#even apart from a period film

[masterhallmark]

Rant incoming

I feel like the problem with a lot of Disney's live action remakes (and arguably Wish) is they're trying to appeal to a crowd that no longer exists, namely the people who used to claim that the Disney Princesses were sexist.

All the interviews tend to include, "Well she's not chasing a MAN anymore" which...almost no one sees the princesses like that, anymore. Virtually NO ONE still believes the princesses are man-chasing sexist caricatures of women.

Cinderella is now hailed as an abuse victim who stayed strong long enough to get help to get out of her situation. Anyone who says she should have saved herself is basically regarded as a victim blamer. And it's very clear in the film she wasn't looking to marry the prince, she just wanted a night off. She was the only one who wasn't in line to meet him. She didn't find out she met the prince until he went looking for her!

Snow White is now hailed for her negotiation skills, ability to calm down after extreme stress (she had a moment of panic and had to cry for a bit, but who wouldn't after finding out The Queen hired someone to kill you?), and ability to take charge of a house of adult men. And again, she was an abuse victim, this time trying to escape ASSASSINATION ATTEMPTS. While she dreamed of her prince, it was secondary to her main goal of SURVIVAL. There are also entire video essays about how Snow White gave hope to people during The Great Depression.

Everyone acknowledges that Ariel wanted to be human BEFORE meeting Eric. We all know she was a nerd hyperfixating on humans, and also standing up to her prejudiced father.

We understand Sleeping Beauty wasn't the main character, the Three Good Fairies were, AND PHILLIP WOULD NEVER HAVE BEATEN MALEFICENT WITHOUT THEM! He literally depended on them! WOMEN SAVED THE DAY! But even then, is it really such a sin for a girl to fantasize about romance and fall for someone with corny pickup lines?

We all understand Jasmine just wanted someone to treat her LIKE A PERSON. She rejected every Prince before Aladdin because they treated her like a prize. So why did they need her to want to be Sultan? How did that make her more feminist when she already wanted to be treated like an equal and have a say in her future? Is it only empowering if you want a career in politics?

We admire that Belle, despite living in a judgemental village, was kind to everyone (even though she found the village life dull), and her story teaches girls that the guy everyone else loves isn't always a good guy. What's sexist about teaching girls about red flags? And she didn't start being nice to The Beast until he started treating her with respect and kindness.

Do I really NEED to defend Mulan or Tiana? I think they speak for themselves.

Rapunzel was yet another abuse victim who just needed a little help to get out of her bad situation. In this case, she also needed to learn that she was an abuse victim, and that what Mother Gothel did WASN'T normal, much like many victims of gaslighting.

And don't get me started on the non-princess animals.

Perdita had a healthy relationship with Pongo to the point she was open to express her pregnancy fears to him, and was ready to TEAR APART Cruella's goons for daring to touch her puppies as well as adopting the other puppies. Like, she was so ferocious the goons mistook her for a hyena! She's basically that "I AM THAT GIRL'S MOTHER!" scene from SpyXFamily if Yor were a dog. She and her husband were a TEAM.....but they made a Cruella live action to turn her into a girlboss?! The literal animal abuser!? THAT'S the woman you wanted to put on a pedestal when Perdita was RIGHT THERE!?

Duchess kept her kittens calm after they had been catnapped and was classy as heck. Nice to everyone regardless of social class during a time period where that was uncommon.

Lady stood up to Tramp when she believed he had abandoned her and didn't really care about her. She found out he was a heartbreaker and was like, "Nuh uh. No. You are not doing that to me! You put me through enough."

Miss Bianca from The Rescuers was IN CHARGE the whole movie, and was willing to risk life and limb to save an innocent child. THAT TINY MOUSE TOOK ON ALLIGATORS! And she picked Bernard to accompany her because he was the only one who wasn't ogling her. And then in the sequel SHE DID IT ALL AGAIN! I wish I were as brave as her.

Like, the public haven't accused these ladies of being sexist caricatures since 2014 (Actresses and actors don't count, they're out of touch like the rest of Hollywood) yet Disney is operating under the assumption that the public still thinks that way, hence all the "sHe'S nOt AfTeR a MaN iN ThIs VeRsIOn" talk.

The live action remakes are trying to attract an audience that doesn't really exist much, anymore, and back when it did exist, was comprised mainly of people who didn't actually watch the films. The Disney princesses are no longer seen as sexist, and feminine qualities are no longer seen as weak or undesirable.

[loveyouprongs]

did my heart love till now?

remus lupin x fem!reader | she’s a hopeless romantic who loves halloween. he loves her. or at least he very, very, strongly likes her in a way he’s never liked anyone else. enough to wear matching costumes

upcoming content: fluff! mentions of alcohol. lmk if you think i missed anything

authors note: i hope you like this! romeo & juliet is my favorite play and the 1996 film is my favorite movie! and remus is my favorite boy :’)!

word count: 2k

masterlist

remus had been staring at himself in the mirror for so long his reflection was starting to blur, like a watercolor painting made up of the soft brown of his hair, his pale complexion, and shining silver. he felt like a fool. “a lovesick fool,” james would say, but in this moment, he just felt like a fool. period.

“hey moony, have you decided what you’re going to be for halloween yet?” sirius asked as soon as he and james barged into their shared apartment. remus tore his gaze from his book at the sound of his best friend’s unnatural sounding greeting, loud and jilted as if he’d been practicing it.

“…no, wh-“

“well look no further!” james very enthusiastically exclaimed, pulling a brown bag out from behind his back which promptly fell to the ground, the contents now hanging between him and sirius. it was a knights armor. metal shoulder pads atop a slinky silver long sleeve top with chains resting across the chest.

“what the fuck is that?”

“your halloween costume!” james said as if it were obvious.

remus could do nothing but look at his two friends, who he cared for very deeply, as if they were right idiots.

“don��t you get it?” sirius asked, “it’s romeo!”

remus then felt his face red, heat rising to his cheeks all the way to his ears and he knew he couldn’t play dumb to get out of this.

last week at dinner you had said that you were planning on dressing as juliet for halloween. “from the movie of course!”

“isn’t that part of a couples costume?” marlene asked, “are you bringing a mystery man with you to my party?”

at that, remus tensed, his shoulders instinctively rising to his ears and his heart quickened waiting for your response. he hung out with you pretty much every day, you’re tight knit friend group always sharing at least one meal together. he felt like he would know if you had a boyfriend, but he was still feeling queasy waiting for your answer.

“no mystery men with me! i guess it could be a couple’s costume, but it’s so pretty, i don’t mind doing it solo.”

remus felt his body relax and continued to pick at his food, stealing glances at you whenever he could, missing the mischievous looks being traded between james and sirius.

“i am not wearing that,” remus said resolutely.

“why not? girls love this stuff!” sirius responded, tossing the costume on remus’ lap. he refused to touch it, as if any sign that he openly had feelings for you would somehow come back to bite him in the ass. it rested on his legs like an anchor.

“you want me to surprise her with a matching costume? that’s pathetic.”

“it’s sweet!” james stressed.

“yeah, and she’s always so heart eyed over that gooey romance shit, you show up in this and she’ll be begging for it!”

sirius’ crude comments was met with a smack in the head from james and an unimpressed stare from remus.

“remus, i’m telling you, this is a perfect idea! she’s single and dressing as one half of the greatest couples in history, if you show up as the other half, oh it’ll be like straight out of the pictures!” james swooned. remus felt his heart soften at his overdramatic friend, who he knew was just trying to help him be happy, but his nerves overpowered any convincing.

“you do know they both die at the end, right? kill themselves, even. not sure that’s a message i want to send.” remus muttered, standing up from the couch to go to his room, tired of his friend’s antics.

“you’ll never get a date by just staring at her, mate!” james called out, “and she’s well fit, too! you’re time is running out and you know it!” sirius added as remus walked down the hall, the metal costume in tow, only to be shoved in his closet.

but as halloween inched closer and his feelings for you only grew stronger, james and sirius’ words echoed in his head. he could never get the thought of your soft voice and sweet smile out of his mind, he liked you. so much.

you were always the one who kept listening to him when whatever he was saying was drowned out by the group. always spoke to him in dulcet tones, especially when you felt he had a headache. you were smart and funny and kind, not to mention beautiful. beautiful in a way that reminded him of the princesses and angels he would read about in books when he was a child. soft and warm, a glow seemingly always emanating from your figure.

remus would be content with just looking at you for the rest of his life, he thinks (deep down in the back of his brain, terrified of the strength of his own feelings) but it would be nice to do it without the feat of getting caught by your stare, or his friends taking the mick out of him afterwards.

so here he stood, his torso slightly weighed down by the heavy detailing, but it fit him well nonetheless. it was almost time for them to leave for marlene’s and remus could hear his friends in the living room. he had to make a decision soon.

“y’coming, moony?” james asked through the door.

remus took a deep breath, biting off a square of chocolate. he could do this. it was halloween! you’re supposed to be in a costume. and the film was popular enough, he figured, that he could play it off as a coincidence if things went south.

“…yeah, i’m coming.” he stepped out the door and walked down the hall, rolling his eyes at james’ loud gasp.

“oh my god you’re wearing it!” james practically screeched.

“don’t make me change my mind.”

“oh remus, you’re so handsome!” sirius teased in a high pitched voice, “please be my romeo!”

“for it is the east, and juliet is the sun!” james recited.

“that’s it, i’m changing!” remus exclaimed, only to be dragged back by his waist and walked out the door.

remus was hit by the noise of the party as soon as marlene swung the door open. her eyes trailed down james’ superhero outfit, sirius dressed as patrick bateman, and then remus, her face exploding in an open mouth smile. “reeeeemussss!!!!” she squealed, clearly already on her way to drunk, “you’re such a sweetheart!” she cooed, remus’ cheeks reddening more than he thought possible.

“isn’t he just? now let us in marls, it’s fucking freezing out here!” sirius said, and with a pat on the back, he and james were emerged in the crowd.

“she isn’t here yet, remus, but oh my god she’s going to love it,”

as the night went on remus had practically glued himself to marlene’s increasingly wasted side all night, no sign of james or sirius (who he would bet money are upstairs with dates, or each other), and more importantly no sign of you. he was feeling more foolish by the minute, the metal top growing uncomfortable against his sweaty skin.

disappointed was pooling in his stomach as marlene was nodding off on his shoulder, or so he thought, but he was brought out of his thoughts when a loud yelp escaped her. “you’re here! finally!”

marlene jumped up and stumbled over to a vision in white. flowing silk draped over your body, delicate, feathered wings pinned to your back. excess fabric tied around your waist, framing you beautifully. stunningly. remus felt like he was having an out of body experience, watching himself stand frozen in the middle of the living room, mouth slightly agape, willing himself to do anything other than stare.

“REEEEMUS LOOK! LOOK WHO IT IS!” marlene shout-whispered, shoving you towards him.

you felt your breath escape you at the sight. remus, tall and sweet, looking down at you, his tussled hair dancing across his forehead and his long fingers reached up to brush it out of his eyes, hand trembling. you weren’t fully convinced you weren’t dreaming.

“she, she’s pretty out of it,” he spoke softly, referring to marlene who was now dancing with a lamp.

“y-you look, i-i really like your costume, obviously” you murmured, fiddling with your hands, resisting the urge to run your hand down his sculpted cheeks.

ever since you met him, you believed remus was one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen. and then once you got to know him, got to experience first hand his limitless kindness, his witty remarks that always put the boys teasing to shame, and his rare barking laugh that only comes out when he finds something really funny (you elicited it from him once and have spent forever chasing that high).

all your friends said he had a thing for you. that he was always staring at you with soft, hooded eyes, move his plans around for you whenever you asked to study together, rest his jacket on the seat next to him so it would appear taken so no one else would sit down it it until you came.

but you were both famously mild-mannered, shy to a fault, and your feelings never rose to the surface, but the same couldn’t be said for right now.

“oh, thank you,” remus responded, “i thought it would be nice if we could match.”

a giggle escaped you at that and you looked down, unable to meet his eye, you both wearing twin smiles.

absolutely thrilled with your reaction, remus bent his body in half, tilting his head up to catch your gaze, eyes filled with hope, “what’d y’think?”

“i think you look very dashing, rem, i didn’t know you were a shakespeare fan.”

“hmm, not so much,” with a deep breath he let out, “i’m a fan of you, though”

the neon lights flashing over you both contributed to the bubble you found yourselves in. the rowdy guests nothing but white noise as you felt your heart pound against your chest over the soft spoken boy.

“really?” it slipped out. deep seeded insecurity worming it’s way to the forefront as you were positively overwhelmed with confronting your feelings… and that who you had them for.

remus’ heart splintered a little at your warbling ask, “yes” he let out, easy as breathing, “of course.” he placed a large hand on your shoulder, his thumb dancing on the edge of your collarbone.

“i’m a fan of you, too. more than anyone else,” you whispered with a step closer, your white ballet flats lightly knocking against the tips of his black boots, the space between you dwindling.

“aren’t i lucky,” remus murmured wistfully, “to have an angel say that about me”

with that you couldn’t take it anymore and pressed your lips to his, immediately getting lost in the sparks. unsure of what to do with your arms, you awkwardly placed them on remus’ forearms, as if you were holding him still in place. he smiled against your lips, the breath escaping from his chuckle dancing across your face as he lightly dragged your hands up his chest to rest on his shoulders.

you melted as he pulled you in, you gasped as he ran his tongue against your bottom lip, you chased after his lips when he pulled away with a stuttering breath. “y’have to give me a minute angel, or m’heart’s going to give out,”

you giggled, knowing exactly how he felt as he tucked his face into your neck.

“oi oi, c’mon lupin! what did i tell ya! i knew you could do it!” sirius shouted from across the room, thrusting his cup in the air in congratulations.

“oh christ,” remus muttered, his annoyance dissipating with your laugh.

“you are a lover, moony! borrow *hic* cupid's wings and soar with *hic* them above common ground!” james, although very drunk and hiccuping, recited.

all remus could do was roll his eyes, he had everything he wanted right in front of him. after he was done kissing you until the sun came up (and a little bit more after that), he could figure out when the fuck james seemingly memorized romeo and juliet.

[st4rbwrry]

𝒞𝑅𝒜𝒵𝒴 𝐼𝒩 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸.

⸝⸝ ౨ৎ :: sukuna can’t accept that you’ve moved on. thinks you just need some dick to remind you where home is. ;)

warnings 𑄽𑄺 2.3k. fem reader, lowercase intended, she/her pronouns, black coded. dilf!sukuna, fluff + smut duh, jealousy, sukuna's a cheater n we're dumb, daddy kink, body worship, choking, body worship, dry humping if you squint, consensual coercion, cum play, toxic relationship, sneaky sex, minors aren't welcomed!

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎'𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 .ᐟ ꒱; this is very old, originally a self ship but i just wanted to post it bc i have a lot of old fics sitting in the drafts etc.

sukuna clenches his jaw whenever he notices the new love interest in your life, nearly causing a fight one day you threw a cookout for your family and the man you're currently 'dating' is playing football with your daughter, seeing the stranger pick her up and spin her around when she scores a touchdown. it boils his blood to see your daughter smile at someone who isn't her father. sukuna awaits at the doorstep of his home, or 'ours' as he likes to call it, still delusional about your separation, claiming it's a break when it wasn't . . hands tucked into his dark gray sweatpants pockets with a smile on his usually stern face as he watches your tiny daughter run to him with giggles and bratz dolls in her hands. sukuna crouches low to grab her with a purposely exaggerated grunt, commenting on how big she's getting with a laugh.

you slam the door to your car, retrieving your daughter's duffel bag filled with things she needed for the weekend at daddy's. sukuna holds his child at his hip. you smile at her as she constantly pokes at his cheek to grab his lost attention. he couldn't keep his eyes off you. looking you up down with that all too familiar glint in his eyes. you raise your brow, glaring down at yourself dressed in a black maxi skirt that touches your ankles and a white lace top, feet in black sandals.

"what?"

"going somewhere?" he questions with authority.

"my house and back. i can't look nice?"

"you look good," you ignore the way he licks his pink lips, your daughter tapping his shoulder for the millionth time, the four-year-old always wanting to be the star of the show.

"daddy, can we watch bratz fashion ‘ixies with mommy?!" the little girl screeches excitedly.

"mommy has to go, baby," you drain the light from her face, the child frowning. sukuna eyes you.

"why?" they say periodically. you stare him down with annoyance. now she's gonna question me. before you can even speak, she's at it again.

"but we haven't watched it in months," she whines. "we watch it every day with all three of us."

sukuna sighs, rubbing her back. "it's okay, honey. me and you can just—"

"i'll stay," you cut him off immediately, not fond of seeing your daughter cry. his puppy dog act was irritating. he grins mischievously.

your daughter cheers and you lean forward to pinch her chubby cheeks, speed walking to your car to pull into the driveway before entering the familiar home, feeling somewhat vacant. the vibe is off, but a little nostalgic. you haven't stepped foot into this place in months, unable to, the idea bringing back too many unwanted memories. your divorce wasn't pretty; finding sukuna messing with another woman when you searched through his phone one day to find the messages, his excuses replaying in your head, all bullshit.

she was just one night. one night over six years? they were high-school sweethearts, and he tore that apart for a one-time fling. didn't make sense, never will. it's awkward when you stand in the kitchen you used to cook your happy family meals every day to see him make your daughter lunch for her movie, combing at her curly hair with your fingers as she went on about how she ate dyed eggs for green eggs and ham day at school. the movie was the same as usual, both of you sitting adjacent to her as she ate her lunch and enjoyed the film, falling asleep on sukuna's shoulder thirty minutes in.

school must've taken it out of her. sukuna stretches his arms, breathing out a 'finally' which makes you laugh, standing along with him as he carries her and you shut off the tv, checking a text from the man you're currently fooling around with, nothing serious. just experimenting the dating life again.

you home today? i wanna see you.

you sigh, dropping your shoulders tiredly. you weren't in the mood to see him. he was a funny guy, enjoyable to be around, and made your daughter laugh . . .but he's obscenely clingy. you liked your space, and he didn't know the meaning of it. on top of that, the sex was mediocre. nothing compared to how sukuna fucked me. you dissociated with the world momentarily, chewing on your lip as flashbacks hit, zoning out the sound of sukuna's heavy steps approaching.

