#everything that is easy for everyone else is super hard for me like you just don’t get it ok

[januaryembrs]

YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted. 

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck. 

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin. 

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again. 

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest. 

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him. 

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene. 

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been. 

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men. 

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to. 

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions. 

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,” 

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently. 

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face. 

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet. 

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry. 

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.” 

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage. 

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,” 

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him. 

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them. 

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob. 

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand. 

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter. 

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights. 

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible. 

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was. 

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed. 

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him. 

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands. 

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,” 

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip. 

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true. 

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in. 

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years. 

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe. 

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe. 

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second. 

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing. 

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late. 

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them. 

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed. 

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new. 

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them. 

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them. 

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently. 

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands. 

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt. 

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building. 

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him. 

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use. 

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard. 

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign. 

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?” 

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,” 

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes. 

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested. 

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again. 

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible. 

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything). 

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright. 

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet. 

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance. 

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock. 

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,” 

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,” 

 “I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing. 

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin. 

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down. 

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?” 

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised. 

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point. 

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

 “Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,” 

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion. 

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise. 

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off. 

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him. 

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,” 

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again. 

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his. 

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,” 

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all. 

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him. 

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though. 

[waterfreezes]

it’s crazy that i’m 25 and not sexually active at all and haven’t been for years I LOVE IT SO MUCH😐

[saerins]

𝐒𝐀𝐄 // 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒: 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓

+ sae x f!reader | wc 5k | content: angst to fluff, breakups, exbf!sae, exes to lovers

notes: this is the alternate ending to conversations ! (requested by one of my anons) i’m so sorry this took so long !!! and i’m 100% sure you did not expect me to write anything this long but i’m sorry my hand slipped >_< again … i’m super rusty but i hope you guys still like this ^_^

summary: sae’s willing to throw everything else away to prove that out of everything in his life, you’re the one sure thing he needs. problem is, will you accept him after what he’s done?

he’s sorry.

he repeats it in his head, over and over again, his fingers almost numb from repeatedly pressing the call button on your number—over and over and over again.

sorry, sorry, sorry.

it’s no use, he knows. it’s why he’s here—why he’s taking a flight, bare-handed, back to japan, back to home, back to you.

“please switch off your phone, sir,” the flight attendant says politely, dutily, as the plane starts to move.

begrudgingly, he resigns, but the moment he starts hearing your voicemail message play, he sighs, speaking into the receiver.

“look, i know i fucked up and it was stupid of me to keep it from you. i’m sorry, okay? and i know you don’t want to speak to me right now but i can’t just sit around and do nothing. i love you, so i’m coming back home, and we’ll talk, and then… i promise you, nothing like this will happen again.”

yes, because he’ll make sure of that. he’ll make sure he doesn’t make decisions like a stupid teenage boy and he’ll make sure to trust you at every turn instead of trying to hide anything from you because you’re right. never in the course of your relationship did you ever doubt sae.

which is a feat. because given his profession and status, any number of girls would’ve been distrusting had they been in your position. not that sae knows, what can he say he knows about girls? nothing, apparently. after today, that much is sure.

as he turns his phone on aeroplane mode, he throws his head back and looks out of the plane window. less than a day till he’ll be there to see you in person. he’s not sure if you’re going to even want to see him, but he’ll try. you deserve that much, at least.

in his head, the same words repeat over and over again.

i’m sorry.

i love you.

you’re all i ever want.

by the time sae’s plane touches down, it’s night time in japan, close to midnight. you should be resting, probably tired out from crying; he can imagine, because stupid as he may be, he can at least say he knows you this much.

your words can be hard, cold, cruel, but you never are. you’re all soft inside, and you’d rather face your emotions alone than let anyone know how you feel. at least, when those emotions concern sae. you’ll keep them to yourself and keep crying, day after day, until you can’t find it in yourself to care anymore.

passport in one hand, his phone in another, he whisks off toward the taxi stand, mind in a mess because his phone’s now ringing with messages from everyone that isn’t you, probably concerning his absence from the last match of the tournament.

fuck the final match.

you probably thought he’ll play anyway. that he’ll play the match, and only afterwards would he attempt things further with you.

funnily enough, that’s what sae used to think too. before any of this happened. never in his life did he think he’d sooner rather sabotage his own career than lose you. it’s laughable, really, how much he’s so afraid of losing you that it clouds his judgement.

he should’ve been honest with you from the start instead of letting you find out on your own. it was that easy.

“could you step on it, please?” sae sighs, irritated at everything keeping him from you; the distance, the traffic, the stupidity.

the taxi driver narrows his gaze at sae through the rear view mirror, clearly annoyed. “i’d rather not get a ticket,” he replies monotonously, and sae sees that he’s driving at the speed limit. “wouldn’t want to get into an accident, would you?”

well, if he did, that would put a real hamper in his plans, so sae just shuts up and switches off his phone. none of them are you anyway. there’s no point.

as he stares out the window at the now-quiet city, he finds that, for the first time, he’s afraid of losing everything.

mira [7.28pm]: make sure you get enough rest! bought some soup for you in case you haven’t eaten :)

you look at the time now—12.14am. fuck, did you really sleep the entire day away?

the sliver of moonlight that shines through your blinds is all you see next to the pitter patter of the heavy rain against your window. it’s pathetic, really, for you to take a day off just because of that argument (if you can really call it that) the night before. you couldn’t bring yourself to even watch his game like you’d promised him you always would, once upon a time.

something tells you that he should expect that, though. even without watching his game, you know they’d win. sae has always been magical like that, being the playmaker he is. you imagine he’s probably with his team now, celebrating the win. or are they asleep right now? you never could get used to the time difference. it’s too much of a headache.

aside from mira, you see a voicemail message in your inbox. from sae. it makes your heart skip a beat. are you even ready to hear him and whatever he has to say? it’s why you’d been avoiding him since yesterday—you’re afraid you’re just going to crumble and forgive and get taken advantage of. it threatens to spin the same old story you’ve always known.

you click on it anyway.

“look, i know i fucked up and it was stupid of me to keep it from you. i’m sorry, okay? and i know you don’t want to speak to me right now but i can’t just sit around and do nothing. i love you, so i’m coming back home, and we’ll talk, and then… i promise you, nothing like this will happen again.”

will it though? how much can you trust his words after he already failed once? it makes you think twice, no matter how badly you want to forgive him because you do believe him. it’s most likely nothing, and what he said is most likely true, but it makes you upset that he thought of hiding such a thing from you.

just as you toss your phone aside, you hear a series of urgent knocks on your door, the thunder ruthless outside. slowly, you get up, dragging your feet against the hardwood floors and flinching a little as you hear how loud the banging is. you’re half afraid and half agitated, halfway between hiding yourself under the covers and threatening to kill whoever it is outside.

but then you swing the door open and you’re met with that pair of teal eyes you’ve always loved, his bangs matted against his face as he pants, the rainwater drenching him from head to toe.

“y/n,” he calls out, as though it’s been ages since he last heard from you. it’s only been a day, but it’s enough to make sae feel as though it’s been forever.

you’re a little shocked, your brain trying to process every single question that comes to mind.

is that really him? why isn’t he in spain? if he played the game, the timeline doesn’t add up—how did he get here so fast? is this actually a dream? holy crap it feels so real, though? why isn’t he saying anything?

“s-sae?”

you’re not even sure if you said that out loud—you’re a little too shocked to make sense of anything right now. but the moment the corner of his lips tug upward, revealing that lopsided smile you love, you know it’s real.

he’s here.

“i… came to talk,” is all he can say. he’s tired from running up the stairs. apparently tonight, everything was against him. there was an accident right at the street before the corner of your apartment, so he’d had to end the trip early and start running for it. by the time he got here, the elevators for your block were all undergoing maintenance and unusable. but fuck if twenty flights of stairs are enough to make him turn away.

you’re blinking a lot, as if you find it unbelievable that he’s here in the first place, but you nod anyway and step aside to let him in, wet clothes and all.

“how was work today?”

it’s definitely not what he came here from spain to talk about but you entertain it anyway.

“didn’t go,” you tell him, a little coldly, but you think he deserves that much, at least. “how was the game?”

“don’t know, didn’t go.”

you two are similar that way.

“why not?”

“i had other important things to do.”

“you do? pray tell.”

it’s the first time sae’s hearing you like this and he’s sure now that he never wants to make you like this ever again—going against your nature.

it’s lame, and overused, and you deserve an essay for why he shouldn’t and wouldn’t ever do this again to you but it’s sae and he’s never sure what’s good in these situations so all he can manage to say is, “i’m so sorry.”

you cross your arms as the both of you stand in your dimly-lit living room, the storm raging on outside. it’s not like you don’t know that. that aside, you’re pretty sure he’s the most sorry he’s ever been. and if you were still the same naive girl you used to be ten years ago you probably would’ve forgiven him by now.

but you’re not.

“okay, is that all?”

it’s not what you really want to say. you kind of just want this to be a dream; that picture of him and that random girl with their lips locked, that fight that you had that made you cry to sleep. you wish it was some sort of stupid nightmare that didn’t make him ruin your trust but it did.

sae, on the other hand, seems restless. he’s taken aback, not quite sure how to get through to you because he’s never made a mistake like this before. “just- could you… forgive me?”

the ache you head in his voice breaks you, and you’re sure he can see the tears threatening to spill, but you stand with your choice. “can i? i don’t really know, to be honest,” you respond, voice soft and low, not quite daring to meet his eyes in case you falter.

the contrast between how you were and how you are kicks him in the gut and he has no one to blame but himself. he doesn’t want to, but he can sense where this is going. he’s not stupid, he just… doesn’t want to believe it.

“please… don’t do this?” sae swallows the lump in his throat, the foreign way his heartbeat quickens out of fear stumping him. there’s probably more he should say, but maybe that just wouldn’t be enough anymore. his words can’t find him and he can’t find it in himself to reach out to you. not when he realises you out of all people hate the most for having to do this.

if you just blindly follow your heart, you’d leap in his arms right now, fuck how soaked he is. because you still love him. you know that, and you think maybe he knows it too, but judging by the perplexed look on his face, he probably doesn’t realise it. that’s why your brain does the deciding for you. it had already made its choice the moment you saw that picture, the moment you saw the headlines on that gossip rag.

“i… think we should break up, sae.”

before today, if you’d told yourself that one day, you’d say these words, you wouldn’t believe it. but here you are, breaking up with the love of your life.

sae is just standing in front of you, staring at you, the happy picture of the two of you during your second year anniversary hanging on your wall haunting him this very second. the command he gave his assistant to help him get that ring for you sending him into the pits of despair. he’s so stunned he doesn’t know what to say or do.

“you’re… serious?”

there’s no expression in his eyes. they’re just dull, and dark, and nothing like how you’re used to.

this time, you’re the one trying to force the words out of your mouth, calmly, because you’re afraid that the tears will just spill out. “you’re… you’re the one who told me to be kinder to myself, right?”

sae chuckles softly, helplessly, as he realises you take every word he says to heart.

EIGHT YEARS AGO

it was beyond him why you let yourself be subjected to this. nobody was a saint, but surely you deserved better than to be treated like trash?

sae understood a little of where you were coming from. it was hard to let go of a three-year relationship, but having you visit him crying in the middle of the night wasn’t exactly what he would condone.

“you can do better than him, you know that right?”

the words slipped out of his mouth before he knew it. he’d once sworn that he wouldn’t meddle in your relationship, that he’d let you figure it out on your own, but your heartaches were getting too often those days that sae just couldn’t hold it in anymore.

it probably wasn’t the best thing to say to you, considering how you were bawling your eyes out and staining his entire jersey with your tears, but sae was never one to filter his words.

“everyone says that.”

which tells sae you didn’t believe that.

“which means there’s some truth there,” he sighed, leaning back against the couch as you continued to bury your head in his chest. sae saw rin from the corner of the room, peaking out of the hallway and gave him a quick wave to signal him to leave them alone.

“i… don’t know what to do.”

you rarely ever did. having been your friend for the past four years before this taught sae two things: one, you gave your all for your relationship, and two, you were one of the kindest people he’s ever known. (and by extension, it simply meant you knew what had to be done, but you refused to do it.)

sae took a deep breath, eyes gazing up at the ceiling before he resumes, “i don’t know why you let people treat you like that.”

you stayed quiet, sniffling, though it’s getting softer now, so sae continues.

“you know, you’re one of the nicest people i know,” sae told you, fingers absentmindedly stroking your hair—the way he always wanted to but never let himself admit. “which is why it kinda sucks that you’re so stupid to let yourself be hurt by that asshole over and over again.”

the both of you chuckled at that. sae was glad to know you understood he meant only well.

“stop… letting people hurt you and then letting them get away like that, okay?” he said it softly, but you definitely caught it. “be kinder to yourself, fucks sake.”

he felt your fingers curl, gripping at his shirt as you stopped yourself from crying. you looked up at him that night, smiling as your tears dried, and sae remembered telling himself that he’d never want to be the reason you had to feel upset.

“when you say it like that, how can i say no?” you joked, laughing, wiping the last of your tears away. “besides, even if i was still being stupid, i’d always have you with me, right?”

sae remembers.

he remembers not answering you, but he remembers thinking yes, always. and he has a feeling you knew back then too, that sae would always be there for you regardless.

only if it’s you.

maybe even back then, you already knew how he felt for you. and you would always listen to him. you’d always believe in him. now he feels even more stupid for everything that transpired. with his words thrown back at him, he finds himself speechless.

“you’re right,” he replies, voice hoarse, his gaze dropping to the floor. sae was being stupid, and he’s crazy if he thinks he’ll be let off that easy.

you’re sniffling a little, and he does you the courtesy of not looking at you even though you’re already turning away. “i’ll mail you your stuff.”

“it’s fine, i’ll get rin to help me take ‘em.”

it’s a diplomatic breakup. polite, nothing out of line, just two adults deciding that maybe now just isn’t the time.

after a long pause, sae gets the guts to speak. “you know you’re the only one for me, right?” because he feels like maybe you’d been doubting it recently and he doesn’t want you to feel worthless. maybe it has the adverse effect and maybe it’s selfish but he needs you to hear that.

you don’t acknowledge it, and you barely acknowledge him, even as he turns to walk out the door. this time, you’re the one not giving the answer, but sae feels like he knows how you feel anyway. you need time away from him. a proper break from him. so sae leaves wordlessly, clinging on to hope that maybe one day, he’ll be deserving of you again.

the moment sae closes the door, you fall to the floor, wailing into your cushion pillow, having one of the worst nights of your life.

THE NEXT WEEK

annoying jr [10.48am]: oi stupid, i’m here.

—followed by an incessant ringing of your doorbell.

when you groan and swing the front door open, you’re greeted by a smirking rin. at least he hasn’t changed one bit since you’d known him when he was a kid. well, at least not to you.

“did you have to ring it so obnoxiously?” you whine, plopping down on your couch, burying your head in the leather seats.

rin shuts the door behind him, scoffing. “you’re the one who always used to wake up late,” he quips, rolling his eyes (you don’t have to see it, you just know how he’s going to react).

