be the next few hours or the next day.

When you told him about a trip you had to take out of town to visit family and stay with them for a while, he only smiled and helped you pack as anxiety rattled in his chest— as if trying to bring your attention to it. he chooses to remain silent about his worries even after you tell him you'll be gone for over a week, even if every bone in his body is telling him to trap you in his arms and beg you to stay.

Clingliness be damned, he loved you too much to remain separated from you for over a week, let alone a day.

Dread crept at the back of his mind as you explained your trip, why you were going and when will you leave and return, the entire time Satoru tried to listen his mind would wander and begin to memorise your features as you spoke— the shape of your lips, the crinkle in your eyelids, the structure of your nose, god, did he tell you look beautiful? He couldn't recall if he did today.

".. so don't expect fast replies, okay?"

The dumbfounded expression quickly took over Satoru's features as he sat up, he remembered he mentioned he would call or text you if he gets lonely but after that his brain tuned out his surroundings as if preparing itself for a week of loneliness.

".. repeat that for me, Baby? Please?"

"I said the service is pretty bad at my grandparent's place, so don't expect fast replies."

Ah. He was in hell. He had to watch and help you pack, pretend as if this didn't bother him so you wouldn't cancel for his sake, he even saw you off and kept his goodbye short; a simple kiss, hug and a promise for you to stay safe and call him if anything happens. He would have been proud of himself had he not known how lonely the house would be without you.

For the first three days, the phrase "its just under two weeks" became a mantra Satoru would mutter to himself— from the moment he opens his eyes in the morning feeling the empty space next to him, the phrase is echoed in his head. He made the mistake of preparing two cups of coffee in the beginning forgetting you were off with family, that simple mistake triggers a domino effect; it causes him to remember to contact you, he checks his phone and finds messages sent from you in the wrong order, courtesy of terrible service.

Leaving the house did nothing to alleviate the anxieties floating in his mind about you, whenever he passes by a cafe he has to purchase your favorite item off the menu, this time he had to stop himself and double back from the door remembering the meal would rot away in the fridge before your return. Spotting anything remotely related to your interests activates a knee-jerk reaction where he turns to gesture and mention it to you, looking for the spark that would light up your features in excitement— but alas, you were not here.

The days were longer, the nights were colder, Satoru's love blooms whenever he's near you, and yet now that he's alone, his heart is heavy; an overgrown garden.

The week was over. It was finally over, and yet the torture continued. You specifically told him you'd be gone for over a week— he once again repeats to himself "just under two weeks.." Satoru feels tired, and he doesn't know why. Through his meals and activities throughout the days, he would usually share them with you. He wonders if you felt the same exhaustion.

Just as his eyelids began to weigh down from the exhaustion, his phone released melodious chimes. Satoru grunted in annoyance and sat up in the cold bed, tempted to crush the phone in his hand— was he not even allowed to dream of you?

'LOML💘 Calling...'

His heart soared to his throat, everything he wanted to say to you, threatening to spill out before he even tapped the green button. He hurriedly answered and brought the phone up to his ear.

"Hello? Satoru?"

"... Baby? Can you hear me?" He immediately wanted to make sure of the call's quality. He won't be swindled by fate.

"Oh, thank god- I've been trying to get a hold of you all week! How are you? Is everything okay? I'm so sorry I couldn't contact you." He could hear chatter in the back. "I'm with my cousin. We drove out to this convenience store, and the service is pretty good!— I mean, yeah, it's a little far, but..." You took a breath, speaking too quickly for your lungs to handle."I'm so happy I get to hear your voice, Satoru..!"

everything he wanted to say, you were saying it for him, Satoru knows he's clingy but when you return his clingliness it makes him believe that he was made for you— that he was truly loved by you.

Suddenly, the stress he felt from worrying about you, the overbearing silence of loneliness, your affections pouring to him through the phone, all of these factors shattered him; a sob choked him.

".. yeah - me too..!" Satoru hiccuped as he tried to wipe away forming tears. He can't be upset now. He has to be tough for you.

You didn't miss the sniffle that followed, setting your soda down in the cup holder of the car. You sat up briefly. "Honey? What's wrong?" Your cousin silently signalled they'll return into the store, not wanting to overhear a lover's quarrel. "Did something happen?"

Satoru shook his head, forgetting you couldn't see him. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. "No - no, I'm fine.. I'm just really happy to hear from you."

Silence filled the call, a moment ago he was preparing himself to yell at you, cry to you, beg you to come home— now he didn't know what to do with himself as he had everything he wanted listening to him on the other end.

"... Hon? I'm really sorry." He hated how you knew just what to say when he began to crack. "I love you, I promise I'll be home soon, okay?"

You love him. You love him. He felt guily; he finally had a chance to speak with you, and he cried and made you feel like the bad guy, made you apologize for wanting to spend quality time with family, does he even deserve you at this point?

"... okay." Is all he can muster, Satoru always sounds so full of life— but now he just sounds defeated, as if faced with a foe that he couldn't damage or evade whatsoever. It broke your heart.

Satoru traced shapes into the covers that he practically kicked off him when he saw your nickname flash on his phone screen, he began. "Baby?"

"Hm? Yeah?"

".. when you get home, I'm gonna be more selfish with you." His tone was serious. He couldn't help but smile when he heard you laugh. "You're already selfish with me!"

"Hey, I've been very emotionally vulnerable recently, okay?" Satoru felt like the usual dynamic of your conversations is slowly seeping back. It felt right, like finding something he thought he misplaced.

"I'm not complaining, hon. I actually love it." He heard you shuffle a bit. "I think you deserve to be a little selfish. You've been so good for me lately, haven't you?"

Of course, he should've expected this from you; you're his smart girl. Of course you would notice how strained he seemed before you went on your trip.

"I thought I hid it pretty well.."

"Satoru."

".. what?" He grew wary of your unimpressed tone. He didn't slip up, did he?

"You were listening to Mitski all week." Ah, your shared music subscription gave him away.

"She perfectly puts my emotions into words, okay? So sue me!"

"I know, hon! But you were listening to First Love / Late Spring. What was I supposed to think?"

The conversation continues, from Lyricism to current routines to favourite cafe desserts. For the first time in a week, Satoru felt safe and comfortable enough to sleep.

Your conversation lulled him to a sleepy state, he could hear you shuffle and move about, he could hear the car start, your family commenting on your dynamic with him, even if the sound was minimised as the phone speaker was only moderately audible, as long as he could hear your voice then he was happy.

"So, either Wednesday or Tuesday..?" Satoru asked groggily after you explained your situation.

"Yeah - I'm hoping Tuesday, but we don't know yet, I'll drive back to the convenience store and tell you once I know." It sounded like a joke, but he knows you would do it.

"Baby- no, I can wait, I swear—"

"Can you, though?" He could hear the smile in your voice, Satoru let out a breathless laugh.

"... nah, I don't think I can."

[twirlyleafs]

“Priorities”

