#i’m finally done after having this sitting in the drafts for about a good month... or two. 🥴🥴

[luvelve]

˚ · . sweet blue - k. mingyu

summary: your husband’s not very good at asking for things, not even for a shave. but of course, he gets it either way.

pairing: husband!mingyu x afab!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

warnings/tags: kissing, shaving, mentions of use of a blade

a/n: i took a long and unexpected break from writing and i’m happy to be back <3 this has been sitting in my drafts for sooooo long and i finally finished it today. the ending was kinda rushed but i wanted to publish it either way to kinda get myself out of this slump. as always, feedback & likes/reblogs are always welcome :)

the dark colored marble touches the front of your thighs as you inch closer, which surprises you but you try your best not to flinch because of the task at hand. at this moment, you feel like an artist, a sculptor if you will; carefully carving clay with utmost precision. except you’re not a sculptor, and you’re not carving clay. you’re in your bathroom giving your husband, mingyu, a shave.

this was new for the both of you, as mingyu always just shaved his incredibly slow growing mustache by himself. what started all this is him seeing you in your nightstand or in the bathroom doing your makeup and skincare, and he finds it all so amusing. he swears harps and violins play in the background when you’re in your own little world, dusting your cheeks with blush, taking your mascara off, or applying lip balm? lip… stick? lip…. whatever it is that you put on your lips, he thinks to himself. all he knows is that he can watch you do it all day. but he’s also left wondering, how it would feel to do what you do on him.

for some reason, mingyu isn’t able to muster up the courage to ask you straightforward to do his skincare, but he is able to ask you to be the one to shave him since he tells you its that time of the month where his mustache gotten too long for his liking. he comes up with the excuse of not doing the job well enough, and that his face gets all ‘itchy’ afterwards. which is all a lie of course, but it’s enough to convince you to do what he asks of you.

and so you find yourself in your shared bathroom at nine in the morning, standing in between your husband’s legs as he sits on the counter, both of your faces inches from each other. the room is silent but not eery, it’s a comfortable silence. mingyu had joyfully shown you the things he uses for his shaving routine: a cheap razor, shaving cream, some aftershave seokmin had recommended to him, and a towel.

“you really should get one of those good quality razors. not these disposable ones.” you scold mingyu softly, looking at him sternly with one hand resting on his head and the other holding the razor.

“but they’re expensive.” he extends the last syllable in protest, his reply a bit garbled as he tries his best not to move his mouth too much. you know mingyu well enough that he would be pouting at this moment, if only you weren’t shaving his upper lip.

you’re too focused on the task at hand that you don’t bother arguing with the giant sulky man in front of you. you continue making slow downward strokes using the razor, watching the hair slowly disappear. mingyu doesn’t have a lot of hair on his face like other guys but you take your time, making sure to get the job done right. it is, after all, your first time.

your husband watches as your lips contort out of focus; a habit of yours that he’s taken notice and grown fond of over the years. every now and then , you get rid of the hair and cream, swishing the razor in the sink that’s filled about halfway in water. mingyu feels nothing else but happiness and content in this very moment that he’s internally doing jumping jacks.

your resting hand shifts from his head and onto his cheek to get better leverage and mingyu just has to lean in to your touch. he relishes the feeling of your warm hand and then looks at you with adoration in his eyes.

“baby…” you raise your eyebrows at him, wondering what on earth he’s doing this for in the middle of a shave. mingyu doesn’t react to your words but instead shoots you a small derpy smile, and only you would know what he means.

if there’s one thing your husband is good at, it’s getting you to give him your love and attention without even saying anything. there are nights when mingyu comes home exhausted and all he has to do is stand there in your doorway, signalling to you that he wants to be in your embrace. or when you get up earlier than him and you find him just as he’s about to wake up; he’s buried in the sheets, hair all messy, just laying there, silently telling you that he wants a taste of your lips before his morning coffee.

and it’s the same thing he’s doing now. you let out a small sigh as you tilt your head a bit in fake annoyance before you lean in to connect your lips with his. it’s quick but it’s enough that mingyu lets out a hum of contentment. you pull back and he giggles as your lips catches some of the shaving cream, giving yourself a tiny little mustache.

“happy?” you quickly reply, and mingyu catches you to plant another kiss on your lips, placing his hand on your cheek to deepen the kiss a bit.