“and someone was always the third party on dates,” you snap back, sticking your tongue out at him.

he deadpans, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “hey, wasn’t my fault my stupid brother kept using me as an excuse to go out.”

right, because back then his parents were a lot more strict than they are now, back before they didn’t know you.

realising that the mood had grown a little somber, rin clears his throat, changing the subject. “how’s work so far?”

you chuckle under your breath, finding it funny how both the brothers’ go-to question is to ask about your work. though, they’ve never been that good in conversations so you can’t blame them.

“it’s fine, promotion period’s coming up so i’m preparing for that,” you respond lacklustrely, getting up off the couch, dragging your feet to your bedroom before resurfacing just ten seconds later, carrying a box full of sae’s things.

it’s full of his clothes, care products and the like, but mostly clothes, because you’d realised you liked to steal his jerseys, wear them like they’re your own, but mostly because they smell like him, remind you of him when he’s not physically around and makes you feel better.

doesn’t make you feel good when you have to pack them up, though. you cried all the way again. pathetically. but rin doesn’t have to know, so you keep up your unbothered facade.

rin takes the box from you, thankfully not mentioning his brother. “hope you get that promotion then,” he says politely, though you sense he might have something else to say that he doesn’t know if he should.

you sigh, because sometimes rin looks like a neglected younger brother and you don’t have the heart to ignore him like sae does sometimes. “go ahead, say what’s on your mind.”

it takes just a moment of hesitation before rin heeds your words. “did you see sae’s interview last night?”

part of you doesn’t want to think about anything related to sae, but most of you still misses him, so it’s a canon event that you still look out for any and every news of him. it’s sad and pathetic and that’s why you make extra care not to mention any of that to anyone.

“nope, was it about their recent win?”

you try to go on as per normal, like sae isn’t just the love of your life that you still wanted.

“mhm.” rin, at least, doesn’t tease you about it. whether he means to or not, you’re grateful for that. “they asked him, though. about that game.” (but of course, you knew that already.)

ah, that game. the game that he abandoned to come find you. the game that led up to your breakup. the game that sae probably had to pay dearly for for knowingly ditching.

“oh, i see. what about it?”

a resigned sigh leaves rin’s lips as he looks at you with the full sincerity of a younger brother concerned with his older brother’s fuckup. “he… really loves you, you know? he’s just… stupid.”

you snort at his last remark, both of you breaking out into a small laughter. it’s bittersweet, thinking about how this might be the last time you see rin, but you’ll probably get over it. you’ll get over this, and sae, and move on someday—now if only you could get yourself to want that.

“i know,” you mutter quietly, deciding that it’s best not to speak too much about it. it’s dumb, considering everything that happened, but his words made you feel relieved, even if just for a second.

just before he leaves, you give him one last hug. “thanks, rin.”

THREE MONTHS LATER

“please don’t give me another heart attack like last time.”

sae huffs, annoyed, although he knows he probably deserves that. his poor assistant went through hell trying to appease everyone on the team due to sae’s last stunt. luckily, there are exceptions made for the best soccer player on the team, so no punishment was dire enough that he had to get kicked.

“i’m just going out for some air.” sae leaves before his assistant can get any words out, entirely too tired today to listen to anything anyone else has to say.

besides, today is a special day.

the moment he’s out of earshot, he calls one of the only contacts on his phone. for some reason, his heart is thumping wildly and his fingers are fiddling with the hem of his windbreaker. the weather is nearing negatives but somehow, he doesn’t feel it.

“hello?”

sae nearly gets a heart attack of his own when a deep, low voice is what he hears, until he realises that he recognises it.

“rin, what’re you doing there?”

he can make out the sadistic chuckle from halfway across the world. “what, disappointed?” (if sae could punch him right now he would.) “relax, we’re just at her birthday dinner and she’s busy,” he explains, though sae doesn’t nearly care about any of that other than the fact that he wants to talk to you.

“where’s y/n?”

“she’s the birthday girl, people are lining up just to take pictures with her,” rin raises his voice over the background, and sae’s never been more frustrated. “she’s taking pics with some handsome guy right now, and he’s got his hands around her waist,” rin whistles right after, and sae can just sense his smugness through the phone.

whether what his brother said was true or not, sae is in no position to be jealous anyway. (even though he is and he’s sporting an unamused frown that’s enough to scare the living daylights out of anyone watching him.)

“wish her happy birthday for me then.”

rin snorts. “sure. disappointed you didn’t get to hear her—” sae hangs up before he can be subjected to anymore of his brother’s nonsense. all he really wanted was to just hear your voice, but he won’t be greedy.

staying friends was already a miracle. that’s only possible because you have a heart of gold, and he knows that if he ever pushes it too much, he might just risk losing you forever and he knows he can’t have that. so for now, this’ll do.

he’ll wait, no matter how long he has to.

later that night, when the moon is high up in spain, sae receives a notification from you. there, attached in your thread is an audio message.

“itoshi sae… thank you.”

the little laugh you leave at the end is enough to make him smile at his phone. he counts his blessings for you, and starts counting down to the days he has left in spain. if he wants you, he needs to go all in.

ONE YEAR LATER

“you ready yet? i’m at your lobby.”

sae can just barely make out your panicked state from the other line. you’re late, and you know he’s fine with waiting, but because you’re a perfectionist, you really really don’t want him to have to.

“yeah, just gimme like, five minutes!” which sae knows translates to i actually need twenty but i’ll rush. there’s a certain satisfaction it gives him—knowing that he knows you in these ways that nobody else can.

“take your time, i have to pump some gas anyway, running low,” he tells you, an excuse which you accept right away because it’s convenient.

sae doesn’t even need any gas. it’s full, so he parks his car by the entrance and waits inside, turning up the air conditioning because he knows you’ll be sweating a little by the time you inevitably still choose to rush down.

it’s exactly one year since the last time he wished you happy birthday (through rin). and this year, he’s happy enough he gets to actually take you out. the past year’s been filled of sae restarting the relationship from ground zero—back to being friends and gradually coming back again to where you are now, dating. sure, it’s taxing having to do it all over again, but he’d do this however many times you want him to.

SIX MONTHS AGO

“hmmm, i dunno how to feel, i kinda like this.”

sae had been calling you up often, and he feels good inside knowing that you might miss him as much as he misses you.

“kinda like what?” he asked, wishing that he could see your expression right now.

“kinda like you chasing me all over again,” you giggled, shameless with your words. “what if i just never agree to be your girlfriend again? what if i just make you chase after me forever?”

he knew for a fact that you weren’t that sadistic, but even so, his answer would still be the same. “then i’ll stick in this phase with you. forever.” although that would render the ring that he bought for you useless.

“oh really?”

sae hummed in faux contemplation. “nah, maybe not. maybe i’ll just ditch you and run off with ryusei or something.”

he got a laugh out of you for that.

“ryusei? not even some other girl, but ryusei?”

sae chuckled—he still remembered his mistake. and he’d never put you in a position to feel that way again. even if you two were just joking around.

“y/n, there’s no one else except you.” he was rarely ever serious like this, especially considering how you bantered as friends, but sometimes, he knew he had to. nowadays, more than anything, he just wanted to know that you had no doubts about how he felt for you.

you didn’t give any response to that, but considering how you started to ease up around him even more after that, sae felt like maybe there was a solid hope there of reviving this after all.

the knock on his window brings him back into the present, your pretty face doing wonders in lighting up his mood.

as you get into the passenger seat, sae steals a glance at you from head to toe—you’re so beautiful and so worth the wait and you’ll always be.

“so, where are you taking me today, mr itoshi sae?”

he leans back against his seat, tilting his head as he looks at you, feigning contemplation. “depends, ms l/n y/n, do you trust me?”

you press your lips into a line, the corners threatening to tug upwards. you’re so adorable that sae’s actually going to go insane but he dons a straight face like he always has because letting you know the power you have over him is more than you need to know.

“i think it’d be a little weird if i couldn’t trust my boyfriend.”

suddenly it’s like time stands still and sae’s hands are stuck on the steering wheel and he’s left staring into space wondering if he heard you right. boyfriend? he turns around to look at you, teal eyes searching your own for answers but all he sees is a smirk on your face—you definitely know the power you have over him.

“wow, want me that bad, huh?” you joke, giggling as you tell him to hit the gas. “i… wasn’t kidding though.”

and as he pulls out of the parking lot, he thinks about the little velvet box that sits in his jacket pocket, thinks about the fact that he’s one of the luckiest people in the world thanks to you. heat rises to his cheeks, and he has to look away from you.

“you know one day you’re still gonna be mrs itoshi, right?”

this time, you laugh—but not like you think it’s a joke, more like the kind where you think was there even any other option? and even then, you offer him assurance.

“there’s nothing i want more.”

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Not Without Me (part 3)

Part 1, part 2

Jason was still absolutely furious, and grieving about what had happened with Bruce, despite Danny’s best efforts to comfort and look after him. The Joker’s death had helped a lot but there were so many other villains out there, and now with the knowledge that Bruce would never change Jason’s thoughts turned to Tim. The new Boy Wonder, going out night after night and putting himself in danger for the sake of adults who Should know better! Leading the Teen Titans and Still working with Batman, when did the fucking kid sleep?!

What was it going to take for everyone to realize he shouldn’t be out on the field?! Maybe an argument could be made for some of the more powerful teen heroes like Superboy, but Tim was Just a teenager! A super smart one sure but he could get hurt so easily, he could die just like Jason had. Was it going to take a serious injury to show them what a bad idea it was? 

And maybe a part of Jason did blame Tim, not for his death obviously, but for taking Robin from him when it had been his pride and joy. It had meant everything to him, and it seemed like between the original Boy Wonder and the new genius boy Jason had nearly been forgotten. 

So no he wasn’t thinking particularly logically when he got ready to go to Titan’s tower, and the closest thing he had to a plan was to get Robin alone and beat the shit out of him until he agreed to put the suit back in the memorial case where it belonged! The anger spiraled up and out as Jason prepared to leave, working himself up into a cold, green tinged fury.

He hadn’t told Danny what he was planning to do, and he hadn’t on purpose. Danny was loyal and sometimes almost too submissive, but Jason seriously doubted his boyfriend would let him do this. Maybe that ever-permissive Danny would have stopped him should have been a sign to Jason he really Shouldn’t, but he was not thinking logically in that moment. His blood was rushing in his ears, which was probably why he didn’t notice someone else was there until the door slammed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Danny demanded and Jason looked up to see him standing in front of the door, arms crossed and legs planted staring Jason down. His head was lifted and there was a stubborn set to his jaw that Jason Hated seeing because it meant Danny was not backing down. Alright, he hated seeing it directed at him, when Danny directed this at other people Jason thought it was hot as hell.

“Out,” Jason practically snarled, slinging his bag over his shoulder and stomping towards the door in the vain hope that Danny would get out of his way.

“Like hell you are, not till you tell me Where you’re going worked up like this! What happened?” Danny demanded, and did not move an inch. When Jason got too close and tried to push past Danny he grabbed Jason and pushed him back hard. It was easy to forget how Strong he was.

“Don’t fucking touch me right now,” Jason snarled at Danny who stepped forward, infuriatingly fearless. 

“Or what? You’ll hurt me? Good, then we can actually have a productive conversation about this.” Danny accused, jabbing a finger against Jason’s chest. 

Jason grabbed Danny’s wrist without even thinking and twisted, throwing Danny over his shoulder and to the floor. He tried to bolt towards the door but felt a hand around his ankle and fell heavily as well. He’d only managed to roll over onto his back before Danny was on top of him, his own sharp teeth bared in fury. “You’re not running away from me, Jason!” He hissed as Jason struggled under him, still with just barely the presence of mind to be trying to get Away! If he started fighting Danny, or beating him properly there was no way Jason would be able to stop until he’d tired himself out and wouldn’t Want to go after Tim anymore.

Danny wasn’t going to let go though, and Jason’s eyes widened behind his mask when Danny lunged down, his teeth clamped down on Jason’s shoulder, tearing through his shirt and into his flesh easily. He howled and flipped them both over, the pain and perceived threat of someone near his vulnerable throat finally making him lose control. 

By the time the green retreated from Jason’s vision again his knuckles were bloody and bruised. He was breathing heavily and his shoulders ached, and not just where Danny had bit him but the muscle ache of exertion. Under him Danny panted, eyes closed tight and bruises still fading slowly from his skin under Jason’s stunned gaze. 

He pulled off his helmet and cupped Danny’s face with gentle hands. Danny opened his eyes again and looked up at Jason, eyes bloodshot and suspicious. Jason gave him a small smile and Danny relaxed, smiling back and lifting his arms to drape them around Jason’s shoulders, they were heavy, Jason could practically see that fatigue dripping off of Danny. He kissed his boyfriend gently and sweetly, peppering feather light kisses over any lingering bruises as Danny gave a soft, happy sigh. 

“I need a bath,” Danny murmured softly. Even though the wounds healed the soreness lingered sometimes, baths helped, even if there wasn’t blood down Danny’s face and staining the collar of his shirt. Jason must have given him a bloody nose a few times over.

“Of course,” Jason murmured and got up off of Danny, helping him to his feet before scooping Danny up in a bridal carry. He was light, Jason’s arms weren’t too tired to carry his lover. In the bathroom Jason set Danny down on the counter and kissed him again softly before putting the plug in the tub and started the water running. He grabbed a dark coloured cloth and wet it before handing it to Danny so he could clean the worst of the blood off his face.

Out of habit he turned to leave, Danny still hadn’t let Jason see him with his shirt off so when he bathed he did it alone. But not this time it seemed, Danny grabbed Jason’s arm before he could leave the room, eyes wide and a little panicky. Shit, Jason didn’t mean to upset him! Did Danny still think Jason would try to sneak away once he was out of sight?

“No, please stay,” Danny said softly, looking like he might cry which was a knife in Jason’s heart honestly. 

“Of Course I’ll stay, I just thought-, I mean you’re not going to bathe with your shirt on,” He said, trying to make a joke as he stepped forward to wrap his arms around Danny. For the moment he’d almost forgotten why he was angry before, they’d have to talk about it soon but taking care of Danny came first.

“Well, no, but I don’t want to be alone right now and you’re going to have to see the scars eventually anyway. I just don’t like looking at them, or thinking about them really, but… ya.” Danny sighed and leaned back, finally stripping off his shirt as Jason braced himself, then carefully controlled his reaction and pushed down his nausea. 

Danny’s scars were… extensive. They didn’t make Jason sick because they were unattractive of course, far from it, but because of the story they told. There was the lichtenberg scar Danny had shown him before, branching up his arm and curling over his chest, but that was probably the least disturbing. The most were the surgical wounds. Straight and clear forming a pronounced Y on Danny’s chest and abdomen, there were straight ones down both of his arms, and a vertical one up the front of his throat, though that one was just slightly less pronounced to the point it could be missed on first glance, out of contact with the rest of This.

Jason knew Danny didn’t scar easily, even when Jason had stabbed him in the shoulder the wound had not scarred. How bad, how extensive, how Deep had these wounds been, that they scarred like that?

Jason realized he was staring, and Danny was looking at him with concern slowly transitioning into panic. Jason stepped closer, leaning against the counter between Danny’s legs when he opened them for him, resting his hands on Danny’s soft hips. He pressed his lips against Danny’s forehead, hearing it as Danny let out a shuddering breath he must have been holding. 

“I just… wish that hadn’t happened to you Danny. And I really wish it wasn’t taking so long for my hackers and agents to find out Where the other GIW bases are, I want to tear those people apart,” He said. He could feel the Pits stirring just slightly inside him, though they were too spent to really react right now. 