Carlos Sainz x Reader

Tw: nothing I think, some angst.

~~~~

It was late afternoon by the time Carlos had wrapped up his meetings, finally parking the car outside your shared apartment. Despite his tiredness he couldn’t help the small smile on his face, excited to finally come home and looking forward to unwind together with you. His mind was filled with thoughts of food, maybe you should cook together? Or order in from that little Italian place you loved so much? He thought of what to watch on tv, knowing at the same time that it didn’t matter much to him. Hed probably fall asleep with his head in your lap within a few minutes of you sinking down in the couch together. As he unlocked the door he call out a soft hello, expecting you to pop out from somewhere like you usually did and come greet him with a kiss. When you didn’t, the silence of the apartment made him almost uneasy. Carlos called out for you again, frowning when he didn’t get an answer. Confused he pulled his phone from his pocket, thinking he might’ve missed a message from you, but the only one was your short conversation from this morning. He hadn’t heard anything since he told you he was in a meeting and when he thought about it that was kind of wierd. Normally he’d come out of a meeting to at least one text from you, and probably a cute picture of something you’d seen or something you’d cooked. You liked to keep him updated and he loved getting updates. He frowned, pressing the button to call you. The frown only deepened when he was forced to listen to the singlas until it eventually went to voicemail. Maybe you were at the gym? Or in the store, or out with friends? You usually picked up when he called though. Sighing Carlos moved further into the apartment, sinking down in the couch with a deep breath. Lazily scrolling through his phone it took him a few minutes until his eyes stopped on a story posted by one of your friends. The scene was cozy, candle-lit table and a tightly squeezed group of people posing for the picture. Right in the center he saw you, eyes crinkling with laughter as you carefully cut up the cake placed infront of you. His heart skipped a beat and as his eyes moved to read the caption it sank all the way down into his stomach.

Happy birthday to the sweetest, kindest and most beautiful soul. Love you!

Your birthday. It’s your birthday today and he’d completely forgotten it. You’d reminded him, several times the past few weeks, and every time he’d promise that he would make it the best day ever. That you and him would spend it together, all day with full focus on you and not a single thought on anything else. He’d promised himself to leave work behind, even just for one day, to really be able to make it special for you and now here he stood imagining your face when you realized he hadn’t kept any of it. Carlos fingers flew over his screen, quickly trying to call you again. When you didn’t answer, he hadn’t expected you to, he typed out a message.

C: Carino I’m so sorry

C: Im sorry, please call me? Or let me come see you?

C: I can pick you up after your dinner and we can do something? Anything you like

C: I love you, I’m sorry

You didn’t respond at first and Carlos began pacing the apartment, the stress and guilt eating him up from inside. He was just about to call one of your friends when your message finally came.

Y: Im out with friends Carlos, it’s fine.

Y: Love you too

He stared at it, a lump in his throat. He hated that you said it was fine, he knows it’s not. He knows what he has done is not fine and he knows you are not feeling fine either. He can see you, surrounded by your friends but also being reminded that he completely fucked you over today. The words its fine didn’t feel right, he could practically feel the disappointment laced beneath them.

C: Please amor, let me make it up to you.

No reply. Carlos kept his phone by his side the whole evening, waiting and constantly checking the screen hoping to find you giving him another chance but the silence dragged on. As the hours ticked by he realized you weren’t letting him off the hook that easily, not that he thought you should, but the panic inside him grew. Today should’ve been about you, about showing you he was capable of putting work aside, proving that despite everything always being about racing you were his priority. He hated that you gave him so much of your time and energy and he just- forgot. When he finally heard the sound of a key in the door he scrambled to his feet and moved out into the hallway, just in time to see you step inside. Your eyes met for the briefest moment before you turned away, expression calm but guarded.

”Hey.” He started, voice soft and overflowing with regret. You offered a quiet greeting, still not meeting his gaze, and he continued. ”Im so so sorry. I forgot, and I know that such a dickmove and I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I have no excuse, I just-”

”It’s fine Carlos.” You nodded, hanging up your coat with slow and steady movements. Your tone of voice betrayed you and Carlos could heard the hurt you tried to hide. ”I know you’re busy. Its fine. I didn’t want to bother you.” The words slipping from your lips had his chest tightening.

”You’re never a bother baby.” His words came out almost as whispers, eyes pleading. ”I- I know I messed up, I should’ve been here. I promise I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He didn’t miss the way something flashed in your eyes, something hard and cold before your face softened. The sadness in your gaze when you watched him had him want to clutch his chest.

”You don’t have to promise anything Carlos.” The way you spoke was almost resigned. ”It’s fine. I just wish I didn’t feel like I’m something you have to work to fit into your schedule instead of something you actually want there.” The words stung, more than he had expected. Carlos wanted to reach for you, pull you close and tell you how important you were to him. That he’d give up everything else if you asked him to. But he didn’t, instead he just stood there looking into your eyes and realizing you didn’t want to talk to him right now. Carlos stayed still, watching you delicately make your way past him and he felt the weight of the promise that might’ve come a little too late this time.

That night, when Carlos eventually joined you in bed, he could feel the invisible wall between you. He caught himself glancing over, hoping you’d turn to him or shuffle closer like you’d usually do. He wanted nothing more than to have you curled up against his chest, but something in the air stopped him from reaching out. Instead he stared up at the ceiling, your earlier words replaying in his head. You felt like he didn’t want you, like you didn’t matter enough to him to make time for you in his schedule.

The days that followed didn’t seem to get any better. Carlos didn’t know how to approach the subject, didn’t know what to say, and you moved through the apartment like a ghost. You were always polite, always kind, but distant. When he asked if you wanted to join him for coffee or go for a run och a bike ride you’d shake your head while offering a soft smile, telling him you didn’t have time right now. When he tried to bring up the upcoming weekend, a weekend he knew was free for both you and him, and suggested that you’d plan a trip together you once again offered a sweet smile and told him you’d be up for whatever worked best for him. You stopped asking him for things, he noticed, and you never reached out first. When you kissed it was him who leaned in, when you ate together it was his suggestion. You didn’t remind him of plans, didn’t suggest movie nights, didn’t send him those funny little updates on your day when you were apart and he missed it. All of it. You didn’t even utter a word of complain when he was busy, you just let him go and never asked for even a moment of his time. Every time he noticed you step back something inside him twisted.

One evening, after Carlos had spent the day at the training center, he came home to find you sitting on the couch reading. You looked up at him when he entered, offered him a faint smile and a small hello, before turning back to your book. Usually, before all this, you’d be quick to ask him about his day, pull him down to cuddle with you and gently scratch the stress away from his scalp. But now it was as if you almost went out of your way not to talk to him. Carlos couldn’t stand it. It had only been a few days but the tension, the quiet ache of your absence was driving him mad. Taking a deep breath Carlos shuffled over, taking a seat on the coffee table infront of you. You shifted, glancing up at him, but didn’t speak.

”Can we talk?” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. You hesitated, you hated that you did, before nodding slowly.

”Of course. What’s on your mind?” The way you answered, so calm and almost indifferent, made him have to swallow the lump in his throat. He took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully.

”It’s not about what’s on my mind, it’s about yours. I, well I can feel you pulling away and I get that it’s my fault, you know? I know it’s because of what happened but I- I don’t know how to fix it. ”

”Carlos,” you murmured, eyes trailing down to your fidgeting fingers. ”It’s fine. I told you, I don’t want to bother you. I know you’re busy, I know you don’t need more stress in your life.” The words hit him like a punch. A bother. He could tell you genuinely believed that, that you saw yourself like someone, something, that bothered him. After everything you’ve been through he’d somehow made you feel like an inconvenience in his life.

”Don’t say that.” His voice was strained as he leaned forward, elbows on knees. ”You’re not a bother. Never. I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I know forgetting your birthday was the dickmove of the century, I really fucked up-”

”It’s not about you forgetting my birthday Carlos.” You shook your head softly, interrupting him. ”Or, well it is but not just that. It’s that sometimes, more recently, it feels like there’s no room for me in your life. Like you’re not willing to make room. I’m here all the time and you come find me when it’s convenient.” Carlos flinched, words cutting through his heart like sharp blades. You were right, he knew you were, but he hadn’t been willing to admit it earlier. He barely was now. You’d always been so kind, so understanding and supportive of his career and his demanding schedule and your support meant the world to him. He hated that he hadn’t showed you that. He hated himself for taking it for granted.

”I know I haven’t been good at- well at balancing things.” As he spoke his voice was thick with regret. ”And I know it’s been a lot recently, but carinõ I never meant to make you feel like, like you’re on the outside. I see you as a part of my life, like the biggest part. You’re what’s important.” Your gaze stayed trained on your hands, expression softening but still guarded.

”That’s nice to hear.” Murmured words had him carefully reach out to wedge his hand between yours and for the first time in days you didn’t pull away. ”I get that you have a lot on your plate and I want to support you I just, I don’t know if I can keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

”You shouldn’t. Pretend, I mean.” Silence settled slowly as Carlos tried to gather his thoughts. He held your hand tightly, thumb swiping gently across your knuckles. He knew what he wanted to say, he wanted to throw promises at her and beg her to give him another chance, but he also knew that wouldn’t cut it. Carlos understood that whatever he said now wouldn’t matter until he actually showed you, showed up for you, and he silently promised himself he would. As a single drop hit the back of his hand his eyes quickly trailed back to your face, feeling his chest clench as he watched yet another tear slowly slip down your cheek. With a deep breath he squeezed your hand, leaning closer. ”Can I please hold you?” The question felt weird on his tongue, he’d never asked for permission to touch you before, but it seemed necessary in the situation. When you offered a small nod, sniffing quietly, Carlos didn’t hesitate. In a swift maneuver he was seated next to you in the couch, arms wrapped around your frame as you fell against him. He released a shaky breath when he felt your arms snake around his torso and he pulled you somehow even closer, nose pressed against the top of your head.

”I missed you.” Your voice was barely audible but Carlos could feel the words seep into his skin.

”I missed you too.” He spoke against your hair. ”And I know I will have to show you for you to believe me, but I really am sorry. You deserve a lot more than I’ve given you lately and I promise I’ll be better. I’ll make time, real time, for us. You’re the most important person in my life, you’re my person, and I’m not losing you.” Carlos eyes fluttered open as you slowly pulled away, looking up at him with a mixture of sadness and hope.