"she's tucked in."

your eyes lock onto the veins bulging out of his arms, the white tee he wore hugging his muscles, and the platinum chain swinging around his neck making your face hot. dammit, stop. your stare lingers longer than you expect, sukuna lowering his face to catch your attention with a smirk.

"hello? you good?"

"yeah, sorry," you clear your throat.

"check me out all you want baby, it's still yours."

"sukuna," you roll your eyes, locking your phone and finding your car keys, needing to be as far away from him as possible before you do something you regret.

"what? i'm joking," he furrows his brows when you begin strutting towards the front door, mumbling about how your daughter's ballet recitals on sunday and not to forget to monitor her junk food intake. his hand clasps around your wrist to stop you.

"stay. i wanna talk to you."

"there's nothing to talk about."

"are you dating him?" he's straightforward, watching the muscle in his jaw clench.

"that's none of your business."

"i have a right to know who's around my daughter. yes or no? or are you just fuckin' him?"

"why?" you yank your arm away, getting in his face, barely with your height. "does it hurt your feelings? well, guess karmas a bitch."

sukuna chuckles darkly, raising his arm to tug at his bi-colored hair with frustration. "man, you're still on that shit."

you raise your brow with fury. he's shitting me. "on that . . . are you fucking serious? you tellin' me i don't have a reason to say fuck you for cheating on me?"

"all she did was suck my dick, you're acting like i was in her shit," he rolls his eyes, shrugging his shoulder with zero care in the world. "i've apologized a million times. it was one stupid night where we were at each other's throats and she just so happened to be around . . so."

"you know what." you scoff, not having time for this stupid shit. men always have bullshit excuses when trying to justify cheating. you didn't care if he kissed the bitch, cheating is cheating. you managed to bypass him, walking around the couch until he was back in your face fast once again.

you clenched your keys in your fists, ready to claw at his face with them. "what do you want?"

it's silent for a moment, the hard stare he has on you makes you feel small, folding your arms over your midsection, waiting for his response.

"i need some pussy," he whispers gravelly, slowly licking his lips and grabbing at your waist. you swallow, trying to ignore the sudden throbbing at your clit. chill out.

"text your other bitch. i'm sure she'll give it to you."

"only your sweet fuckin' pussy," now his hands are smoothing to your backside, smacking his heavy, veiny palm on your ass to draw you closer, squeezing the flesh between his long fingers. you gasp, eyes wide as you feel the outline of his dick against your stomach. his fingers are dangerously close to your pussy. "daddy misses it so much."

you inhale, shifting to try your best and break from his barricade, shoving him away which barely makes him stumble. "i'm leaving."

thinking this is your final attempt at actually leaving, that relief gets knocked down the instant his hand grabs the back of your neck and brings you back to him, his mouth pressed to the side of your neck where he breathes and kisses wetly. you freeze, the ache below never subsiding in his hold. sukuna's lifting your skirt before another word falls from your pretty little mouth, shoving his hand into your matching white lace, smirking from the ocean flowing on his thick fingers.

"you need some dick, don't you?" he whispers hotly behind your earlobe, rushing his tongue there at the same time he circles your clit, falling back into his warm chest, dropping your keys altogether. "he not hitting it right? doesn't do it like me, does he?"

shamelessly, you nod your head in agreement, giving up because you know he's right and this is what you need. you know he can give you things no other man could. it hasn't been the same ever since. any man you've been with aside from him hasn't met up to those standards. sukuna raised your pussy to only come back to him. trained to accommodate him. cum from him. fuck him. for any other man to take possession of what he crafted would be fucking fowl.

"you miss me?" sukuna hums, walking you both towards the black couch in the living room you moved too far away from your previous escape. your knees are dented into the seat, arms thrown over the back as sukuna groans low in his throat, pupils blown with lust as he tugs your panties to sit at the middle of your thighs. he presses his clothed cock to you, grinding slowly to make you feel it, let you know how much he misses you more. "you miss daddy, baby?"

you keen, face buried into your forearms shyly, rocking back onto him, feeling yourself soak his pants. sukuna hisses and smacks your ass again, pussy clenching from the attack. you whine. "yes. miss you."

"daddy misses you too," he's swift with his actions, already tugging at his dick leaking absurd amounts of precum, circling the angry red tip on your entrance before sinking in only halfway, wanting you to remember how to take him. you moan quietly, biting at your arm and taking lead by pushing back onto him, only to have sukuna retract his hips.

"don't be greedy, you'll hurt yourself." it echoes in your head when he says this, smiling cutely, loving that he cared, unlike other men. and he's kind of right. he's perfectly thick, long to the point where it surpasses his belly button. it was always hard for you to fully wrap your hand around it, towering your face whenever he stood over you, veins decorating up the underside. he draws his hips back, carefully driving into you, rolling his waist effortlessly to make you savor every ridge of his cock.

"doesn't it feel so fuckin' good?" he asks with his lip tucked between his teeth, rolling his eyes back once he starts it up, hooking you by your handles and yanking you back as he fucks you, fascinated by the jelly-like bounce your ass makes as you throw it back.

his wife was always one to never hold back her sounds, whimpering and moaning to your hearts delight. sukuna has your back arched with his other palm, reaching behind yourself to clutch at his veiny forearm, the two of you locking eyes as you glare up at him to see him slowly losing it. so much pent-up sexual frustration from not having you for months. not being able to touch another woman since so it pisses him off to know you could easily fuck another man without feeling the same. he's getting mad just thinking about it, clenching his jaw tight as he fucked you harder, deeper. you're clawing at his arm and crying his name, sukuna coming to his senses momentarily, forgetting they had a daughter who's asleep upstairs.

he moves your hand away, entwining both his large palms over your mouth and pulling you back to his chest where your head rests, sukuna standing straight as your back dips even more, cursing as your eyes switch white and you sing into his hands shielding the sweet symphonic tones.

"you forgive me?" he breathes shakily on your forehead, ruts becoming sloppy when that familiar heat twitches in his gut. this he could excuse; cumming too fast just to brush off the burning arousal for you. he'd savor you later on when it truly mattered. he'd make love to you to prove that he still loves you, that he's different now, that he'd never fuck up a good thing again. right now, he just wanted to fuck you so you know he's not letting you leave anytime soon.

your brown eyes are slanted softly, whines and delicate nods of your head are what takes him there, dropping his hands from your mouth, choking you lightly as he mashed his mouth onto yours, moaning with you as you tremble and orgasm. he stays inside you a little longer, fearing that warmth would dissipate if he stayed out too long. sukuna swallows, catching his breath and darting his attention to the way his cum flows out of you after you fall forward, taking his index and middle finger to collect it and shove it back inside. you laugh at him with a silent 'fuck off' and smack his hand away. he grins happily, massaging your backside adoringly. this isn't a pass that you're going back to him. but having you in his presence as of now was a start he could be satisfied with.

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡

[rosenclaws]

Pride & Prejudice || Leopold Mountbatten x Reader

Summary: You're an actress auditioning for theatre production of Pride & Prejudice and Leopold finds you practicing your lines.

a/n: Okay so, I need more leopold being an actor and cute moments so this was born. Full confession. I have never watched or read Pride & Prejudice so I am very sorry if I messed up anything aksdfhl. Anyways i hope u like it!!!

The fire escape has to be Leopold's favorite place. He sits on the small chair and watches the bustling city below him. Overwhelming is an understatement when it comes to the last couple weeks.

Falling into the future sounds like a work of fiction, yet it was his reality. Adjusting hasn’t been the easiest but he’s lucky to have Kate and Charlie and well, you. 

“Do you think I could have ever considered marrying the man who has ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of my beloved sister?” Leopold perks up at the sound of your voice. 

You’re Kate's neighbor, kind of. You live below her. Leopold has seen you a few times, mostly when you lock yourself out of your apartment and need to climb through Kate's fire escape. He knows you’re an actor like Charlie but in the day time you work at a coffee shop. 

You served him once or twice when he came to visit you. Your knowledge of theater is extensive and Leopold always had an interest in the stage so conversation came easy. You also loved movies, something he was completely unfamiliar with. He remembers your eyes lighting up at the very idea of showing him your favorite films. A soft smile across his face as he recalls your many movie nights. Though he didn’t quite understand every movie, he could care less when you were so passionate about each and every one of them.

“You arrogantly and unjustly maneuvered Mr. Bingley away from Jane. Can you deny it?” The dialogue catches his attention, you must be practicing for a show. He climbs down the fire escape to your apartment. 

“Your manner…Ugh!” You fall back onto your couch as you throw the sides onto the coffee table. 

“I’m never going to get this right.” You groan helplessly. 

“I thought you sounded lovely.” You let out a small scream as you hear another voice. Turning your head you see Leopold sitting on your fire escape. 

“Leo! What have I said about knocking?” 

“My apologies.” He climbs through the window and walks over to you. He looks at the pieces of paper and reaches down to pick it up. 

“Pride and Prejudice, I had no idea they turned this into a play.” He flips through some of the pages. He remembers reading the book and enjoying it quite a bit. 

“Have you gotten the part?” You scrunch your face as you shake your head. 

“No. Auditions are next week. I…” You hesitate to continue but he smiles softly and you cave instantly. 

“I wanted to audition for Elizabeth but a couple friends told me I’d probably be a better Charlotte.” 

Not that you had anything against the character and a part is a part no matter how small, but you wanted to play more than a side character. Leopold's brows furrow as he sets down the script. 

“Nonsense, do not listen to them. I think you would make a perfect Elizabeth.” He compliments sincerely. Of course you would, he thinks. You’d be perfect in any role. 

“Thanks.” Your eyes drift to the sides on the table. Leopold stands with his arms behind his back, even in casual clothing he radiates this aura unlike anything you’ve seen. 

“You know Leo,” You smile as an idea pops into your head. “I think you should audition too.” Picturing him as Mr. Darcy is easy. After he did his butter commercial, you realized he was a natural for acting and with his background, he’d be perfect for period pieces. Not to mention how handsome he is. You’re sure the director would be tripping over himself to get Leopold a role. Leopold seems uncertain at your suggestion. 

“Here,” You pick up the sides and hand him the one for Mr. Darcy. He skims over the lines and frowns. 

“I do not recognize this.” 

“Oh yeah, they’re from the movie. The director wanted to include his big monologue and the kiss.” You explain, making a mental note to show him the movie later. 

“I understand wanting to take creative liberties and all but…” Maybe he’s a stickler for the classics but he isn’t exactly fond of changing such a well written book. 

“Just give it a try.” He sighs and stands a bit taller. 

“You are too generous to trifle with me. I believe you spoke with my Aunt last night, and it has taught me to hope as I had scarcely allowed myself before.” He looks up from the script and you give him an encouraging smile. 

“If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me forever.” You want to melt under his gaze. It’s not fair how easily the words flow out of his mouth. How naturally charming he is. 

‘“If, however, your feelings have changed…” To your surprise he sets down the paper and walks closer to you, holding out his hand to you. Hesitantly you take his hand, unsure of where he was going with this. He pulls you up, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“I could, I would have to tell you, you have bewitched me body and soul,” His hand gently grabs your chin as he steps closer to you. You stand frozen in complete shock. The script is long forgotten, the pages having fallen from his hands. 

“And I love and love and love you. And never wish to be parted from you from this day on.” He finishes his monologue as a whisper. You part your lips but no words come out, wanting to hold onto this moment for longer. 

“I believe you mentioned a kiss,” He mumbles. 

“It’s uh, towards the end…” He hums and without another word he gently kisses you. 

Your eyes flutter closed as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His lips are so soft, so gentle yet so passionate. One of his hands snakes to your lower back, guiding you even closer to him. The kiss breaks and you’re left breathing heavily, smiles on both of your faces. 

“You’re really good at this. Maybe you should become an actor.” You say jokingly. He chuckles and brushes his thumb along your cheek. 

“I was not acting,” He admits. 

“You are truly, utterly, bewitching and If you were to accept, I would die a happy man.” Jesus, he knows how to talk. 

“I would be an idiot to say no to you.” You grab his face and crash your lips onto his. He steps back but quickly matches your fervor. 

“Join me for dinner tonight, so I can court you properly.” He says breathlessly, his face slightly flushed. 

“Properly? So you don’t normally kiss a girl before dinner?” You say teasingly. 

“No, But for the sake of theater, perhaps I can make an exception.” That’s as forward as you’ve ever seen from Leopold, an innocent smile on his face but a clear spark in his eyes. Smirking, you glance at the scattered pages on the ground. 

“Good, because I think we need to run the scene again and again.” 

[g-hughes]

[ NUZZLE ] sender presses their face into receiver’s neck

quinn hughes bringing his girlfriend home to meet his family and he has never brought home a girl before so his family knows she must be very very special and he is always talking about her! it’s very sweet and soft and she just fits in the family so well and makes quinn so happy

A Keeper - Q. Hughes

hockey masterlist || g's graduation celly

synopsis: Quinn finds himself at the lake in the off season, and this time, he isn't flying solo

word count: 3.6k

warnings: none! losing game seven

For as long as Quinn could remember, his whole life revolved around hockey. He’d wake up, eat a quick breakfast, go to hockey practice, shower, eat lunch, sit and watch film, come home and take a nap, then go back for another practice or a game. Everything he has ever known has been hockey. Hockey took up every moment of his life, every single thought. 

But since that buzzer went off signaling the end of the final period of game seven, Quinn couldn’t think of hockey anymore. 

He wasn’t the type of guy to cry, well, not in public at least. But standing on the ice at that moment, staring up at the scoreboard and seeing the final score, he felt that all too familiar burn behind his eyes and in his nose. He glanced around at his teammates, all of them wearing the same shocked and sad expression on their faces. He didn’t dare look over at Arty, knowing that the young goalie was going to be feeling this loss harder than anyone on the team, even though they all played in the game.

You stood off to the side as Quinn answered a couple of questions for the press. Your heart was also feeling heavy and you had that same all too familiar feeling of unshed tears in your eyes. You were so incredibly proud of your boyfriend and his team. The way they were able to turn everything around from the previous season and give Vancouver a play-off berth in over a decade was something to celebrate about. And, even with that knowledge, all you wanted to do was pull Quinn away from the press and give him a hug and a thousand kisses. You could tell just by looking at him he was physically and mentally exhausted. But Quinn wasn’t going to be rude and brush off the media, he was the captain. He would gladly stand and answer the dumb “how are you feeling after the loss?” question so his guys can go home and rest.

When Quinn was done, he silently walked over to you, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers together. He silently led you towards the parking garage, wanting nothing more than to speed out of Rogers Arena and back home to your shared apartment. It was as if the fans knew that he wasn’t in the mood to stop and sign autographs like he usually did, instead they all seemed to give him space as he left the rink. 

The two of you seemed to move in silence as you walked into your apartment. You took Quinn’s bag from his hand, as he walked towards the bedroom. You were putting his clothes into the washer when you heard the shower turn on. You laid out a pair of sweatpants for him to put on when he was done, and went to start making him some tea. By the time he was done showering, you were sitting up against the headboard, scrolling briefly through social media, with a mug of camomile tea in your other hand. He quietly crawled into bed, and you shifted so he could lay down next to you. You held your arms open as he laid his head down on your chest. 

“I’m proud of you,” You said, running your hands through his hair. 

“Even though I lost,” He muttered. 

“You might’ve lost this one,” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, “But you’ve won so much more.” 

He looked up at you, tired green eyes locking on yours, “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Q.”

— — — 

You were a ball of nerves. 

You had never been the type to get nervous. Usually, you were so sure and confident in yourself, but there was something about flying across the continent to meet your boyfriend's family that had your stomach in knots. Quinn had assured you that there was nothing to worry about, that they already loved you. 

Ever since you landed back in Michigan, it was like the weight of the world had been lifted off of Quinn’s shoulders. You guys stuck around for a couple of days after the loss, Quinn having to do exit interviews and pack up his things. Quinn only packed one bag to go back to the lake (oh, and his precious golf clubs), while you seemed to pack your whole closet. Quinn couldn’t help but laugh at you as you were quickly shifting clothes from your suitcase to his in the middle of the airport because your bag was over the weight limit. 

“I should’ve told you that we could go shopping when we get here,” He said, one hand on the wheel and the other one intertwined with yours, “Get you a whole new closet to keep here for when we come back next summer.” 

“Okay mister ‘i make eight point six million a year’,” You playfully rolled your eyes, “And who says I’ll be invited back next year?” Quinn gave you a look, “What?!”

“You’ll be invited back next year,” He chuckled, “There’s only ever been one person I didn’t want to invite back.” 

“Hey, that’s not nice. Trevor is a nice kid,” Quinn shook his head with a laugh, “But I’m serious. What if your family doesn’t like me and doesn’t want me-” 

“They are going to love you, Y/N,” Quinn pulled your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it, “They have been begging me to fly back so that they can meet you. My mom has been sending me texts and asking me about your favorite foods and hobbies and card games.” 

You couldn’t help but blush and look down at your lap. You haven’t met Quinn’s family before, but from what he described, you can tell that they are very close. Quinn talks to his middle brother, Jack almost every day on the phone, and either texts Luke or calls him a couple times a week. He values his time with his family almost as much as he values his time on the ice with his teammates. 

“And here we are,” Quinn announced as he pulled into the driveway of a beautiful two-story lake house. Excitement and anxiety filled your body, making your stomach turn. Your hands felt sweaty as Quinn jumped out of the driver’s seat and the front door opened at the same time. A boy with longish brown hair and a similar face to Quinn came rushing out of the house, barefoot and shirtless. 