“I could probably find them myself if I tried, but honestly I’m scared. I’m not sure I’m ready to face them again,” Danny said softly and Jason sighed.

“I get that Danny, it’s okay,” He promised. He wanted to blow up those bases ASAP, especially since they might be hurting other people, but he couldn’t Force Danny. Hopefully his people would find out more soon and Jason might be able to handle it on his own, maybe with some help from old friends.

The bath had finished running so Jason turned away from Danny to turn it off while he undressed the rest of the way. Jason gave him a hand to steady him as Danny stepped into the water and sank down into it with a sigh. Jason sat beside the tub, leaning against the edge and holding one of Danny’s hands as he relaxed. He’d wash off the remainder of the blood when he was ready to get out so he wouldn’t be soaking in bloody water till then. 

“So, where were you headed That upset?” Danny asked, watching Jason with half lidded eyes. 

“You know, one of these days I’m actually going to be going to do something time sensitive and you stopping me like that is going to cause problems,” Jason grumbled without heat. He knew he was a liability at times when his rage really took over and needed Danny with him then more than ever. Danny knew it too judging by the disbelieving huff he gave Jason in response. “I was… not being rational, I was freaking out about the new Robin.

“He’s just a kid like I was, I don’t want him to die,” Jason muttered, crossing his arms over the edge of the tub and resting his chin on them.

“So what were you planning to do? Kidnap him?” Danny asked calmly.

Jason avoided his gaze. 

“Jason… you weren’t planning to hurt him were you?” Danny asked, and his disappointment was cutting and gentle. Jason’s shame was deep and heavy, making him shrink into himself.

“I thought maybe if I showed him how dangerous it was, how easily he could die he might Want to stop,” Jason muttered, barely audibly. 

“You DID die and nearly the first thing you did once you came back was hop back into costume! Do you really think that would stop him when it didn’t stop you?! He doesn’t seem like he’s any less stubborn,” Danny accused him.

Jason groaned and buried his face in his arms, but didn’t let go of Danny’s hand. He was right of course, Jason had been being an idiot, driven by emotion and the blood rushing in his ears. He should have talked to Danny about this ages ago. “No, it wouldn’t have stopped him. So what do we do?” Jason asked, his voice muffled. 

He felt Danny’s other hand in his hair and leaned in to the soothing touch a little, letting him card his fingers through Jason’s hair. “I know you’re not going to like this Jason, but I don’t think we can make him stop.” Danny said softly and Jason let out a sound that was half a groan and half a growl. “He won’t stop for pain, if we kidnap him we won’t be able to keep him and drawing that much attention to ourselves would definitely be a mistake. We can’t make him stop, but we can probably help him.”

Jason hummed and peaked at Danny who was gazing into the middle distance thoughtfully. “Danny? What are you thinking?” Jason asked a little warily. 

“What did you need when you were Robin? What would have made you stop?” Danny asked, looking back down at Jason. 

It was his turn to fall silent, thinking deeply about that question. He sighed and shifted, leaning his back against the edge of the tub and stretching his legs out in front of him. He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling in contemplation. “Someone.. Who would support me unconditionally. Bruce didn’t Make me be Robin, but a lot of the time it felt like it was the only way I could get his attention. Being rewarded for Not going out… help?” He said with a vague little gesture of his free hand.

“Can we try to do that for him? If we can get in contact with him we can offer him support, places to hide if he needs a break from Bruce, help with homework? Whatever he needs. At first he’ll probably take advantage of that as an opportunity to spy on us, but as long as we’re careful about it, that could be our in,” Danny suggested.

“What would I do without you,” Jason sighed, looking at Danny with his damn heart in his eyes as Danny gave him a fond but sardonic smile. 

“Apparently, nearly beat a teenager to death,” Danny said and Jason groaned, his head thunking back against the side of the tub.

“How long is it going to take for you to let that go?” He asked preemptively. 

“Never,” Danny replied blithely. “I will bring it up every time I need to remind you Why you need to talk to me before doing something drastic.” 

Jason groaned again, but he definitely deserved that.

--------

Instead of breaking into Titan Tower to fight Tim, Jason broke in to leave him a note in his room.

Hey Timmy (A.K.A. Replacement)

I know I’ve made a pretty damn terrible first impression but I want you to know that it’s not you I’m mad at. I understand wanting to be Robin, I loved the role more than anything before it killed me, and even though I don’t want any more dead kids I don’t think I can make you give it up. 

But you know it’s dangerous, we both do. If you ever get in over your head, you need a place to hide, get in over your head in a fight? Hell, you need help with your homework. I'm really good with English and Hyena knows more than anyone I’ve met about Astronomy.  

If the old man is with you we won’t let you in, but if You need anything you can call me, or come to the Alley. As long as you’re alone you are welcome, and I swear on my own grave no one will hurt you.

Red Hood

Masterpost

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part three.

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yourusername is it time for bahrain yet?! can’t wait to see these two back in action again soon! 🧡

view all 4,981 comments

mclaren We keep asking ourselves the same thing! Our engines are ready and we’re raring to go! 🧡

↳ yourusername you truly understand me mclaren admin

↳ mclaren we think you’re the one who truly understands us y/n

↳ user y/n x mclaren admin?? 🤯 the plot twist none of us saw coming

user missing these lads so much lately

user THE RADIO SILENCE ON OSCAR’S SOCIALS WAS KILLING ME I DEPEND ON THESE MEN TOO MUCH THEY KEEP ME ALIVE 😭😭

user the f1 drought is real rn

user MCLAREN SUPREMACY 2024

↳ user i’m trying to be delulu but we all know it’s just gonna be the mv33 and redbull show again this year 🫤

user soooo are we all just gonna pretend like we didn’t see the pics of her with garrett ward orrrrr?

↳ user no bc i was just thinking the same thing 👀

↳ user wait that was actually her??? cuz you can like barely see her face so i thought it was just a joke???

user what a fake ass bitch

user she only posts other ppl on her acc cuz she knows her ugly ass face would scare everyone else away

user homegirl needs to stay tf away from my man fr 😤😤

user god what a hoe 😒 she already has these two that she could fuck with idk why she needed to go after garrett

user SLUT SLUT SLUT

user if she tries anything with anyone else on the city team i’m gonna lose my shit fr

↳ user same omg

↳ user honestly i’m just glad she didn’t go after grealish or haaland 🙌

↳ user she probably would’ve tried if they weren’t taken already 🙄

↳ user nah i bet she’s totally a homewrecker garrett’s probably just the first on her list

user oh… these comments… 😰

↳ user right???

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yourusername the city boys know how it’s done! and looking pretty good in orange too 😉

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mancity The lads are looking good indeed! This weekend’s match against Newcastle should be an exciting one! ⚽️🩵

mclaren ✍️ Jeremy ✍️ Doku ✍️ and ✍️ Ruben ✍️ Dias ✍️ McLaren ✍️ 2025

↳ mancity Do you think Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri would look good in sky blue? 🤔

user funny how she posts every city man BUT garrett

user god when does she go back to f1??

↳ user march iirc

↳ user well it can’t get here soon enough jfc

user FUCK OFF WE DON’T WANT YOU

user you’re a slag and should accept the fact that any guy would only want you bc of how easy you are

user i’ll bet my left leg that the only reason the f1 boys haven’t shacked up with her yet is cuz they know she’s probably riddled with disease since she drools over every guy that comes near her 😒 like girl needs to bffr and realize that throwing herself at every male in her vicinity isn’t gonna land her a husband and it just making her even more of a slut

↳ user nah i’ll bet they’ve all already done her over in f1 but nobody will touch her now that they’ve passed her round so she had to come over to football just to try and get someone to touch her again 🙄🙄🙄

user i hope garrett realizes how much of a slut she is and breaks up with her

user sick and tired of bitches like this getting with footballers and being all controlling. like i’ll bet she’s gonna tell garrett he can’t go out and party with his mates anymore bc he has to spend time in with her and then she’ll get all pissy about him having female fans bc she’s insecure and knows that if garrett got to meet a REAL fan he’d jump ship immediately. those of us who ACTUALLY care about footballers know their fans are super important to them and we wouldn’t hinder their relationship with them just bc we’re jealous or insecure. garrett needs to be with someone who actually supports him and is willing to let him do what he wants instead of controlling him like he’s a dog on a leash.

user kys like genuinely

user god i can’t wait for this skank to die 😒

“Hey Lando, it’s me. Your best friend. Again,” you give a humorless chuckle. “I could seriously use some of your wizened advice right about now, so, uh, please just give me a call back when you can. Thanks.”

It seems poetic in a cruel sort of way that less than a week ago you were walking Etihad Campus and feeling like you were on top of the world━ working a new albeit temporary gig, adding the Manchester City name to your list of clients, having photos of world-renowned footballers in your portfolio━ and now you’ve resigned yourself to hiding away in the women’s restroom, locked in a stall because it’s the only place you could think of where nobody would be able to find you.

You’re on the verge of tears and feeling rather stupid for it.

It’s the third time today alone that your call has gone straight to voicemail, and with the dozens of unread texts you’ve sent in the last week added to the mix, it’s starting to paint a picture you’re not very happy with. Lando is ignoring you. Or he’s blocked you. Or he’s blocked you because he’s ignoring you━

You bite down on your lip, hard, to keep back the sob crawling its way up your throat.

You’re not a PR officer, you hadn’t been lying when you told Garrett that, but you’ve spent enough time around the McLaren PR teams that you’ve picked up enough tips and tricks to know, at the very least, that the best thing you can do is just ignore the comments.

That’s what they tell all the athletes.

What they don’t tell the athletes is that ignoring the comments is much easier said than done, especially when your career requires you to have such a significant online presence. And the thing is, despite all of these strangers hounding you with every name under the sun and criticizing your capabilities, qualifications, and very existence, the thing that hurts the most is the radio silence from the only person you know could make it all better.

Now, more than ever, you need your best friend. But he isn’t here.

You tuck your phone into your jacket pocket and unlock the stall with great reluctance. You know better than to be hiding away, shirking your responsibilities while crying over a few missed phone calls. You have a job to do, and a real professional wouldn’t let something as simple as a handful of tasteless comments get in the way of that.

You should be used to them. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.

Your first month at McLaren wasn’t entirely different.

When you were first hired on, Carlos had been in Formula One for a handful of years already and had built up a devotedly loyal fanbase with a decently large percentage of possessive fangirls who had come for your head the moment your existence had been announced.

The McLaren Instagram account had posted a picture of you standing between their two grinning drivers, your camera strung around your neck, with a very nice caption welcoming you to the team, and despite no indication that you were by any means involved with either of them in a way that went beyond professional, the comments had been taken over by feral teenage girls who saw the act of you simply standing near Carlos to be a direct threat against their “chances.”

Though it had been frustrating being met with childish threats and petty insults in your comments, you hadn’t really held it against any of them. You remember being a teenage girl and crushing on a celebrity. Deep down you knew you never had a chance with them, but that hadn’t stopped you from hanging posters in your bedroom and doodling their name beneath yours inside of scribbled hearts in your diary.

Regardless, it had taken close to a month for the negativity to die down, and you hadn’t had Lando then, either, so now shouldn’t be much different.

In fact, everyone on the Manchester City team━ trainers, physios, media coordinatiors, and anyone inbetween━ has been very polite about everything between you and Garrett. A lot of them have just avoided saying anything about it, which you’re very grateful for because you don’t think you’d be able to hold back your grimace while thanking them for their well wishes, and the few who have mentioned it typically only say something vague like a wishing you the best of luck or hoping you’re happy.

An intern gave you a sympathetic smile the other day, and you’d nearly burst into tears in the middle of the office of the Director of Communications, so you know you aren’t truly alone in this.

You just feel alone.

Exiting the bathroom is a simple affair. There’s no one standing post outside ready to give you any shit for being hidden away, and nobody comes sprinting around the corner as you make your way down the hall to the press conference room that’s been temporarily turned into your base of operations.

You think you’ll probably be able to go the rest of the afternoon without running into anyone, when you open your door and find━ sitting in the front row of the seats typically saved for journalists and the press, scrolling across his phone with a disinterested look painted across his face━ Jack Grealish.

“Jack,” you greet, a bit shocked. You close the door to the room gently behind you, and cross the distance to your desk. “Did we have a meeting scheduled? It must’ve completely slipped my mind, I sincerely apologize.”

He offers you a polite smile. “No, we didn’t, so no need to be sorry. I actually just wanted to check in. See how things are going with everything.”

You blink at him in surprise. Apart from Garrett, you haven’t really had much time to speak with the other players. They wish you good morning and good afternoon when they see you, and if a ball goes astray they always call out for you to watch your head, but between their morning training and their afternoon training, their strategy reviews at lunch, and the frequent in between meetings with physios, nutritionists, and trainers, they don’t get much time to chit chat with a simple photographer.

You clear your throat, “Erm, it’s going well. I’ve gotten some really good shots these past few days. There’s one with Rodrigo that I’m particularly proud of. It should do well with the fans.”

“And things with Ward?”

You purse your lips.

“Figured.” Jack sighs. “Look, nearly everyone you run into here knows or has at least some inkling into what he’s like. He’s a prick. None of the lads on the team like him, it’s why the managers are trying to get him out of here.”

You lower yourself down into your chair. “He told me they were planning to trade him off because of his reputation.”

Jack scoffs, “Yeah, ‘cause that’s the ‘official’ reason. They can’t cut his contract early for legal reasons, so they’re waiting for it to expire and coming up with an excuse for why they ain’t re-signing him. It’s really just ‘cause the rest of us can’t keep dealing with his massive ego and the fact that he’s a misogynistic fuck who doesn’t know the first thing about respect.”

“Fucking tell me about it,” you mutter with a sigh.

If he expected you to defend Garrett and is surprised by the fact that you haven’t, Jack doesn’t show it. He looks relaxed sitting across from you, like you’re having a casual conversation and not actively shit talking a member of his team. It gives you the impression that he knows significantly more about Garrett than you do, and that because of what he knows he probably figured out that one party in the relationship is not the most willing of participants.

“How’d you get all wrapped up it in then? Didn’t figure you to be the type to go after pricks like Ward.”

You debate over whether you should tell him or not. There isn’t much Jack can do about the situation regardless, but it would at least get things off your chest and if someone else knew then maybe you wouldn’t feel so alone anymore.

There’s only so many days you can spend hiding out in the women’s restroom trying not to bawl your eyes out, and you’ve already reached your limit.

You heave a sigh, “It’s kind of fucked up really.” A pen on your desk catches your attention and you start to fiddle with it, avoiding Jack’s eyes which have focused directly onto you. “He asked if I would help him fix up his reputation by pretending to be his girlfriend so he could show everyone that he’s matured and can hold down a steady relationship. When I told him no, he threatened to make up a lie about inappropriate conduct to get me fired and blacklisted from the industry, so for the sake of preserving my career I agreed.”

“Bloody fucking hell,” Jack murmurs, shaking his head. “I’m real sorry he did that, Y/N.”

You shrug. “It’s happened, so, there’s nothing I can really do except wait it out at this point.”

When you look up and meet his gaze, Jack looks murderous. His hands are clenched into fists on the armrests, knuckles white with the strength of his grip. His brows are furrowed, and his lips are twisted downward in a scowl.