”I really hope you mean it.”

”I do.” You held his gaze in silence for what felt like forever until you finally nodded.

”Okay.”

~~

The days went on after that and soon enough days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Carlos had really realized what he had been doing to you, how his neglect had chipped away at the foundation of what you had built together, and he’d been working on it. Really working on it. At first it was awkward, you both thought so. Carlos wasn’t used to scheduling his time around someone else, not in the way you needed or in the way he wanted to offer. He had to force himself to slow down, to prioritize moments with you. He learned to say no, to meeting, to interviews, to unnecessary events because he had realized what it cost him to always say yes. The reward for saying no though, was what really brought him happiness. Every time he chose you, every time he prioritized you over the demands that came with his career, he saw something in your eyes. Relief, hope, love. It hadn’t been easy though, not all of it. There were moments when he still caught you hesitating before asking for something, moment when he knew you were keeping yourself in check not to be a bother, and every time it broke his heart a little bit. One time you carefully suggested that the two of you could take a small trip, since both of you were off work for a few days, and he could tell you were bracing yourself for disappointment even as you asked the question. He knew you still kept a lot of your feelings to yourself, brushing off things that upset you, and that’s what hurt him the most. Knowing you were still healing from what he’d put you through. There were good moments too, the majority actually, that made both of you feel like you were moving in the right direction. Like when he surprised you with a packed picnic basket one morning when you thought he would be at work. Or that time he saw you smile, really smile, when you heard him turn down a late-night meeting just to stay in and watch your favorite show together. It was a slow process, earning back your trust, but he was determined to make it.

One evening you sat on the balcony together, the glow of the city and the sinking sun blending together in front of you. Carlos had you tucked closely to his side, fingers twisting a strand of your hair absentmindedly as both of you just seemed to enjoy your time together.

”You’re quiet tonight.” Your soft murmur had him gazing down at you, smiling softly when he saw your face already turned up. Carlos moved his free hand to brush a strand of hair from your cheek.

”I’m just thinking.”

”About what?” Carlos hesitated, unsure how to express what he was feeling. When you reached up to grab his hand, tilting your head in that way he always found so endearing, he spoke up again.

”About how lucky I am. That you’re still here, with me, you know? That you didn’t give up.”

Your expression softened if possible even more, fingers intertwining with his. ”I never wanted to give up Carlos, I never wanted us to end.” You assured him, brows softly knitting together. ”I just needed to know if you actually wanted me here.” Carlos chest tightened, reminders of those painful days when he didn’t know if he’d be able to fix what he caused flashing through his mind.

”I do. I did and I do. I’ll always want you, need you.” He paused to lean down and press his lips against your forehead for a moment, taking a deep breath in through his nose as he gathered his composure. “I’ll never stop trying to show you how much you belong in my life, how important you are to me. Because you are.” Carlos tensed for a second as you pulled away, holding his breath as you looked at him. When you finally moved again you slowly leaned up to kiss him, lips soft and warm against his, and Carlos felt himself relax again. As you pulled back he saw a glimmer of something in your eyes, something lighter, as if the weight you’d been carrying was slowly starting to lift.

”Thank you.” Once again your words came out soft, softer than he felt he deserved.

”For what?”

”For fighting for us. For wanting to make this work. You could’ve just given up and focused all your time on all your other stuff, but you’ve really tried.” Your words had him melt, the arm he had around your shoulders tightening slightly. ”I do really appreciate these past months Carlos, and I know it hasn’t been easy but it’s been good. Great. You’ve been great.”

”It hasn’t been easy.” He agreed slowly. ”But it has been worth it. Every time.” Carlos leaned in to press another gently kiss against your lips before continuing. ”I’ll always fight for us. For you.” He didn’t say anything else. Neither did you. You didn’t have to. You just sat there, tangled together in the quiet and felt the wave of security and gratitude wash over you. Things were going to be okay, both of you knew it. Maybe even better than okay.

[or0ch1maru]

Could you write an angst to fluff fic where mihawks wife gets injured and maybe he's like depended on her and now he has to manage while she is maybe in a comatose state with a happy ending

hiii babes :3

I would just like to start this by thanking all of who wished me a happy birthday yesterday. My day at work was great, and I gifted myself 2 pairs of hello kitty sneakers ^.^

Warnings: none

Let’s get into it🫵🏻

•

-you and Mihawk met a few years back. Running into each other after being set after the same bounty. And neither of you have looked back since.

-married life has been great, your husband being the absolute best man. Treating you with such care, love, and respect.

-both of you sharing the household duties, cleaning, cooking, laundry, etc.

-Mihawk always called you his sunshine, as no matter what, you always brought light into his heart. Which, over time, caused him to be more and more open about his past, and, his feelings

-which many would say is rare. No one living long enough to see any other type of reaction from him besides his usual stoicism

-but you, you got it all and a part of him knew he’d become dependent on your love that he’s not really sure to handle the situation he finds himself in currently

-both of you got called to handle a rather ‘difficult’ bounty as the marines put it. And things were going well until your opponent got the upper hand on you

-causing you to miss calculate your neck move and resulting in you being in a comatose state.

-Mihawk’s private doctor said you’ll come out of it, it just depends on when. He unfortunately wasn’t sure. It was a waiting game

-you had your own private room set up in the castle, being hooked up to this and that. A nurse would come by everyday to check in on you and handle a few things

-Mihawk would stand in the doorway every time like clock work. Watching as she tends to you

-it’s only at night, when it’s just you and him that he sits in the chair beside your bed and talks to you. He’s unsure if you can hear him but he doesn’t care. He speaks all his worries, about how much he misses and needs you. Scared that he won’t be able to do this much longer without you

-explaining that he’d wait as long as you need for you to come out of this. As long as he gets to hear your voice, witness your smile, be able to feel you touch and hug him back

-during the day, he keeps himself busy. Cleaning, reading, paperwork, more reading, going into town to shop, buying things for you, anything to keep his mind preoccupied

-he has good days and bad, most of them blending together

-poor guy has used dissociating to get through most of this as he truly doesn’t know how to come to terms without you

-the castle is too quiet, he misses hearing your sweet voice bouncing off the walls when you call for him, or when you come bounding down the hallway towards his office to ‘annoy’ him

-when he’s tossing and turning in your shared bed, he has one of your shirts or hoodies with him. One that has the scent of your perfume lingering on it. Which eventually gets him to sleep

-now, today has been a particularly difficult day for Mihawk. Marines constantly on his ass, giving him shit for not handling every single bounty they’ve been giving him. It annoys him as they know of his personal situation and don’t show any sort of respect towards it

-so by the time he gets back home, his mood is sour. He stands in the doorway, watching you as the nurse tends to you once again

-“any change?” He asks, and even though he already knew the answer. Watching the nurse shake her head and reply with her usual “no, I’m sorry”, is when the damn breaks

-no one has seen him cry, you witnessed a single tear roll down his cheek the day you two wed but that’s it

-he waits until the aid is gone for the night and that’s when the tears come flowing. Hard, and heavy.

-he’s sitting at his desk, his chest heaving as he tries catching his breath, and every time he thinks he’s calming down, more tears come

-Mihawk doesn’t realize it’s a panic attack, as it’s his first time experiencing one since he was a boy

-this goes on for hours, before he eventually falls asleep at his desk, his forehead resting against his forearms. A single hand resting on the photograph he keeps on his desk

-but he’s jerked awake around 3am. At first he thinks it’s a dream when he heard your voice from the room next door

-but when he hears a choked “baby?” He almost falls from his chair

-he wastes no time running into the room you’ve been treated in all this time

-and that’s when he sees you. Your eyes open, a look of confusion on your face as you take in the tubes you’ve been hooked up too

-“my love?” Are the first words that fall from his mouth and he nearly collapses when you look over at him. A small smile forming on your face when you see your husband

-as bad as he wants to run over to where you’re laying and hug you. He keeps himself composed. Approaching the bed slowly, sitting down beside you

-his large hand engulfs yours. His thumb rubbing circles against the inside of your wrist.

-after asking if you’re okay, and giving you some water, he catches you up on everything that’s happened the entire time you’ve been out

-you can see the toll this has taken on him and you feel horrible. You’re so used to your strong and composed husband, that seeing how stressed his been breaks you

-your free hand comes up, cupping his cheek. Something you’ve done during the entirety of your relationship. He instinctively nuzzles into your palm and that’s when he begins to cry

-you’re slow with your movements, being careful as you sit yourself up before having him climb onto the mattress beside you. Your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him against your side as you hold him

-listening to his broken sentences of how scared he’s been and unsure.

-he stays there for a long time before lifting his head to look at you. Pressing his lips to yours after not feeling you kiss back in what felt like forever to him

-“maybe it’s time that I retire.” You murmur against his lips before kissing him again. You’d hate to have something like this happen a second time.

-you never liked seeing your husband worried, let alone about yourself.

-“I think I might just join you.”

•

Okayyyyyy so it’s been a while since I’ve written any angst so I apologize if this isn’t great😭😭

[pixiesfz]

Hey! I was wondering if I could do a UCLA!jessie smut? Where the reader isn’t a virgin per se but maybe has never used a strap on or anything like that and is rlly innocent and needs a hand with that stuff? If not that’s chill too😊

the way I asked that was so strange 😭

ohhhhh fuck yes.

something new j.f x r

plot: Jessie wants to try something new in the bedroom and doesn't know how to tell you

warning: fluffy smut

Jessie was very smart, she was very good in school and always had been. She ran laps around you, especially in Science, and as her personal girlfriend, you used it to your advantage, stealing her notes every so often and asking her questions at 2 in the morning that you knew she would answer.

Except for the last week Jessie had been distracted...

You didn't know what from, You both had to leave for the Olympics to represent your countries soon and it was your senior year, you assumed she was stressed.

You walked into her dorm with your books for science as she was stuck on her phone, an unusual sight.

"Hey" You smiled, walking in the door as the girl quickly dropped her phone, a blush spreading over her cheeks "Hey" she said after and you furrowed her brows.

You settled your books down at her desk "I saw you were off in class today so I tried really hard to take down notes, and I voice recorded sir's class so we could go over it" you explained, flipping through your pages.

"You did that for me?" Jessie asked, standing up and walking over to you, wrapping her arms around you from behind.

You looked up to her "I assumed your mind was running lately and I didn't want to add any stress" you smiled and the girl squeezed you tighter to her.