You watched as the two men embraced each other in a hug, another boy walking out of the house. He was slightly taller with curly hair, but had those same dark eyebags as Quinn. You slipped out of the car, walking up to the three boys who were engaged in a conversation. It was like Quinn had a sixth sense for you being near him, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his side, easing some of your nerves. 

“And who might this be?” The long haired boy asked, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“This would be my girl,” Quinn looked at you, “Y/N,” Heat arose in your cheeks as he looked at you like you hung the stars and the moon. 

“Well I’m Jack,” The long haired boy said, holding his hand out to you. You chuckled nervously, shaking his hand, “And it's a pleasure to meet the girl that has my older brother drooling.” 

“I am not drooling,” Quinn shot back. 

“Basically are, Q,” The taller boy said, “I’m Luke.” 

You shook his hand too, “It’s nice to meet you guys, finally. Quinn has told me so much about you. It’s good to see your healing well, Jack.” 

“Thanks,” Jack nodded, “Been a long season but I’m glad I got this taken care of,” He massaged his shoulder, and you could see a slightly still puffy, pink scar, “But don’t think I can’t beat your ass at pool, Q.” 

“I’d like to see you try, Rowdy.” 

“Boys!” A woman called from the doorway. You looked around Luke to see a beautiful blonde woman standing there, her hands on her hips, “Let your brother and his girlfriend get settled before you start your pool tournament!” 

“Yes mom,” Both Jack and Luke said. Quinn chuckled as he pulled you towards the front door, letting Jack and Luke bicker about who was going to carry your bags in. 

You squeezed Quinn’s hand as you walked up to the matriarch of the Hughes family. You had read up on Ellen Hughes when you had met Quinn. She was an incredible woman, being a former hockey star herself and raising three incredible players. You felt another wave of anxiety rush over you as she looked you over, her eyes similar to Quinn taking you in. It felt like you were standing in front of a judge; a judge who was going to decide if you are worthy enough for her eldest son. 

“Hey mom,” Quinn greeted her, leaving your side to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Good to see ya.” 

“You too, baby,” Ellen said, and held her son at an arm’s length. She tsked, grabbing his chin and running a finger over the scar on his cheek, “That should’ve been a damn high stick.” 

Quinn chuckled, “Not much we can do about it now. Besides, it adds to my cool factor.” 

“Mhm,” Ellen nodded, and playfully rolled her eyes, looking back towards you. 

You mouth felt dry and you stepped forward, holding your hand out to Ellen, “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Hughes.” 

It was silent for a moment, probably not as long as you felt like it was, but it was long enough, before Ellen pulled you in for a hug. 

“Handshakes are for business partners and old men,” Ellen told you as she gave you a squeeze. And just like that, all the tension you felt had melted away. Ellen pulled back and held you at arms length, the same way she did with Quinn, “My son seemed to be hiding you away,” She looked at Quinn, “Why were you hiding her away? You talk about her all the time.” 

Quinn chuckled, grabbing you gently out of his mother’s hold, “Because I wanted to keep her for myself for just a bit longer. I know once I bring her home, I’ll be fighting for her attention.” 

“Well, start fighting now,” Ellen said and you chuckled, “C’mon, I just finished making some sangria. The boys can take your stuff to your room.” 

For several hours, you sat in the kitchen with Ellen, getting to know her. It started off with just small talk; asking where you are from, what are your parents' names, what do they do, what do you do for work, how did you meet Quinn. Then the conversation transitioned into how to make the perfect cheesecake, something Ellen was famous for in their neighborhood back in Michigan. Before you knew it, you and Ellen were making dinner side by side, while the boys sat out on the back patio with their dad, Jim, watching the grill. 

“The boys used to volun-tell me to make raspberry cheesecake for every single end of season potluck,” Ellen shook her head with a laugh, “Oh I wanted to strangle them sometimes, cause of course, they never told more than a day or two in advance.” 

“Oh of course not,” You giggled, “Quinn signed me up to bake cookies for one of the Canucks charity events. Told me at eight o'clock the night before that he needed me to make three dozen chocolate chip cookies.” 

“Boys,” Ellen playfully rolled her eyes. 

“What about boys?” Quinn asked as he walked into the kitchen. 

“Oh nothing,” Ellen said, wiping her hands on the towel thrown over her shoulder, “Y/N makes a better sous chef than you.” 

“Taking my job?” Quinn looked at you. You nodded your head, “Traitor. This is my off-season gig,” He reached over to grab a cube of watermelon, but you swatted his hand back, “Hey!” 

“This is for dinner,” You scolded him. Quinn walked around to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Quinn, your begging isn’t going to make me cave.” 

“Please,” Quinn whined, “I lost game seven.” 

“Two weeks ago!” 

“I’m still wounded!” 

“Fine,” You muttered, grabbing a cube of watermelon and turning in his arms to face him, “Because you lost game seven. . . two weeks ago,” You fed it to him and he smiled. 

“Thanks baby,” He kissed your cheek before heading back out to the grill. 

You shook your head, going back to placing balls of cookie dough on the baking sheet. It was quiet and you could feel Ellen’s stare on you as you worked, causing you to overthink every little movement you made. You paused, looking at the cookies before looking up at Ellen. 

“Did I mess something up?” You asked, fear rising in your body. 

“Hm? Oh, no,” Ellen shook her head, “It’s just. . . he never used to joke about the games he lost. In fact, it was almost like a taboo subject to bring up any losses around him. It’s. . . refreshing to see him like that.” 

You blushed and nodded, going back to work, a small smile on your face. 

Dinner went off without a hitch. Jim had grilled enough hamburgers, chicken and steak to feed a whole hockey team instead of just the six of you. You fell into comfortable silence as you watched the Hughes family interact with each other. It was like no time had passed by them at all, as if they weren’t spread across North America and in different time zones. You felt comfortable and at ease with them. And Quinn could sense that as he looked at you. 

“Feeling okay?” He asked, nodding towards your barely touched plate. 

“Yeah, I feel fine,” You smiled, picking up your fork, “Just. . . taking it all in,” You sighed. Quinn smiled and placed his hand on your thigh. 

Ellen and Jim shared a knowing look across the table, watching you and their son interact. They were both taken aback when Quinn first mentioned a girl in his life. Quinn was always so focused on hockey that personal relationships (unless they were centered around hockey) came second to him. It wasn’t that Ellen feared that her son was going to be alone forever, she just knew the kind of man he was. She knew that hockey wasn’t going to be around forever, that there would come a time where Quinn would retire from the game, and she wanted him to have someone who would be there for when that time came. She wanted him to have someone for when he came home from those long roadies or hard fought games. She wanted him to have the kind of partner and relationship that she has with Jim. 

When dinner was over, you and Quinn packed up the boat, putting a small cooler of seltzers and water, a couple of blankets and towels. Quinn gave you one of his sweatshirts to wear, knowing that it would get cold once the sun went all the way down. You sat next to Ellen as the boys and Jim, pushed away from the dock, ready to set out on a slow sunset cruise around the lake. Quinn took up the captain spot, while Jack and Jim navigated, Luke opted to sit next to you and his mom. 

“So, who is the best driver?” You asked, looking at the three Hughes boys. 

“Oh for sure me,” Jack scoffed. 

“You only have one functioning arm,” Luke pointed. 

“It wasn’t chopped off,” Jack rolled his eyes, “I can still use my hands.” 

“Whatever you say, Bucky Barnes.” 

You giggled and looked at Ellen, “They always like this?” 

“Got worse with age,” Ellen sighed, “I was a little worried when they all went into the NHL. I have known some families that the competition gets the better of them, and they don’t talk anymore. But not these three. I think if anything, they talk more now than they ever had.” 

You smiled, “Quinn talks about them all the time. He has me record their games so he can watch them back after his.” 

Ellen’s heart swelled at your words, “He told them about you first,” You blushed, “Jack can’t keep a secret to save his life, and he texted me asking if I knew that Quinn had a girlfriend and I said no, and then Jack launched into this whole story that Quinn told them about you,” Ellen chuckled, “When Quinn told us about you, I told him I already knew.” 

“What did he say then?” You asked. 

“He said ‘of course Jack told you’,” You laughed and Ellen smiled, “It meant a lot to Jack that you sent him flowers after his surgery, and Luke when you sent some after his Calder nomination. They won’t admit that, but I know it.” 

“They mean a lot to him,” You gestured towards your boyfriend and his brothers who were sitting at the front of the boat, “So they mean a lot to me too.” 

Quinn glanced at you from where he sat, a smile on his face as you talked to his parents. His parents were two of the most important people in his life. He valued their opinion on almost everything, so it meant something to see you so easily getting along with them. His heart felt warm when he heard your laughter at a, no doubt, embarrassing story his dad was telling. 

“So when are you going to propose?” Jack said, pulling Quinn out of his trance. 

“What?” 

“You got a ring yet? I bet you got a ring already.” 

“Huh?” 

“You’re going to marry her!” Jack exclaimed, “And don’t even lie, I can see it. I have a sixth sense for these things.” 

“Yeah, and I talk to ghosts,” Quinn rolled his eyes. But his younger brother was right. Even though you and him had only been dating for six months, Quinn had already imagined proposing to you, getting married, buying a house, and hopefully, having a family. Quinn had never felt this way about someone before, and he would be lying if he wasn’t a bit scared of his feelings, but one look at you and all those fears melted away. 

“Whatever man,” Jack waved him off, “As long as I get to be the best man, I won’t complain.” 

“And who says you will be the best man?” Luke asked, “If anything, I think it would be me. I never broke his xbox controller.” 

“Luke, you’re literally like seven,” Jack scoffed, “It won’t be you.” 

“I’m twenty.” 

The sun was completely down by the time you guys had made it back to the dock. Quinn expertly parked the boat in the hoist, and helped you out, before raising it back up. Jack and Luke had run back to the house, shouting something about getting a fire started, Ellen and Jim walking hand in hand behind them. You stood on the dock, taking in the dark lake in the final strands of light from the sky. 

“No wonder you guys run away to this place at the end of the season,” You said, “It’s so peaceful here. I love it and I’ve only been here a couple of hours.” 

Quinn chuckled, “It feels like this is the one place on earth where I can be just Quinn Hughes. Not the hockey player or the captain of the Canucks. Just Quinn.” 

You turned around, draping your arms around his neck, “Well I like it, Just Quinn,” He smiled at you, his hands resting on your hips, “Thank you for bringing me here. For letting me into your life.” 

“Of course,” Quinn’s voice was full of sincerity as his thumbs brushed over your hip bones, “Thank you for being in my life. You’ve made me a better person.” You tilted your head up slightly, placing a kiss on his lips. One of his hands cupped your cheek, while the other one tangled in your hair, deepening the kiss. When you pulled apart for air, you rested your forehead against his, wanting to just stand in his embrace for a moment longer. 

“Hey lovebirds!” You broke apart, like two teenagers being caught by your parents. But instead of your parents, it was Jack, “Quit sucking face! We’re making smores!” 

“He is such a child,” Quinn huffed. You laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the house. 

“Yes but you love him.” 

“Unfortunately, I do.” 

You sat on Quinn’s lap, your legs dangling off the side of the chair, by the fire, as Jack and Luke argued about how toasted a marshmallow should be for the perfect smore. Ellen and Jim sat across the firepit from you and Quinn, enjoying having their kids back home. Your eyes were growing heavier by the minute, the heat from the fire, being in Quinn’s embrace and the exhaustion from traveling finally catching up to you. Quinn could feel your body growing heavier and heavier with sleep, his hand running up and down your back, a soothing motion that he knew would lull you to sleep. 

“Tired?” He asked, looking at you. 

“A bit,” You yawned, “But I don’t want to go to bed yet, having too much fun.” 

“Just close your eyes,” Quinn whispered. You nodded, nuzzling your face into his neck. He leaned his cheek on top of your head. It wasn’t very long after that, that Quinn could feel your breathing start to slow, until you were sleeping in his arms. He looked down at you, a soft smile on his face, as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“She’s a keeper Quinn,” Jim said, raising his can of beer towards his son, “She’s gotta be a special one to deal with you.” 

“Yeah,” Quinn said, his eyes still on your sleeping frame, “I’m not letting her go anytime soon.”

note: I am thinking of creating a tag list. Is that something y'all would want? also, requests are open!!

[sturniqlo]

Try Again- C.S

summary: Chris goes to Y/n's apartment without her knowledge to try and win her back

cw: angst, cursing, slight fluff

masterlist | read part 1 here

-----------------------------------------------

It's been six months since Y/n broke up with Chris. She's hung out with both Matt and Nick here and there and it always seems like nothing has changed. A lot has happened over the past six months. She stayed with her best friend for the first month while she tried to recover from everything, and find the perfect apartment for herself.

At the end of the first month, she signed the lease.

Her new apartment is perfect. It has open living room with easy access to the kitchen. She loved that her apartment had many windows letting the natural sunlight come in. Her bedroom was something she loved. Back at the triplets house, she couldn't decorate her bedroom the way she wanted to. Considering the fact she had to take in Chris' interests into consideration.

Over this period of time, she missed Chris although she tried to deny her thoughts, she couldn't. When she was unpacking her car (she had left mostly everything in there until she found an apartment) she had found that a hoodie of Chris' she might've accidentally grabbed.

The moment she saw her now apartment she knew it was the one. The bathroom was absolutely beautiful which she found weird. When Matt and Nick came over to her apartment for the first time, they were shocked. The apartment was so her. They both helped her settle some things in. They went shopping for home appliances like decor, pots and pans, furniture, anything you could think of, they were there.

Chris knew that his brothers were hanging out with his ex girlfriend. He felt jealous, angry, upset. For the first few months he rarely spoke to his brothers. They tried to make an effort to hang out with him as much as possible, but he rarely let it happen. When they filmed their videos he would lock his feelings away and be as normal as possible.

The public still hadn't known that they were broken up, considering the fact that they never really posted about their relationship to avoid any hate or unnecessary rumors to spread around. They still followed each other, so the fans didn't think anything was wrong.

Y/n still continued to post on her socials, while Chris would post once every few weeks. He made an effort to get his license when he visited back home. He bought a car and tried to flip his life back the right way. He tried to talk to his brothers more. He tried to post more. He tried to contact Y/n but failed to do so because he always deleted his written out message, always closed out the phone app that was opened to her contact. Always backed out from asking Matt her new address.

Chris knew she had gotten a new apartment from her apartment tour video on youtube. He always caught himself up on anything she did. There was many speculations when that video came out but she quickly shut down the rumors by saying she just wanted her own place to continue to grow as her own person.

However, it wasn't until one day that Chris grew the courage to ask Matt the one question he always wanted to. "Hey, Matt?" He says, opening the fridge to get a pepsi. "Yea?" Matt says from washing his hands in the kitchen sink. "Can you give me Y/n's address, please." He says shyly. "And why exactly would I do that?" He says, drying his hands on his pants.

"I want to see her, and explain myself. I think I'm ready." Chris says, tapping his fingers against the table. A nervous habit he has. "What makes you think she's ready? Do you think she even wants to talk to you?" Matt knows Y/n has been wanting to reach out to Chris. He just wants to see that Chris is willing to do it himself.

A couple of weeks ago when Y/n mentioned to Matt that she was willing to talk to Chris, she gave him permission to give Chris her address if he ever asked. Also wanting to see if he would make the effort to. "I would hope she wants to. It's been quite some time. Has she.. told you something?"

"She's told me something, yes." Matt nods. Chris' heart flutters, knowing that she's probably ready to see him again, and possibly give him another chance. If she didn't want to give him another chance he would be bummed out but he'd understand.

"Is she ready?" Matt nods his to Chris' question. Matt grabs Chris' phone off the counter and unlocks it with his own face and inputs Y/n's address into the maps app. "Here, go talk to her." He hands the phone back to Chris. "Thanks. I'll be back." He snatches the keys from the table and runs to the garage. Chris looks down at his phone and realizes it's only a 10 minute drive.

Ten minutes. She's been ten minutes away from him this whole time.

Pulling up to her apartment complex. His hands start to sweat. He texts Matt and asks which buzzer is hers and which apartment floor and number is hers. He replies fairly quickly. Back at home, Matt runs to Nick's room. "It's time." He says out of breath. "He went?" Nick asks as he stops blowing his nose. "Yes." Nick had cancelled his plans with Y/n because he woke up with a cold. "Let's only hope."

The boys had hated seeing how their brother had been lately and how their friend had lost some of herself.

Chris presses her buzzer and it takes about two minutes for her to buzz open the door. Going to her floor and her door he takes a minute to himself before he knocks. "Hey, Nick. I thought you-" Her words were cut off once she saw who it really was. "Chris? What are you doing here?" She's taken aback. "I- I want to talk." He stumbles over his words. "If that's okay with you? I can leave if you want me to." He rambles.

"No, we can talk. Come in." She opens the door fully and he takes in her appearance as he walk in. She's wearing one of his favorite outfits she always wore when they went out just the two of them. "I like it. Your apartment, it's very you." He breaks the awkward silence. "Thanks, do you want anything to drink?"

"Do you have pepsi?" He asks, although he had one just before coming here. "I think so." Y/n turns on her heels and walks towards her fridge. She can't help but try to suppress her smile by biting down on her bottom lip. A habit of hers. She rummages through the fridge and finds her second to last pepsi. Over the years, she also grew an addiction to pepsi thanks to Chris.

"Here you go." She closes the fridge to turn to him when she finds him admiring the view from the high rise. "Oh, thanks." He turns back. "So," "So," They both say at the same time. "How have you been?" Chris asks as he opens the can. "I've been good, yeah. I just arrived from visiting my dad back home in Chicago."

Before starting high school, she was born and raised in the city of Chicago. But, when she bagan middle school her parents weren't the same anymore. So, when their divorce was finalized her mom packed herself, Y/n and her two little siblings and moved to Massachusetts. And that's where she met the triplets on her first day of Freshman year.

When Y/n turned eighteen, she traveled many time to Chicago to visit her dad for up to a month. Her siblings were a bit jealous so they begged their mom if they were able to tag along with Y/n. "Really? How was that?" Chris asks. "It was fun, I brought Maise and Freddy along. They were here two weeks before our trip and stayed here after we came back. They left a couple of hours ago." She hops on the counter spot next to Chris while he stays standing.