“If you need anything,” he starts, “let me know. And I mean it. We all know how Ward can be. He’s a knobhead. So if you need anything━” his emphasis on the word and what that implies makes you feel more comforted than anything has since the whole fiasco started, “━then you let me know, or you tell one of the other boys and they’ll find me, alright?”

All you can do is nod.

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yourusername there’s no place like home

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━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry

━━ a/n: no lando yet, but we've got a cutesy little grealish scene to make up for it because i couldn't have a story with manchester city and not include him! lowkey writing this part made me wanna write for a footballer too... anyways! hope you all enjoy!

[twstowo]

Omg I love your work sm!!! They are so fun and silly‼️

Okay so I was wondering if you could write abt tuu being super attached to ace, jack, and Sebeka (seperate plz🙏) bc they were the ones she got super close with when she came to twisted wonderland?

Like holding onto their sleeves, always being super close to them, always asking them to be their partner in projects like 🤭

I hope you're doing well and if you do this request thank you sm!! Again love your works so good‼️‼️‼️🥰🥰

♡︎ I'm really glad you like my works bestie!!

⋆⋅☆Ace

In the beginning, he isn’t very fond of you always being glued to him, finding you quite annoying. If you want to be his partner in projects, he will make you do everything unless the teachers catch him being lazy.

With time, he starts to find it weird when you aren’t around him. It's like, why am I not feeling a strange weight on my sleeve, or why is it so silent around him for once. He starts to seek your attention.

If he sees you being close to someone else in the same way that you tend to be with him, he will throw a tantrum. Deuce makes fun of him for that.

⋆⋅☆Jack

He loves it. Every time you are beside him, he also tends to just lean towards you. He loves doing school projects with you. Whenever the teachers tell everyone in class to partner up with someone else, he just looks shyly at you, waiting for you to ask him to do the project with you.

Always seeking your company, he likes being with you a lot. A little shy with touches, so go easy on him, especially if it is in front of everyone.

⋆⋅☆Sebek

The first time you grabbed his sleeve, he screamed really loud. Half the school heard him screaming like a little girl, and he was made fun of for the next month because of that. Knowing this, you are aware he will be annoyed every time you touch him out of nowhere.

When you asked him if he wanted to partner up with you on a school project, he was so smug about it, started saying, “Of course, you wish to partner up with me! Who wouldn’t?!” Literally, everyone in the room was looking sideways at him because they didn’t, in fact, want to work with him. Doing projects with him is horrible; he always wants everything done his way because he believes he is the only one that knows what is best, and you learned that the hard way.

With time, he will literally be the one to cling more to you. He doesn’t even notice that he is being so clingy until Ace points it out.

[naeviskz]

“ WHY’D YOU ONLY CALL ME WHEN YOU’RE HIGH ? ” ๑‧˚₊ ─── HHJ

synopsis ; you only call hyunjin when it’s late at night and you’re under the influence. he hates that you’ll never be his real girlfriend but it’s better to still have you this way than not at all.

genre 숌 FWB!hyunjin x fem!reader | college AU

words - 2.8k+ tags/warnings 숌 (some) fluff, angst, pwp (barely any plot tbh lmao), smut, one-sided love :(, jealous feelings, small mention of depression, mentions of smoking (weed), 34+35, squirting, protected sex **most of this is told in hj’s perspective !

now playing 🎧 : why’d you only call me when you’re high by arctic monkeys

Hyunjin has always been the type that likes to play with fire, he's a natural risk taker and 99% of the time it ends up serving in his favor— until he got himself acquainted with you. Had he known what would be the outcome of this he would've never gone over to your dorm on that one particular night. Things were good in the beginning, really good actually, he's never met someone so spontaneous in the bedroom like you. It was like spinning the mystery wheel of fortune to see what he'll get next. You were never boring, would get super vocal, and made him finish at least three times. It's like you were a godsend to cure his loneliness and desperate cravings for intimacy.

But like most good things, they always come to an eventual, sad end. This entanglement you two are in is starting to become too much for him, it’s been affecting his self esteem and making his mental health rapidly decline. From the outside looking in, he seems perfectly fine, nothing out of the ordinary; but his depression worsens day by day. He feels rather pathetic for staying friends with benefits if it’s only hurting him rather than helping, but it’s impossible to say no to you. Hyunjin knew exactly what kind of arrangement this was from the start but still chose to get involved anyway. He really did think he could handle it, no feelings, no strings attached - seems so easy right?

Maybe for you, but for him the realizations now begun to hit all at once. None of this is what he actually wants, he most definitely wants you of course, but not just solely to get in your panties. He’s never really been the type who just sleeps around, if anything his standards are so ridiculously high it was hard for him to get laid in the first place. That all changed once he got to know you, sharing a class together and getting paired in the same group for a project was all coincidental. He was so nervous around you he couldn’t even ask for your social media, let alone your number. It wasn’t until someone else in the group finally asked everyone to exchange numbers so each person will know their designated tasks. Not even days later you asked him over to your dorm to come “work on the project”, which was a blatant cover up because neither of you got any schoolwork done that night.

He regrets everything that lead up to this point, feeling foolish for not listening to his friends. He was warned on numerous occasions about you by them, was told to tread very carefully with someone as mercurial as you, but he’s in too deep now… literally and metaphorically. He’s already lost count on how many rounds it’s been so far, going at it like bunnies for the past three and a half hours. Hyunjin’s surprised he even has the stamina left for all this, droplets of sweat secrete from his forehead in utter concentration. He’s got your leg propped up high above his shoulder, sliding his cock in at just the right angle. The headboard keeps hitting against the wall as his strokes get sloppier, watching hisself disappear in and out of you while slamming right into your g-spot.

“Fuck Hyunjin… gonna cum!” You cry out from a wave of pleasure, body twitching as more whimpers escape your trembling lips.

Just when he thought he couldn’t get enough of you, your walls tighten around him, making his mind even hazier from the way you squeeze his cock. It’s such a perfect fit inside, literally feels like your pussy was made for him. You were made for him, and one day he’ll show you just how much you truly mean to him. But for now he needs to focus on making the both of you finish, his pace becoming more relentless. Your high state of mind made your body hypersensitive, limbs heavily shaking as water gushes from between your thighs and onto your legs. Exhaling a breathy moan, you couldn’t believe you just squirted all over Hyunjin’s thick cock.

“That’s so fucking hot..” he praised, filling the room with loud animalistic groans.

Eyes roll to the back of your head in ecstasy from your 82531365245th orgasm of tonight, you’re going to be so sore tomorrow. Hyunjin came shortly after you did, spilling every last drop of his seed into the condom. One day he hopes to get the chance to fuck you raw, see what it really feels like to be inside such a perfect pussy. If that moment ever did come, he’d be sure of it to make you officially his girl. His chest heaves from all that energy he’s just burned, looking at you underneath him with pure infatuation. Even when you’re a sticky, sweaty fucked out mess he still manages to find you to be the most heavenly angel that’s ever graced this earth.

Your bodies compressed together under the linen sheets of his full size bed, a much better upgrade than your sad twin XL one. Hyunjin runs his fingers down the apex of your thighs, gently kneading them while nibbling on the sweet spot of your neck. It’s been hours since you smoked but somehow you still feel so high— it could be because you literally just squirted though. You didn’t think your body was capable of doing that anymore, you’ve only squirted once before while using your vibrator but you never thought someone else could make you do that. If you believed in love and monogamy you’d be wifing him up ASAP.

Hyunjin wanted to stay like this for as long as he could, he never gets the opportunity to cuddle with you after sex, doesn’t get to cherish you in his arms and give you forehead kisses as you slowly fall asleep. You’re usually gone by the time he’s able to even try and do those things, but you haven’t moved a muscle yet. He’s wondering what you’re thinking in that pretty little head of yours, just wants to know if you even slightly feel the same way as he does. You shift under him, grabbing your phone on the nightstand adjacent to the bed, checking what time it is and any messages you missed.

“Care to stay a bit longer..?” Hyunjin timidly asks, hoping that by some miracle you’d give in and say yes.

“I can’t,” you rush to get up from his hold to go find your clothes scattered on the floor, “have to wake up early for lab tomorrow.”

He knows that it’s not his place to get genuinely upset over you leaving. He needs to accept that the only time you call him is when you’re high out of your mind and just want some dick. He’s not the only guy you’re seeing and it makes him furious that other men get to touch you like he does. The same way his hands roam all over your body and you just breathlessly whine how much you need him. Or when you’re riding his cock until his patience runs thin and he starts roughly thrusting himself back into you, tightly gripping the sides of your waist. It’s a shame you never let him take you out or even kiss you on the lips without acting weird about it. This dynamic you two have going on was supposed to be ideal, but Hyunjin just regrets it as it continues. He can’t keep living like this, it’s mental torture. Either you’re going to start seeing each other exclusively or he’ll have to kiss this arrangement goodbye for good.

“I don’t know … I just feel.. used…” Hyunjin finally expresses how he’s been feeling this whole time about you to his friends. Melting into the couch as he becomes one with it, the fogged up atmosphere of the room makes his brain go fuzzy.

“Then why don’t you break off all contact? Or just tell her you don’t wanna keep seeing her anymore if all she wants is sex.” Jeongin openly suggests, passing the joint over to Han who’s next in the rotation.

Han eagerly grabs it, pressing the rolled paper between his lips, taking an extra long inhale, “Yeah just be honest and upfront with her about it. Some girls are like that, only using guys for dick and money.” He comments after blowing out a thick cloud of smoke.

“But I want to keep seeing her,” Hyunjin shakes his head, further explaining, “just not in that way…”

“Good luck with that Mr. loverboy,” Changbin teases him for being so naive. “Everyone knows ___ is a freak, Minho and Chan already hit last semester, the things I heard she can do with her mouth is crazyy-”

“Don’t ever fucking talk about her like that again, you sound gross and disrespectful.” Hyunjin snaps at him to quickly defend you, he had to stop himself before he actually punches Changbin in the face.

He doesn’t want to know how many others are in the picture, nor does he care about the other guys you’ve slept with. In his delusional mind, you two only see each other and he’d like to keep it that way.

“Bro you’re beating a dead horse even trying to pursue this, she’s going to laugh in your face if you confess your feelings. She doesn’t believe in love, she told me ‘cause I asked her out on a date once before.” Changbin proceeds to admit, only adding more fuel to the fire as he keeps talking.

Hyunjin was even more pissed off now, he’s definitely going to bash his friend’s head into a wall right now. He has a feeling Jeongin and Han would immediately try and hold him back though.

“The only thing he’ll be beating is his meat once she cuts him off for getting too attached.” Han chimes in again, finding slight amusement in this whole situation.

Hyunjin is tired of feeling like his personal feelings are invalid , as if there’s something inherently wrong with falling for someone he’s been sexually intimate with for months now. He really wishes you’d stop playing games with him but fact of the matter is you’ll never be his girlfriend and it’s irrational for him to think this way.

“I can fix her,” Hyunjin confidently refutes his friend’s claims, “just wait and see.”

It’s 3 am on a Friday night, your heads reeling with countless thoughts and desperate to find an outlet to release all your frustrations. Calling Hyunjin to see what he’s up to, he answers almost immediately, trying to sound all nonchalant like he wasn’t waiting for you to call him for a late night hook up. He was quick to invite you over when you expressed how bored you were, getting there in less than 10 minutes and still managing to look super cute in your sweatpants and oversized hello kitty t-shirt. You reeked of marijuana as you walked in. Nothing new. Hyunjin doesn’t smoke but he notices the red tint in your eyes, how your movements are slowed and you’re acting all giggly with him.

God you’re so fucking cute it hurts.

He hugs you from behind as you make your way into his kitchen, the munchies are hitting you real hard and all you want is a nice PB&J sandwich. Unfortunately Hyunjin doesn’t have anymore jelly, only peanut butter.. you were mortified at the monstrosity of his pantry to begin with— there was barely anything in there.

“You seriously need to go grocery shopping soon, there’s nothing in here. I’m starvinggg.” You whine, about to have a mini meltdown if you don’t get any food in your system within the next 15 minutes.

“Why? It’s just me who lives here and I don’t really eat much, plus I mostly go to the dining halls anyway,” he says, “if you’re hungry I have some stuff up here.” Pointing to a different cabinet that was higher above, inside was filled with all your favorite kinds of snacks and candy , your eyes lit up at all the different varieties.

You seriously couldn’t thank him enough, turning around in his direction to look at his dreamy face. You had the strongest urge to kiss him right there in that moment but you refrained from doing so. Something piques your curiosity when you thought about kissing him on the lips, examining how perfectly plump they are and how badly you want them between your legs right now. Clenching around absolutely nothing, you’re neglecting all earlier thoughts of eating and now focus on the man behold you. Everything happened so fast, suddenly you were both heavily making out, his hands rest on your thighs as you sat on top of the kitchen counter. Fingers tangled up in his silky black locks, you get lost in the taste of him, sensing a mint flavored undertone with a hint of vanilla. Not even five minutes later you were on your knees deepthroating his cock as if you’re going to swallow him whole. He’d rut his hips slightly into you, fucking that pretty mouth of yours is his favorite. You know how to use it exceptionally well.

“Good girl..” he praises you to keep going, grabbing a fistful of your hair in the process, “just like that baby..”

Then he remembers what Changbin said from earlier about how you slept with Minho and Chan. It won’t leave his mind and he’s doing anything to stop these thoughts from impeding his orgasm, but he gets so fucking jealous he needs to do something else. That being to eat you out until you come undone so hard on his tongue it knocks the wind out of you. He wants to be the first, last, and only man that’ll ever make you feel this way, he’ll do whatever it takes to prove he’s worthy of your love and why he’s more than qualified to date you. No one is ever going to treat you better than he will, he’ll make sure to shower you with all his affection, be deeply devoted and provide only the best of the best for his perfect princess.

Hyunjin’s transferred you both onto the couch at one point , lying underneath you while you’re still sucking his cock after he’s already came on your face once before. You’re practically writhing and shaking from the way he’s devouring you, spreading your lips with his index and middle finger to lick slow, languid stripes on your clit. You still had a mouth full of his cock, your muffled moans vibrate around his girth making him twitch even more inside you. Unable to think or even concentrate on what you were doing, you couldn’t stop loudly whimpering, too busy focusing on grinding on his face, eventually giving up altogether. He didn’t seem to mind though, his only goal of tonight was getting you to cum an endless amount of times.

“Hyun- fuck! Oh my god..” you cry out in desperation, on the brink of having a mind blowing orgasm.

He takes that as a sign to go faster, dipping his tongue inside your dripping heat like it’s his last meal on earth. Your back arches in response, sounding like a broken record as you moan his name over and over. Something snaps within, literally bursting at the seams as you squirt again on Hyunjin’s face. A small tear rolls down the side of your cheek, not from any pain but the overwhelming sensation of it all left you physically numb. You can’t see it but Hyunjin was smiling so hard at the fact he was able to make you do this twice. He plants a kiss to your puffy pussy, gloating in his own little victory as he licks the remaining essence from the inside of your thighs. Sometimes you wonder why you smoke if you can just get the same effect after letting Hyunjin eat you out. Always feels like you’re floating, completely weightless in his hold.

You broke the ‘no kissing’ rule you again to continue sloppily making out with him some more, loving the way you taste on his tongue. He can’t get enough of you and neither can you get of enough of his amazing cunnilingus skills. The afterglow of your climax was like reaching the highest state of nirvana. Feeling at one and at peace with everything around you.