“very.” he says, as he swipes the pad of his thumb on your upper lip to get rid of the shaving cream he transferred onto you. his giggles bounce off the quiet walls of your bathroom.

“now can you sit still so i can finish this little bit that’s left?” you say to him, and he replies with a small nod and a sheepish smile, one that’s big enough that his canines show through. mingyu feels like a sixth grader who just kissed his crush. if the marble counter wasn’t in the way, he’d be kicking his feet.

you finish the small patch of hair that he has left and you proceed to put aftershave on him, assuming it is what you put after one shaves. you put a little bit on your hands and you’re thrown off by its strong musky scent. surely this can’t be good for his skin, you think to yourself.

“babe, you really use this stuff? i think this is way too strong for you.” you say with a worried look on your face. “well… seokmin told me it was good so i just used it too.” he replies.

“well yeah, it could be working for him but for you… i’m not too sure. i don’t know… i’m just worried.” you trail off, getting some tissue to rid your hands of the product and his eyes follow you around the bathroom while you do so. you shuffle back to stand in between mingyu’s legs, “i��ll go get something from my stuff instead.”

he watches as you momentarily leave the room to grab something from your vanity. he waits in the bathroom like a five year old waiting for his mom at the grocery counter. he hears the sound of your drawer open and close and it makes him chew at his lower lip in excitement.

“okay, this should do the job.” you say as you take the product onto your hands and pat it gently on your husband’s annoyingly smooth face. you make sure to cover all the parts that the blade has touched, and your head tilts left and right trying to make sure you didn’t miss any spot.

the way his eyes light up and follow your every move don’t go unnoticed by you. his hands make their way to rest on your hips again, squeezing every so gently as not to distract you.

“aaand, that’s the last bit of it.” you say, tightening the cap of your moisturizer and setting it down on the counter. mingyu internally pouts because the task is done, nonetheless he still props himself off the counter to take a look in the mirror.

“thank you, baby.” he says softly, shooting you a sweet smile as he turns to face you again. his arms snake around your waist to pull you in for a kiss and just when your noses touch, you pause. “you know… we still have a bit of time before we have to head out. why don’t we go back to bed for a little while?”

mingyu instantly picks up on what you’re trying to say and of course he jumps on the opportunity, “yeah?” he questions, and you nod as you wrap your arms around his neck. “well you know i can’t say not to that.” his smile reaching from one ear to the other. he leans down to attach his lips to yours as the both of you slowly walk backwards into your bedroom.

“oh, one more thing.” you mumble, momentarily breaking away from the kiss. “mhmm..” mingyu hums, and you feel it rumble in his chest. “i know you don’t get ‘itchy’ after you shave, it was just an excuse to get me to do it for you.” your tone is playful, and right then and there mingyu knows you’ve got him.

“what-huh? n-yes, i do!” your husband stutters, his ears turning red in embarrassment. “sweetheart, you really expect me to believe that? i know you like the back of my hand.” you reply. before mingyu is able to say anything else, you grab his arm and lead him out of your bedroom. “now let’s go, you owe me a yummy breakfast.”

[adieutristana]

pins and needles; jinx x fem!reader

this one’s been on my mind for a while, i’m excited to finally be writing it… i’m still debating internally whether or not i want to write smut but if this gets a positive reception maybe i’ll make a part 2 with it. maybe

summary; jinx offers to be a makeshift dress form for her girlfriend.

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; seamstress!reader, SUGGESTIVE, tension, fluff, reader is oblivious, idrk what else

men and minors dni.

you swear, sometimes these clients are trying to get under your skin purposefully.

houndstooth carpenter pants. it sounds simple enough on paper, but you know better. the fact that carpenter pants are a pain in their ass on their own, houndstooth is less than ideal to work with, and you have to line up a pattern on both sides. worst of all, this client has a deadline. good thing you charged your client extra.

you did your work, and you did it well. good turnaround time, quality products, flexible customer service skills, and reasonable prices made you one of the most sought-after seamstresses in zaun. you're often booked out for at least four months at a time, a lengthy list of garments to make.

you've designed nearly everything there is to design. from casual loungewear, to work clothing, to formalwear for clients coming to you from piltover, to even wedding dresses. it's an honest living.

jinx has always been supportive, despite the fact she doesn't understand the first thing about sewing. kind of like how you don't understand anything about her explosives, but you still sit in her hideout with her, watching as she works. goggles over those pretty eyes, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in intense concentration. it's adorable, really.

you're sat in your studio with your girlfriend behind you, sitting in a backwards-facing chair with her legs on either side. count on jinx to never sit properly... ugh.

you've finished drafting a pattern according to the client's measurements. now for the fun part, cutting fabric. you've got two variations of houndstooth before you, one a more thick material, the other a bit more thin and breathable.