"How have you been?" She asks, playing with her fingers in her lap. "I've been good, too. I got my license when I went back home, finally. Bought a car, and that's pretty much it." Y/n gasps. "Really? That's cool. You're finally able to drive yourself around without the guys tagging along." Chris nods. "It's so much better, should've gotten it sooner." They both laugh. He eventually hops on the counter next to her. With her permission.

There's a beat of silence, their thighs are touching. Y/n bites the bullet and leans her head against his shoulder. Something she almost always did. Chris automatically melts into her touch and leans his head against hers. They stay like that for a while. Their hands eventually end up in one another's hold.

Chris is the first to break the silence. "M' sorry." Y/n can't help but tear up. "No, I'm sorry. If I hadn't broken up with you we wouldn't have been in this situation." Chris furrows his eyebrows and lifts his head off of her head and she lifts her head off of his shoulder. He stares at her teary eyes as he begins to speak. "You had no other choice, baby. I was fucking- gosh, I was horrible the last weeks of our relationship."

Chris hops off the counter and stands between her legs, bringing both of her hands up to his chest. "Chris," She begins. "No, listen to me, please." He cuts her off. "I messed up. I know I did." His voice begins to quiver and he begins to tear up, making more tears spill out of her eyes. "I was horrible at communicating how I was feeling. How everything I was going through put too much on my plate."

"And you know I didn't mean any I said to you that day, right? I didn't mean a single word. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me. You didn't waste none of my time. None of it." He wipes the tears that are falling from her eyes to her cheeks while he is in the same situation. "I also hope you know I didn't mean anything I said to you too." She says and he nods.

"Y/n, baby, I would do anything that will give me the privilege to be able to call you mine again. Anything." He takes her hands back in his hold. "Really?" She says. "Yes, baby." Chris smiles and kisses her hands. "Do you promise to always tell me how you're feeling?" He nods. "Yes, all the time."

"Can I be your boyfriend again?" He says shyly. "Please." She nods. He wastes no time in smashing his lips against hers. "I love you." He mumbles against her lips. "I never stopped loving you."

A couple of hours have passed by, the sun set many hours ago and it was now nearing two in the morning. Chris was staying the night. As the movie played in front of them. Both Chris and Y/n get a message. Y/n picks her phone off of the coffee table and so does Chris.

It's from Nick, which he wrote in the group chat all four of you have together.

nick

it's 2 am chris isn't home yet i'm guessing everything went well?

matt

can someone respond so i can sleep soundly pls?

chris

if you're asking if we're back together, yes we are

nick

thank fuck

matt

goodnight everyone💤

y/n

haha i'll see you guys tomorrow!!

nick

bring me more tissue

"I'm guessing they were waiting for this?" Chris asks. "Guess so." Y/n turns her phone off and hugs Chris as if he'll disappear. "I love you." He says, kissing her head. "I love you." She replies.

[after-witch]

The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: You get your period and Mahito wants to run a few tests.

Word count: 3465

notes: yandere, consensual relationship, reader is on their period, mentions of other people's torture and death, humiliation relating to period, Mahito being Mahito is his own warning

It’s not often that Mahito bothers with your bathroom. Only, in the past, when you’ve been in it--naked and wet and usually mid-shower, as he apparently finds it entertaining to see what noises you make each time he surprises you. 

(Once, after comparing him to the killer in Psycho, he’d demanded to then watch the film. ‘But I didn’t stab you and you didn’t bleed chocolate syrup,’ he’d said, simply, after the scene in question.)

Today, though, he’s decided that there must be something interesting in there, because he’s spent the better part of 5 minutes rummaging--you can hear the sound of items being moved--in the closet and, judging by the sound of rustling, he’s now fiddling with the trash can.

“Hey,” he says, finally sauntering out of the bathroom. When you turn to greet him, a sarcastic remark about having fun digging through the trash on your lips, your heart stutters. 

In return, Mahito simply blinks at you.

“What’s this?” He asks, dangling one of your used pads from his hand.

The smear of dried blood in the center of the white pad feels accusatory, out of its proper context in the trash can. A bit of toilet paper sticks to the end of it, remnants of the ball you created to cover up your mess. 

“Oh fuck,” you say, reflexively. “Put that down! That’s--it’s--”

“It’s blood,” he says, giving the pad a sniff. “Smells funny though. Why’s it in your bathroom? Why’s it on this thing? When did you get hurt? Why were you hiding it in the trash?” The questions come simply, nearly rapid-fire. He probably says them as he thinks them.

Your cheeks burn something awful by the end of his questions, and your answer comes out half-stuttered. “It’s--I didn’t get hurt. I’m on my period.” 

One of his fingers is stuck to the bottom of the pad, and he peels it off deftly, holding it closer as you wish you could snatch it from his hands and forget this ever happened.

“Oh,” is what he says, eventually, with a quiet hint of curiosity. “I guess I’m lucky then. I’ve been wanting to study human menstruation for a while now.”

The word study sticks to your chest, but you aren’t able to peel it away so easily. You don’t want him to study you; don’t want to be under his scrutiny in such an obvious way. It’s easier to pretend he knows about people, about humanity, when you’re firmly playing at something closer to a normal relationship.

As if anything about this was normal. 

“Can’t you study one of your… experiments?” 

Experiments. Oh, what a simple, inoffensive word for what they really are--you shake that thought away as easily as a mosquito, though it never truly leaves the room. 

At this, Mahito’s eyebrows raise, and the edge of a smile tickles his lips. 

“Oh,” he coos. “That’s awfully selfish to say, even for you.”

He closes the distance between the two of you now, and you don’t bother resisting when he gives your chest a poke--thankfully with the hand not currently holding your used pad--and encourages you to sit back down on the sofa.

“I want to see.” Simple and clear, like most of the things he says to you. His directness with you is something that does make him stand apart from most people. If he wanted attention, he told you so; if he wanted to be left alone, the same. There weren’t mind games with him or--or hell, if there were mind games, you were too stupid to notice them and that was just fine with you, because the alternatives of your past relationships had been far worse. 

“Why?” You ask, if only to delay the inevitable.

Mahito shakes the pad on his hand, smiling a little at the way it sticks, before he peels it off and sets it on the coffee table. He sighs. “Movies never show it. They always show the woman eating ice cream or screaming at her boyfriend or cuddling with pillows, but they never show what’s actually happening down there.”

You squirm without moving.

“It’s just blood.” Your tone stays flat, uninterested. If he thinks it’s boring, he might move on. “Nothing special about that.”

Mahito’s smile reminds you of an eel. 

“Then show me.” 

It’s not a request that you can parry off, so you don’t bother; instead, you spread your legs, pulling up your skirt so that Mahito won’t do it himself. You might just lose the garment entirely, if it was left up to him.

Mahito claps, then crouches down in front of you, getting far too close to your pad-clad underwear for comfort. He takes a sniff and you’d like to die on the spot.

He gives the pad a poke. 

“Why do you put this in there? What’s it called again?”

You close your legs a little--instinct--and he holds them open for you. It’s easier that way, you think. Easier when he takes control and you don’t have to fight your instincts. 

“It’s a pad,” you force out. “I put it there to absorb the blood.”

He tilts his head. “Why?”

Your nose wrinkles at the question. “So it doesn’t get on my clothes or everything I sit on.” A ghost of a memory pushes through your brain--blood stains on school bus seats and church pews--and you force it down.

Mahito tilts his head, and you think he’s about to ask what you’re thinking about, but instead he sighs and rests his head against the edge of your thigh.

“Humans are so squeamish.” His fingers reach up and climb up your leg, dancing on your inner thighs, towards the pad. You twitch--it tickles--and he smiles. “Does everyone use pads?” 

“No,” you say, as he grips the top of your underwear and begins to slide them down. You do move, now, but not to oppose him. It would be pointless. Instead you hike yourself up a little, so that your bare privates aren’t touching the couch. “Some people use tampons,” you finish, as if you’re not sitting here, hunched on your sofa, while a curse pulls down your underwear to get a look at what’s underneath.

Mahito glances up at you. He wants you to elaborate.

“A tampon is like a cotton stick, I guess? You put it up--there--and it absorbs like a pad. But from the inside.”

“Oh!” The edge of Mahito’s fingers play with the pad on your underwear. “I guess some of my experiments have been on their period, then. I wondered what those were.” He pouts, just a bit. “Maybe that’s why some of my experiments haven’t been working out right. I wasn’t taking menstruation into account.”

The thought has your stomach roiling. But you don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want to think about it--what Mahito does, when he’s not here, and how what he does is just as much a part of him as the moments when he’s snuggling with you in your apartment or fucking you into your mattress.

When you look back at him, he’s grinning.

“You’re squeamish, too. About my work.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Don’t worry. It’s cute on you.”

With that, he gives up all pretense, and peels the pad away from your underwear in one swift motion.

“What are you doing?” You ask, even though you know the answer.

“Keeping it.” He sets it next to the already used pad. In contrast, the pad he’s just peeled away still has mostly brighter red blood on it, rather than the dull, brown old blood from the bathroom trash can. “I want to see how long it takes for you to bleed through your underwear. And some more things,” he adds, casually.

Oh, you think. This is too far, too weird. It’s puncturing the bubble you’ve created around you and Mahito in a way you don’t like.

“Mahito, I am not--”

In an instant, his eyes are on you. It’s a look that says, “You are,” and your lips feel like they clamp shut without hesitation. Something low climbs into your stomach and takes root there. When your shoulders slump, defeated, he pats your knee in appreciation.

“We’ll have a slumber party this week,” he tells you, voice getting more giddy as he goes on. “For three days? Four? However long you bleed.” He stands up and begins to survey your apartment, but for what you don’t yet know. “I can get a lot of experiments done in four days.” 

You don’t have the heart--or the stomach--to deny him.

--

When you were thirteen, you once got your period in the middle of class. You didn’t know it until you leaned forward in your desk to get a closer look at what the teacher wrote on the blackboard--your needed glasses at the time, and didn’t yet know it--and one of the boys behind you let out a distinct tween boy guffaw, snickering just loud enough for everyone to hear: “Dude, that’s fucking nasty.”

And then you’d felt it--wetness clinging to the inside of your black pants. And you’d scooted back, looked between your legs, and there it was: a smear of red on the dull grey chair. 

You were too embarrassed to do anything but sit back down, cheeks so hot that you began to sweat, and listened as everyone behind you began murmuring about your period. You had wanted to die for almost two weeks, and for the rest of your school career, you wore a sweater around your waist just in case you started without warning. 

That incident, as life-defining as it had been, was not as embarrassing as what you’re going through right now.

“Mahito,” you mumble, voice thick from your tightened throat. “Is this really necessary?”

Mahito, seated at a folding table he’s hauled into the living room, glances up at you. You, naked as the day you were born and perched awkwardly on top of a porcelain bowl that Mahito had shoved underneath you.

“Which part? The bowl or you being naked?”

“Both,” you blurt helplessly.

Mahito smiles. It’s such a pretty, awful little smile. “The bowl is,” he admits. His eyes leer over your body, awkward as it must look right now. “I just like to look at you.”

God help you, you feel flattered; the warm flush in your skin tingles with the new emotion. Mahito’s praises never failed to make you feel like that, even in the midst of something like this.

Mahito abandons the table and squats in front of the sofa, peering in between your spread thighs at the bowl underneath. You squirm, and he smacks the inside of your thigh sharply. You stop moving.

“I thought it would come out faster.” His tone is soft, low. Detached to everything but mild curiosity. Like a child studying an insect in a chair. “But it’s more… oozing than anything.”

“Don’t call it oozing,” you say. 

Before he can answer, a timer resting on the folding table dings delightfully. Mahito doesn’t waste time and yanks the bowl out from underneath you, leaving you to land flat on the sofa with your bare ass.

“’Hito!” You whine. “It’ll stain!” Thoughts of having to get the smeary blood out of your couch override the desire to keep your whining to a minimum, lest Mahito get annoyed with you. But, you think, it doesn’t matter much now. He’s not even paying attention.

Instead, he whisks the bowl over to the table and places it on the scale to weigh.

He sighs out something like disappointment. “It’s not that much blood at all, really. I don’t know why women complain about it so much in movies.”

He wasn’t paying attention to your whining earlier, but he does hear your incredulous intake of breath at his words. He glances back at you, confusion written on his face.

“What? It really isn’t. Now, when someone loses a limb, that’s real blood loss. And it spurts out, instead of oozing.” He nods, affirming his thoughts to himself. “That would be something to complain about.” 

“It’s not just the blood,” you say, half absent. Your mind drifts to when and where and how Mahito might see someone lose an arm. Did he cut it off? Or another curse? Did the blood droplets spray over his face? Did the person die right away or--

While you were lost in thought, Mahito left his post at the table and returned to crouch in front of you, now sitting flat on the sofa despite the inevitable stains. 

“Go on,” he says simply, all the while pushing your thighs apart with his hands. There’s a bit of blood smeared on the inside of your thighs and he leans forward to give it a lick. The awful feeling nesting in your stomach bristles. 

“Don’t.” 

Mahito blinks up at you. “I want to,” is all he says, before he does it again. 

The look he gives you--Will you try to stop me?--is met with you dropping your chin, just in time to see him smile. He gives another lick. “Tell me what else makes you complain when you’re on your period.”

You think about the sneering boys behind you at school, the way one of them tapped you on your shoulder and said, voice full of glorified condescension, “Aren’t you even wearing a pad? That’s nasty.” 

Instead, you rest your hands on your naked stomach and murmur out the answers Mahito wants to hear.

“Cramps.” You swallow, forcing yourself to taste the ghost of your milkshake from lunch this afternoon and not the bile that wants to come up. “From the um, uterus contracting. It can hurt really bad.” 

One of the girls in the class discretely handed you a pad, but your embarrassment had been so awful that you pretended not to see her, even when she waved it in front of you. “What a bitch,” she’d murmured to a friend afterward. 

“Back pain,” you continue, voice cracking. “And you can get tired. You want to eat but can’t… or you don’t want to eat at all, sometimes. It’s just… a lot of stuff.”

Your body jolts when Mahito puts his hands on your stomach--he wouldn’t transfigure you, he’s said that, and you remember his words well. But it doesn’t stop you from imagining.

“Is that why women get angry when they menstruate?” The mild glare you give him is met with the most innocent of expressions. “What? It’s what all the movies say. Though the man usually gets hit with something after he says it.” He smiles, as if daring you to hit him. You don’t.

Instead, you keep talking. Maybe it’s a way to ground yourself. Maybe you just want to talk to fill the space where dead, disfigured women, corpses created at Mahito’s whim, exist.

“Your hormones can fluctuate.” You smile a little at the forced nostalgia. “Sometimes I get really upset over dumb things. Especially when I was younger. One time, I sobbed because my mom said she was going to get fast food for dinner and she changed her mind.”

Mahito rests his elbows on your thighs, digging into them harshly. His hair tickles your skin, and you wonder, idly, if he’ll get your blood on the silver strands.

“Do you want to cry now?” He asks, almost sweetly. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Do you want to cry? No. You might, though, if things keep going the way they are. So you dig your teeth into your lip and shake your head.

“No. This is just… embarrassing, I guess.” To be naked. To be bleeding. To have Mahito sitting there, your blood on his tongue.

Mahito quirks his head, then scoots back to pry your thighs farther apart so he can get a better view of your bleeding privates.

“I don’t see why humans get so embarrassed about their bodies. It seems silly.” He rests his chin on his elbow for a moment, hums, then hoists himself up and returns to the table where he’s got a few used pads and the bowl still lined up. 

“Mahito?” You ask, while he’s tinkering with his findings. “Can I put my clothes on now. And a pad?”

“No,” he answers, voice light, without even looking behind him. “I need to put this inside you first.”

You do move to get up off the couch now, a pang of fear shooting through your stomach, but you stop when he turns around with a wrapped tampon held aloft. Where did he get it--the thought flickers, and turns into something more pressing: Why does he have it?

But you know the answer, don’t you?

“I don’t use tampons.” A useless thing to say, but you say it anyway.

He simply blinks at you, and crouches back down in front of you, parting your thighs like air.

“They’re uncomfortable,” you try, louder.

This time, he stops moving, and a little bit of hope flickers through you just long enough for him to furrow his eyebrows.

“But when I make my penis, it’s much bigger than this, and you don’t say it’s uncomfortable.”

Your mouth opens to answer, and your tongue sticks to the inside. It’s stupid to argue with him when he’s got his mind set on something. So you don’t.

When you don’t continue to complain, he nods, then unwraps the tampon and skims the back of the wrapper. At least he’s reading the damn instructions, you think, in the instant before he awkwardly shoves the tampon inside you--too rough and hard, and you whimper as it pinches  in an entirely awful way.

Mahito’s lips quirk. He checks the back of the wrapper again, tsks at himself, and pulls it out. This time, the insertion is less chaotic. It’s still sore, but no longer painful. Just… uncomfortable. 

“Aw.” He pats your thigh. “You did great. Let me start the timer!” He jumps up, hair swinging as he rushes to begin the timer for whatever phase of the experiment he’s on.

“Can I put some clothes on now?” Though you’re no longer hoping to avoid staining your sofa, it wouldn’t be awful to be a little less vulnerable in the moment.

Mahito taps his chin with his thumb, considering. Then he shakes his head. “I want you naked. But we can cuddle on your bed for this part, so you don’t get crabby!” 

There’s no time to voice a complaint or offense; he hoists you up, some of the blood that had smeared against your bottom rubbing off on his arm as he carries you into the bedroom. He doesn’t seem to mind; he simply plops you on the bed--fuck, your comforter--and hops on to wrap himself around you.

Silence stretches around you, even as he wraps his arms tighter and presses his nose against your neck.

“Are… we done after this?” You venture to ask, quiet and tired.