"I hadn't even realized I was doing that," Jessie said, kissing you on the cheek before checking your notes.

"They're not the best-" "I love them," Jessie said, her chin digging into your shoulder "I love you" you smiled "I love you too".

Jessie was mentally yelling at herself.

She had many friends, as well as you on the UCLA team but some were closer than others, meaning some were more invested in your relationship than others.

It wasn't until a certain Australian goalkeeper got nosy and started teasing Jessie that she came to an understanding.

It was at a party, you had gone back to the Netherlands to see your family for the weekend and Teagan had taken Jessie to a frat party, which she spent the whole time checking her phone from a message from you and drinking random drinks that her friends told her to try out of boredom.

"How are you and y/n?" Teagan asked and Jessie blushed, causing the Australian to roll her eyes playfully "We're good" Jessie replied

"Just good?" Teagan teased and Jessie groaned "what? do you want me to say we're getting married?"

"maybe"

The two girls laughed "What about you Miss I get so many girls" Jessie shot back at her friend who smirked "Oh well I leave all my 'relationships' satisfied" Jessie almost spat out her drink from laughter in disbelief "It's true" Teagan told her "especially when I bring out the strap" Teagan smirked and Jessie looked at her.

"You use a strap?"

Teagan nodded "you don't?" she asked and Jessie shook her head, shocking Teagan "really?" once again Jessie shook her head "I guess we've just never thought about it"

Teagan not long after found a girl to take home sending Jessie a large gestured wink before leaving.

Jessie's mind had been spiraling ever since.

She imagined you under her, taking in her strap for the first time, the noises you could make under her drove her crazy.

Every time you made a sound that could be equivalent to a moan, grunt or even just you saying her name softly made her have to squeeze her legs together in class. There was no way that she could pay attention in class when you constantly leaned your head back out of frustration of not getting the work, which usually Jessie would help with.

She didn't know how to bring up this new issue she had with you, she didn't know how you would react or even if you would like it. Her imagination of bending you over pieces of furniture in her dorm were driving her mad and if she asked you and you said no, she didn't know how she would react.

So maybe not telling you would be a good idea.

But now you were looking at her with a glint in your eye and she felt like she was about to combust.

"Are you okay?" You ask your girlfriend who had a small blush painted on her cheeks "yeah I'm fine" she told you but you shook your head "Are you worried for the Olympics?" you ask and the brunette shook her head "not particularly"

You nodded your head slowly, trying to read if your girlfriend was telling the truth "well if it's not the Olympics what's up?

Jessie looked at you before looking at a plastic bag she had in the corner and looked back to you.

"It is the Olympics actually"

You rolled your eyes "liar" you pointed at her chest "what it is Canada has a good chance and what if we verse each other?"

You pushed your girlfriend towards her bed "then we try our hardest, like we talked about before I went home last week" you aid calmly before she sat down, her hands resting on your waist.

"I guess I'm just frustrated" Jessie sighed, her eyes settling on the piece of skin her hands were brushing over.

You smirked, looking down on your girlfriend "sexually?"

Jessie's face burned, how did you know?, did you guess? Had you somehow read her mind and knew she wanted to pound into you until you didn't have enough energy to speak english?

well maybe that took it a bit far...

Jessie was always an over thinker.

You grabbed your girlfriends chin to look up to you "well are you?" you ask and the Canadian nodded.

"Jessie, you know you can get me into bed easily" you smirked, plopping down next to her, one of your legs wrapping around her own "I know it's just-" Jessie stopped herself as you leaned into her "what is it Jess?"

You knew you could get anything out of her by using that small nickname.

"I want to try something new" she stated softly and you sat up, an eager smile on your face "really?" you ask and she nodded "I just wasn't sure how to approach it"

You nodded, softly kissing your girlfriends lips "we have a safe place here Jess, anything we do or say stays with us" you told her and she nodded saying a small 'okay' before turning to you "can we just get into the vibe first?" she asked and you smiled nodding, softly pushing your girlfriend down into the bed before straddling her lap "like this?"

"this works" Jessie smiled before you leant down, capturing her in a kiss.

You grew wet at her words when she said she wanted to try something new, excited by the thought and intrigued.

As you kept kissing her, slightly grinding your hips into hers you felt her hand sneak up your shirt, her hands playing with your boobs since you came in your pajama's.

"I want" Jessie said as you pulled away slightly, just enough so she could get her words out "I want to fuck you with a strap?"

Jessie leaned back to see your reaction, her eyes trying to find an answer before you spoke.

You smiled before nodding "I'd like that" Jessie smiled "yeah?" and you kissed her lips again "yeah, I trust you with anything"

You saw the girl quickly look to the bag in the corner again "Did you buy one?" you ask and the girl shyly nodded "Do you want to try it tonight?" you ask and she nodded again, more eagerness in this one as you hopped off of her.

"Show me it" you said as the girl got up, grabbing the bag before sitting back down on the bed with you "having it out in the open?" you tease

"you act like you aren't the only person I let in here"

You both smiled as she pulled it out, a black harness with a fairly shaped purple strap latched onto it "My favorite colour" you praised before pulling her into a kiss.

Pulling away Jessie pointed at you "we can't go straight in" she said and you nodded "Good cause I thought that might hurt" you agreed, letting the girl switch positions with you, her on top of you now.

"Do you know how to use it?" You asked and she nodded "I uhm- I watched some video's" she cringed at her own sentance before you looked back to when you came inside "Where you watching porn before I got here?" you asked and the girl turned red "shut up" you laughed "you do love to learn" you hummed as your girlfriend leaned in "at least I can teach you now".

Your tops had been abandoned now on the floor as Jessie's lips trailed down your stomach, her fingertips, tiptoeing around your waist band before you lifted your hips, telling her to take them off which she did before spreading your legs apart.

"I think you might be more excited for this than me" she teased, kissing the insides of your thighs You looked down at her "tease me too much and I'll make you wait another night for this" you quipped and the girl laughed, her breath hitting your heat, giving you slight friction you craved "alright, alright" she said before letting her tongue run through your folds, a moan falling through your lips from the impact.

"so good" Jessie moaned from her place beneath you, slowly adding a finger in as her tongue lapped over your clit "just open up for me baby" she told you, her other hand reaching out to hold your boob, using it as a stress toy.

"You can add a second" you whined as Jessie started to increase her speed, obliging your request and adding a second "fuck Jessie" you moaned, your hand reaching out to her hair, keeping her in place as she started to curl her fingers, hitting your G spot.

You were a moaning mess, as Jessie sent you praises "good job baby, just like that" as if you were doing the hard work "Jess s'm so good" you moaned, tugging at her hair which only made her go in harder.

You felt the coil in your stomach tighten as your breaths became faster, your first orgasm building "I'm gonna-" "I know baby let it go"

It was quickly after that you came over Jessie's fingers, the girl spreading your juices all over you, preparing you.

"Fuck you are so good at that" you told Jessie who blushed, bringing you into a kiss so you could taste yourself, both of you moaning at the contact.

Jessie pulled away, standing up as you watched in anticipation of her taking off her joggers and boxers, pulling the strap up her legs before grabbing another cream out of the bag "supposed to make it go in easier" she said "Jessie I know what lube is" you smirked.

Your breath hitched as you saw your girlfriend apply it on the strap, making it look like she was stroking her own cock, turning you on ten times more than you already were.

When Jessie climbed back onto the bed she looked down at you "not even sure we needed that baby, you are so wet" she gawked and you smiled, pulling her down into another kiss "just for you".

Jessie positioned herself with the tip to go inside of you, holding the strap with one hand and your hand with the other.

"Okay big stretch" she said as she slowly went into you, your breath hitching as you squeezed her hand before she fully went in.

She left it in for a moment, leaving small kisses around your chest "you're doing so well for me" she told you as you felt normal again "you ready?" she asked and you nodded.

Jessie slowly moved in and out as your eyes rolled back out of pleasure "Jessie please" you whined as you decided you were ready to go faster which she did "fuck" she breathed out, also getting pleasure off of it.

When Jessie decided to pull out further before entering back into you, you moaned loudly, sending Jessie into a high as she did it again, harder and faster as you were practically screaming out her name.

For the first time Jessie was happy she had an alone dorm near nobody else's.

Your nails were scratching along her back as you both were moaning each others names "fuck Jessie I'm coming" you whined, your pitch going higher as she pounded into you harder, her name falling off your tongue with profanities until you finally snapped, Jessie slowed down her movements letting you get off your high before you pulled away, her slipping out of you easily.

Both of you were capturing your breaths with smiles before Jessie pulled the strap off her body and cuddled into you.

When you finally got your breath back you pulled your girlfriend into a kiss "Jessie" you said and the girl hummed

"The next time you want to try something new, don't wait a week to tell me"

[thursdayinspace]

WIP: on the run

This is a thing that spiraled out of control from a tiny headcanon. I'm not sure this will ever become an actual fic, but I thought I'd share this angsty little snippet, because it can stand on its own. They're on the run after season 9, and Mulder feels guilty, so things happen.

tagging @today-in-fic

It happens only once after they go on the run. Only once, after days on the road, too many days of never-ending worry and fear. Endless days of constantly looking over their shoulders, endless nights with little to no sleep, expecting to be caught any second. It happens once and only once, and Scully knew it was coming. Still, it hits her hard when it does.

It’s a Tuesday, maybe a Wednesday morning; days of the week have lost all meaning, blending together in strips of highway and cheap motels. She wakes up in some damp, moldy room in the middle of nowhere and the bed next to her is cold. For a second, her brain refuses to make sense of it; she sits up, blinking against the light, listening. No sounds from the bathroom, no water running. His bag is missing, no longer on the chair in the corner where he left it. The shock pierces her heart cold as ice: he's gone. Her frantic eyes fall on a note on the bedside table, his familiar handwriting in blue ballpoint pen on yellowed motel stationery:

I'm sorry. I can't do this to you. You deserve so much better, Scully. Please don't be mad at me, you know I'm right about this. I love you.

They checked in late last night and went straight to bed. She doesn't have anything to pack. In her rush to put yesterday's clothes back on, she gets caught in her sweater, can't find the armhole, can't get it over her head, and she loses precious seconds; god knows where he is by now. She leaves in such a hurry she forgets her toothbrush in the bathroom.

He left the car. Of course he did. The keys are in her bag where she put them, having driven the last few miles of their journey last night. That stupid man, if he tried to hitchhike and risked being recognized—she doesn't want to think about it, she needs a level head right now. She knows him better than anyone. Where could he have gone? He doesn't want to be found, not by the cops, and now not by her. Her chest aches and she can’t breathe. She doesn't even know how long he's been gone, and she curses her ability to sleep through absolutely everything. But she knows him. She knows him. If anyone can find him, it's her.