After being snuggled up while lying on Hyunjin’s chest, you get a bit sleepy but you don’t want to burden him by staying the night.

“I have to go now,” you abruptly say after a long moment of silence, “see you later.”

“Wait- stay” his palm presses against your shoulder before you can fully get up, “please don’t leave this time, please.”

He hates how that sounded so pitiful, but he’s lost all pride at this point. If he can’t have you as his girlfriend then he’ll just pretend you are. It’s better to keep it this way than to ever admit his feelings and be subject to possible rejection down the line.

You reluctantly sink back into the mattress, “O-okay..” feeling more vulnerable than ever been before.

Oddly enough it feels more intimate to cuddle and sleep next to him rather than having a full on fuck marathon. He held you in his embrace the whole night after that, feeling more accomplished than ever in getting you to spend the night. Hyunjin hopes that this wont be the last time this happens, he wishes this was the outcome of every night you sleep together. One day he will muster up the courage in finally confessing how he truly feels but for now— he’ll take whatever tiny crumb of affection from you he can get.

- 完 ︎♡︎

[kairiscorner]

inspired by @binibinileonara's idea :D

ok but imagine miguel with an airheaded personality but super smart gf like

miguel o'hara with a genius, airheaded girlfriend (headcanons + blurbs !!)

he could never fathom at first how you could be so amazingly smart, the real problem fixer for nearly everything, finding all the little things that need correction in the plans he comes up with–but also be so oblivious at times.

he appreciates how sweet you are, but he doesn't like it when you give other people the same attention you give him, with you not really seeing anything wrong with being friendly with miguel and everyone else all the same.

when he gets mad, you're the only one who can bare him (hell you even tease him that he'll look way older if he frowns again when he's irritated).

he loves how you can go from proposing solutions to multiversal threats that can undo everything that has ever come into existence in the blink of an eye to petting kitties the next moment and giving them names after kinds of fish.

he can never have a serious, adult conversation with you, you're too busy staring at his hair and thinking how nice it'd be to touch it, how fluffy it'd be.

"are you even listening to me?" miguel asks you with a scowl on his face as you absentmindedly gaze up at his hair's curls. "are you listening to me?" he asks you again as he gently grabs your cheeks and brings your eyes to look into his. "you have such puffy hair, miggy." you say with a smile as he grumbles. "is it that hard for you to focus on what i'm saying?" "when you've got tufty locks like that, yes, it is." you said as you instinctively reached out for his hair, with him reluctantly letting go of you and sitting down for you to run your hands across his hair.

you take advantage of the fact he isn't as good with technology as you are and intercept his calls all the time just to play 'barbie girl' or 'california girls' to piss him off.

he does appreciate how cute you are when you're being an airhead sometimes, especially if you had a childish side to you that liked things just as cute, sweet, and adorable as you.

(((you were the one who made the miggy doll)))

he does wonder sometimes how you can monitor the multiverse while playing games on the side. he has told you repeatedly to focus, but you tell him all the time that you can focus on everything, it's easy for you, he's just being a perfectionist.

if you're easily distracted by sweets, like just drop all your work to have a bite of something sweet, miguel would bait you to quit teasing him with some candy. or if you're being difficult and don't wanna help on a mission because you're too tired or stubborn that day, he baits you with sweets.

"please, i won't ask for anything more after this, i just need you to coopera–" "no, it's naptime." you said as you were about to head to your private quarters. miguel blocks your way with his massive figure, with your grumbling under your breath as he stares you down. he pulls out a bag of your favorite candies, which catches your attention. with widened eyes, you look up at him and back at the candies. "will you please cooperate now?" he asked you as you snagged the bag from his hands and snacked on one of the candies. "okay, maybe i will. it's child's play anyway, let me help." you said with a cheeky grin as miguel groaned. he loved you dearly, but it was like you were always getting your way with him. though he didn't hate it, you really were cute like this.

i just know you get stuck in some of the spider people's webs sometimes, especially when you're goofing off with their webshooters. and who's gonna save you?

"miggyyyyyyyy..." you called for him as you hung upside down by the ceiling, wrapped in synthetic webbing as miguel entered the room, seemingly unfazed by your current state. he sighed as he sliced you free of the web restraints and caught you in his arms. "miggyyyyy!" you cooed his name as you snuggled up close against his chest. "why do you keep doing this?" he asks you as you wrapped your arms around his neck and smiling as you were now in his arms. "maybe i just wanted to be in your arms for a change..." "or you just love being an irresponsible little brat." he murmured as you giggled and looked up into his eyes.

"but you'll save me anyway, right? then i guess my plan worked." you said with a sly smile as miguel threatened to drop you. "no, miggyyyyyy..." you whimpered as you clung on to his neck as he let go of you. he sighs reluctantly as he scoops you up and carries you around, not minding the onlookers who'll stare you being carried like a baby by this man.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @jrrantss @fictarian @yuridopted0 @ophanimgold @luvstarrstruck @arachnoia

[leviathans-watching]

I have an request for you- is it alright if you do an fanfic where the brothers, dateables, and even the new characters get turned into toddlers? And now (mc) had to care of them? But Luke turns into a baby. A really fluffy, motherly thing? Idrk it's my first time requesting from you- it's alright if you don't want to do it though! :D -chickechee 🐥

when they turn into toddlers

includes: barbatos & gn!reader, & everyone else (no pronouns mentioned)

rated g | wc: .5k | m.list

a/n: oml this was so cute i hope you enjoy!! i have more baby!luke here as well. my inbox is open to chat, req, or leave feedback so come say hi <33

reblogs are greatly appreciated

“oh my god!” you look around the room in horror. “what the hell happened?”

barbatos looks like he hasn't slept in a week. it’s only been a few hours since the initial incident. “what always does,” he answers tiredly, shifting toddler–yes, toddler!–diavolo to his other hip. “someone touched some cursed relic they weren’t supposed to and the effect was disastrous.”

“that’s one word for it,” you murmur. everyone, except for you and barbatos, had regressed into children. infants, even. barbatos had made quick use of the castle’s nursery, left over from one of the previous rulers, and turned it into something daycare-esque, thankfully providing a safe space for them all to be that would keep them out of harm's way, as well as trouble.

as you watch, mammon rises onto shaky legs, making his way over to levi, who’s playing with blocks. “oh please tell me he’s not going to do what i think he’s going to do,” you moan.

“he’s going to do exactly what you think he’s going to do,” barbatos replies, and sure enough, in one deliberate movement, mammon knocks over all of levi’s hard work. immediately, levi begins to scream, startling mammon, who falls back onto the padded ground and begins to cry himself.

“oh, shush.” moving more on instinct, you scoop levi up, patting his back gently. “you’ll be alright, honey.”

he quiets, staring at your face. you wonder if he recognizes you. mammon is still crying, so you set levi back down and move on to comforting him.

“that wasn’t very nice, now, was it?” you ask gently. “let’s not knock over other’s towers, okay?”

he sniffles, rubbing at his eyes with tiny fat baby hands, and it’s just the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen. when you go to set him down, he holds tight, and you realize that apparently, he was just as clingy as a toddler as he is now. wonderful.

shifting him to one side, you take stock of everyone else, making sure there are no immediate concerns. simeon, rapheal, and lucifer are sitting together, coloring (and jesus christ you’re going to need to pull out your camera right now), diavolo is still in barbatos’ capable grasp, beel and belphie are napping quietly in a pile of blankets, solomon is telling something to asmo and satan in incomprehensible toddler speech, and mephisto and thirteen are busy playing on their own. you spy a crib in the corner, which must hold luke, who barbatos had said had regressed into an infant rather than a toddler.

“you’re good with children,” barbatos observes, and you sigh.

“i always did like them. i spent my teenage years as a babysitter and camp counselor so i have some experience under my belt,” you explain. “so are you, by the way.” you’ve long stopped being surprised by the fact that barbatos is skilled at literally everything.

“yes, well, it helps that they’re a bit better behaved like this than when they are normally,” he says, and you can’t help but laugh. against your shoulder, mammon echoes your laugh, then sticks his fingers in his mouth. eh, he’s got a demon’s immune system, he’ll be fine.

“how much longer are they going to stay like this?” you ask, and barbatos shrugs.

“probably two or three more hours,” he says.

“just enough time to have to give them lunch while they’re like this,” you say with a slow-dawning horror. “which should be super easy and not difficult or tiring at all.”

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | long way home

a/n: poisoned mercury is officially over :( but i will be adding small blurbs in between chapters and adding post-chb five star and luke to the masterlist because i'm not ready to say bye to them just yet. enjoy pm's sophomore album cover, optimism don't come easy (unless it's with you). also no tags for this one because tumblr has been super weird and the tags haven't been working for everyone.

x. long way home by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

“thank you all for your participation this summer at camp half blood,” mr. d said into the microphone. he was finishing up his end-of-the-year speech and there was no dry eye in the house. all the campers were sniffling as they reminisced on all the memories they made this summer. your dad cleared his throat, “if any of you tell anyone that i cried, i will never forgive you.” 

annabeth giggled, rubbing the tears from her eyes, “your dad makes that joke every year, i swear.” 

“oh, i’m sure,” you replied, laughing along with her. “above all, he is a dad and that means he recycles the same jokes over and over again.” 

“and they’re never funny,” percy added, though he was laughing at what mr. d was saying. “but i feel like i gotta laugh or else i won’t be accepted next year.” 

“you have my permission to not laugh, perce,” you nudged him. “he gotta get some new material.” 

“hey,” clarisse said from beside you. you turned to her, letting annabeth, percy, and grover fall into their own conversation. she was no longer adorned in her camp counselor outfit, opting to wear something from her own closet now that her duties for the summer were finished. “thanks for getting me this job, y/n. kinda changed my life with this one.” 

your eyes darted between clarisse and chris, who was waiting by the wings of the stage ready for his cue to close out the farewell celebration. you placed a hand on clarisse’s knee, giving it a squeeze, “thanks for always having my back, clar.” 

“always,” she nodded, “you’re my sister.” 

you were feeling a lot of things at once. there were a lot of emotions coursing through your veins. you always knew that there were people who cared about you. your parents had a funny way of showing it sometimes, but you never doubted that they loved you. your friends, clarisse, silena, charlie, were always there for you, even during the most stressful times of your life. the poisoned mercury boys who welcomed you with open arms like you were a part of their dysfunctional family the whole time. 

and luke. 

where do you even start with luke? luke castellan was the boy you had promised yourself never to fall for again. the heartbreaker, the player, the musician, and yet, here you were, completely eating your words. everything you thought you knew about him was wrong and since you let your guard down, your world was turned on its axis. he was so much more than what people made him out to be. he was so much more than you expected him to be. 

and you were lucky enough to have him. who knew a summer in montauk would lead to this? 

“to close out our incredible summer, welcome poisoned mercury!” your dad said, clapping wildly as the boys entered the stage. he placed the mic back on the stand, giving short hugs to the band as they walked up to him. luke was the last to hug your dad and their interaction lasted longer than the rest of the boys’. when they pulled away from their embrace, luke had a slight blush on his face and a goofy grin as his eyes scanned the crowd to find you. 

he sent you a shy wave from the stage as he adjusted the mic to his level. you blew him a kiss, which he returned and that made the crowd go wild. to them, luke was blowing a kiss into the ether, a message with no recipient, but you knew it was meant for you. something about it made your heart constrict in your chest. it was still hard to believe he chose you, but luke spent every waking moment making sure you believed it. 

“camp half blood,” luke said, eyes twinkling under the lights. travis picked up his drumsticks from the floor, giving the left one a twirl, as he got situated on his stool. connor and chris played their guitars experimentally, tweaking the strings to get the right key. “man, i don’t even think we can explain just how thankful we are to have spent the summer with you all.” 

luke turned around to face the boys who all nodded in agreement.luke faced the crowd again, sighing, “i learned a lot of things here. one being, there are a lot of talented people out there in the world. getting to work with y’all was such an amazing experience. many of you guys are aspiring musicians, and i’m here to tell you to keep going. i know it seems like sometimes your dreams aren’t worth chasing, but i promise you they are.” 

“some of you kids are so talented,” luke said, shaking his head in disbelief. “little beth, i’m talking about you when i say this. you’re brilliant and i know i’m gonna be seeing your name in the charts in a few years. you got more talent in your pinky finger than we four up here have combined.” 

the rest of the boys laughed, but agreed. luke narrowed his eyes, searching for a few more faces to give a shoutout to, “oh! and our boys percy and grover! we love you guys. keep in touch. you guys have to join us in the studio one day.” 

“did luke castellan just give us a shoutout?” grover asked, turning to percy with his eyes as wide as saucers. 

you laughed, patting him on the back, “i believe he did.” 

“holy shit,” percy mumbled. 

“language.” 

“come on, counselor clarisse,” the blond boy groaned, “camp is over.” 

clarisse huffed, smiling teasingly, “fine. i’ll give you a pass this one time.” 

“not many people know this, but i went to camp half blood when i was younger,” luke continued, looking down at his feet. “it was my favorite place in the world. some of my best memories involved me sitting right where many of you are sitting right now, but then life happened and things went sideways for me for a while. it took me a while to pick up a guitar again, but man, i’m so glad i did.” 

“if it wasn’t for music, i wouldn’t be here in front of you guys today,” he smiled, locking eyes with you, “and i wouldn’t have had the best summer of my life.” 

“holy shit,” clarisse said, mimicking percy. she turned to you with a wide grin, “castellan is talking about you up there.” 

“he is not.” 

as if he read your mind, luke leaned into the mic, “thanks, five star.” 

your heart swelled as memories of this summer flooded your mind; the smoke sessions in your secret spot that soon became luke’s as much as it was yours. hours sitting on the creaky bench as you both got lost in the fog of vices and genuine conversations. the bench where you learned about luke and he learned about you, something more than just introductions and superficial answers; the countless impromptu jam sessions in your cabin that started with you playing records on your speaker and ended with the boys playing their instruments as they screamed out lyrics to their favorite songs with you and clarisse. constant noise complaints from neighboring cabins because you were being too loud so late at night with melodies and laughter escaping through your open window. luke pulling you into his lap as he whispered cheesy love songs into your ear as you giggled; the days in your room, locked away with luke, enjoying his company. his lips always finding their way back to yours like a promise that he’ll always be around. luke. luke luke. 

you were glad the lights were focused on the stage so nobody could see your red cheeks. the boys cheered from behind luke, unabashedly voicing their approval of your relationship. the crowd cheered along, even if none of them knew what the situation was. luke rolled his eyes at his friends for the commotion they started, “the song we’re playing for you today is not yet released, but we decided that it’s the perfect song to end the perfect summer. this song is called long way home, we hope you like it.” 

–

“did you know you had a dimple on your back?” you asked, letting your finger linger in the crevice on luke’s skin. goosebumps raised on his tanned flesh as you lightly grazed his exposed back. “right here.” 