Mahito talks into your neck, cold breath--is it even breath?--ghosting your skin. “Oh, no. I have lots of things I’d like to find out this week.” You can feel his smile pressing into you. “You’re being very helpful, you know.”

“I am?”

Mahito hums against you, and sniffs your hair. His answer is so light and sweet, the contrast makes you feel a bit sick.

“Earlier, I’d considered just grabbing someone to experiment on instead, but since you’re being so sweet about everything, I figured I’d just use you instead.”

The dread in your stomach puffs up, its sodden hairs standing on end. 

“So you saved me from having to find at least one woman to test my questions on. Maybe two,” he adds, voice still light. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

“Nice?” You ask, voice hollow.

Mahito presses a smooch to your neck. “Don’t most people feel nice when they do a good deed?”

A good deed, to stand in for women who might have otherwise died horribly. For women who would have spent their time not thinking about humiliating childhood period experiences but their families--their partners, their children, if they had them. 

A good deed to snuggle with Mahito, while miles away, someone was begging for death from underneath a mass of twisted flesh.

“I guess.” Your voice cracks, but it doesn’t bother him. You suppose a lot of things don’t bother Mahito and so often, you try not to let them bother you. 

He sighs against you, and presses his hands lightly where you’d laid them earlier to indicate your cramps. His fingers dully stroke against the spot, and you wonder what it would feel like for his fingers on you not to bring mild comfort and the growing tingle of affection--but terror and pain and fear.

You wonder, too, if Mahito ever thinks the same thing.

[lucyandthepen]

last young renegade | jjh

summary: your valentine’s day plans with jaehyun may have gone down the drain just a little. (okay — a lot.)

pairing: jaehyun x reader verse: canon, idol!verse rating: t warnings&tags: reader & jaehyun are in an established relationship, quite frankly there is nothing too out of the ordinary in this fic which is a shocker, it’s a rewritten fic so pls excuse any errors I may not have caught! word count: 5.02k

a/n: happy 2024 friends and family !!!!!! and advanced happy birthday to the man who created valentine’s day, he who is perhaps my first love in nct, jaehyun! this is actually just a fic I’ve been hoping to re-write a bit from before, and since it’s valentine’s themed, what better time to post it!! Enjoy enjoy, and may this year bring more fun, laughs, love (and debauchery) to this blog!

Yᴏᴜ sᴀɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sɪᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏғ ɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ, ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀʏ.

♡ jaehyunnie ♡ I know I said birthday dinner but practice is running so late ㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie ♡ Can we meet after? I’m sorry ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ How about I call you when we’re done? Maybe 11:30?

At times like this, you often wonder if it’s all worth it.  

You know thinking that way is counterproductive, not to mention a little unfair. You knew exactly what to expect, getting into an under-wraps relationship with an idol, and so far, it’s lived up to most of your assumptions, and then some. It doesn’t help that Jaehyun, even just by name, tends to attract an unbelievable amount of attention. You know you can’t blame him; it’s not like he wants to be high on the radar every time, either. For some reason, though, you seem to be looking for something or someone to blame, which you also know is a dead end. You have no one to pin the blame onto apart from yourself by frequently generating doubts that keep your mind running around in circles.  

It’s not even the sneaking around that gets tiring; it’s the waiting — waiting on calls, waiting on free time, waiting on a good opportunity to do something that doesn’t involve him suddenly getting pulled out to attend to one of many of his celebrity responsibilities. Over the last few years that you’ve dated, NCT has only ever gotten more popular; with that popularity came the fact that the public eye was trained on them, focusing on every microscopic detail of their lives. Jaehyun hates that more than anything, which is why he’s given up on trying to avoid it by practically escaping it altogether, locking himself up in the dorm with you when he has his precious few days off. 

While it’s true that you definitely don’t miss having to play espionage when going out for a cup of coffee with him, you’ve also managed to memorize every single inch of Jaehyun’s room, which isn’t good for your mentality, you’re pretty sure. You have to keep reminding him to open the window whenever the both of you are in there, because all you do is stay in and watch English movies without subtitles to see who can understand the most without asking questions (obviously, he always wins) while eating food he runs up and down the stairs to get every other hour. And while him trying to imitate the British accents on these shows is genuinely funny, you’re starting to suspect even he’s starting to get tired of watching Harry Potter over and over again. Twenty hours sounds like a long time unless you spend every twenty-hour period you have together marathoning the exact same films. Much to both of your disappointment, your suggestion to watch it totally out of order did not make it cooler.

Still, you suppose it’s not all bad. Jaehyun also taught you how to play Fortnite on a couple of his days off back to back, and while you hadn’t been as good a player as you both had hoped, he’d still patiently waited for you every time you got lost on the map. He’d even given you his account’s password with the sentiment that this was him ‘taking things to the next level with you,’ and you get to log into his account and play whenever you want; he doesn’t even get mad when you’ve wasted all the stuff he’s farmed on your subpar gaming skills. And, well, the bigger picture was that you loved him. Based on how much effort he put into the relationship, plus the bonus of his trust in you when it came to his Fortnite account, you could at least be confident in that he returned the sentiment.  

Except, sometimes, you still wonder if it would be easier for the both of you if he flew solo and didn’t have a girlfriend that tanked all of his player’s ammo and health kits and generally made a fool out of his cute little avatar while he was out breaking his back onstage.  

You aren’t sure if Jaehyun’s been noticing the turmoil in you; you’re not that good at hiding how you feel, anyway, but if he has, he hasn’t said anything thus far. You do observe how much more he texts you when he has free time, which makes you feel doubly bad, because you know that he’s spending precious minutes he could be resting with on talking to you instead, which isn’t the best trade-off for someone who’s constantly busy — and thereby constantly tired — like him.  

♡ jaehyunnie♡ ___________ I’m going to practice again, okay? Wait for my call ㅠㅠ You I’ll wait for your call ♡ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ I love you ㅠㅠㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ You love me too — a lot, right? I’ll keep my phone now, but I’ll make sure to check that you said so. ㅋㅋㅋ You Right! ㅎ I love you a lot! ♡

When the clock hits 12:01, and your phone is silent, your mind starts working on overtime again. It’s only when the special ringtone you’ve set for him comes to life at half-past midnight that you break your train of thought and put on your socks so you can meet Jaehyun at your front door.  

You’ve made a rule — sort of like a deal — between the two of you that apologies aren’t necessary when work holds you up. You’ve cashed in on that deal a couple of times, but you’re both aware that it’s more for Jaehyun’s sake than anything else, and he keeps to his word on that much when you open the door and duck into his car. All he does is smile at you, and you smile back, and for the rest of the car ride, everything seems okay.  

He always asks you about your day — unfailingly, at any chance he can. It’s never an off-handed question, either; Jaehyun takes great pride in his memory, and the sweetest thing about him is that he’s dedicated a good deal of it to knowing almost everything about you. Right now is no different. He asks you about your team manager, what you had for lunch; he grills you on if you took your vitamins today and if you got to break in the new shoes you bought online — the ones you’d been pining over for the last three months. He even asks you about the guy from the neighboring department who keeps asking you out for after-work drinks.  

“He wanted to go to Hongdae tonight,” you tell him as he slows for a red light. “There’s some new pub of his friend’s doing a soft opening there tonight.”  

“You could have gone.” He keeps his eyes on the road. “I wouldn’t have minded.”  

“I didn’t want to.”

“Good.” He glances at you, a grin slowly spreading on his lips. “Because I lied. I might have minded a little. Or, you know, a lot.”  

“Don’t tell me after all these years, you’ve turned into the kind of boyfriend that doesn’t let his girlfriend go out without him.”

“That’s impossible for me, and you know that,” he chuckles. “You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. Just not with that guy from the other department.”

“Don’t worry.” You tinker with the little charm dangling on your phone — half of a flat, metal heart dangling from a gold chain that Jaehyun had given you two years back on your birthday. He keeps the other half, but since he can’t freely attach it to any of his belongings, he keeps it wedged between the back of his phone and its case. You like watching him change the backing because he does it so carefully, like he’s worried the other half of the heart is going to break if he rips off the case willy nilly. “I told him my boyfriend and I were going out on a date tonight, so he backed off. Although he did wonder why I keep talking about a boyfriend he’s never seen.”

“And? What did you say?”

“I said it was none of his damn business.”  

Jaehyun laughs loudly, and you go along with him, but you don’t miss how tired he looks when he sobers down, the green light illuminating all the shadows on his face as he steps on the gas again.

Nothing good is open this late at night — that is, nothing you haven’t seen before. You hadn’t even expected to go out at all, but since it was the day before Valentine’s Day as well as his birthday (or it would have been, if you hadn’t waited until midnight), Jaehyun had wanted to do something special without having to run into a huge crowd of couples on the day itself. Your only option is this from-out-of-town carnival that’s set up in tents and even has a medium-sized ferris wheel by the edge of the metal barricade. The parking lot is practically empty when Jaehyun pulls into a slot; you joke that he should break one rule and park in two slots, which he smugly replies to by saying he couldn’t park badly even if he tried.  

He tucks your hair back behind your ears as he loops the strings of a face mask around them, using another one for himself. Between that and the brim of his cap, you can barely see his eyes. The only knowledge that you have that you’re walking next to the man you love is that he takes your hand in his, slender fingers finding their way between yours.  

The carnival is half-closed when you get to the middle of it; there are still a few stragglers, but half the kiosks have their lights off already. There’s a woman dressed in flashy clothes standing on a patch of dead grass a few feet away, and she’s holding a hoop that a ginger cat is jumping through. Jaehyun steers you to them, and you stand there for a good five minute watching the cat roll on the ground and stand on its hind legs, but you can tell it’s been going it at for most of the day because at one point, it just ignores the lady, opting to weave its way between Jaehyun’s and your legs instead. You do have a pretty good time when he picks it up and cradles it in his arms so you can pet it for a second, but it just hisses when its owner approaches and jumps out of his hold, disappearing behind a row of trash bins.  

Jaehyun doesn’t have anything in his wallet apart from his credit cards and 50,000 won, and the coin machine operator says he only has enough coins left to break down 5,000 won for the games, so you end up having to jog back to his car so you can fish out some coins from inside his glove compartment. You come up with a grand total of 1,500 won, and you have to sheepishly go back to the coin machine operator to change four 100 coins and a couple of 50s just to get the last 500. Jaehyun tells you to hold onto the three coins so he doesn’t run off with them entirely and leave you destitute.  

You learn you can only do three things at most — you dedicate 500 won for the Ferris wheel entry tickets, which leaves you with 500 won each. The both of you agree on choosing one kiosk to play in, and with only about five left that are open, you don’t really have that many options. You end up dragging Jaehyun over to a stall with a pond filled with those magnetic toy fish, but 500 won only gets you one fishing rod. Since it’s your choice, Jaehyun lets you play, but you feel kind of stupid doing it on your own with him just watching you. In the end, he decides to stand behind you, his arms around your waist like he thinks closer contact isn’t even more distracting. You do manage to fish out 10 fish and win a small bear on a keychain. It doesn’t even pass through your hands as Jaehyun takes it from the stall operator immediately. 

“That’s mine!” You whine, reaching out in vain to take it from him; he just holds it high over his head. His eyes are twinkling under the shadow his cap casts over his face. “I worked hard for that.”  

“Let me keep this one,” he mimics the pleading lilt in your voice. “I’ll put it on my bag.”

“You know you can’t! Give it back.”

“I’ll win you a bigger one,” he promises. “Let me keep this one. It’s cute. It reminds me of you. I’ll kiss it goodnight before I sleep.” He starts to laugh softly. “And then you’ll feel this weird spirit kissing you at like two in the morning, and you’ll know it’s me.”  

Your arms aren’t long enough to retrieve it, and you don’t really want to, so you settle with twisting his ear. He takes it in stride even if he over-acts, making pained noises while leading you to the kiosk he wants to go to. It’s a shooting range stall, and he pays his own precious 500 won for a dart gun. He’s barely paying attention when the guy starts explaining how many points are assigned to each balloon color, more concerned with talking to the bear keychain in his hand and pretending like he’s cooing at you. You have to hit him across the shoulder to get him to focus.  

“You need to start picking out what prize you want,” he tells you — the actual you, not the animal keychain version — as he lifts the dart gun.  

“I’ll wait for you to finish first.”  

“No way.” He tilts his head, closing one eye to steady his line of sight. “Pick already. Or just go for the biggest one.”

“You know that Fortnite and dart guns aren’t the same thing, right?”  

“Yeah, but I’m well-motivated.” He grins at you, one eye still shut. He looks like a baby pirate. “Go ahead. Pick the biggest one.”

“Why don’t you just shoot, and we’ll see.”  

“Pick it,” he insists. “Tell me you have faith in me. Tell me you love me.”

“Okay, I love you,” you agree. “But I have no faith in you when it comes to this.”  

“One out of two is fine,” he concedes, taking aim.  

All three of you, including the stall operator, let out a disappointed groan when he misses his first shot. His comes with a sheepish laugh as he reloads, suddenly telling you to pick the second biggest prize instead. You can’t even watch him miss over and over, so you pretend to be interested in a bunch of teenage boys playing a game of cups one stall over, trying not to giggle when you hear him get increasingly more frustrated at himself. When you turn back around, you notice he’s holding two small pieces of gummy candy, offering one to you like a kindergartener. He helps you tug your face mask down so you can eat it.  

There’s a food stall nearby that, thankfully, accepts credit and debit; Jaehyun fishes out his card to get you a corndog — only one because he’s watching his weight for the upcoming concert, apparently. This is information you hate hearing but have no say in, and he knows this; you know he does because he says ‘don’t worry about me’ totally out of the blue, like five minutes after the conversation ceases to be relevant.  

His phone starts ringing when the food comes out, and he takes a tiny bite of it — more bread than hotdog — before he answers. You know it’s Taeyong by the way he answers.  

“Hyung, sorry — can we talk later? I’m out with ____________.”  

Taeyong says something loud but indiscernible on the other end. You piece together that it’s about tomorrow’s schedule when Jaehyun speaks again.

“I know. I’ll be home in a bit; don’t worry about it. I haven’t forgotten.”  

There’s more garbled speech on the other line; Jaehyun gestures for you to keep eating, and you do, but you more concerned with the morphing expressions on his face than you are with the act of chewing. He’s making noncommittal noises in response to what seem to be commands and reminders. You’re pretty much done with the corndog by the time he says ‘Okay, hyung. Hyung — I’ll see you later, okay?’

“Taeyong hyung says hi,” he tells you once he’s hung up the phone. “He says you still need to give back that book you borrowed from him last year.”  

“Oh yeah,” you finish off the last of the food. “I’ll drop it off within the week.”  

“Don’t worry about it. He doesn’t actually mean it.”  

Jaehyun watches you snap the stick in half and toss it in the trash bag.  

“We can go home,” you say finally. His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re busy tomorrow. I forgot.”

“I didn’t forget, and it’s fine.”  

“It’s almost two in the morning.” You check your phone to verify. “You probably have to be up in a few hours. You need to sleep, or you’ll die, Jaehyun. I’m too young to be a grieving widow.”

“Let’s at least ride the Ferris wheel,” he suggests. Before you can protest, he tugs you towards the rickety contraption, digging the 500 won out of your pocket and handing it to the bemused operator. He lets you choose what carriage you want because literally no one is on it anymore, and Jaehyun asks for the best carriage. You’re not sure how it differs from the rest, but he makes a show out of guiding you into it, and you don’t miss the corny ‘my lady,’ he mutters under his breath.   

It’s small, clearly meant for either a tiny group of children or couples who want to be as close together as possible. It’s also not air-conditioned, and only one of the windows is open, so you end up sticking to Jaehyun’s arm on the way up. The view is still great, though, and you feel his hand settle on your knee as the carriage makes it slow ascent.  

The ride up is quiet, and you press your face as close to the glass of the carriage as you dare, but Jaehyun doesn’t move an inch. His hand is still heavy on your thigh, but it doesn’t do anything but lay there. When you’re close to the top, you’re hit with the urge to do something romantic — kiss, maybe, tell him happy birthday, or say ‘I love you’ to him in the most sickening way possible — but when you turn to look at him, you have to hold your tongue.

Jaehyun is asleep, leaning against the corner of the carriage, head tilted down a little. His shoulders are rising and falling slowly, and he’s pulled down his face mask a little so he can breathe better; his lips are slightly parted by the slackening of his jaw. His left hand is shoved in his pocket, like he’d passed out halfway through reaching for something in there.  

He doesn’t wake even when you move slightly so you can lean back next to him, rocking the carriage a little — not even when you reach up and adjust his head so he can rest on your shoulder. He breathes deeply, evenly, and you wonder if his ear against your shoulder allows him to hear your heart plummet unfairly to the bottom of your stomach.  

You have to shake him to rouse him when the ride comes to an end; when he opens his eyes and realizes what happened, he looks mortified. Instinctively, he opens his mouth, but you fling the carriage door open and step out before he can apologize.

You have a deal, and he knows what he shouldn’t be doing.

His grip on your hand is much tighter as you walk back to the parking lot, and he doesn’t let go, even on the road. The trip back is quieter, maybe because it’s late, or maybe because there are a ton of things the both of you want to say but can’t.  

He slows down when he gets to your street, but when he stops in front of your building, he doesn’t immediately unlock the doors to let you out. Instead, he turns to you, licking his lips a little nervously.

“Can you…” he clears his throat because his voice cracks a little on the first attempt. “Can you come back with me? To the dorm?”  

“I have work tomorrow, Jaehyun.”  

“It’s still at eleven, isn’t it? I can bring you home before that. You still have some stuff in my room. You can get ready there.”

“Won’t you be too busy?”  

“Just—” he sighs softly. “Can you? Please?”  

You don’t know how to say no to Jaehyun, and tonight isn’t a night you’re willing to try. It’s why fifteen minutes later, you’re walking through the front door of his dorm. Donghyuck, sitting at his computer in his room with the door ajar, greets you sleepily as you pass by.  