At least this she knows, this is something she can do. So much is out of her control. But she’s fought monsters. She’s solved puzzles nobody else wanted to touch. She can figure this out. And she knows where to start. She knows Mulder.

**

The late afternoon sun casts his shadow long over the soft grass at his feet, and she slams the car door harder than necessary, ready to cry with anger or relief or whatever the hell it is she's feeling. "Mulder."

"Hey, Scully," he says, sounding guilty, resigned, his face unhappy and tired as he meets her eyes.

"What the hell—" She breaks off, barely able to speak through the pounding of her heart. "Mulder, what were you thinking...?"

"I'm sorry," he says. He looks so utterly defeated. "How did you find me?"

She shakes her head, deciding not to get into the shit job he did of concealing his steps; it's almost like he left an intentional trail of breadcrumbs for her to follow, but this is not the time for that discussion. "I cannot believe you. After everything? You try to pull a stunt like this after everything we've been through?"

"It's my fault," he says. "It's all my fault. You're cut off from everyone you love. You have no future. You have no son. Because of me."

"You're such a fucking idiot," she spits at him. He doesn't move, doesn't reply, only lowers his eyes in shame. "Mulder," she tells him. "Look at me."

He doesn't, just lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "Go home, Scully."

"Just stop it," she says. "You know I'm not going to do that. So can we just not do this? Please? Can we please not fight about this?”

“I don’t want to fight with you.” His voice is barely more than a whisper. “I want you to be safe.”

“Yeah, well.” She takes a few steps closer, sighing. “We can’t always get everything we want.”

“Scully.” His hand reaches for her and she reaches back, she always does, she always will. “This isn’t fair to you.”

“Leaving without a word isn’t fair,” she says. There’s more she wants to say. Promises she wants to hear but can’t ask for; promises she wants to make that she can’t put into words. Not yet. Instead, she wraps her arms around him and holds on, closes her eyes when he finally lifts his arms to squeeze her tight and bury his face in her hair.

“What are we going to do?” he asks.

He’s warm against her, warm and solid and there. “I don’t know,” she says.

She can’t keep this anger inside, and he can’t shoulder this guilt on his own. But she’s too exhausted to fight. Too drained to do anything more than stand here with him. Capitulation and relief are written into every breath against her neck, into the way he wraps himself around her. He doesn’t have the strength to let go. Months ago she’s held him like this once before, and she understands how it tears him apart—she’d felt it too, then: loving him so much she’d needed him to leave, needing him so much she’d wanted him to stay.

“What can I do?” he asks, and she fills in the blanks: What can I do to make this right? What can I do to prove I’m sorry? What can I do to make it so that all this never happened?

And she wants to tell him: please see me, please understand that I need you. “Talk to me,” she says, aware of her hypocrisy; her own words are safely locked away where he will never hear them. He left because he loves her. She found him for the same reason.

“I’ll try,” he says.

She knows he wants her anger and she wishes she could give it to him, but she has no fight left in her and neither does he. If she hopes for it hard enough, maybe they’ll be okay. After all, she knows he’s hoping for the same thing.

[irisintheafterglow]

love me from your point of view

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: ariana grande - "pov"

summary: you teach sakusa kiyoomi how to love, in spite of the cameras and the gossip.

wc: 8.45k

cw/tags: pro!sakusa x rockstar!reader, fem!reader in mind but no specific pronouns used, strangers to lovers, character study, explicit language, minor injury (blood/glass tw), mentions of drinking and alcohol, angst with happy ending <3

note: this is my contribution for the lovely sel's "and there's something, this feeling" collab to celebrate one year of @seiwas ! this is the longest fic i've written to date because i tried my best to go a character-driven route that i've always admired sel for rather than my usual plot-driven route. i hope you like this and happiest of anniversaries my wonderful sel :))))

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated :) check out the rest of sel's event here!

Sakusa Kiyoomi hated cameras. Unfortunately, in his line of work, they were essentially gnats buzzing constantly around his head. They were always trying to make him do something, look here or there, pose with his shoulders angling this way or that. After the commands came the interrogations, nosy reporters sniffing around his private life for something sellable. Then there were the phone cameras and the fans behind them, and they could be a hit or miss depending on if they respected his boundaries. When he was in highschool, he could get away with avoiding socialization; but now, as a striker for one of the most famous teams in the country, socialization was a required skill. 

“I’m happy you agreed to go with us, Sakusa,” Bokuto says for the fifth time since they parked at the venue in the heart of Tokyo. It was a little irritating, the way they kept thanking him for his presence like he’d back out if they didn’t continue expressing their gratitude. He couldn’t leave, even if he wanted to; Atsumu insisted on being the one behind the wheel and the car narrowly avoided a collision after Hinata said he’d missed the exit. “We know you’re still a little grumpy because of the drive, so don’t feel the need to talk to us right now.” 

“Hey, if you wanted to leave so badly, you could just call a car,” Atsumu points out, “but I know you secretly like spending time with us.” Sakusa fixes his teammate with a stare that could be perceived as a grimace, but his friends know him better than that. Sakusa wasn’t angry, he was bored. It was originally Bokuto and Hinata’s idea to see some artist he didn’t listen to in concert, saying that it was ‘a once in a lifetime experience’ and that the artist hadn’t played in the country in over a decade. He was vaguely aware of some songs, mostly because his teammates cranked the speaker volume during conditioning. Still, it wasn’t his ideal Saturday night, especially before a big game. “And, guess what?”

“Holy shit, box seats!” 

“We have our own bathroom!” Bokuto and Hinata’s shouts of excitement drown out the rest of Atsumu’s sentence and the security guards are barely able to open the doors as they tumble into the private section. 

“Yo, Shoyo. Be careful of that railing or you’ll fall into the general audience,” Atsumu warns while Hinata willfully ignores him, staring out over the crowds slowly filing into their seats. “Pretty cool, ain’t it?” Sakusa nods once, approaching the balcony and then deciding against it when he catches the telltale flash of a phone camera. Like clockwork, he and the other Jackals would be on every update page within ten minutes. A small object appears from behind the balcony wall, floating upwards in a thin arc before falling back to the seats below.

“The hell are they doing?”

“Sakusa, fans are trying to give us bracelets,” Bokuto beams, holding up his forearm halfway-covered in colorful beads. “Apparently it’s a tradition with this artist.”

“I don’t like gifts,” Sakusa deadpans, his mouth taut in a frown. “Tell them I can’t take it.”

“Too late,” Atsumu says, snagging a vibrant purple bracelet as it’s tossed upwards. He looks down at the eager fans below and claps, gesturing for them to throw more. “We’re already taking ‘em, so they’re gonna wonder why you’re not taking them too.”

“If they’re real fans, they’ll know I don’t like gifts,” he counters with narrowed eyes. 

“C’mon, Sakusa. Take one, at least,” Hinata says. His shorter teammate carefully pulls one off and slides it onto his wrist. The pattern alternates between yellow and lime green beads, with letter beads in the center spelling ‘NOKMLYDANOEW.’ It looked like Bokuto and Akaashi’s cat stepped on their computer keyboard. “The letters are an acronym for a song, I think. It’s an inside thing with the artist,” Hinata explains, leaning his bracelet-covered arms against the railing and waving to excited fans. 

“I’m gonna see if they have time to meet us backstage. The fans’ll go berserk.” Bokuto’s words make Sakusa’s eye twitch involuntarily. Staying longer than expected of him was a surefire way to make him irritated and they knew that. 

“Yeah, they’re not the only ones who will benefit from a little meet and greet,” Atsumu whispers cryptically and it’s impossible not to see the way he looks Sakusa up and down. 

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“It’s nothing, really. Don’t worry about it, man,” Bokuto reassures him with a pat on the back, but he doesn’t budge. 

“No, I’m interested. What’re you on about, Miya?” 

“Trust us, it’s nothing!”

“Just grab a soju and relax, Sakusa–”

“They’re trying to set you up with the artist!” Sakusa flinches, turning slowly to his teammates that shrink away like vampires in direct sunlight. Hinata looks mortified, his hands slapped over his mouth as if to seal off what was already revealed. Atsumu and Bokuto shrug, giving him guilty smiles and showing their palms to convey their surrender. “That’s…that’s what they were talking about before we picked you up,” Hinata continues sheepishly. 

“This whole thing is a blind date?” He seethes through gritted teeth, the lights of the stadium starting to give him a migraine. “You guys brought me here to set me up?” 

“All we’re trying to do is have you meet someone new,” Atsumu says gently, stepping forward and then abruptly backward when Sakusa looks like he’s about to commit a homicide. “We think it’ll be good for you.” 

“I don’t care about new people. I have work and you idiots to keep me busy,” Sakusa argues, crossing his arms over his chest. The beads on his arm press into his skin and he fights the urge to rip the entire thing off. “Why would I wanna meet some musician I don’t listen to?” 

“Even if you don’t listen to their music,” Bokuto replies without hesitation, “You should read through their lyrics sometime; I think you’ll find a lot of stuff you can relate to. I bet they get just as much bad publicity as we do.” 

“As if,” he scoffs. “I don’t need someone with a purple guitar telling me what I think.” 

—

“You said there were volleyball guys in attendance, right? If they’re still here, I should probably meet them,” you say to your publicist as you step out from the automatic riser that brought you below the stage following the last song of the show. The sound of your platform boots echo on the linoleum in the back halls of the stadium, your exit music faintly audible from above. “Who are they?” 

“There’s four in total, along with some managers and press. They’re on a team called the MSBY Jackals, with an outstanding record in the sport. From what I’ve seen, three of them are pretty nice.” The two of you, along with a handful of security guards, climb into a waiting golf cart. 

“And the other one?” 

“Toss-up. He might not even talk to you.” You take a sip from your water bottle and briefly glance at the photo your publicist has pulled up on her phone. You can guess which one is the quiet one from his face in the photo alone, staring blankly at the camera while his other teammates smile brightly. 

“He looks like he’d kill me in my sleep,” you observe bluntly. “The type of serial killer people make fan accounts about.” 

“In his defense, I don’t think this is his type of crowd,” she shrugs, her attention flicking to the way you stretch your legs in the seat of the small vehicle. “Sore?”

“Beyond belief,” you chuckle, wincing as a small stab of pain shoots through your calf. “I think I might need a little more padding on the soles, if possible. Chunky heels, in all their wonder, were not made for three hour shows.”

“I’ll see what I can do. You focus on turning back on for the players.” 

After a few more minutes of sipping water and stretching out your legs in the backseat of the golf cart, you pull up to the loading dock where the four athletes are waiting. Two of them, one with iced tips and the other with vibrantly orange hair, practically jump in place when you arrive. The grumpy one lingers at the back of the group; the blonde player extends his hand to you as you step out. 

“Thank you so much.” You greet them with a practiced smile and hope your exhaustion isn’t too visible. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“I couldn’t stop screaming the entire time and I think my voice is shot.” 

“You are incredibly talented.” 