"hey, jinx? could you stand up for a second?"

the girl looks up at you, quizzical, but slowly swings one of her legs over the chair, standing up straight. you grab both spools of fabric, and walk over to her. you drape them across either of her shoulders, looking side to side with furrowed brows.

"which one do you think is better?"

she looks down at her shoulders, reaching up to feel one of the materials between two of her fingers.

"i don't know... you're the seamstress, toots."

"if you had to choose?"

"uh... i don't know. i guess this one?"

she says, pointing to the fabric draped over her right shoulder. the thicker one. you sigh, quickly taking both materials off of her and placing them back on your table. you just have to hope your needle won't break in the middle of sewing.

you sit down on your stool, carefully pinning your pattern pieces to the fabric before beginning to cut them out. scissors steady on the thick material, the only sounds filling the space being your nervous breathing and the sound of cutting. you're so focused, it's honestly adorable to jinx.

once you're finished cutting fabric, you rotate in your stool to be facing your dress form. you've figured out by now just how to adjust it to fit the proportions of each client, making a perfect fit without them even being in the room. you grab one of your pin cushions from a drawer, setting it on the table to begin putting it on the dress form. you reach out to grab one of the knobs, twisting it to make the hip and thigh area move inwards slightly.

except it won't move.

the knob is turning, the form should be adjusting. you've done this countless times, and this particular dress form has never failed you. why is it doing this now, during one of your most dreaded sessions?

jinx watches in silence, hearing the way you grunt as you try to push it in various directions and continuously turn the knob. but nothing is working. she sees the frustration in your expression, the way your lips are pressed into a thin line as you try to get it back into shape. jinx slowly stands back up from her chair, approaching you with caution.

"do you want me to try...?"

you give a defeated sigh.

"sure. maybe you'll see something that i'm not."

the girl approaches your dress form, trying to turn the knobs, adjust it, reach under it, shake it, look for a pedal on the stand, anything. her brows knit together in growing frustration, before she begins smacking the form, trying to get it to just move.

"alright, jinx, that's enough."

you chuckle, gently grasping her shoulders. you slowly guide her away, moving backwards towards the chair she was sitting on as she grumbles.

"i was just trying to help."

"i know, baby. but i'll figure something out."

you assure her, trying to give her a soothing smile. it doesn't do much, evidently, her gaze flickering down. she doesn't like not being able to help you.

until she looks up at you, wide-eyed. oh, god... you've seen that look before. jinx has an idea.

"why don't you use me?"

she offers. you tilt your head slightly, crossing your arms over your chest. you look her up and down, then peer back at the measurements written down on a sheet behind you. they were pretty similar in size, from the looks of it... not that you had measured jinx. but you'd gotten to the point in your career where you could get a pretty good guess just by looking at someone.

"as a dress form?"

you check.

"yeah, what else?"

you think it over for a second, and sigh. it's not like you have a better option right now, and it was honestly sweet of jinx to offer herself like that. how could you say no to that pretty face?

"alright, love. stand up for me, and stay still."

you say, gathering the pieces for the left half of the garment. you turn back to jinx, and begin to pin them together, starting at her lower leg. at least you wouldn't have to sew a cuff. you gently tap one of her outer thighs.

"a little wider for me, jinx."

she quietly complies, widening her stance slightly. you guide one of her long braids behind her back for easier access. you pin on the inside of her lower leg, looking to see if the pattern was even along the open edge. it's a bit difficult to tell when the fabric is turned inside out, but it looks alright so far. you'd find out when you turned it right side out.

this is difficult to do standing up.

you drop to your knees in front of jinx, grabbing the pin cushion and working up to the fabric around her knee. not noticing the way she looks down at you wide-eyed, or the way that her breath catches in her throat.

you move over slightly to the leg you're working on, grasping the fabric's edge around her inner thigh, holding it closed. she's... a bit shaky, shifting.

you look up at her with pursed lips and furrowed brows, confused. why is she moving all of a sudden?