Jaehyun steps in the shower with you; you don’t talk, maybe because you’re worried you might wake the others up if you start a full-blown conversation in a bathroom surrounded by other bedrooms. He just passes you what you need, and you do the same for him, and somewhere in between, he kisses you under the spray of the water.  

Later, he falls asleep with a face mask on, and you have to peel it off for him and toss it into the trash. The tip of his nose is shiny, and you want to kiss it, but you know it’ll wake him, and you noticed he’d set his alarm to go off two hours from now. He’s set out a couple of earplugs for you so that you don’t hear it, but you don’t put them in. You want to see him before he leaves, even if it’s in the deadest hours of morning, so you just crawl into bed with him. A minute before you doze off, you feel his damp skin press against your neck, his form curled up against your back.  

The alarm never wakes you; the sun is out when you open your eyes, and when you check your phone, you see that it’s already half-past nine. You also notice that there’s nothing from Jaehyun on your screen, but you try not to dwell on that, considering that you’d been expecting to wake up to an empty bed. His side of the mattress is cold, which means that he’s been gone for some time.  

You don’t know if it’s just because you’re groggy, but your insides still feel like lead when you sit up. The part of you that nags about this relationship is back at full force when you start thinking about Jaehyun going to a pre-recording two hours after spending the last of his energy on you. You start wondering if you’re doing the right thing if it feels like you’re just dragging him down. Your heart clenches tightly when the worst thought hits — maybe, just maybe, he’s tired of you, too.

But you won’t let him go. More to the point — you can’t. He’s the best part of your life; it’d be a cold day in hell if you decided to leave him.

Even the thought of it makes you feel like dying.  

Then again, this isn’t all up to you.  

You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes — and maybe a couple of frustrated tears — when the door creaks open. You see two mugs and his hands before you see the rest of him come through the doorway. Jaehyun whispers a careful good morning as he sets the coffee down on his table, making sure to push his keyboard away to avoid accidents, before sitting down next to you. You notice that there’s an envelope next to one of the mugs; the flap is slightly open, and from under it, a flash of red peeks out.  

His hand finds its way back to your knee — it’s his favorite resting place, he’s told you once. Your lap feels like home, he’d joked. Maybe he touches it every so often because it’s like a reset button for him.  

He doesn’t ask if you slept well, or if you want to get ready before having your coffee, or if you’re okay. He just squeezes your knee a little tighter. It’s you that has to start the conversation this time.

“How did it go?”

“It went great. You’ll see it on TV later tonight,” he starts rubbing your thigh idly. “You’ll watch it later, right?”  

“Of course. I’ll call you and tell you how cool you look.”  

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. When you lapse into silence again, it’s because you’re expecting him to say something, but he doesn’t come out with it directly. You try not to let it show that you’re worried, that you’re skeptical, that you’re wondering if he thinks he’s too tired, too busy for this, too.  

You’re expecting him to start how most break-ups start. You know I love you, right? And then the telltale but… would come, and you would have to hold back your tears and smile for him, and tell him you know, and that you understand it isn’t the right time, but maybe one day, someday, when he isn’t everyone’s Jung Jaehyun anymore — only yours.  

“You love me, right?”  

It’s not what you’d been expecting. Nor is it the playful little text he’d sent — no laughs, no jokes. His expression is somber, mouth pressed into a thin line.  

“You know I do.”

“A lot, right?”

“A lot,” you confirm softly.  

“Then whatever it is that you’re thinking about us,” he says quietly. “Don’t. Don’t think it. Don’t do it.”  

“Jaehyun—”

“I know it’s hard,” his fingers dig into your skin a little. “I know I put you through a lot. I know you think that I’m suffering because of this relationship too. I know everything. But whatever you think I’m going to do, I won’t do it — not ever. So if you’re thinking of it too, I’m begging you. Don’t. Please.”  

Maybe he had noticed all this time. A wave of guilt washes over you when you see the pained look on his face; perhaps you were even more transparent than you’d originally thought. You nod slowly to show your understanding, and he continues.  

“I know yesterday wasn’t the best you could have hoped for,” he carefully avoids apologizing, although it’s written all over his features. “For me, too. I… I wanted something different. It’ll be better next time. Do you believe me?”  

You hear him swallow — his nails are biting into your thigh a little, so you have to gently peel his hand off. Your fingers replace it, tightening around his palm as you nod.

“I believe you.”  

“And you trust me, right?”

“With my life.”  

“Then can you put your faith in me right now?” He asks. “Don’t panic. Just — just say yes.”

He pats around his pants, finally deciding to slip his hand into his left-hand pocket. Unlike on the Ferris wheel, he manages to extract something, but he keeps it closed in his fist. It’s shaking a little as he takes your hand in his other one, pressing something small and hard into your palm before he curls your fingers over it. His hold keeps your fist closed as he starts talking.

“It’s not immediate. We’ll figure it out. We’ll tell the right people, and they’ll help us tell everyone else — the public, the press. It doesn’t have to happen right now, or any time soon either— not if you don’t want it to. We can take it slow, or whatever. Anything you want — just as long as it’s with me.”  

“Jaehyun,” you shake your head, a little dizzy. “What are you talking about?”  

He slowly loosens his hold on your fingers, his hand dropping to the same spot on your knee. You’re free to open your fist, and when you do, you can’t help but feel a little stumped.

“I don’t mean now,” he repeats, now sounding doubly worried. “It’s not — It’s just…”  

“You’ll get in trouble. We can’t.”

“I won’t. Not if we do this right. Like I said, we can do it slowly. Months — years, however long it takes to do it well. What it is — it’s just… a promise.”  

“A promise,” you echo. It does have a nice ring to it.  

“That I’m not leaving you. Not ever. And… if you say yes, that you won’t either.”  

Your coffee has probably turned cold. Jaehyun is watching you carefully, looking like he’s trying hard not to bite his lip. You look back down at your hand, and he speaks up again.  

“You know I love you, right?”  

You smile slightly. “No but?”  

“No but,” he agrees.  

The ring fits nicely on your finger; maybe it’s well-measured from the amount of times he’s held your hand tightly in his.  

“Okay, Jaehyun,” you whisper. “I promise.”  

When you place your hand on his, he twists his palm, slender fingers gently twirling the ring around the base of your finger.  

Minutes later, he hands you your coffee. It’s sweet and milky, the way he knows you like it best. When he settles back down on the bed, you notice his eyes travel to your finger again, a small smile playing on his lips.  

Perhaps, in this moment, you finally learn to ask the right questions — not about if it’s worth it, but if he is.  

And in this moment, where he sits in silence with you, the sunlight pouring in from his window hitting the tips of his hair and the end of his nose, with the knowledge that his heart is as full as yours, you come to realize that there can — and never will be — any doubt of that.  

[ughdontbeboring]

pain relief

Austin Butler x WoC Reader (can be read by anyone)

Reader is trying to hide her chronic pain from her man

warnings: chronic pain (migraines), insecurities, smutty

THIS FOR ALL MY CHRONIC PAIN GIRLIES!!

notes: WOW even with all the Austin wips in my notes this is my first one to be posted, wow idk makes me nervous 😅 yall I hope I did our sweet boy justice.

No description of ethnicity one comment of complexion that’s it but reader when I write is always written with myself in mind. It’s soooo self indulgent.

this is SUPER self indulgent, So I first thought of this from his interview with Jimmy Kimmel when they asked about the migraines as an excuse not to have sex and of course his response was spot on he said “I don’t know what a migraine is” and Jimmy said “of cour you don’t” lmfao bc idk if I’d even turn him down if I had one!

I had a really bad period of back to back migraines for a couple months and this is what my brain rewarded me with in between one. I really don’t know what this is yall lol so don’t ask idk if I’m actually happy with it but yea lol

I put x reader but idk I guess it can tell be read that way, I don’t have the energy to re write it y’all so

now that I’m starting to feel better I will be catching up on my other wips.

if you like it, love it, fuck with it leave some love. I DO NOT give permission for my shit to be used anywhere by anyone.

🤕

Don’t focus on the pain, don’t focus on the pain she repeated over and over again in her head from under the safety of the soft cool cotton comforter as if it would keep away the pounding pain, protect her from it. 

It would not. 

Even with the house dead silent, the fan on for a little noise and all the black out curtains drawn that her boyfriend insisted he buy when he learned about her diagnosis from childhood- she knew relief would not find her. She shifted trying to readjust and find a more comfortable position to lay in, the little pocket above her head letting much needed cool air into her little bubble. 

She knew a few weeks ago she should have reached out to her neurologist but she’d just been so busy it kept slipping her mind and the aspirin had been holding her over but this? no this one was a monster and it was full peak right now. It started almost a day ago after the LA screening for The Bikeriders and had not gone away.

It didn’t help that they also just got back from the UK press tour. All the flying, the red carpets, the flashing lights and noise was starting to take its toll. Recently her boyfriend of just a little over a year revealed to her how much he enjoyed having her accompany him and how he loves sharing those moment with her. Hence all the traveling she’d done recently at his side. 

They still believed in healthy space but they truly enjoyed being together as much as they could. 

Usually she’d fly out every 2 or so weeks to wherever he was since her job was more flexible, their relationship was long distance since she was still living in New York. Which they’d also discussed changing that status but they both agreed to iron out the plans once the tour was over and he had a few weeks of down time. They figured the actual move would happen after he filmed in NY the end of summer. Knowing summer was her favorite time to be home, ever the thoughtful boyfriend. 

Though she was nervous to tell her family. They adored Austin but they’re a very close family and not seeing them everyday would take a lot of time to adjust to but it was important at this point in their relationship to actually be together. He even mentioned he’d love to look for a New York apartment which she had thought was unnecessary they could just stay with any of her family members when they visited until he reminded her she wouldn’t want her family to know she was his pretty girl who got cock drunk and loud when he fuck her stupid. Yes their own place was necessary. 

She felt a sharp pain at her temple and groaned. It was like her brain was telling her to stop thinking about all the stress and think about the pain she was in, which she didn’t want to do either honestly. She wish she could sleep it off but it was impossible. 

She flipped her pillow to the cool side and once again tried to empty her brain. Deep breaths girl deep breaths, the pain isn’t forever. 

She heard the front door slam shut up, which made her curl up even more in a fetal position and the deep smooth voice of her favorite person calling out to her. That voice was her favorite in the whole world but right now she needed silence. She had hoped the migraine would have been over by the time he got back but she wasn’t so lucky. Now she would have to face the music.

She had been telling him the past couple weeks it was just little headaches nothing serious, he knew she got migraines but hadn’t experienced any with her so far. The past 2 years she hadn’t needed to be medicated, the doctor couldn’t tell her why they suddenly stoped and why she was only getting little headaches every once in a while. This is why she was so unprepared and completely out of her medication she hadn’t needed in so long; she truly thought they had finally stopped for good. 

She couldn’t have been more wrong with the pain that was throbbing in her head. The front of her skull a constant ache and the back at the base of her skull and neck a wicked throbbing. The pain in her neck and shoulders unbearable even right between her eyes a sharp pain. She felt like she was dying. The fatigue of the attack her body was under was starting to catch up to her. She was trying to hold back the tears but the sound of boots pounding up the stairs along with the call of baby had her on the verge of a tearful melt down. 

She wanted to avoid the conversation that would surely come after this, when he would witness her in a peak migraine state. She felt horrible because she knew he’d feel like it was his fault for encouraging her to come with him to all the press events but it wasn’t his fault. 

She was an adult and she should have addressed this weeks ago with him and her doctor when the headaches started and not try to hide it to avoid worrying him. 

She should have been honest and though she has no reason to be she was scared to tell him.  She was scared he may think she wasn’t able to handle this kind of life. What if he wanted someone who didn’t need to recharge so often? Or someone who could just do anything with him at anytime not be laying in a bed sometimes for more then a day in pain and grumpy. Someone who couldn’t be touched in this state or be the prefect girlfriend. 

She also knew she sounded ridiculous that wasn’t who Austin was but it didn’t stop the insecurity she had about her migraines and how they held her back from life sometimes. Held her back from being fully emerged into his lifestyle. The guilt wrecked her. 

She knew she was mostly feeling insecure about her migraines because of those comments. She wasn’t normally insecure but recently she had read some comments which usually don’t bother her, about her and Austin’s relationship and how unhappy she looked being on press tour and if she was so unhappy why not just leave so he could be with someone who was happier with him. Those people obviously ignored the photos that were not taking at events that showed how happy they were but not knowing or they probably didn’t care she couldn’t be happier than she was, she was just suffering from more frequent migraines. 

So of course they’d focus on the bad, not all the fans but some. A lot of fans, who she felt were real fans could simply see how happy Austin seemed again. She knew how that felt, she met Austin as a fan and all his relationships and flings after Vanessa seemed lackluster and without any real connection, so she got it. But some of the comments were really getting to her at this moment. Especially the ones about how he looked happier with Kaia (which she knew was a lie from hell, she heard all about that relationship from Austin, his last ex) and then the ones about Vanessa looking happy ALL the time, which was funny because Austin spoke to her about their relationship also and if fans only knew it wasn’t always perfect, yes they loved each other but still there was a lot of hurt in that relationship for Austin. 

Then when those things would pop up she’d think what she’d say to her mans ex’s if she ever met them or if she’d just ignore them. 

Her head throbbed hard from all the unnecessary thinking and stress she was bringing onto herself, things she normal never paid any mind when the bedroom door swung open. 

Baby? He called again, steps coming to a slow stop halfway into the room when she assumed he noticed the state of the room; all the curtains drawn, the TV and lights all off, no noise but the fan she placed near the bed even though the central air was on and the pile of blankets on the bed covering her balled up body. Not a single part of her visible as she quickly stuck her hand out the air pocket at by her head careful to not let any light in and weakly waved at him. She could hardly speak let alone move her head to acknowledge him anymore. 

“Baby you still in bed? It’s 10” He asked as he walked closer, not that he cared it was just unusual for her and caused a bit of concern to form in the pit of stomach. 

He watched the head or he’s assuming area of the blanket shake in a yes motion. Even with the black out curtains there was still just enough light to make out everything in the room. 

“Baby what’s wrong” he asked in a soft voice from the edge of the bed, his hand running gently up and down some part of her body under the blanket. Her body coiled away from his touch. He tried to shake away the slight sting it caused him.

“uh migraine” she whispered weakly, if he wasn’t mistaken he could hear the underlying embarrassment in her tone. What could she be embarrassed about? 

“Oh shit baby, you need anything? Anything I can do?” He genuinely asked in gentler tone, though she couldn’t see how his eyes soften knowing she was probably in an immense amount of pain. 

He felt useless. 

“Uh no, just gotta be left alone for a while” this time there wasn’t any embarrassment in her tone just guilt. 

Austin tried to school his own face and tone of disappointment. He know he couldn’t do anything truly to make it go way but he wanted to help, wanted to be there for her like she’d been there for him on all his overwhelming days and nights from filming and traveling. His sweet girl deserved that. Then he thought back to this one thing he’d came across when he was reading online about migraines when she first told him she got them pretty frequently in the past. He quickly dismissed that idea, a slight blush creeping up his neck, he felt a little embarrassed himself for even thinking to suggest that, who says that to their partner Austin? He thought. She clearly needed to be alone. 

“Ok I’m just head downstairs then, call me if you need anything”  

He took another moment eyeing her blanket fortress before turning and slowly heading Towards their bedroom door.

“Austin?” He heard her call shyly, her voice still muffled from the layers covering her.

“Yea?” His own tone was laced with curiosity.

“Uh…there…there is one thing you could probably do for me…if you don’t mind..if you do it’s ok-“ 

He was quick to be at her side, slipping out his shoes, ready for whatever. His stomach burned a little thinking she may ask what he thought of just briefly a moment ago.

“Anything” 

He watched her baby blue fresh set of nails slip from under the blanket and her hand reaching out for his. His own large hand was in hers before he even registered it moving. She tugged him lightly, his body following gently. He was careful not to touch her as he laid next to her, his chest near where her head was, he remembered her saying how she didn’t like to be touched when she was having an episode, everything felt more intense and for some reason it usually amplified the pain. 

“Can I use your hand for a while?” She asked shyly still under the safety of the blankets, he could hear her clearer through the hole she left at the top. 

He felt guilty at the blood that rushed his cock.

“Of course” He said squeezing the right hand that held his left one. 

He allowed her to maneuver his hand so that his left hand was under her head, she placed his fingers at the base of her skull, thumb on one side and his fore finger and pointer finger on the left side.

“Can you keep your fingers like this and apply as much pressure as you can? This are some of my pain points and the right kind of pressure can ease the pain a little, usually I tie a scarf but it isn’t always helpful” she mumbled weakly. 

He was confused. 

“Oh ok..I..I thought-“ 

This wasn’t something he read, though he seen something about heat compress. He was confused because he thought she was going to ask for his hand to give her an orgasm. That was something interesting that he had came across. It said it didn’t work for everyone hence why he was slightly embarrassed to suggest it, he didn’t want her to think he was only thinking with his dick. 

He applied the pressure anyway, happy to help anyway he could.

“Is that good baby?”

“You can press a bit harder” 

He did as she said, feeling her body adjust just the tiniest bit next to him. A soft sigh leaving her lips.

She soft voice thanked him. He hummed a response, his own body adjusting slightly to get more comfortable.  He would lay here as long as she needed.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, she called his name.

“Yea?” He asked feeling more tired himself than what he thought he was when he got home.

“What were you going to say? When I asked for your hand?” She replied softly voice full of the need for sleep.

His felt that fire and a blush come back. He chuckled to himself. Now was good as anytime to confess his unconventional suggest and figure out if it was something helpful to her or if it was something she even heard of before. 

“Uh..I..I had been reading about migraines when you first told me you got them, trying to understand them better-“ He was cut off by a whimper she made, a pitiful sound of endearment. He knew what she was thinking, she was taken back by his willingness to be there for her however he could and that meant trying to understand what she would be going through. He kept going. “And I was reading how orgasms can sometimes help temporarily, but I didn’t want you to think I was just thinking with my dick” he concluded softly. Feeling better about just getting it out and in the open, it didn’t feel so dirty anymore, like he was taking advantage somehow. He knew her better than to think she would think that but it didn’t stop his insecurities about the topic. 