“It was wonderful!” 

“Oh, I’m so glad. It’s such a pleasure to meet you all,” you say warmly, truly wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep for 24 hours straight. Even when his friends chatter your ear off, the curly-haired one at the back doesn’t say anything. The short one with orange hair and the widest smile introduces himself as Hinata Shoyo, excitedly leading you to each of his teammates: loud Bokuto, flirty Atsumu, and reclusive Sakusa. You’re left alone with Sakusa when the other three rush off to find a bathroom, having been too excited to use one during your show. 

“I didn’t take you for the bracelet type, Sakusa,” you comment, clocking the single bracelet on his wrist. “The colors are nice, though. They go with your eyes.” You let some of your facade come down, mostly because you figured you didn’t need to be as energetic around this one compared to the others. 

“Yeah, Shoyo let me have one of his. Didn’t realize you had such a passionate fanbase,” he states and you fight the urge to laugh. “Or such a large one.”

“You didn’t think I had fans, Sakusa?” His eyes widen ever so slightly and the chuckle slips out before you can stop it, his ears turning a shade pinker. 

“Not what I said,” he backtracks, avoiding eye contact. “The show was good,” he continues unexpectedly, and you find yourself appreciating his praise more than you should. It was a triumph, in your mind, every time you won over a new listener, and he was no different. At least he wasn’t one of the guys harassing you in your Instagram messages. 

“I appreciate the compliment,” you say and catch his ears turning even redder. As much as he was trying to seem offputting, you could read him like a book. “You guys are in town for a game?”

“We’re playing not tomorrow night, but the night after. Coach would kill us if he knew we were going out before a big game,” he answers and you nod, gears starting to turn in your brain. It would be a headline tomorrow that the four players came to your show, but it would break the Internet entirely if you attended their game, especially in the middle of a sold-out tour. It was the kind of publicity you needed to drown out the tabloids. 

“My last show of this city is tomorrow night, but I can get away with skipping a rest day. Would it be weird if I came to watch you play?”

“You want to watch me play?” Sakusa echoes. The tiniest little smirk plays on the corner of his lips. Ugh. For all his introvertedness, he still had the ego of a pro athlete. “That’s what you’re saying?”

“I meant you guys. Don’t think I forgot about the players that actually came to talk to me,” you correct quickly. You exhale through your nose and shake your head with a small smile. The enthusiastic conversation behind you tells you that the rest of the team is returning. “Fine. Maybe I do wanna see who you are under all that antisocial attitude.” 

“Have fun with that. I don’t like new people,” he says, testing you. Too bad you were used to men that probably weren’t healthy for you. “There’s no changing that.” Your forehead throbs at his pure audacity, but you manage to keep an unbothered expression. 

“Good thing I love a challenge.” 

—

“I didn’t think they’d actually show up,” he mutters, taking another look at the large screens projecting the image of you in a VIP box. Sakusa didn’t recognize you without your concert makeup and stage outfit until Shoyo practically knocked him over in excitement. Seeing you smiling and catching your eye, even from at the bottom of the court, made his stomach turn in a way he wasn’t used to. 

“I can’t believe we didn’t think of that first,” Bokuto beams, sending a powerful serve that barely cilps the top of the net. Sakusa finds his eyes drifting to your box, his scowl deepening when you blow an exaggerated kiss to his teammate. His next serve he puts more effort into, but when he looks up, you’re not even watching. Not only were you crashing his game, you were distracting his team. “Nice plan, Sakusa! Maybe we can become friends with them and go to each others’ events.” 

“That wasn’t my intention,” he cringes, the idea of spending more time with you making him nauseous. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the fact that you were making an effort to engage with him and his friends was outlandish. And all because he invited you to a game? Didn’t you have anything better to do?

“You thought inviting them to the game would scare them away, huh?” Atsumu’s watching Sakusa carefully, inspecting his disgruntled expression under a microscope. “Believe it or not, Omi, some people actually want to be around you…despite how difficult you make it sometimes.” 

“I don’t remember asking for your input,” he threatens, but the blonde Miya merely shrugs, impervious to Sakusa’s warnings. “Can we agree to ignore their presence? Focus on the game. It’s your job.” Atsumu and Bokuto share a look, with typical Hinata none the wiser. Whether they knew it or not, your attendance was throwing off Sakusa’s entire concentration. The average spectator wouldn’t notice the change in Sakusa’s behavior; if anything, they would think he was functioning at a higher level than he usually plays. His serves are stronger, his spikes are sharper, and his steps are quicker than any other player on the court. Fans rave on social media about how focused he is in the game, and the reporters scribble in their notebooks the pressing question for the post-game press conference: Why are you playing so well today? 

“I always play that well,” he mutters, his lie drowned out by the lively conversation around the booth in the corner of the restaurant. The Jackals had cinched an easy victory and Bokuto and Hinata dragged you from your box to get dinner with them. Sakusa sits at the edge of the booth, flanked by Atsumu, followed by Bokuto and Hinata. You sit at the other end, laughing at some dumb story being recounted. It made his forehead pound. “You just don’t notice.” 

“Yeah, right,” Atsumu snickers with another sip of beer. “Admit it, something’s pissing you off.” Maybe I do wanna see who you are under all that anti-social attitude. Your words linger in the back of his mind and fire him up again, unknowingly furrowing his eyebrows and incriminating him. “Yep. Knew it.” 

“Shut the hell up, Atsumu.” He hated that his normally-idiotic teammate was on the cusp of exposing the truth, not to mention the fact that he’d downed one too many soju bombs and was feeling pushier than usual. 

“Is it ‘cause they actually listened to you and showed up?”

“I told you to shut up,” he hisses through gritted teeth. You’re laughing so hard that tears are starting to prickle at the corner of your eyes. It’s the kind of laugh where no noise is actually leaving you and you’re fanning yourself with your hand. Gross. 

“Aww, look at little baby Omi-Omi, finally having a feeling over someone wanting to get to know him,” Atsumu gushes and Sakusa’s ears burn. He threatens his friend with an indescribable death to no avail. “I knew you had a heart under all that coldness!” 

Sakusa’s fist clenches around his glass and he realizes his mistake a split second before there’s a sharp crack! and sudden pain prickles in his palm. “Oh shit, man. I–” His teammate swears under his breath when drops of dark red and amber starts to trickle down Sakusa’s arm, staining the white napkin on his lap. He grinds his teeth down to keep from crying out, the whiskey in his shattered cup burning his raw skin. 

“What happened?” You’re by his side in an instant, your perfume flooding his senses in a way that makes him dizzy. “Jeez, Atsumu. What’d you do?” 

“Why are you blaming me? He’s the one who was holding the cup,” Atsumu says defensively and you shoot him a look. “Fine. I got him riled up and he did,” he gestures to the mess on the table, “that.” 

“Could one of you call your driver please? I think it’s time you three head back to your hotel,” you recommend calmly. 

“What about Sakusa?” Hinata asks as he climbs out from the booth, dragging an apologetic Atsumu and a very buzzed Bokuto toward the door. “He should probably get that checked out.”

“I know. I’ll stay with him,” you reassure him and, after a brief pause of thinking, the short spiker nods and heads for the exit. Sakusa is rigidly still, save for the involuntarily twitching of his injured fingers. “C’mon, let’s go,” you say, gently guiding him out of the booth and grabbing some unused napkins to catch the bleeding. He follows you wordlessly, a million thoughts stewing in his eyes that he refuses to verbalize. He knew he didn’t like you when you tried to read him after your show, but the alcohol in his system was making him despise you. 

You, sitting with him on the way to the nearest hospital. You, carefully looping the elastic bands of his mask over his face before leaving the car. You, politely declining a fan’s attempt to introduce themselves while you’re checking him in at the reception desk. You, listening intently to the doctor as she says that he’ll need stitches in his right hand and that they’ll need to pick every last particle of glass from his palm so that it doesn’t become infected. You, ignoring your vocal coach’s orders for a rest day and staying by his side from 11:00pm to 3:00am when the doctors finally finish his hand. 

He despises you and his pride becomes a gag in his mouth once you drop him off at the Jackals’ hotel, rendering him unable to choke out a simple ‘thank you’ as you continue to treat him with unending kindness. You’ll get hurt if you keep being nice, he thinks to himself, and the way you flinch like you’d been shot tells him he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. He hears you murmur Sleep well, Sakusa, as he shuts the door with his left hand and stalks away, lost in the trenches of his mind. 

—

“But, I’m not sure if it should be the A minor to keep with the chord progression or go to E to create some tension.” Your producer nods at you, his chin resting on his knuckles as you strum your latest song idea on your purple acoustic. It’d been a few days since your late-night trip to the emergency room with Sakusa, and you decided to spend a few hours in the studio before catching your flight to your next tour city. “And when I tried to do it on piano, I just wanted to change the key entirely.” He opens his mouth to speak but is abruptly cut off by three insistent raps on the doorframe of the control room.  

“You have a visitor,” your publicist informs you, peeking her head into the room with a slightly bewildered look in her eyes. “He says it’s urgent.” Your eyebrows dip but you stand anyways, walking through the halls of the recording space until you reach the lobby of the building and stop in your tracks. 

What the hell was he doing here?

“Hey,” Sakusa greets and you blink at him, like he was a figment of your imagination that would disappear if you ignored him. It’s impossible to ignore him, though, considering the outrageously large bundle of flowers cradled in his arm. He follows your eyeline, muttering, “I didn’t know which ones you liked, so I just…bought all of them.”

“I’ll, uh,” your publicist glances at you for a brief moment, giving you an unreadable look before gingerly taking the bouquet from the Olympian in the lobby. “I’ll take these and have them brought to your next hotel, okay?” She dismisses herself, leaving you alone with him. 

“Why are you here?”

“Are you busy right now?” You cross your arms over your chest, annoyed that he replied to your question with a question of his own. Since dropping him off at the team’s hotel, you’d come to peace with his hatred for you even though you’d tried to be nothing but cordial; maybe he could tell that you wanted to be friends for the publicity, you theorized. 

“I’m in a recording studio doing my job, so yeah,” you reply and allow all your suppressed attitude to rear its head. To your surprise, he doesn’t immediately fire back at you. If anything, Sakusa looked uneasy, nothing like the cold confidence you previously saw. “What do you want?”

“Do you have time for lunch?” 

“Oh, now you’re interested in my company,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. In the time following that night at the hospital, you hadn’t received any updates other than an unprompted photo of hungover Atsumu. “Unless you’re ready to apologize for how much of an asshole you’ve been, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“I wanna start over,” he says as you turn your back on him to return to the studio. “One meal,” he proposes, “and if you want nothing to do with me after that, I’ll leave you alone.” You check the wall-mounted clock and make your decision. 

“You get two hours.” 

By the time you sneak through the back of a restaurant and sit down to eat, your stomach is turning itself inside out. You thumb through the menu eagerly, ignoring your present company until water glasses are set out and orders are taken. 