"stop moving... i don't want to accidentally stab you."

you mutter, going back to pinning the fabric. just a few more moments, a few more pins, and this side will be done. you grasp the sides of jinx's hips, gently coaxing her to turn around.

"turn around for me... yes, like that."

jinx's breath is getting faster, the air in the room suddenly feels more warm. it's getting more difficult by the second to stand still and let you do this, but she agreed to let you do this. she has to control herself.

you look at the material from the back, pinching in a few areas to make sure the fit is right before you make any permanent stitches- which makes jinx that much more restless.

"why are you moving so much?"

you ask, no malice in your tone. you're genuinely curious. is something wrong?

"i'm sorry..."

"what are you sorry for? i didn't accidentally poke you, did i?"

jinx swallows, and lets out a shaky breath.

"no, i'm fine..."

you nod slowly, deciding silently to not press the issue any further. you suspect jinx isn't telling you the full truth, but she can tell you if something is truly wrong. you turn her by her hips a few more times, looking at the pinned seam on the inside of her leg. making sure the houndstooth pattern matches at the seam, the pattern is going straight up her leg.

you shift around on your knees a few more times, craning your head and moving the fabric to make sure that everything is perfect before you move to the other side or begin sewing. you sigh, climbing up on one knee to stand up.

you look over it one more time, crossing your arms over your chest. you gently remove the pins from the fabric, leaving just enough to hold them together for your seams. slowly sliding the material off of her and immediately going to your sewing machine, you sit back on your stool.

as you run the material back and forth in the machine, foot pressing down on the pedal, all jinx can see is the way you're working it. nimble fingers slowly guiding fabric, brows knitted in concentration, your lower lip caught under your top teeth.

the loud whirring of your sewing machine is almost torture to jinx, and you somehow can't get the nagging feeling out of your head that something is wrong. something jinx isn't telling you. you look back over your shoulder, you have to check on her.

huh.

"you... sure you're okay, jinx?"

she nods slowly, trying to hold eye contact with you.

"you look a little... flushed..."

[madi-writes-things]

Making The Bed (Johnie Guilbert X Reader)

Summary:

Pushing away all the people that know me the best…

Word Count: 1,415

TW: Passing Out, ED, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Self Deprecation, Self Destructive Thoughts and Actions, Avoiding Foods, Parties, Drinking, Johnnie Being a Supportive and Good Boyfriend, platonic!Jake Webber

A/N: this has been in my drafts for like three months. Sorry if it seems rushed or anything, I fell asleep halfway through writing it and finished when I woke up. 🫶

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

I stand in the bathroom, obsessively typing the calories from the meal I just ate into the calorie counter that I promised I wouldn’t redownload. I didn’t mean for it to get like this again, but here I am. It just started as a few missed snacks, which turned into meals, and it all snowballed into daily weigh-ins and days with no food. I stop by the mirror for a moment, and I regret it immediately… the second I see myself, I feel my stomach churn.

The worst part of this is the lying to the people close to me… I don’t push them away on purpose, it just makes it easier. On days where I don’t see Johnnie much, I’m able to go the whole day without eating. I know that he’ll find out eventually, but I can’t let it be now.

In an ironic way I find it funny how people on the internet find out what you struggle with, and do their best to make it worse. The only reason that I started skipping snacks, was because people started commenting on my weight gain. It’s not the people who praise me for looking healthier, the issue is the people who spew my worst fears in the comments.

I know in the back of my head, that I will lose everything I’ve worked for if I don’t stay skinny. Johnnie won’t want me, Jake won’t chose me over him, Tara won’t want someone like me as a friend, my fans will get tired of me once I’m not interesting to look at, my family wo-

I hear Johnnie lightly knock on the bathroom door, pulling me from my doom spiral. “you okay in there babe?”

Shit.

I quickly wipe my face off, leaving no trace of the tears that were spilled. “Yeah! Be out in just a second.” Sometimes I wonder if he knows, and he’s happy that I’m losing weight. No. He’s not like that.

“”“”“”“”“”

I think Jake knows…

He stared me down after making me lunch. I think he was trying to see if I actually ate it. He made pasta, and I cried in the bathroom for thirty minutes after leaving the table. I saw him staring at me anytime we were in the same room after that.