He felt her body stilled.

shit was she mad at him? He felt the slight unease creep into his stomach and his insecurities intensify at the thought that she would be mad at him for suggesting such a thing when he noticed her right hand slip from under the covers. 

Her soft palm facing up and open in a silent question and permission, are you still willing? And of course you can touch me. 

He let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding and gave her his right hand, her soft fingers gently pulled his under the covers, her forearm resting ontop of his own as she slipped his hand under hers to be guided where he couldn’t see. Once his rough fingers tips ghosted over her wet pussy he didn’t need anymore guidance, he knew her too well, maybe better than she knew herself. 

She gasped at the first touch and her hand left his to grip his forearm, as he’d started to explore her wet folds.

“How are you this wet already sweet girl? Hmm? Just can’t help yourself around daddy?” Austin questioned softly from above her, awe clear in his voice. He stayed laid on his left side, careful his body other than his hands didn’t touch her. 

“Fuck” she groaned quietly from under the blankets. “Guess my body always needs you daddy” she moaned out. He groaned as his fingers applied more pressure and speed. 

He felt the twitch in cock as she coated his fingers and moaned softly and weakly. His fingers switching between slow and quick. He was so painfully hard. He had to stay focus this was about her but how could he when her tight wet warm pussy was calling him? Begging for him. Her body was hardly moving just her hips grinding slowly into him.

Even fully covered by a ton of blankets he was still completely in-tune with her body. He didn’t need to see her face though he wished he could to kiss her soft lips, to know the pleasure he was giving her, to know she was close. 

He blindly felt the warmth and wetness of her pussy driving into his hand slowly chasing the pleasure he was somehow able to provide in this state.

“Cum for me pretty girl, take it” he groaned lowly.

She moaned out, she sounded so exhausted and pitiful but he could tell she wanted this, needed it and he was more than happy to give it to her. 

She squealed softly as she rocked against his hand, her body exploding and the sweetness of her drenching his fingers, her face seeking the comfort of his embrace under the blanket, he moved over slightly as his left hand still pressed to the pain points guided her, help her her blanket covered forehead lay against his chest. Her hips kept rocking slowly chasing the feeling.

“There you go baby” his husky voice praised even with a migraine she was still his good girl. So wet and warm and tight for him.

Moments passed with his fingers still cupping her warm sticky folds and the other still applying the pressure she required, neither hand moved as he felt her drift of to sleep, her body finally relaxing from the endorphins of her orgasm. 

Austin woke to the press of a soft warm body slightly on top of his and light kisses and licks against his neck. He stirred and tried to adjust his eyesight to the darkness that had over taking the room. It must be late.

“Hey baby” her voice sounded softly, her lips suddenly near his own. She kissed his plump mouth, pecking kisses over and over. She sounded a lot better.

His arms moved to embrace her, pulling her further ontop of him and as close as he could get her. 

“Hey baby” he replied his eyes seeking hers. The dimmed light from the hallway allowed him to finally see her. Though he didn’t physically see her face earlier, he knew she looked more well rested than she had in the past day or two. Her eyes had a fatigue to them but he was sure that would clear up from the migraine once she got some more rest. All and all she almost looked back to her normal self. 

Her hand snaked up his chest to cup his face.

“Thank you, for everything” she told him a little emotionally.

He brought his lips to her for a passionate kiss, before laying his foreheads on hers.

“You don’t ever have to thank me, I’m yours, that’s what I’m here for, to take care of you” he whispered against her lips.

She pecked his again. 

“And I’m still going to say thank you” she mumbled.

He pinched her side playfully as she laughed and pushed at him.

They just gazed at one another and she had to blink to stop the tears. She had woke to Austin on his back, her body against his. She had unconsciously sought his while she slept as the tension faded from her body and to her surprise his hand was still gripping the back of her head. The pressure had loosed when he eventually fell asleep but his hand was still there nonetheless. She didn’t think she could love the man more and here she was slipping further in the ocean that was Austin and some how she was learning she could breathe underwater. He was everything to her.

“I have a surprise for you sweet boy” she said smiling at him like he hung the moon and she’d die on that hill that he did.

Austin’s chest ached in a good way. He never wanted this to end. Couldn’t imagine it being any other way. Everything that had failed for him relationship wise lead him to this moment with her. He was better for it. 

“Hmm, what’s that?” 

She nodded her head to the side of him and that’s when he noticed the en-suite bathroom door open and the soft glow of candles burning. The scent of oils and salts hitting him. He quickly turned back to her.

“Wh-“ 

“You were knocked out and I wanted to return the love” 

“You little sneak” he accused tickling her sides.

She was quick to scramble away from his hold and climb over him getting to her feet and out of his grasp when his hands followed her as she head toward the bathroom.

She stopped short of the door as she pulled her oversize graphic shirt over her head. 

“I would do that you know, sometimes, never with men though, I hated being touched during my migraines but when it was really bad and I had the energy I would do it myself to help ease the pain” she spoke from the doorway to the bathroom, the soft light surrounding her body, giving a even more beautiful glow to her brown skin. “I didn’t think it would ever work from someone else’s hand, not too sure what that means handsome” she smirked.

So she had done that before he thought but just never with man, no man had ever made her comfortable enough to try let alone achieve bringing her relief. Austin felt those butterflies in this stomach again, he felt a sense a pride swell in his chest. His cock was even stirring again. That’s exactly who he wanted to be for her, the man that gave what she needed, what others couldn’t, he wanted to be the one no other man could compare to. He wanted to be her all.

She smirked at him almost as if she could read his every thought and she could because they mirror her own and how she felt about him.

“Lets go loverboy, it’s time for the real show” 

X

X

ALSO yall don’t have to say anything abt it but i find it helps SOMETIMES but alone so I thought who could make this work for me with another person of course our boy Austin could bc he’s so perfect. He’s the only one I’d let touch me with a migraine lol

[omniuravity]

Helluverse During Rut/Mating Season Headcanons

Tags: @bloodypeachblog , @hazelfoureyes , @pinkhimecat , @je-suis-eternel-jennie, @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered

TW: Sex (obviously), animalistic behavior, way too much research, creature cocks (kind of), mention of pregnancy

Thank you guys for the overwhelming positivity from the last one! Here's another one!

Angel Dust:

Angel doesn't really talk about mating season much, unless it's for his films. Val, of course, finds it sexy and makes Angel work anyway.

Like most male spiders, Angel tends to mate with multiple partners during mating season unless he's in a relationship.

Angel loves dancing with you during this time of year. He finds it brings himself closer to you.

Angel tries to make sure you don't feel pressured to have sex with him during his mating season. He wants you to feel comfortable and loved.

Angel is pretty submissive in bed despite him being the one wanting to mate with you, though expect him to want it a bit more rough.

"Come on, baby. I'll be gentle at first, then we can get to the kinky stuff~"

Adam:

An angel's rut or heat isn't nearly as intense as a demon's, unless you're as sexual as Adam.

Adam is normally very possessive, but he gets extra possessive of you when it's mating season. Another man can't even look at you without him blowing up.

Adam likes to help make a little nest for the two of you. Adam also likes to bring you shiny things for the nest.

Adam likes to play his guitar for you as a way to remind you how much he loves you.

Adam is normally pretty rough in bed, while he's rutting it's so much harder and deeper.

"Chill out, I'm gonna take really good care of you, babe~"

Blitzø:

Blitzø's heat is pretty intense. If he somehow has a partner you are not leaving his apartment.

He tries to cook for you, but unfortunately isn't very good. He always insists on cooking for you since he does most of the work in bed (or so he says).

Surprisingly, enough he does enjoy those gentle moments after sex with you. He'll never admit it though.

Speaking of gentle moments, he loves to cuddle. He will cuddle you like a teddy bear. If he starts to cry gently rub his back and hold him.

Blitzø is a VERY kinky motherfucker. He's open to trying every kink once. Any kink you can think of, he's tried it. Yep, even that one.

"Get down, it's time for some quality time with daddy~"

Stolas:

Stolas' rut is very different than most Goetias. He doesn't get as violent as other bird-like demons, but he's still very defensive of his partner.

He brings you all the shiny things for the nest you two share. He also doesn't mind being presented with shiny things.

Speaking of the nest, it consists of blankets, the shiny things, and his feathers.

He also enjoys cooking for you. He is much better than Blitzø, of course.

He's going to bottom. There is no question about it. He's also really loud when the two of you have sex

"I want to take this slow for you. I love you and want you to feel as loved as I do."

Verosika:

Verosika's heat is very intense due to her being a succubus. Though she doesn't let that change her demeanor in the bedroom.

She does have to stop performing for the public while she deals with her heat.

Even though she doesn't perform in public during her heat, she does sing for you.

She loves leaving marks on your body. Scratch marks, kisses, and bite marks will litter your body for days.

Verosika always tops, period. She takes good care of her submissives, though.

"You're so pretty, well not as pretty as me, but I'm still gonna take care of you, baby~"

[yonpote]

ok heres how i split up the dnp eras (loosely based on dan's timeline in his interview w anthony)

2009-2011: the Sillies era :3 dan refered to it as being a dumb teen just posting cuz he was bored, which is like, thats what all of youtube culture was at this time. they met and like fell in love or whatever you know the lore dont you. phil moved from his parents home to his first apartment in manchester, and dan technically moved to uni but really he moved into phil's apartment to take advantage of his washing machine and ps1 and. yknow. other stuff. they officially moved in together in 2011 yippee hooray, the phanchester apartment holds a special place in my heart

2012-2013: THE SHIFT. they started getting Serious about youtube as a career, doing more stuff w the radio, superamazingproject started in 2011 but THE SHIFT is very easy to observe when you compare the first season of sap to the last season. ALSO. they were NOT A DOUBLE ACT AND NOT GAY 🙄. it could also be called the No Homo era lmao idk this is when a lot of shitty things were happening wrt leaked information, harassment of their families, and just generally becoming more in the spotlight especially while still in the closet being a horrible experience. but also, they moved to london and got cool opportunities with radio stuff and were starting to actually make a living on this shit.

2014-2016: Peak Dan And Phil™ Era. at the height of their popularity. they realized oh shit, we ARE a double act and not only does everyone enjoy us best as a double act, WE enjoy working together. tabinof, tatinof, dapgo, still doing the radio every month up until they start touring, 7 second challenge app, gamingmas, what the hell DIDNT they do during this time period (what they didnt do was uhh take care of themselves and not overwork and not blur their work and personal lives so much to the point where they felt like the whole apartment was a film set.)

2017-2018: Gay Softlaunch Era (aka post-baking aka glass closet) the baby steps toward authenticity, moved to the double apartment to separate work and life, ii's whole theme, dan talking abt depression, phil getting the quiff, both of them being gay as hell in every way other than saying it explicitly. important things of note: TRUTH BOMBS dropped, Interactive Introverts happened, still uploading gaming vids and honestly by the end you could feel their fatigue. and then they hiatused dapg.

2019-2022: ok these four years each feel like whole eras in themselves, but also theres an overarching theme. THE GAY ERA.

2019: im gonna futher split this year in half. first half- dad left to buy milk so other dad is taking care of us. rough six months for dannies im sure. important phil thing of note- he changed his film set from his "bedroom" to a fairly basic but cute shelf backdrop. honestly prob didnt wanna keep pretending that was his bedroom considering.... second half- DAN AND PHIL GAY. dan uploads his magnum opus. phil comes out via tweet. they go to japan and its really gay and it's The Trip to japan for them like yes they first went in 2015 and again in 2023, but Japhan 2.0 Was The One. what does this mean? proposal? anniversary? idk exactly but it was gay as hell dude and theyve talked about that trip with such love in their hearts.

2020: Phandemic (sorry that was bad) but also where tf is dan again? even with the big C-word happening, it was business as usual for phil, regular vids but make em gayer, caught a pigeon nbd, and end of the year introduces the Stereo app show Phil and Phriends where he's had chats with pj, louise, his brother, seth everman?????, and finally. dan reappears. they reveal that they bought and FULLY PLANNED a house together and are ready to move!

2021: they don't move house for another like six months! basically their house was (and is??) still being worked on AND they were in lockdown AND turns out at the end of last year, they were kicked from their Life apartment and were now living in the Work apartment so you can imagine what all of this can do to their psyche and lowkey they were getting sick of each other like it wasnt just bordering on phivorce it was nearly Phurder. Phidow. but to fill the time so that DOESNT happen, my favorite fucking thing ever happens: Lockdown Lads (and all the other names). the first taste of what a dnp podcast would sound like, with the added bonus of chaotic listener interaction. oh yeah also dan wrote a mental health guide book whatever (IM KIDDING I REALLY LIKE YWGTTN I WROTE LIKE TWO REVIEWS ON IT NOW) and they finally become Homosexual Homeowners. theres quite a bit more dnp content this year, dan being on phils channel a bit more, the phodcasts, dan's gay and not proud special.... oh yeah and hometown showdown i guess AND TEXT VIDEO 2!!! my favorite and my namesake!!!!!!!

2022: Prophecy Year..... but they didnt get married. dan returns with another longass video to say: hey i hate being a youtuber and also youtube majorly fucked me over. but also fuck that im gonna do a weird talk show and ALSO GO ON TOUR WITH THIS APOCALYPSE THEME! phil actually... slows down this year. more dan uploads than phil somehow??? but also Dan Is Leaving me is posted and i go completely insane and become the deranged individual you see today. WHICH FINALLY LEADS US TOOOOOO

2023-present: The Unhinged Era. dan's tour was a huge Emotional success for him but uh not without its hiccups due to management and all that and i think he and phil finally realize. Fuck It Who Cares. dan flies back to england FROM AUSTRALIA to make sure he can be with his future ex-husband on his birthday. CAKE HEART EMOJI. YELLOW PLAID SHACKET. they go on a gamer date and post a picture of playing footsies in a cab. THE PHUDE HAPPENS. they go to japan again and while this one will never be The One it was still a well earned holiday this time with bryony! and they took a bunch of very cute film camera pictures.... THIS IS ALL JUST THE FIRST HALF OF 2023 BTW. in phil news, he talks about going to therapy and figuring out how to manage his anxiety!!!! he changes his hair again!! he hires an editor, phan is his otp, he teases about the gaming channel a couple of times but so many of us already dropped any hope of that returning- OH WAIT WHAT THE FUCK?!!!? HUH!??!? they returned, and more chaotic than ever before. the gayness upped to the max, the Weirdness on full speed, the Horniness at Very Scary Levels Oh God Stop Talking About Dogging, phil can swear uncensored now???? and this energy has continued into today...

[leth-writes]

yandere Homelander x influencer reader

Warnings: as always, my blog is 18+. Discussions of stalking and kidnapping.

Homelander x social media influencer youtuber reader

UGH

He HATES social media. He doesn’t really get it, and he doesn’t really use it, so he views it as some worthless fad for people below him. 

Yet, Vought wants to do a collaboration with you and him, mainly as a way to revive his image and give him a way in with the younger audiences who primarily connect with supes via social media. He does everything possible to get out of it, to no success. 

He first meets you in the main Seven meeting room. You’re standing by the windows, staring out, and the glowing sunlight hits you just right, like a fuzzy halo surrounding you.

With that, he’s gone. He’s in love.

I’m picturing you as a non-supe, and this is probably the second biggest issue for him. He already views social media influencers as vain and vapid, but a non-supe? He thinks you’re so far below him you’re practically indistinguishable from the everyday workers at Vought, the dime-a-dozen interns whose lives mean nothing to him. 

You’re different, however. You mean something to someone, to him. He can’t imagine you turning him down.

When the filming’s done, a simple Q&A, he asks to see you alone. The other workers race out of the room as quickly as possible, knowing how terrifying Homelander can truly be, and they aren’t risking their lives for you.

Once again, your silhouette is shadowed by the harsh, glowing studio lights, giving you a radiant aura. 

You turn him down.

He thinks, for a second, he heard you wrong, but no, you’ve just turned down THE Homelander. Do you know who he is, how many people would kill to have your position?

Thus begins the stalking period. He’s trying to collect as much information as possible to properly woo you, even if he struggles to understand why you rejected him. 

He’s using his supervision and superhearing to listen to every conversation, every tv show, to see every vulnerable moment. This only makes him more enamored with you. 

Finally, one day, he swoops down as you’re going about your nightly routine and just… brings you back to his apartment. Vought ignores it; you’ve boosted his image, they don’t care what happens to you beyond that.

Don’t even try to escape. You’re stuck, and you’re going to be a traditional stay-at-home partner. He’s strict like that.

If anyone would like me to continue, just let me know!

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

I have literally read all you stories and im so so impressed. Im not sure if your taking requests or if. If not than im very sorry. If yes then could you please write one where a modern doctor ends up being reborn as a Nobel princess who is about to marry king baldwin. She could then cure him.

♧ A Better Life - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: HELLO FRIENDS!!! I am back officially now!! Exams are over and the school year is done! I am so exited to be back!! Anon thank you so much for this beautiful request. This took me so long and I really hope you like it!!! This was an amazing one to return with, I hope yall enjoy it!!. As always this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy, Slight mention of blood

Y/n remembered little to nothing from that night.

Simply getting into her car late, well after the sun had set, and driving. Then the lights. Then the crash. Everything else was fuzzy. Even in her life before the crash, the only knowledge she seemed to remember was what she had learnt in medical school all those years ago.

Nothing about her beautiful rooftop apartment where she lived alone. And certainly not the crippling loneliness she dreaded returning to every night after work at the hospital.

------------------------------

Y/n’s eyes flew open and she sat up with a gasp, clutching at her pounding heart. After a few seconds of panic, she looked up at her surroundings.

There was no car, no wreckage, no blood.

Just a plush, white sheeted, four poster bed that held her trembling form. The curtains that hung around the top of the bed shrouded her view of the rest of the room, but from what she could see, an open balcony window allowed sun to shine through and into the large, beautifully decorated stone room.