“Look,” you begin, peering at him in the dim light, “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

“That makes two of us,” he agrees. “You go first.”

“Truth is, I didn’t go to the game to see you, or any of the Jackals, for that matter,” you admit. “I went to get the tabloids off my back and give them a different reason to talk. I didn’t mean to mess up whatever dynamic you guys had going, so for that I am sorry.” You can’t see much of Sakusa’s expression, but you can tell his eyes are on you by the way they shine like a cat’s. It was off-putting, but also drew you in like a black hole. “Is your hand doing okay?”

“It’s better now,” he replies. “Doc’ told me that if we’d left that glass in for longer, it would’ve been more serious.” You nod and take a drink from your water as an excuse not to respond, to see if he would go further. “I, uh,” he swallows thickly, steadying his nerves. “I’m sorry for being avoidant and just being a general asshole. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m…incredibly remorseful.” A puff of air leaves your nostrils in amusement and he can hear you smirk from across the small table. 

“I appreciate the apology, and the apology lunch. Wanna start over without our respective teams breathing down our necks? Friends?” You stick your open hand toward him and he shakes it without hesitation, sealing your deal. “Awesome.” 

“You said ‘tabloids.’ What do they say about you?” Your smile fades and for a moment, he thinks he’s pushed too far too soon. He’s on the brink of apologizing again when you exhale an unsteady breath. 

“The tame ones call me an industry plant,” you explain awkwardly. “The–uh–bolder ones call me a slut.” His nostrils flare and he’s glad there’s no glass in his hand again, otherwise he couldn’t promise it wouldn’t be shattered. “The big drama came from me leaving the producer who’d helped me start my career. The media got the wrong idea, said I’d slept my way into working with him, and left when I’d had my fill.” Sakusa slowly stretches his neck from side to side, willing the sudden tension in his body to relax as he starts to see red. “I hope you can see why I wanted to give them a different reason to talk.” It’s more of a struggle than he expected to keep his voice steady. 

“What actually happened? With the original producer?” You hum in lieu of answering, grateful to catch the approaching servers out of the corner of your eye. 

“I’ll tell you another time,” you dodge, giving him a smile that he can tell is off. “For now, can we eat? I’m so hungry I’m about to eat these silly little herbs in the centerpiece.” 

—

Sakusa stays in Tokyo longer than the rest of his teammates, who depart on the team jet for the next game. He says he wants to do a little more sightseeing, despite having an apartment in the most expensive highrise in the city and knowing the streets like the back of his hand. The truth was, he wasn’t ready to give up the…thing…he’d established with you. He fell into an odd sort of routine: saying goodnight over text, calling you in the morning and telling you what time he’s picking you up, choosing the best places that can shut down for the world’s biggest rockstar on a day’s notice. You were in town for three more days and ended up spending every waking moment of them with Sakusa. 

“You’re really good at dodging the cameras,” you remark over a shared cup of ice cream on your last day, digging your spoon past the numerous toppings you’d insisted on adding. “How do you do it?”

“It helps when I’m not surrounded by the three biggest noisemakers on the planet,” he deadpans and you giggle, a sound he was increasingly becoming fond of the more time he spent with you. “I’m pretty good at laying low. People don’t know where I am unless I want them to know.” 

“Everyone seems to know where I am before even I know,” you frown. “I envy you; I really do.”

“I don’t,” he shrugs.

“Why not?” 

“When you’re trying so hard to avoid people, they tend to stop looking for you. Makes my job easier.” Your lips part in an oh of understanding. “But, I guess you’re here, so either you truly care about my wellbeing or you’re clinically insane.” You burst out laughing, so much so that you snort and have to cover your mouth with a napkin. “My running theory is that it’s a mix of both,” he declares with a rare upturn at the corner of his mouth. 

“Oh, shit,” you mutter once you’ve caught your breath and checked the time on your phone. “I should go. My plane leaves soon and my manager’ll kill me if I’m late. She’s already iffy about me staying in Tokyo this long.”

“What’s your next city?” 

“Madrid. I’m starting the European leg,” you reply while you pack up your things. He stands, walking you to the door of your waiting car. His eyes instinctively scan the surroundings street for cameras, and he subtly positions his body to block you from any passing eyes as you climb into the car. The window makes a humming noise as you roll it down. 

“Have a safe flight.” 

“Don’t be a stranger, yeah? I’ll miss you, even if you don’t want me to.” He memorizes the way the afternoon sunlight catches in your eyes, how each thump of his heartbeat seems louder when you’re near. Something is wrong in my brain, he thinks to himself. Once he’s completely sure your car isn’t being tailed, he dials Atsumu on the drive to the hotel to collect the rest of his things.

“You land already, Miya?” His car purrs beneath his fingertips as he speeds through the busy streets. 

“Safe and sound,” his teammate confirms. “Though jet lag is starting to hit Shoyo and Bo. How were the rest of your dates?” 

“They weren’t dates,” he argues, his hands unconsciously gripping the wheel tighter in indignance. “I was just thanking them for that night.” 

“Yeah, and a bit more than that, I figure.” 

“I don’t even know why I bothered calling you,” he groans.

“Because you want me to say ‘I told you so,’ right? That it was a good idea for me to bring you to that show. You know, a trip to that conveyor belt sushi place will suffice as repayment.”

“In your dreams, Atsumu,” Sakusa deadpans. 

“C’mon, Omi. I know you wouldn’t keep spending time with them if you didn’t feel some kind of tug.” 

“Tug?”

“Like you’re drawn to them,” Atsumu gushes and Sakusa feels like gagging. “Intimately.” Sakusa definitely didn’t think of you that way…right?

“You’re such a pervert.” His disgust is clear, and his speakers blow out with Atsumu’s screams of Not like that! and You don’t even pull enough for me to make fun of! “I’m at the hotel now so I’m gonna hang up. Not sure again why I even bother talking to you.”

“Because I’m your best friend,” Atsumu answers. “See you soon, my sweet Omi~” 

“Remind me to punch you when I touch down.”

—

“How was the show a few nights ago?” 

“Amazing, as always. Almost fell on my ass running around to meet people at the barricade, but thankfully kept my balance,” you chuckle, running the pad of your thumb over the petal of a purple gladiolus. “You can probably see a clip of it on all the fan pages.”

“You think I follow fan pages about you?” 

“What? I follow fan pages about you,” you insist. “User ‘omi-omisbigtits’ has some pretty funny posts of you.” Sakusa groans from the other end of the line.

“That’s the one fan account I have blocked because they post such heinous things,” he recalls. “Did you scroll far enough to see the one where I’m at the zoo and–”

“You’re running away from the peacock, yep,” you finish. Out of the various presents and letters your fans gifted you, you find yourself drawn again and again to the pot of sword lilies. “I screenshotted it and made it your contact photo.”

“I’m never sending you flowers again,” he mutters, but you hear it, snapping your head upwards. 

“These were you?” Your jaw drops so forcefully that it aches. “You’re the mystery flower sender? No one would tell me who sent these!” 

“Because I told them I’d sue if you found out it was me,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes, a grin creeping onto your face. 

“Why’d you want to send them anonymously?” Upon inspecting the color further, you realize where you’ve seen the shade before. 

He’d sent you flowers that matched your favorite guitar. 

“I didn’t wanna distract you before your shows. I was aiming for subtlety.” You blink in disbelief. Sakusa had sent you flowers the night before you started your show run in Paris, knowing you would be at the venue for soundcheck. Maybe he did care about you and your career.

“Well, you failed,” you state, staring at the large bundle of purple taking up half the space on your dressing room’s side table. “This bouquet is the opposite of subtle.”

“Bouquet? I ordered you one stem.”

“No,” you restated. Even though you’d never video called Sakusa before, you switch on your phone’s camera anyway to show him the absolutely gargantuan amount of flowers he mistakenly sent you. “You ordered this.” To your surprise, he turns on his camera as well. His face contorts into such a shocked and puzzled expression that you snort out the water you were sipping, burning your nostrils as tears prickle your eyes. “Stop looking like that, I can’t breathe!”

“What do you mean, ‘stop looking like that?’ I didn’t mean to send you the whole rainforest!” You choke out another uncontrollable laugh, turning the camera to face yourself and setting it in front of your vanity mirror. “Alright, at least you got them.” 

“Yes, and I really appreciate you sending them.” You can tell he’s not used to having his camera on, as he keeps tilting the phone at odd angles and barely showing his face half the time. “What’re you doing right now?”

“Just in bed.” Or a snowstorm, from the looks of it. 

“Why does it look like your poor phone is in a typhoon?” 

“You’re literally so annoying,” he grumbles, reluctantly positioning himself so that he’s sitting against the headboard. With the new point of view, you also notice very quickly that he…is completely shirtless. “Better?”

“Yep, yeah. That’s fine,” you force out, clearing your throat aggressively while the image of his very broad shoulders assault your brain. “Sorry that I didn’t send you flowers for your game.” 

“The guys would give me shit about it if you do, so I’m glad you did not,” he replies. “Though, it does suck not having you around.” 

“This is the closest I’m ever getting to you saying you miss me. I should commemorate it with a plaque.” Sakusa clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes, but you can tell he’s trying not to smile. He must’ve taken a shower recently; his curls look slightly wet and dangle haphazardly across his eyes. You have the sudden urge to run your fingers through it, and then the even more sudden urge to slap yourself for thinking in such a way. 

“What city are you in now? I know you just finished up Dublin.” His voice snaps you out of your daydreaming. 

“Paris,” you manage to reply without too awkward of a pause. “You?”

“Paris.” 

“Huh? I thought your next game was in Brazil,” you ask. His face goes still for a moment and you figure it’s probably frozen from bad service, wherever he is. “Hello?”

“Sorry, you broke up for a second. What were you saying?”

“I was asking why you were in Paris.”

“I’m not in Paris,” he states. “I’m in Seoul.” 

“Isn’t your next game in Brazil?” He pauses for an almost imperceptible amount of time.

“Game schedule got rearranged. We’re in Seoul, then the States, then Brazil.” 

“Oh. I see.” A loud series of knocking on your dressing room door makes you jump. “Ah, I’m sorry. I need to go.” 

“Rockstar duties?”

“You know it,” you yawn, taking one last indulgent look at the exposed muscle on his shoulders. “Hopefully we both get some rest for the coming days.”

“Yep. G’night.” 

—

There was a little bit of lingering guilt on his end after you hang up; the fact that he’d lied to you about his whereabouts didn’t escape him. 

He wasn’t sure what came over him, what sentimental demon temporarily possessed him to take a plane to wherever you were (Paris, not the lie that he gaslit you into believing) and buy a last minute ticket to your show. His emotions and desires were thrown completely off balance; he truly didn’t care if he was up in the nosebleeds if it meant he got to see you. Thankfully, a wealthy couple had bought out an entire area of club seats for their granddaughter’s birthday, but decided last minute that they wanted to fly to Cancun. It made him a little anxious, having all that space to himself, but he figured he could have his guards and team invite family to make it a little less lonely. It didn’t matter how many strangers he needed to meet or how much he had to spend. 

He just wanted to see you. 

He finds himself in a familiar position from the first time he went to one of your shows, rooted under the awning of the expansive lounge area and just out of sight from fans. His arms unconsciously cross over his chest and the beads of the bracelet he’d dug through his luggage to find presses against his skin. But, this time, he isn’t annoyed by the pain; if anything, it reminds him that he’s actually here with you, even if you don’t know it yet. 