“mhm,” he replied, off-handedly. he didn’t really know what you were saying. he was too dazed by the feeling of your touch on him. you two were on the grass on the hill by the lake, a reprieve, a plead for time to stop even just for a few minutes. tomorrow summer would officially be over. tomorrow the two of you would be leaving camp half blood. tomorrow you would no longer have empty hours to fill with each other. 

luke didn’t want to think about it too much. he’d gotten too used to finding you lounging in your room or in the living room where he could join you to do nothing. to do everything. he didn’t know how he’d survive the next few months without you. your coach gave you the all-clear to resume practice once you were back on campus, which meant that visits during short breaks were no longer an option. luke was happy that things worked out for you, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed that you could no longer visit him during thanksgiving break. 

droplets of water from your hair trickled down his back. he was face down with his head facing you, eyes fluttered shut as a sign of peace, while you leaned over him, tracing shapes on his back. you’d both just emerged from the water, checking off items on your “summer goodbye bucket list.” that’s what you’ve been up to this last week, revisiting memories and places that you weren’t ready to leave yet. 

you chuckled softly, pressing a light kiss on luke’s spine. he smiled at the feeling of your lips, eyes hazily opening to meet yours. you took your place beside him, propping yourself up on an elbow as you watched luke come back to his senses, “are you even listening to me?” 

“of course,” he lied, grinning at you in the boyish and charming way that always had your knees buckling. he squinted as you moved your head, the heat of the sun hitting his face, “‘m always listening to you, five star.” 

“liar.” 

he laughed then, letting the sound echo into the air, “i try my best, at least. but i’m no multitasker. i can’t concentrate when you’re sitting here all pretty in front of me and touching me like this.” 

“you’re such a flirt,” you grimaced, though the smile on your face gave away your true feelings for the boy. luke looked pretty like this. there was no tension in his shoulders, like he was finally letting himself breathe. you wondered when you’d see him like this again. just last night after the celebration, you two had stayed up talking until deep into the night about how nervous he was to come back to the spotlight. he’d found solace in camp half blood, in not having to look over his shoulder every day in fear of the world. he didn’t know how the public would react to him being back again, especially since he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up his facade now that it’s all crumbled since he met you. 

maybe it was his lack of sleep that was making him vulnerable and a little delirious, but he shared with you that he felt like he’s changed. the luke that walked into camp half blood who was too scared to be himself in fear of rejection and failure was no longer there. a few months ago, he wouldn’t be caught dead like this, all soft and gentle for a girl. he couldn’t remember the last time he wanted to see a girl more than once. but with you, he couldn’t help it. the luke that he truly was became his default state when he was with you. all he wanted to do was hold you in his arms and be with you for as long as you’d let him. 

“you say that like it’s a bad thing, baby,” he grumbled, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “you don’t like it when i flirt with you?” 

you rolled your eyes playfully, adjusting your head until you fully blocked the light from his face again. you laced your fingers with his, letting out a hum when he squeezed your hand. “i didn’t say that.” 

“so, let me flirt with you,” luke said. “i like flirting with you. you blush every time i do it and i think it’s fucking adorable.” 

“stop,” you whined knowing that the blush he was referring to was starting to show on your skin. maybe you could blame it on the heat, but you both knew that that would be a lie. it was because of him. it was always because of him. “you like teasing me, don’t you, castellan?” 

“a little bit,” he admitted, scrunching his face up in a way that brought out the creases between his eyebrows. his lips curved into a lopsided smile. his arms reached out to snake around your waist, pulling you on his body as he laid on his back. he placed his hands along the expanse of your bare thighs as you situated yourself on his abdomen. your fingers played with the silver chain around his neck. luke massaged your thighs, sighing out, “i like knowing i have that effect on you.” 

“me and half the female population,” you snorted, “as much as you act like you know just how amazing you are since you have a gigantic ego, i feel like you also don’t give yourself enough credit.” 

luke quirked an eyebrow, “was that a compliment, five star?” 

“don’t get used to it,” you smacked his shoulder lightly, making him let out a chuckle. his chest rumbled from under you as his hands made their way up your waist. luke’s hands were always warm. he had callouses on his fingers from playing guitar and bumps on his palms from lifting at the gym. there were characteristics about his hands that made you believe that you’d know his touch even if you were blindfolded. there was something different in the way he touched you, even in the most innocent ways, you knew when it was luke. there was a light in your brain that would go off every time he was around, like your body, mind, and heart knew when he was there. 

“i’ll take what i can get,” he conceded.

“does it bother you that i don’t compliment you as much as you compliment me?” 

“nah,” he replied, looking up at you. the sun was framing your face in a way that made his breath hitch. you looked ethereal like this. it was like you were a figment of his imagination. luke had to place his hand flat on your ribcage to feel you breathe just to convince himself that you were real. “makes these little moments even sweeter.” 

“but you know, right?” you questioned, eyes not once leaving his own. a shadow of doubt flashed across your irises. “you know what i think of you?” 

luke castellan had a way with words that left you speechless. perhaps it was because he was a songwriter, trained to string together words in a way that you could never achieve. he made a living by writing, by voicing how he felt, and turning it into art, into music. there were many moments where luke would say things so poetically that it made your head spin. he says things so casually, so easily like he didn’t just utter out the most romantic things you’ve ever heard in your life. 

you envied him for it, a little bit. you wished you could tell him how you felt about him as easily as he said it with you, but anything you tried to say felt like it would pale in comparison. luke didn’t mind. you had your own way of showing him how you felt. it was in your touch, taking your time to admire his imperfections. it was in the way you kissed him, smiling so wide like you couldn’t help it whenever he would press his lips to yours. it was in the way you paid attention to him, the little things that he didn’t even realize he did. 

“‘course, i do,” luke tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. he took his time bringing his hand back to your waist. he liked seeing you nuzzle your face into his palm as you kissed his wrist. “but i wouldn’t be opposed to hearing you say it, either.” 

“i’m not good at saying how i feel,” you said, shoulder hunching as you spoke. it felt like you were letting him in on a secret that you’d never told anyone else. luke could feel his heartbeat in his chest. you dropped the poisoned mercury pendant back on his chest as you leaned down to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “i’m working on it, though. might just take me a while.” 

luke smiled at you. his voice was earnest as he placed a kiss on the top of your head, “we got all the time in the world, five star. there’s no rush.” 

you furrowed your eyebrows at his words, “we leave tomorrow, luke.” 

“mhm,” he repeated, thumb running across your lower back. it made you shiver, the realization of his words hitting you. “like i said, we got all the time in the world.” 

you pulled away from him, cradling his face in your hands as you placed a kiss on his lips, “yeah, we do.” 

[ilypaigebuckets]

could you write something about Caitlin based on so high school by Taylor?

literally same wavelength bc i was thinking abt writing this last night that’s crazy!!! i hope you like it! as always my reqs are open for you guys :) feel free to request any scenarios, hcs, prompts, etc <3

pairing: cc x reader

plot summary: caitlin gets asked a question about her girlfriend at a post game interview and it takes her back to her high school years with you.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

“So Caitlin,” an interviewer questions, “you were on fire tonight on the court. What gives you that drive and that power to keep pushing through?” Caitlin tightened her ponytail and cocked her head to the side, thinking of an answer.

“I couldn’t have done it without the support of my family, teammates and of course my Coach. But there’s something else, well someone else, that definitely has played a huge part into my success over the years. My beautiful girl Y/N. She’s supported me through everything, ever since I’ve known her. She’s just this ball of sunshine that’s just..just my everything. She’s been my biggest supporter and being around her just makes me feel like so..i don’t know so high school, I guess?” Caitlin chuckles at the end of her sentence, thinking back to get when first fell for you

I. I want to find you in a crowd just to hide from you.

It was your junior year of high school when you started to get close with Caitlin. You were a new student and had sat by her in her chem class. She took a liking to you immediately. You weren’t exactly the science type, your forte being more English and History; Language composition, Aristotle, socratic seminars, those were your thing. You came right as basketball season was starting and Caitlin saw this as a perfect opportunity to get closer with the pretty girl in her chem.

“Hey! Super random but are you a basketball fan?” Caitlin questioned you, “I have a game today if you want come”.

“I mean it’s not really my thing, but I’d love to come support you!” You replied cheerfully.

Fast forward to the game, your schools team won 58-67, thanks to Caitlin and her amazing skills.

Caitlin’s teammates surrounded her, but all she could think about was the pretty girl in her chemistry class that came to watch her. Just her. She searched for you in the crowd until she finally saw you. She was to scared for your eyes to meet, and quickly looked away. She hurried back to the locker room with her cheeks pink underneath the gymnasium’s twinkling lights. She wiped the sweat off her forehead and checked her phone.

Y/N💕

you were great tonight! thanks for the invite ;)

Caitlin buried her head in her hands. You were going to be the death of her.

2. I’ll drink what you think and I’m high

Later that year, Caitlin took you out to a house party. She thought it would be a great way to get you out of your shell and meeting new people. Not in a romantic sense of course, she already had dibs on you and everyone except her knew it.

At the party you both declined any drinks offered to you, wanting to stay clean and level headed for your first official “hangout” together. Despite staying sober, Caitlin was cracking up at every one of your jokes. You continued them just to see her smile.

“Wonder how much Cait’s had to drink.” One of her teammates said. “Not a drop,” another replied.

The latter was right. Caitlin Clark was simply drunk on love.

3. Are you gonna Marry, Kiss, or Kill me?

The end of your junior year, Caitlin took you to another party. You two were crushing and crushing hard, but hadn’t made anything official yet.

One of your mutual friends suggested you play a game of kiss, marry, kill and being bored out of your minds, you all complied. “So Y/N, kiss, marry, kill. Caitlin, Alexis, and Joshua.” You didn’t skip a beat and replied instantaneously.

“Easy peasy. Cait for all three.”

“WHAT?!” Caitlin shrieked, “You wanna kill me?!” looking at you with an expression of mock horror.

“Well, you can’t pick 2 and not the other. So technically I have no other choice.” You looked at her sweetly.

“Actually I think the point of the game is you assign one name to either kiss, marry, or kill.” Your mutual friend started, “But I’ll let it slide for you two lovebirds.”

4. Touch me while your boys play GTA.

It was your high school senior year. Caitlin’s basketball team was having a relaxed hangout at her house, playing video games. You had made your relationship official over the summer, and were excited to see what this school year had in store for you both.

You and Caitlin were snuggled up together under a blanket on her couch, while her teammates sat on the ground below playing Grand Theft Auto, a game you knew nothing about. You and Caitlin stared at each other intensely and suddenly you jumped in your seat. The hand on your thigh had shocked you, Caitlin had always seemed so PG to you. You looked up at her with an “are you crazy?!” look on your face. She used her free hand to put up her pointer finger to her mouth as if to shush you.

You weren’t quick ready to take things further than that, never having had anybody the way you’d had her before. She of course respected you and gave you a kiss on the forehead, and then proceeded to get up. “Okay guys, time for me to show you why Y/N calls me the Grand Theft Auto Annihilator.”

“Dude. I have never in my life thought about calling you that.”

5. I’m hearing voices, like a madman.

Freshman year of college and you both had committed to the University of Iowa. The two of you had, of course, decided to room together, and were happy and content with how everything had worked out for you too.

Living together proved to be somewhat challenging at first, with Caitlin being quite messy with her things. She was usually level-headed and wasn’t one to start fights, but God forbid you mention something about her not keeping her side of your room clean. Her D1 ego would not allow you to.

That day you two had bickered about Caitlin not doing the dishes like she’d promised to. “Caitlin. There’s literally 3 dishes in the sink, and you said you’d do them. C’mon man.” You said to her, half joking in an attempt to get her to listen without arguing. But Caitlin had already had a stressful morning and was not in the mood. “I’ll do them after,” She spoke curtly. “I have practice.” She jumped up, grabbed her bag, and stalked out of the dorm.

During practice, she was a mess. She kept missing shots. “Serves her right,” She thought to herself, “Little Miss ‘Oh I’m Y/N yes I’m so clean and proper lalalala-” Caitlin paused as she realized how absolutely ridiculous she sounded. She reminded herself of you whenever you did impressions of your dad. In an instant she busted into a fit of giggles, sharing her thought with her teammates so they could laugh too.

After practice, she came straight home to your shared dorm and spent the rest of the night making it up to you with a movie night filled with popcorn, candy, and most importantly a clean sink.

Caitlin snapped back into the present as the interviewer finished her thought, “It sure seems like your girlfriend Y/N has played a huge role in not only your life on the court but also off of it. How sweet! Where is she tonight?”

“She’s actually…” Caitlin turned around to look for you, and saw you walking past her to Kate wearing one of her jersey’s. She softly grabbed your arm and pulled you into the camera’s view. “She’s right here! Hi baby!” Caitlin gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before turning her attention back to the interview.

“So Y/N, in your eyes how do you think Caitlin did tonight?” The interviewer now questioned you.

You took a moment to think and then smiled, “Amazing as always. She’s always been amazing. Ever since high school where I met her.”

[theangelsheardyou]

In a dominant mood so here's how I think bsd men would act as subs

Atsushi

Would be a very obedient sub

Trusts you in every way imaginable

You know how parents tell you "well if your friend told you to jump off a bridge, would you do it?"??

Yea that's him

If you told him to do something stupid or dangerous whether in the bedroom or not he would immediately trust that you have a plan behind it (even if you actually don't, he doesn't know that)

Other than that, he's very anxious when it comes to PDA, at least at first

But once he gets used to it, and by that I mean used to the feeling of being loved, then he will slowly start warming up to and even asking for it

When it comes to sex, he can be even more bashful and awkward about it

He mostly whimpers and whines and it's not super loud, but if it does get to that point he's very self aware and scared of others hearing him, so he covers his mouth right away

I think he'd be most compatible with a more gentle top

He can't handle very heavy scenes and I can't imagine him having a very active libido

He has sex to express love and passion, not just for a quick fling that doesn't mean anything

Outside of the bedroom, he's very quiet about what goes on in there

Dazai likes to tease him about it and you love how his pale complexion turns into a pretty shade of red

Dazai

Oh this man is OBNOXIOUS

He's the type of sub that makes you wanna fuck him so hard he actually shuts the fuck up for a second

One of the brattiest of the bunch, for some reason has to turn anything and everything into a game of cat and mouse

Also one of the horniest, believe me you'll be drained DRY after like a week or so

This man's libido is UNMATCHED

He may be taller than you, smarter than you, and possibly stronger than you when it comes to his ability,

But in every other way you are in charge And some part of him always wants to challenge that

Loves to be paraded around like a showdog (but prefers the term "trophy wife")

He's a little princess and always gets what he wants

I think he'd fit best with a dom who could handle his.....special traits

He needs someone who won't get tired of him so quickly and leave, just like everyone else in his life did

But he also needs someone to put him in his place from time to time

Dealing with dazai isn't for the faint of heart, anyone who's done it before knows that

So maybe if you're strong enough, smart enough, and a little bit delusional and crazy, you could have this cute little former mafioso wrapped around your finger like a worm on a string <3

Fyodor

Tbh this one's the whole reason why I made this post in the first place😆

This one's also a little....different...from the others

And by that I mean he's worse

His brattiness doesn't come in the form of disobeying orders or having a fit in front of your friends

No, this one will purposefully pick you apart psychologically

Trying to get this man to behave will require a labyrinth of words, a battle of the minds

He needs someone who can challenge him, because if they don't, he wouldn't bother to be submissive towards them at all, they don't deserve it.