Confusion soon replaced fear in the young doctor's mind. Was she in a hospital? No, it wasn't sterile enough to be a hospital. There was no beeping of machines, no bustling nurses. Something she was all too familiar with.

She tried to think back to what had happened, but all she could remember was the crash. Nothing else. Y/n pulled back the covers and cautiously stepped out of the bed. She barely got one foot on the ground before the large, wooden doors opened to reveal young woman carrying a tray with an assortment of dishes that y/n had never seen in her life.

“Good morning my lady” the young woman said with a smile, approaching y/n’s bedside.

“Good morning,” the doctor replied, trying to hide the confusion in her voice.

“I hope you are excited for today my lady, everybody in the maids chamber surely is!” the young woman said, her bright eyes practically glowing.

“I'm- excited for what?” y/n replied cautiously.

“Well your wedding of course, everybody has been anticipating this day for months now! Our kingdom will finally have a queen!” she was grinning now, y/n couldn't help but smile despite her confusion.

“Oh- yes! How could I have forgotten” the doctor said, once again attempting to hide the fact she had no idea where she was.

After the maid had left, y/n inspected the food. It looked delicious but eating was the last thing on her mind, for now. She slipped out of the bed to take a look around the room. There were books stacked on a shelf, a desk, a face washing basin and lots and lots of religious imagery, painted in typical pre-renaissance fashion.

Judging by the beautiful stone walls, she was most definitely not in the twenty-first century anymore. Nothing was boring and white. No white walls, no white marble countertops. Everything was handmade. Genuine. It was certainly a changeup from the old routine.

You see, y/n was intelligent. She always had been and on top of this, her years as a surgeon had taught her to act reasonable, calm, and logical even in the most outlandish situations.

Waking up in a different time period after a car wreck was no different.

She had to think of a plan.

“It's morning, people should be expecting me somewhere soon”. Turning to the bookshelf, y/n picked up a book and opened it. Handwritten. In Hebrew.

“That should place me somewhere in Israel, perhaps Jerusalem” she thought.

“And it's definitely before the renaissance, but after the birth of Christ”.

Placing the book back on the shelf, y/n continued to think. She had to figure out where she was and fast.

Y/n turned her attention to the other side of the room. The bed, a couch, and the open balcony doors. Approaching the balcony, y/n looked outside inspecting the area around the building she was in.

Knights. Many knights.

“Medieval “ was the first word that came to mind.

“That should place me somewhere around the 12th century-” was the last thing her mind concluded before the wooden doors opened again.

Six maids came into the room, each carrying something different. Some carried jewelry, some hairbrushes and combs, and others beautiful white fabric that appeared to be some kind of dress.

“Oh my lady, you have barely touched your breakfast!” one of them exclaimed as y/n entered the room from the balcony.

“You will need your strength for today!”

“Oh I'm terribly sorry, I forgot all about it! I was just getting some fresh air, I'm a little nervous” y/n said as calmly as she could, praying that they didn't notice something was off.

“That's alright dear” the oldest of the maids said, “it doesn't matter now because we need to get you dressed! Come, sit” she gestured to a vanity mirror and chair that y/n hadn't even noticed. 

--------------------------------

It felt like hours that the doctor sat in that chair, as the maids worked tirelessly on her hair and face. Braiding and brushing, applying makeup and finally helping her into the beautiful white dress robes.

They fit perfectly, just like a glove. As if they were made for just her and her alone.

“You look immaculate, your majesty,” one of the maids said, taking a step back to admire their future queen. Y/n smiled, for a moment forgetting her predicament.

It felt as though she had lived in this world her entire life.

“Come now darling, we don't want to keep the guests waiting!” the oldest maid said, taking the doctor's hand and leading her towards the door. Y/n followed blindly.

“This should be interesting,” she muttered.

-------------------------------

It was a short walk from her chambers to the church. There were already plenty of people waiting inside. Y/n barely had any time to think before a bouquet of flowers were shoved into her hands and she was walking down the aisle, people standing left and right staring at her.

Taking a deep breath, y/n steadied her hands and continued walking at a slow, measured pace.

“Come on y/n, this has to be the least nerve racking thing you've done all week”.

Looking up, she could see her “future husband” standing at the end of the aisle. It was strange, she couldn't see his face, he was wearing white robes and a veil that shrouded his features almost entirely. But from what she could see, it appeared he was wearing some kind of mask.

Then it all connected.

Not only had y/n taken a myriad of science and math subjects in highschool, she had also taken an ancient history class. One unit had specifically focused on the “Leper King of Jerusalem, Baldwin IV”. This must have been him.

As she approached the end of the aisle, her mind wandered to a patient she had treated with severe leprosy, contracted while he was on a tropical holiday. She remembered how much pain he had been in and her heart broke thinking about this poor king who had gone untreated for so long.

She was only snapped out of her thoughts when she came face to face with her soon to be husband. His eyes met hers and what she thought would have been a neutral feeling (since she did not yet know this man at all) turned quickly to a feeling that she had not experienced in what felt like years.

Love.

The doctor's heart skipped a beat looking into those eyes. Those beautiful, blue eyes. The mask he wore was polished to perfection, the metal was perfectly shaped into sculpted, masculine features.

He was beautiful.

Y/n was far too focused on just how captivating the man who stood before her was to pay any attention to whatever the priest was saying, until once again she was snapped out of thought by the large crowd cheering as they were pronounced husband and wife, in the name of the Lord.

-------------------------------

Later on, the guests had left and all had returned to somewhat calm after a day of celebration. Y/n was slightly shy at first during the celebrations, doing everything in her power to read the room and understand her place in this new world. But after a while, she began to enjoy herself.

Her “husband” had barely spoken a word all day, but she had caught him looking at her as she talked with his sister and associates. She was told by a few maids that after getting changed from her wedding attire, she would go and meet privately with her new husband.

She was nervous, but not even half as nervous as somebody else was...

Baldwin paced up and down his chambers until his legs were in agony. The day had been strenuous on his body and the pacing did not help.

The young king slumped down on his couch, cursing his frail body. He had watched her all day, his wonderful y/n. So full of life, so intelegent, speaking with everyone and enjoying her time while all he could do was sit and watch.

Oh how he had wished to join her, to dance with her, to speak with her, to hear every word her beautiful voice had to say, to look into her eyes. Those perfect eyes.

He hoped that she knew just how much he had fallen for her, even though they had not spoken a single word all day.

He cursed the mask that shrouded his emotions, forcing him to look cold and stern when all he wanted was her to know how warmly and deeply he felt for her. Baldwin sunk deeper into the couch cushions. His body craved sleep, craved a break from the pain. But he couldn't. He had to see her right this instant.

Taking a deep breath, or as deep as his failing lungs could take, the young king sat up and stared down into his hands, anticipating the moment y/n knocked on his door.

He did not have to wait long because no more than a minute after he sat up, a small knock came from the wooden door. Baldwin got to his feet, perhaps too fast. He steadied himself and called for her to enter. Y/n pushed open the door. She looked as beautiful as she did in her wedding dress.

“Good evening your majesty” she said with a graceful curtsey.

“Hello” he replied, suddenly feeling incredibly shy.

Y/n smiled. He was truly adorable. He looked so soft and warm in those robes. Good lord what was she thinking? She had barely met this man and yet she was acting like a teenager in love!

“Would you like to take a seat?” he offered, his voice gentle and kind. “Of course,” she replied. The two sat in silence for a moment. But it was not an awkward silence, more of a comfortable silence as the young couple took each other in.

It wasn't long before they got to talking. Two intelligent, young minds in the same room were bound to connect almost instantly. And that's just what they did.

Y/n tried to not say anything about her “world of the future”. That was until they were brought to the topic of his disease.

“So, you have no issue in being wed to a leper?” Baldwin had asked, his voice growing sad. Her heart broke for him in an instant, remembering how terribly people with his disease were treated at this time.

“Of course I don't” the doctor replied.

Her kind voice soothed something deep inside Baldwin. Something untouched for so many years. His eyes burned with tears but he dare not  let one fall.

“Really?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly.

“Of course! All I see is a beautiful, young man with a bright future. And from what I've heard, you're a wonderful ruler, and I know you will be a wonderful husband too”.

Baldwin smiled beneath the mask. He hoped she could see the smile through his eyes. Y/n took a deep breath before her next choice of words.

“You know, where I come from, lepers can be healed,” she said softly. Baldwin’s eyes widened.

“Truely?” he said in disbelief.

“Yes, but you can not tell anyone”

“I won't, of course! Please, share this with me” the young king said in a hushed voice taking her hands in his.

“Alright. I'm going to need a few things to do it and it may take a while-”

“Please, y/n. I'll do anything” Baldwin was on the verge of tears now. “Now I have you, I have a reason to live. I need to live, please” he begged.

Y/n’s heart sank as his previously strong demeanor shattered into a thousand pieces before her very eyes. As gently as she could, y/n wrapped her arms around her husband, pulling him into a gentle yet firm hug.

At that moment, the young doctor understood why all of this had happened. She was brought here for a reason. To cure this poor young man, to show him the love he deserves and to have a better life by his side.

“I promise Baldwin, I’ll make you well again. No matter what it takes. I'll do it”

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Hermione Baddeley (Brighton Rock, Passport to Pimlico, Mary Poppins)— An absolute mainstay of British films from this period. She’s an icon who never takes shit from anyone in any of her movies, dresses for the occasion, and has the best line delivery! Also she started out in silent movies, and was a close friend of Noel Coward. In a desperate attempt to appeal to a large tumblr fandom, I will also point out that her first husband and one of her children were both called David Tennant. You like that name, don’t you tumblr??

Glynis Johns (Mary Poppins, The Court Jester)—LISTEN, I'd let that woman's voice with all its gravely hoarseness (positive) wash over me all goddamn day, but if that's not enough she managed to play the straight woman to Danny Kaye's jester, all with her cleavage so plunging it might as well have been catapulted into the ocean right after Basil Rathbone

This is round 1 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Glynis Johns propaganda:

She walks the line between sexy and cute. Her best role for me is in "The Court Jester as Maid Jean. She's fantastic as the soft but tough captain of the outlaw band and she looks stunning in every gown she wears throughout the film. And of course we can't forget her iconic turn as the suffragette mother, Mrs. Banks, in Mary Poppins! Also shoutout to her distinctive and beautiful voice, kind of smoky and husky. Extremely hot and set her apart from many of her peers."

"Listen, listen. I was raised on Mary Poppins and "Votes for women! (step in time)" single-handedly taught me how to be a feminist. Also The Court Jester is one of my favourite movies of all time and she is UNBELIEVABLY gorgeous, charismatic, funny, and clever in it. She knocks several men out. Absolute icon."

"Like Bette Davis she has eyes to die for. Unlike Bette Davis you felt comforted by them, even when she was batting her eyelashes at you. Would glady go to Downing Street with her and throw things at the Prime minister"

"She had this wonderful wit and charm to her no matter the role and the most distinctive, striking voice!"

"She was amazing in Mary Poppins (the Suffragette song is severely underrated) and apparently she was Welsh? National pride! And she advocated for arts funding in Wales, which is very cool. Also, she died recently (RIP) making her one of the last survivors of the Golden Age of Hollywood, according to Wikipedia. Also also, she just has a cheeky energy I like? And her eyes are beautiful!"

"I mean, incredibly beautiful and talented, can do drama can do comedy. And she was a mermaid."

"I love Glynis Johns. Most of the reason is The Court Jester where she's a sensible and capable foil to whatever what going on with Danny Kaye at the time. She was also the first star I based an OC on. An OC that I still have to this day! Anyway here have some YouTube links love u bye"

Mermaid clip: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/1jUEA03mYTk

Court Jester (sharing a bed trope): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5d_qG9i054U

Court Jester (seducing the king): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-GuqFYElKg

"VOTES FOR WOMEN! Well, votes for this woman. Please."

Hermione Baddeley propaganda:

Propaganda for both Hermione and Glynis:

[crazyoffher]

IMPULSE ADRIFT.

warnings: none.

-

Sometimes you wondered what was wrong with you, and on the downlow, Jenna did too. Although she never minded your physicality. In fact, the more you did it, the more she yearned for it whenever you were near.

You had an addiction, to say the least. Not to drugs, alcohol, or even sex, but to the skin and bones that belonged to none other than your girlfriend. More specifically, her hands.

Left the apartment? Your hand was linked with Jenna’s.

Out to eat with friends? Hands were still linked together, settled beneath the table and out of sight.

Lazy day, maybe watching television together or lying in bed? Nothing changes.

Even at the end of the night, when the two of you are cuddled up in bed, awaiting sleep to take you both, your back is to her front and her arms are wrapped around you. That was the same position the two of you found yourselves in every night you were together, because neither of you liked unnecessary change.

Jenna preferred holding you before quickly falling asleep, and you preferred being held by the one you loved most while trying your hardest to stay awake in her warm embrace. It was because, unbeknownst to her, you would wait until she was asleep to engage in a small act of love.

When you would hear the faint snores that she would produce once in dreamland, you would move her hand that sat on your waist to hold them. You’d press light kisses to each finger as a symbol of your love for her, even if she wasn’t conscious.

You were always the first to awaken, and a burst of energy would radiate within you. A form of energy that only existed when Jenna was around. If she was off filming in a different country, you’d just sulk in bed for over an hour after waking up, counting the days until she returned to you before ultimately getting up in a mood.

A part of the energy you’d feel every morning consisted of wiggling your way out of your girlfriend’s grip and pressing a light kiss to her forehead before making her favorite breakfast, turning into housewife mode, and serving it to her in bed. You would not even have to wake her up; she could smell the hints of her favorite breakfast dish, accompanied by small cups of water and orange juice, from the closed bedroom door and all the way down the hallway. 

She deserved more than you could ever give her, but you tried your best, and she loved that aspect of you.

“Good morning, my love,” is what you would say each morning when you walked into the room, food in hand, and watched Jenna rub her eyes. You’d set the food down on the nightstand next to her and crawl up to peck her forehead in the same spot you had when first awakening, followed by a kiss on the lips that Jenna would sleepily reciprocate.

She adored every routine the two of you had unintentionally set in place. It made her feel like your relationship was calm and organized, and it gave her a sense of relief she had once desperately searched for.

The periods the two of you had together were short, as movie role upon movie role stacked their way into Jenna’s calendar, but you made her forget about the upcoming stress she’d feel. You were there with her in the moment, and you were the only thing keeping her from breaking down due to the negativity of social media and her perfectionism, which was her mortal enemy at times.

You’d shamelessly cry whenever you said goodbye to her at the airport, because why feel shame over bidding farewell to the one you loved most for what felt like the thousandth time? Because of her continuous schedule, you’d sometimes not see her for months upon months, once going a whole year without seeing her because she had filmed two movies back-to-back. You’d always force yourself to remember the last action you’d give her—a kiss to the palm of her hand—and it gave you a sense of security knowing, despite the distance, you were still hers at the end of the day.

And just like you always did, you’d catch Jenna in your arms when she’d return from filming, feeling a growing wet patch imbed into your shoulder from her tears. You’d hold her tight at that moment, and you’d press a kiss to her palm once the two of you calmed down, in the same exact spot you had kissed her when she left you.

When you were together, you couldn’t go a day without kissing her, and you’d die if you went a whole day without even a brush of your fingers. Holding each other, whether hands or bodies, was a key part of your relationship, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

☟ ☟ ☟

taglist: @grandpatrolnut @annalestern @yara124 @daryldixonsw1fe @alexkolax @red1culous @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @idkwimdtbh

[mrsbarnesblog]

Smile

Summary: You're just looking at your amazing boyfriend and can't help but feel an overwhelming amount of love

Word count: 500

Warnings: nothing, just cute and domestic Bucky <3

Author's note: I've just reached 1000 followers omg. I never expected to have so many of you in such a short period of time. thank you so much everyone for the support. I decided to post this little drabble, while I'm working on another fic❤️

You weren't able to drag your eyes away from his face.

You and Bucky were sitting in your shared apartment on the sofa, under fluffy blankets. It was a free day for both of you, so you just decided to do nothing and watch too many shitty movies with a lot of unhealthy food.

He was sitting in the middle and you in the corner with your legs on his lap, and you both had a bowl full of ice cream in your hands.

You honestly didn’t remember what film you were watching, but when you heard that Bucky laughed—not just chuckled but fully laughed—you completely forgot about ice cream and everything else around you.

You were just staring at his smiling face. How his nose scrunched in the cutest way possible, how little wrinkles appeared near his eyes, how his head fell back, and how the adorable sound of his laugh filled your living room.

It was rare to see him this way—without a frown on his face, without dark thoughts filling his head—and you fucking loved these little moments.

It felt like you were looking at young Bucky. innocent and unbothered by anything in his life. Just a nerdy boy from Brooklyn who liked to go on dates and save his friend from trouble.

Of course, you loved any version of your boyfriend. Loved his grumpiness, his caution, and his inner strength. Loved the man who had gone through hell and back but was still fighting for his life. And you definitely loved being the person who gave him comfort and with whom he didn’t have to build a thick wall around himself.

Now, watching him and how safe he felt around you to act like this, your heart was filled with so much love that you wanted to cry.

"What happened, doll?" Bucky pulled you out of your thoughts. Looking at you without a big smile but still with soft eyes.

"Nothing." You mumbled, completely mesmerized by your boyfriend’s face. "I just love you. You are so cute and adorable, you know that?" You just said it without hesitation and saw, even in the dark room, how his face became pink.

"I love you too, baby doll." Another wide smile appeared on his face, and you smiled back at him. "C’mere, wanna hold you near with me." Bucky put aside his empty bowl and yours with already-melted liquid and dragged you to sit on his thighs, wrapping his hands around you.

You just chuckled at the way he was manhandling you and happily nuzzled into his neck, breathing in your favorite scent.

As he kissed your head and hugged you even closer, you both knew that being in each other's arms was the best place you could’ve been.