I’m pretty good at laying low. People don’t know where I am unless I want them to know. His words echo back to him and he makes his decision, stepping out into the stadium lights and resting his forearms on the railing. 

He wants you to know he’s there. 

The first fan to notice is a girl in purple, slapping her friend furiously until they both are gawking at him. One pair of eyes becomes two, which becomes five, which becomes twenty, until hundreds of phone cameras are pointed at him and snapping photos. The sentimental demon possesses him again and he sticks up an involuntary peace sign, even going so far as to smile to look less bored. They scream for him and he thinks the sentimental demon is Atsumu, because he finds himself imitating his teammate’s movements. His hands clap together and he gestures for fans to toss him bracelets, which become an impossible shower as dozens are thrown at once. By the time the lights dim and news of his presence is trending across the continent, his arms are covered in sleeves of rainbow beads. 

— 

The ache in your feet is immediately replaced by adrenaline when your head of security informs you who came to the show. You don’t bother waiting for the golf cart to bring you to the back of the stadium and take off sprinting, chunky heels and all. They’re calling after you to hold on to let the rest of your team catch up, but you don’t listen. The stadium staff look at you fondly but also have a reasonably startled reaction to you running like you’d escaped from an asylum. 

You round the corner absolutely heaving and his face breaks into a wide smile. You’d never seen him look like that before, never at his games or during any of the time you’d spent together. It was an expression reserved for only you in this moment. You don’t remember if he catches you or if you embrace him first, but soon enough your face is tucked into the crook of his neck, eyes squeezed shut and grinning like a lunatic. His arms are rock solid around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer until you can hear his heartbeat slamming against his ribcage. Neither of you speak for a few minutes because you don’t feel the need to; only when you pull away to hold his face with your hands do you manage to articulate words. 

“You’re here,” you breathe. “You’re actually here.” Recognition blinks onto your face and you suddenly frown, lightheartedly slapping his shoulder, saying, “You lied! Your dumb ass said you were in Seoul!” 

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he concludes unapologetically. “I did slip up with my story a few times, though.”

“Yeah, you got your own game schedule wrong.” 

“To be fair, some games did get rescheduled, which is why I’m able to be here. Our next game’s in Seoul, which is why I blanked and said that instead,” he explains and you respond with an exasperated eyeroll. “Find it in your heart to forgive me?” 

“I see right through you, Sakusa Kiyoomi. You don’t…uhm…” He comes close enough that you can count his eyelashes and it takes you a few seconds to recompose yourself. “Mmm, you wanna kiss me so bad, it makes you look stupid,” you challenge and hope he doesn’t hear the butterflies going wild in your stomach. 

“Maybe I do,” he smirks and it only makes the situation more sweat-inducing. “I missed you, after all.” Your eyes flutter closed as he leans in but instantly shoot back open, gently pushing him away as he pouts. “What is it?”

“Take me out to dinner, first. If you apologize sufficiently for being a terrible liar, maybe you’ll get a kiss,” you propose and he’s already lacing his fingers in yours. 

“Good thing I love a challenge.” 

— 

In spite of his attempts to ignore the cameras and the footsteps that were always a few feet behind him, there was a pit in his stomach every time Sakusa was in public with you. He couldn’t figure out why he was so irked, but the feeling made it difficult to enjoy how you smiled at him in quiet moments and pointed out things he’d never think to notice before. Most perplexingly, you didn’t seem bothered at all by the cameras. It was like they disappeared as soon as he came into your proximity; you barely spared them a glance in favor of beaming up at him. 

Even though you agreed that there was a feeling more than platonic between you two, he hadn’t mustered up the urge to kiss you properly, opting for your forehead or your hands instead. It didn’t seem to bother you, the way he only reserved showing his affection when you were out of view. But, he slips up the night before you have to part ways, him for his next game and you for your final European date. The dread he’d experienced for days felt like intuition telling him something was inherently wrong, like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff he didn’t know the height of. 

It comes crashing down when the tabloids catch him holding your hand.

“Can you believe this?” You snort, showing Sakusa the headline as he forces down the bile in his throat. “They think you’re my next ‘big catch,’ like you’re a fish or something,” you chuckle obliviously, leaning into him on the living room couch of his hotel suite. He manages a pained mhmm and watches as you continue to scroll through the news site, the photos of him holding your hand and grabbing your waist flying by like a nightmarish film reel. He rubs his palms back and forth over the fabric of his sweats, feeling suddenly feverish from every single point where your body was touching his. Clearing his throat, he swallows thickly and you finally look at him, concern pinching in your eyebrows. Your voice is gentle and you reach up to feel his forehead; he dodges your hand and you carefully hide your disappointment. “Hey, are you feeling okay?”

“We can’t do this.” His heart sinks as you sit up and blink at him, his words registering slowly in your mind. “I can’t…I can’t do this with you,” he sputters out. You exhale a single time and he watches your eyes flick from side to side, your brain running a thousand miles a minute.

“I don’t understand.”

“We need to stop.” You laugh forcefully, like you were commanding your body to feel lighter. 

“If this is a joke, Kiyoomi, it isn’t funny–”

“It’s not a fucking joke; you need to stop being with me,” he snaps and the room falls silent. The only thing he can hear is his heartbeat rushing through his ears, his face hotter than the sun. 

“Why?” Your voice breaks and so does something in him, his jaw clenching unconsciously. 

“You need to stop being nice to me,” he says through gritted teeth, “because I can’t guarantee I’ll be nice back.” This is how it always ends. Push them away before things get messy. This is how it works for Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

“But you have been nice,” you fight back, your grief morphing into unfiltered rage as you stand and scream at him. “You sent me flowers. You bought me dinner. You flew across the world to see my fucking show!” 

“That doesn’t matter. None of it mattered.” His composure wavers momentarily, unreadable emotions flashing across his face. “You can’t be close to me without getting hurt.” He gestures to your phone, the paparazzi image of you two together brighter than a Times Square billboard. 

“Who said it needed to be that way?” 

“Everyone did!” He stands without warning and you flinch backward, stumbling against the coffee table. “People think I’m an asshole, so that’s how I choose to stay. At the very least, I can predict things and prevent people from getting too close. You’re too close.”

“But you’re not an asshole. You’ve shown me that much,” you insist, arguing with his back as he starts to retreat into the master suite. What you say next makes him freeze, trapped in an endless time loop with you. 

Tell me you care for your friends. 

“What?” He’s seething as he turns, meeting your eyes. “What the fuck do you mean, do I–”

“Do you care about your friends?” You repeat, stepping closer to him. His eyes are burning, molten to the core even when you refuse to shrink away. “If Bo, Shoyo, and Atsumu were dying in a fucking fire, would you save them?”

“Of course I would,” he spits indignantly. “What kind of–”

“Then you have the capacity to love, Kiyoomi, as much as you don’t want to admit it.” You’re crying, tears streaming uncontrollably down your cheeks. Why are you crying? He never wanted to make you cry. What did he do to make you cry? 

“Because the last time you loved something, people scorned you.” They told him his passion was suffocating. They told him he was walking a path that one could only walk alone. He’s frozen, his feet left immobile on the hotel carpet. He makes no sound beside shaking exhales and can sense nothing but your voice coming closer.  

“You made it your career to prove that it’s worthy of your love…but you forgot how to love anything else.” Time slows. He doesn’t remember when your face appeared so close to his. He can see a universe behind your eyes and he wants nothing more than to hold you and call you his. His passion was suffocating. It would hurt you. It would burn you. It would–

“I wish you could love yourself as much as I love you.” 

One breath, and then another. 

A crack in an eggshell. A hole in a fortress. 

You are an asteroid completely obliterating the planet he considered himself. 

And when he finally kisses you properly, he understands just how freeing being destroyed could be. 

—

Sakusa Kiyoomi did not like cameras. They were gnats buzzing around his head, calling for him to look this way and that, catching his every reaction to whatever crossed his path. They were broken whispers that floated to his ears, unintelligible conversations that stayed as voices in his head. He did not like cameras, but he found that looking at you was infinitely better than looking at anything else. 

“You doing okay?” Your murmur is the only thing he hears, quieting the rest of the chatter around him. Swaths of dresses and suits brush against his arms and he fights the instinct to shield you from view, despite being sat in the very center of the huge theater. It was the biggest award show of the season, and he’d made a vow with himself that he wouldn’t ruin tonight for you. With your hand in his, as long as he had physical contact with you, it was easier to keep the doubts in his mind at bay. “I’m feeling fine, if that’s what you need to know.” 

“I’m doing okay as long as you’re okay,” he confirms softly, barely sparing a glance at the giant lens a few feet from his face. “I’m here to celebrate you. I won’t let them bother me tonight.” You beam at him, opening your mouth to say something when a commotion comes tumbling down the aisle. “Actually,” he mutters as his three teammates trip over themselves to find their seats in the rest of the row, “Do you think I can have one nasty scowl? I promise I’ll behave otherwise.” 

“Having a rockstar best friend is like, the best thing ever,” Bokuto declares before you can respond to Kiyoomi. 

“I’m so glad Omi finally got his head out of his ass, too,” Atsumu drawls with an unbothered yawn that makes Sakusa’s blood boil. The blonde Miya sibling had been very vocal with the press about playing as the matchmaker, pointedly dodging questions about his own romantic status. “I think I’ll secretly have ‘I told you so’ engraved on the inside of your wedding rings.”

“Over my dead body,” Kiyoomi grumbles and you smile, squeezing his hand once. He squeezes back, pressing a rare public kiss to the side of your head. You shift your body to lean more closely to his and your wrist presses down on something wrapped around his wrist. 

“What’s under your sleeve?”

“Hmm? Oh, this?” He pulls back the freshly ironed fabric to reveal a familiar pattern of green and yellow beads, out of place compared to the rest of his formal attire. “Got it from a concert,” he smirks knowingly. “The show was cool, but I think I’m in love with the artist.”

“Yeah? You never figured out what that acronym stands for, did you?” He shakes his head and you point at each letter bead, explaining, “No one knows me like you do, and no one ever will.” 

“Well, isn’t that fitting?” The lights dim and the orchestra starts to play its signature fanfare, spotlights gliding in aimless directions across the audience. “Thank you for helping me understand.”

“The meaning of the lyric? Of course, I think of you every time I sing it, now,” you smile. 

“No, about what you said that night when we argued.” He feels a familiar blush creeping up his cheeks. “About loving me how you love me.”

“And do you get it now?”

“I do,” he nods, glancing at the colorful bracelet on his wrist and your fingers intertwined with his. “I just needed a little bit of convincing.” Your head settles on his shoulder and he lets you, allowing himself to relax in spite of the sea of cameras surrounding him. 

“Good thing I love a challenge.”

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