He's one half sickly and one half pride, so taking care of him isn't gonna be easy

Of course you'd have to know going in that Fyodor's self care is abysmal and as his dom you'd have to take responsibility for his health

Taking care of his pills, his diet, making sure he eats and sleeps on time, gets enough rest, drinks enough water, exercises, that's all on you from now on

But you do it cause you love him

Sometimes he'll be bratty and arrogant enough to take you for granted, and would snap at you and tell you he doesn't need someone to baby him when you just were trying to help

But after enough time, he'll realize he was wrong, and as his health depletes, he'll slowly start to inch towards you, asking for your help

You would make sure it gets to the point where he'd have to beg. Make him realize what it's truly like to not have you "distracting" him with your care and concern

And eventually, if he's put up a pathetic enough display for you, you'll hold him in your arms, warm chest comforting him as he leans his head and torso on it

You'll watch how he shivers each time he takes a breath, his eyes are glassy and staring at nothing, his hair is drowning in grease, and it's obvious he hadn't showered in days, but you don't mind

All of this means he's vulnerable, which means he's weak, which means he's malleable.

Malleable enough for you to mold into whatever you please.

Because the only person who could dominate the demon Fyodor is someone who could become the demon Fyodor.

Whether he knew it or not, you were just as sinister as he was, possibly even more.

And every breath he took was another foolish step into your web, a plan you had conducted just for him

So he can be as proud and smug as he wants, but at the end of the day,

You are in control.

Chuuya

It's kind of hard for me to decipher what kind of sub he'd be to be honest

I want to say he'd be a brat but that term doesn't seem to describe him exactly

Sure, he's got a lot of pride, so getting him to submit to you or even to simply let you take the wheel will be difficult.

He's too stuck in his old habits, too used to having to take care of everything, so being taken care of for a change will be a new feeling to him.

He's also scared to love you, scared to let himself bring another person into his heart, afraid of instead accidentally luring you to your death as he had done with so many others.

No, he's not ready to lose another person. Not again.

He's grown to see his love for others as a trap, a ploy, a misfortune. It was like a prophecy for someone's death.

But you, you were different from the rest.

You were strong. Strong enough to protect yourself, strong enough to stand your ground. In fact, you could probably even protect the gravity manipulator Chuuya Nakahara himself.

It took a long time for him to be ready. Ready to open himself up for you. But you let him take his time. You let him think things through. And despite everything, you were there.

You both sprouted a relationship neither of you thought you could do before

And the sex wasn't just sex to you two, no, it could be a distraction, a vacation, an escape, a break, an apology, you name it.

Sex would be a big part of you guys' relationship

I like to think that Chuuya is a lot hornier than he says he is, and also a lot more submissive

Learning that he was a sub was surprising for you, especially because of, well, everything about him

But that was cool for you, as you were vers, and you had to admit you loved the way he screamed and cried under you.

The look in his eyes, the blush in his cheeks, the spit dripping from the corners of his mouth, even the small wounds he had gotten from biting his lips so hard to keep in a moan was adorable

Fucking in his penthouse was great because he had red lighting in almost every room, giving it a sexy, moody vibe.

It also reminded him of his place. He may be rich, he may be a mafia executive, and he may have a couple dozen people under his command, but no matter where or what he is, he will always be a pathetic little whore for you.

You fuck him in his room to remind him his riches mean nothing. He means nothing. All he is is a slut, and he must be reminded of that.

I think he'd be best compatible with a quieter personality to counter his loud one, but I think that loud, brash personality is most present around Dazai. Though he can have a little bit of a temper from time to time, even around you

He needs someone who doesn't care about status or ranks, Port mafia executive or not, you'll fuck him like there's no tomorrow and once you're done he'll be clinging to you like a lost little dog.

Ranpo

Brat. Brat Brat Brat. NOTHING about this boy is topping.

I mean, I do see him as a switch, but in this case, he's the brattiest brat to ever brat.

Will require you give him sweets and cold drinks whenever he asks, will make you drive him places, teach him things and even fuck him when he's too lazy to do the fucking.

He'll be obnoxious all day and then look at you like he's done nothing wrong his whole life. Spoiled little shit.

He's exactly the type of sub you would fuck into submission until you hear a sorry or any sort of appropriate apology.

He likes to be fucked lying down, sometimes sitting and leaning against something, but sometimes you'll force him to sit on you and ride you up and down even though you know he hates it. You'll never hear the end of it from him, though.

He likes to be fucked while eating, too. You'll fuck him from behind with a hand out and spoonfeeding him cake, and the rapid shaking of your bodies and the table he's up against will leave traces of cake all over his chin and cheeks. He doesn't know if he wants cake or if he wants you to eat his cake. Either way, he wants and needs you bad.

I think he'd be best fit with a top who would usually just give in to all his demands and would be patient with his bratty personality, but knows when it's been taken too far. You'd be calm and gentle with him, but come nighttime, you're a beast in bed, making sure he makes up for everything he did in the office that day.

He's not the type to apologize I don't think, he'd definitely beg if it's gotten too much for him but an apology? That's asking too much. Just take the moans and cries and leave.

However, right afterwards he'd go back to his usual bratty self no matter how bad the punishment was. In couldn't have been that harsh anyway, as you could never say no to Ranpo's cute face.

Akutagawa

When I say this man is a Virgin I mean he's a VIRGIN VIRGIN.

As in as virgin as the virgin mother mary

He hadn't even had time for sex before you came along.

You taught him everything, even things about his own body that he didn't even know. Like how he doesn't like the feeling of frotting because he doesn't like how another man's dick is on his own. Or how he likes when you pump his cock slowly, especially since he's so new to the game that he couldn't handle more even if he tried. Poor boy😔

He finds it odd, the feeling of being pampered. Being provided with food everyday, a warm place to live, constant affection, he didn't know what to do with it. It was as if he was an alien studying earth and experiencing the most mundane things for the first time.

And the weirdest thing about it was, he liked it. He liked the feeling of being taken care of, being provided for and pampered, and it was odd. He wasn't sure if he even deserved such wonderful feelings.

When it comes to sex, you better believe this man's got some weird shame thing related to sex

He sees it as a filthy task that he, unfortunately, likes to partake in.

He's ashamed even bringing it up, let alone asking for it.

But once you get the memo you take action and calmly and gently take care of him

Akutagawa's been used to violence, been used to screams of pain and agony, but this? It's soft. It's sweet. It's tender. He's not used to it but part of him wants to be. He's never been so happy in his life.

He's not the type to whine and whimper so much like Atsushi, instead he'll let out a low grunt here and there and maybe throw in a moan somewhere too.

He's into the wildest things, most of which involving your ability with his. It's probably some weird psychological thing where he's associated his ability strength = worth thing to the bedroom which......isn't healthy.

But once you're done his sickly little body is spent, his already damaged lungs trying desperately to keep moving. You hold him over your shoulder, as being carried bridal style would mess with his pride. Arm wrapped around your shoulder and tugging at you inner arm, he leans into you the way he's never done for anyone before.

He feels odd now, as if he's just discovered something new. Learning and even participating in sex has left him with many questions, that hopefully you could answer.

[callsign-songbird]

OK, needed a fluffy drabble to follow up that sin. More below the cut!

Biblically accurate König headcannons

Tw: Social anxiety (I tried)

OK, ok, hear me out.

Konig is a big, scary colonel, right? With social anxiety? Omg this man.

This lumbering behemoth wall of muscle and intimidation is the type to reherse and plan what he's going to say for at least a minute or two straight before addressing his squad.

He thinks about the tone he should use, his volume, where to put inflections, how his face should move even beneath his mask, what he'll do with his hands when. And when it comes time to finally speak, he delivers his words with his heart nervously pounding in his chest, which causes his words to come out sharper and more agressive than he intends.

Everyone thinks that he's super intimidating, cold, and angry, but he's really just nervous around crowds and speaking in front of them.

Don't get me wrong, he would be more comfortable in front of his squad compared to a group of soldiers he doesn't know. But that's not saying much.

And it doesn't mean that he's "Shy" or fumbles and trips over his words nervously (even if it's a cute thought)

No, he probably actually appears quite calm, confident, and composed. Even when he's panicking internally.

Strategy and combat are easy to Konig, sometimes easier than breathing. But not standing out in a crowd? With his height? Now, that makes his palms sweat just a bit.

It's useful a lot of the time, sure. But it has its disadvantages. König probably prefers to remain in his office, in the gym, or on one of the training courses; where he doesn't have to think about what he's saying and doing, or how he's saying and doing it. He can focus his mind on something else.

OK, I know this is what you suckers want

But if you were König's person? I have a feeling he would cling very subtly to you. A new squad transfers to your base? König hardly ever leaves your side.

A lot of the time, he would make sure to be touching you in some way, too. You're probably shorter than him, so it wouldn't be irregular for him to rest a hand on your shoulder or against your arm. No one would notice if he stood a little too close and your boots were touching or your shoulder brushed against him.

It wouldn't be hard to read his tells once you pick up on them either.

Whenever he's rehersing how he'll say something in his mind, even if he's in the middle of a conversation outwardly, his eyes become focused on one or two spots while having this unfocused look in them, as if he's only half present.

Whenever he's starting to feel overwhelmed or drained in a crowd (whether he will admit to or realize it or not), he'll usually end up with one hand in his pocket, the other reaching for you or drumming on his thigh.

And as soon as it's just the two of you? Well, you best believe all he wants is to recharge. He likes holding you in his arms with your back against his chest. He loves everything about it.

He loves feeling the rise and fall of your chest, hearing your breathing, hearing your voice. He loves looking down at you and watching as you occupy yourself or relax and melt into him. He could hold you forever, you're his personal portable charger. Just the juice he needs after a stressful day. (Or any day, for that matter.)

Or, maybe you aren't the touchy type and don't really like being held? That's ok, he gets it. Really. He's more than content to simply occupy the same room as you. Your voice seems to make all of his worries go away, watching your lips move is utterly entrancing, and he can't help but get lost in your eyes; whether they're looking at him or something doesn't matter.

Long story short, biblically accurate König rules, and we stan the German chaos himbo. Even when he's not a himbo lol

[deerlino]

when you say nothing at all ( hjs. )

han jisung | gn!reader

“when hearts collide, even the simplest nights become unforgettable.”

synopsis. on a lazy friday night, you and jisung, best friends since forever, start to realize that maybe, just maybe, there’s more to your relationship than you thought. (1.1k words)

content. fluff, friends to lovers, best friends, movie night, flirting, teasing, romantic tension, mutual pining, first kiss

warnings. mild language, tickling, close proximity, kissing

authors notes. this was super fun to write, i really enjoyed it. hope you love it! sending lots of digital kisses! < 3

It’s one of those lazy Friday nights where you and Jisung find yourselves sprawled out on the couch in his tiny dorm room, the glow of the TV casting flickering shadows on the walls. You’ve been best friends since forever, practically inseparable since kindergarten. Through thick and thin, middle school drama, and high school shenanigans, you’ve always had each other’s backs. Now, as college freshmen, nothing’s really changed. Except, you guess, everything has changed.

Jisung throws a popcorn kernel in the air, trying to catch it in his mouth, and predictably misses, the kernel bouncing off his forehead. You laugh, a genuine, belly-shaking laugh that only Jisung can pull out of you. “Nice catch, genius,” you tease, nudging him with your foot.

“Hey, I almost had it,” he grumbles, reaching for another handful of popcorn and munching it absentmindedly. He’s wearing that stupid old hoodie you got him for his birthday two years ago, the one that’s now slightly too small but he refuses to stop wearing. It makes you smile.

“You know,” you start, the words coming out before you can stop them, “you look ridiculous in that hoodie.”

Jisung raises an eyebrow, turning his head to look at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh yeah? Well, you look ridiculous in general.”

You stick your tongue out at him, a playful scowl on your face. “Real mature, Sungie.”

He grins, that boyish, heart-melting grin that makes your stomach do stupid flips. “You love it.”

Damn it, I do, you think, but instead you just roll your eyes and settle back into the couch. Your heart’s doing that thing again, the weird fluttering that it’s been doing a lot lately whenever you’re around him. It’s annoying and confusing and you don’t like it one bit.

“So, what’s on the agenda tonight, Your Majesty?” he asks, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

You shrug, pretending to be more interested in the TV than in him. “Dunno. I was thinking maybe we could watch that new horror movie? The one everyone’s been talking about.”

Jisung groans dramatically. “Ugh, you know I hate horror movies. They give me nightmares.”

“You’re such a baby,” you say, laughing. “Fine, we can watch something else. But you owe me.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Owe you what?”

“Uh, I dunno. A favor. I’ll cash it in later,” you say, wiggling your eyebrows.

Jisung snorts. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Let’s just watch something not scary, okay?”

You both end up settling on a rom-com, something light and fluffy that neither of you really have to pay attention to. The night wears on, the movie serving more as background noise as you two fall into your usual banter, teasing and joking and just being you. It’s comfortable, easy, like slipping into a pair of well-worn shoes.

But then, out of nowhere, Jisung starts tickling you. It’s something he’s done a million times before, but this time it feels different. Maybe it’s the way his hands linger just a second too long, or the way his eyes look at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. You squirm, trying to get away, but he’s relentless.

“Jisung, stop!” you gasp, laughing so hard your sides hurt. “I swear to god, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna what?” he challenges, his face inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin.

And just like that, the air between you changes. It’s charged, electric, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest. You stare at him, your best friend, your platonic soulmate, and all you can think about is how badly you want to kiss him.

His eyes flicker down to your lips, and for a moment, you think he might kiss you too. But then he pulls back, his face flushed, and you can’t tell if it’s from the tickling or something else.

“Sorry,” he mutters, sitting back and running a hand through his hair. “Got a little carried away there.”

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the disappointment gnawing at you. “Yeah, no problem. Just… maybe don’t tickle me to death next time.”

He laughs, but it’s not the carefree laugh from before. It’s strained, like he’s trying too hard. “Noted. So, um, what now?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I dunno. Want to just… talk for a bit?”

Jisung nods, his eyes meeting yours, and for a second, you think you see something there, something that mirrors what you’re feeling. But then he looks away, and the moment’s gone.

You talk about everything and nothing, about classes and friends and random stupid things that make you both laugh. But underneath it all, there’s this undercurrent of tension, this thing between you that neither of you is brave enough to acknowledge.

Hours pass, the movie long forgotten, and you find yourself lying on the couch, your head resting on Jisung’s shoulder. It’s comfortable, familiar, but at the same time, it feels like you’re on the edge of something terrifying and wonderful.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says softly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you ever think about… us?” he asks, his words hesitant, unsure.

Your heart skips a beat. “What do you mean?”

He takes a deep breath, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm. “I mean, like… more than friends. Do you ever think about it?”

Your mind races, a thousand thoughts and feelings crashing into each other. “Yeah,” you admit, your voice trembling. “I think about it all the time.”

Jisung is silent for a moment, and you can feel your pulse pounding in your ears. “Me too,” he finally says, his voice barely audible.

You turn to look at him, your eyes meeting his. “Really?”

He nods, his eyes searching yours. “Yeah. And it’s scary as hell, because I don’t want to lose what we have. But at the same time, I can’t stop thinking about what we could have.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “Jisung, I—”

But before you can finish, his lips are on yours, soft and hesitant and everything you’ve ever wanted. It’s like the world fades away, and all that exists is the two of you, finally crossing that line you’d been too afraid to acknowledge.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. “Wow,” you whisper, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his own smile matching yours. “Wow.”

And in that moment, you know that no matter what happens, everything’s going to be okay. Because you have each other, and that’s all that really matters.

© deerlino (est. 280624) ༯ heyo, did you enjoy this piece? if you did, maybe you could reblog, drop a comment, or shoot me an ask to let me know your thoughts. also, feel free to check out my other stuff! thanks a bunch for the support! <3

[kechiwrites]

decided to break it

toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader

part 4/?

synopsis: babies change everything, and neither you, nor simon handle change very well at all.

wc: 2.2k

cw: afab!reader, angst, hurt with no comfort, language, break up fic, abandonment issues, no gendered language, discussions and depictions of pregnancy. no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: im back <3, more tomorrow, or perhaps later tonight if i feel up to formatting on this hell site. for kitten, shia, nori, 👩🏿‍🍼 anon, and everyone else who cheered me up when i felt super down post-holidays

new to baby blue? start here.

"Fuck." You murmur, maybe for the fourth time since the 15 minute timer had gone off on your phone. The word doesn’t seem heavy enough to sum up how you’re feeling, but you give it a few more tries anyway, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The word 'pregnant', however, is the heaviest you’ve ever seen, latching onto your limbs and skin and dragging you to the floor beneath you. ‘Pregnant’ stares you in the face from the stick in your shaking hands, punctuated with a little smiley face you can barely see through tears. In the back of your mind you kind of wished you'd gotten the kind with the little ambiguous pink lines, just so you could pretend you didn't understand what two lines instead of one meant. Just for a little bit. Alas, the pharmacist recommended the slightly more expensive test, the kind that gives you a week estimate. The kind that tells you you've been fucked for 3-4 weeks now.

Every emotion you'd been feeling up until then cedes to white hot panic. It's hard to breathe in your little blue bathroom.

You wonder what he'll say. 

No. 

You dread what he’ll say. 

It’s nothing you two have ever talked about, not in the cold blackness of night, when he’d sat in your arms with his face bare to you and murmured every gory detail of his upbringing to you and not a goddamn therapist. Not the following morning when you’d sobbed your terror of the future, and losing everything you had into his lap. And certainly not when you had mutually decided you were “getting serious”.

And now you have to. You have to tell Simon you’re pregnant.

There's a pit in your stomach when he comes by that night, mask off and eyes warm, considering like they always are. You get swept up in how it feels to be near him, to have him crowd into your space, soaking your senses in his scent, his warmth. He kisses you gently, so soft it makes you want to cry. He used to say he wasn't capable of being like that. Not with you. Not with anyone. 

Instead of sobbing into his chest like you’re desperate to, you chide him about wearing his boots in the house. You take the time he needs to unlace them to memorize what being with him feels like in this moment, the last time things will be easy. 

He levers up and nudges his boots over to yours, where they sit side by side. Tears choke your voice again, and you’re praying it’s just a pregnancy thing rather than a ‘you being an unstable wreck’ thing.

“Sit.” You turn to the kitchen, setting your kettle on the stove and turning the knob to high. He hunkers down on the worn cream leather of your couch. You linger in front of your stovetop as long as you can, fussing with the mug Simon uses almost always, an ugly misshapen pink thing you’d made at a beginner ceramics class four years ago. It’s chipped at the lip, rose coloured glaze cracked, exposing the beige clay underneath it. Your hand glances over boxes of tea, back and forth over colourful labels that may as well be written in gibberish for all the luck you're having reading them. 

It feels like there's no air in the room, like the secret under your t-shirt is taking it all, vacuum sealing your room until your chest burns and your head feels like it's going to pop. You tear open a brand new box of earl grey, stuffing it back onto your shelf when the tea bag is sat securely in the cup. 

"What's wrong?” He grouses from the couch, and it’s only then that you realize your shoulders are hunched up around your ears. 

“I..” your stomach rolls and sweat begins to bead on your forehead. You can hear him stir in his seat behind you, shifting forward so he can peer at you from your living room. Saliva gathers in your mouth, and oh god, maybe you actually will throw up, it’s too early for morning sickness right? Unless the stupid tests were wrong and now you’re going to cover your countertops in the stew you had for lun-

“Hey.” Simon is standing behind you now, his hands gripping your shoulders, shaking you lightly until you whip around to face him. The kettle is screaming now, filling your home with that shrill, high shriek of steam from the boiling water whistling through the appliance's tiny spout. 

Somehow it’s still quieter than your pulse pounding in your ear.

“I’m pregnant.” You choke out, if only to stop yourself from retching over Simon’s socked feet. God, it’s like time stops, then it splits and cracks in clean halves. Into before and after he knew. Before and after his concerned expression crumbled into disbelief, before and after he schooled that disbelief into placid nothingness. And it’s not like you’d entertained the delusion that he’d be happy about it. But the silent hang time before he reacts is this terrible, hollow, unknown that tears up your insides and relishes in the shiny, red viscera. 

A gruff, quiet "Are you sure?" is what you get from him, when he finally recovers, and you try so hard not to let it bother you. It's a shock. A surprise. A loud bang in the middle of a serene night, a cannon going off in your face, a gunshot into the sky when you thought the race was an hour from starting. 

You try to give him a bit of grace. Still, the pit in your stomach grows.

Now it's a bit of a sinkhole.

"Baby, I wouldn't be telling you if I wasn't sure." You move to snag your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, to tug him close so you can hold each other, support each other, but he take a small step backwards, letting his palms slip from your shoulders. 

The sinkhole is a cavern, yawning wide, open and empty. 

You toss your hope and love inside.

“I need…some time.” He mutters, slinking out of your space, out of the kitchen and back into your entryway. 

'Time to fucking what?' you think, but hold back. You know Simon. You love Simon. And you remember where he's come from. What he's come from. You realize a second too late you should be following him, and when you stumble over the kitchen threshold, he’s tying up his boots, his broad back facing you. You try to peer around him, try to get a look at his face, desperate to gauge where he’s at. But when you notice he’s knocked your shoes over in his scramble to get away, to be anywhere but here, you stop moving..

“Y-yeah. Okay. Just..uh, get back to me soon okay?” you stutter, and wrap your arms around yourself, like you know Simon won't. Not with the way his hands are shaking. 

He doesn’t even respond this time. 

The soldier just stands. He opens your front door. And walks out. Leaving you in your entryway. Water past its boiling point in the kettle.

You don’t see him again until you’re four, nearly five months along, the bump under your clothes now impossible to hide. When you stumble into your home, exhausted from working, he’s in your living room. Sitting there in his mask at your tiny dining room table. Like no time has passed at all. Like he should be there. You realize you never did get your spare house key back.

“Get out.” you spit, blood boiling under your skin. 

"I know you're upset-" He begins, like he’s about to deliver a practiced speech.

"Get the fuck out!" Your tone is caustic, and you hope it burns him, hope it strips off all the facade on the rotting structure he is underneath.

"I never meant to leave it so long. This." He won't even say it. Can't even refer to you, let alone your baby. He stands up and becomes this big, dark mass in the bright space of your living room, black mask, black shirt, black boots, just a huge black hole that sucks up every good feeling you’d had in his absence, every ray of light that’d shone through the dark gloom he’d left behind. Nothing escapes his pull. 

He peers at you from the gap in his mask. The stark white skull stretched over his face mocks you, maliciously whispers in your ear; ‘Did you think you knew him? That he was honest with you? Open to you?’

And you had. You did. You thought you were making progress, building some semblance of a future, falling in love.

It makes you sick to your stomach to think of it.

"You want to apologize, take the fucking mask off Simon." Your voice breaks, and part of you hopes he hears it for the plea it is. Hopes he understands what you’re asking of him. Hopes he feels how bad you missed him, under the hurt and pain and bitter, bitter loneliness. If he would just take it off, just pull the stupid fabric over his face and show you he was still yours under there, that he’d make a mistake and he’s ready now, then maybe the two of you could fix it. This.

Instead, his silence, his stillness cracks open your ribcage and pours black ink over your heart.

Humiliation and anger simmer on your tongue. What comes next is shockingly easy. "Oh you can't do it, huh? Can't be a fucking person with me, huh?" You shove at his chest, and he takes it, staring at you with pain in his eyes. Like this is hurting him.

"I shouldn't have waited so long, but I-" he steps towards you and it feels so good to rip away from his touch. To step back from his advance.

"No!” You shout, and your face is so hot, skin ablaze with righteous anger. “Shut up! Three months? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

And yes, one month of that was deployment, you’d known that, you’d talked about it, together. One month of no contact. One month of sand and heat and blood. But the other two months had been that white hot panic you'd felt on your own, in that tiny bathroom with the peeling blue wallpaper he'd promised he'd help you strip and replace. The other months had been missed calls, and ignored texts and you getting bigger under your sweaters because unlike him, you couldn't just take a break from the situation.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” You shove past him, deeper into your home, spinning around so he’s closer to your entryway than you are. “Don’t you ever show your face here again, do you hear me?” You’re screaming now, much to Ghost’s visible discomfort. Good. You hope your nosy ass neighbours call the cops. You hope they physically remove his pathetic ass. You hope they embarrass him. (It isn’t very likely, of course. But God, could you dream).

“You can't just keep it from me.” He steps closer and you lament that he has you on the backfoot. It’s your space, your home and yet it feels as though you’re the one who’s out of place, off kilter and uncomfortable. You glare at him. 

“It’s mine too.”

‘It’ he says, and that bothers you. Irks you. Him calling your baby an ‘it’. 

“Give me a fucking break, it wasn’t yours when you left me, you couldn’t wait to get your sorry ass out of here when I told you. Now you wanna play daddy? I don’t fucking think so.” You dig your fingernails into the meat of your palms, leaving aching crescents in their wake. 

“And you know what? Maybe it’s my fault for wanting to be with someone who is so fundamentally fucking broken that he couldn’t fucking bear to show me his goddamn face until I’d begged him. Maybe I’m the idiot for thinking you could ever be capable of love, of decency. I needed you. And you abandoned me, Simon. You are a fucking monster.” 

The word hangs in the air, hovering between the two of you where it can’t be taken back, and it sure as hell can’t be forgotten.

“You are good at distancing yourself, you are good at killing your feelings. Keep doing that. Stay the fuck away from me and my kid.” You’re panting when you finish, and everything hurts, one of your hands is bleeding, your eyelids prickle with the pain of unshed tears, your throat feels strained and tight. He nods once, jerky and quick, before he takes an unbalanced step back. Then another and another, his eyes never leaving yours, like he’s looking for something, anything other than hurt and hatred.

But there’s nothing else to find.

He turns, opening your front door and trudging out, heavy footfalls bracketing short moments of gut wrenching silence. It feels final. But it doesn’t feel good. Not like you thought it might.

He’s halfway into his SUV when you scramble out your front door, shouting over your porch railing to him in your driveway. “And get rid of my fucking keys!” He stares at you, standing stockstill, before he gets in the driver’s seat and pulls away.

whew, nice to post ghosty-poo again

series masterlist here

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[ben-talks-art]

Okay... This episode of Digital Circus almost made me cry... almost!

When I saw the first episode of this show I knew I was going to really like it, but I wasn't prepared for how much I was going to love it. This reminds me of when X-Men 97 premiered and even though we were only two episodes in I could already tell this was going to be something special.

I know it's super, super early to say this, but this might become one of my favorite shows. The way they handled this episode really worked for me in a way I haven't felt in a while.

From the very first scene things already start on a really strong note, with our main lead, Pomni, having nightmares about the worst-case scenario from the new situation she's in where she imagines herself being affected by the circus glitch and being abandoned by the rest of the cast.

This does a great job setting up her sense of isolation and how she thinks she's on her own even though they all should be on the same boat together.

This gets highlighted even more as another member of the circus, Ragatha, is seen constantly trying to show her support and getting Pomni to cheer up despite the dreadful situation they're in while Pomni herself just acts indifferent as if she had already given up on everything and everyone.

I found this characterization of hers so relatable because I also used to think for a while that my problems were mine and mine alone and that everyone trying to help me were doing that just out of obligation and not because they really cared.

For some reason it felt "safer" to just assume I couldn't count on anyone because then I wouldn't have to worry about being disappointed in anyone, after all, you can't get disappointed if you don't get your hopes up.

So imagine how hyped I got when I saw that they indirectly made Pomni realize why it's important to rely on people when they switched the roles and placed her on the position where she needed to be there for someone.

I wanted to jump and slam my desk while shouting "Perfect! Perfect! This is just perfect!!"

Everything that needed to be said was being said just in the right way, just at the right time, and with the right amount of emotion, just the right amount of seriousness and levity.

Cause here's the thing, the media often has this obnoxious tendency of portraying antisocial characters as people that need to just "Get over it."

A lot of writers enjoy lumping grumpy characters, and reserved characters, depressed characters, angry characters and all these stuff as people who just need someone to cheer them up and have them forget about their problems, as if they were babies that just need to grow up and learn to be less grumpy so they can join in with the fun alongside everyone else.

You notice that it's always a person in a bad mood + someone who's always cheerful, happy, and with a child-like joyful attitude to be their contrast or someone to call them out on their "grumpyness."

And that always bothers me because it makes it seem like they're downplaying someone's struggle or inner turmoil as if they were minor things that they latch onto to just because nobody has told them to let it go yet.

I like when stories showcase why people struggle so much to let go of this mindset, why they struggle to open up to others and find themselves cheering to their day-to-day lives again.

But I'm also aware that this is not an easy task cause it's basically asking to show someone being depressed for a good portion of your story, and if that goes on for too long or it starts diving into a too heavy of a territory, it can make it a challenge just to watch.

So yeah, I get it, it's hard to find the right balance.

To show why someone needs to overcome their personal demons, while also making it an enjoyable experience to go through.

You don't want a case like Legend Of Korra where Lin Beifong's issues were pretty much treated as a joke, but you also don't want something like the Beast Boy segments from Young Justice where every scene with him just felt the same thing for 5 or 6 episodes, even though they were realistic scenes depicting someone going through what he was dealing with and they all built up to an amazing conclusion with Black Canary... But it was still draining to go through that.

You need to find the right balance and I felt like this episode really succeeded in that. You get why Pomni feels the way she does and you get why Ragatha tries so hard to help her out and why it's important that she keeps trying even when it seems like there is no point.

I really like how Ragtha isn't just "Cheer up, Pomni! Let me show you the secret to enjoying life!", she's actually trying to be sensitive of her situation, giving her the space and time she needs, and being there for her but not forcing herself on her.

She validates Pomni's pain but also knows it's a pain that she needs to learn how to deal with, otherwise, she's just gonna miss out on her own life.

The final scene was the thing that really got me.

When Pomni finally realized that the same way she tried to help out that NPC when they were stuck, she also needs to let others help her out.

It took me so long to realize in life that I don't need to deal with everything on my own, that I had people there for me, that I'm allowed to be vulnerable and make mistakes and that the people around me who love and care about me would still be there for me.

It took way, way too long for me to realize all that, so to see that final shot of Pomni imagining herself falling just like in her dream, but this time she had trust that her friends would be there to catch her, it really hit me good.

I'm not sure how to explain it but for some reason I was really proud of her for learning such an important lesson so quickly that it took me so long to learn myself. Like, I know she's not real, she's a fictional character, but I felt an immense relief while thinking people would watch this, and learn from this, and not make the same mistakes I did.

I have no idea where this show is going, but I feel like I'm in safe hands and can't wait to see what else they're going to do and where they're going to go.

I'm very very hyped for this series!

Also, I know this makes me a monster, but this scene made me laugh. :)