Now I’m climbing into his car with Johnnie and Tara, headed to an influencer party. I’m wearing a cute Tank + Cropped Hoodie with skeleton hand’s bedazzled on the tits, and a pair of high waisted jeans. I knew that going out was a bad idea, but I have to stay under Jake’s radar… if he says anything to Johnnie, I’m done for.

I offer to be designated driver when we pull up, there’s no way I’m drinking tonight. One shot of vodka is nearly 100 calories, and vodka is the lowest calorie alcohol I’ve found. Everyone agrees pretty easily.

“”“”“”“”“”

The party has been going on for hours, and all of my friends were pretty tipsy at this point. I decided to go sit with Tara a little bit ago, and now we’re talking about her latest hookup. “He was literally so pretty… and his dick was huge!” She nearly falls over laughing at my reaction. I tell her I’m going to grab a water from the cooler, and find the guys so we can head out.

The second I stand up, everything goes blurry for a second. Shit. I don’t think I’ve had anything to eat since Jake made me, and that was like three days ago. I reach out and steady myself on Tara’s shoulder, as she asks if I’m okay. I mutter a quick yes, as I start walking away. It’s takes a second for my eyes to focus again, but most people just seem to assume I’m drunk.

Once I find the guys, we head out. My head is pounding, and all I want is to get home and go straight to bed. Once we finally get to our room, Johnnie holds me tight in his arms as we drift to sleep.

“”“”“”“”“”

The party was two days ago, and while I know I shouldn’t, I took advantage of everyone’s hangovers. I still haven’t eaten or drank anything other than water. Every morning I wake up lighter than the day before, and I’m not risking gaining any weight at this point.

Today is different, Jake and Johnnie are wide awake. The guys have been filming all morning, and they asked me if I wanted to join them in a video… I obviously agreed. I’ve missed my boyfriend, and I doubt he’d notice anything while we’re out at target.

“”“”“”“”“”

We stopped at three different targets before finding one that would let us film, totaling about an hour and a half of driving around. We’ve been walking around this target for a while, but the lights are too bright and I can’t seem to make my brain work hard enough to figure out how long.

I’m standing in the board game isle when it happens. I see Johnnie’s face fall when he sees me. “Babe, are you okay? You look really pa…” I don’t even hear the full sentence before everything turns to static.

“”“”“”“”“”

Johnnie’s POV

It all happens so fast. One second we’re laughing at something stupid, the next second Y/N has gone completely silent. “Babe, are you okay? You look really pale.” Then it happens. I watch as her eyes roll back into her skull.

Shit.

I barely move fast enough to stop her from hitting her head on the ground. “Jake! Go get some juice and a granola bar.” He practically drops the camera before breaking into a sprint across the store.

nononono… how long have I missed this? It all starts clicking into place… the long bathroom breaks after meals, the pulling away, the way she offered to not drink. Jake returns within 30 seconds, and Y/N starts to stir in my arms.

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

Everything feels like static… I think my eyes are open, but I still can’t see anything. I reach up, and my hand graces something, it takes me a second to register that it’s my loving boyfriend. I mutter a quick apology, and I hear him talking to someone but it’s so muffled. I don’t know how long I lay there before I start to regain feeling in my body. I can’t tell if I’m shaking, but I feel like I’m having a seizure or something.

once I’m able to sit up on my own Johnnie hands me a juice box and a granola bar. I can see Jake sitting across the aisle, also sipping a juice box. They wait until I’m done with my snack before talking. “Baby, I need you to be honest… when is the last time you ate?”

Shitshitshitshit. “I had lunch with Jake.” I try to sound confident, but my voice is shaky. I see Johnnie look across the aisle at Jake, questioning whether I was telling the truth.

“Y/N… that was almost a week ago.” He looks at me with a nearly indecipherable expression, but I know it well. Pity. “Is that really the last time you ate?”

Seeing how worried my they are breaks me. I only allow myself to break down because we are in a fairly secluded area of the store. Johnnie pulls me into his arms, kissing the top of my head. We stay like that for a while before heading home.

“”“”“”“”“”

Three Months Later

That day was a massive wake up call. Johnnie let me take a nap when we got home, while I slept they assembled friends and family. When I woke up they held an intervention. They gave me the choice to Go to an inpatient treatment, or try to get better at home… I chose getting better at home, scared that nobody would wait for me.

That night we worked out a plan. Johnnie made me a meal plan full of foods that I felt safe eating, we threw out the bathroom scale, and we deleted the calorie counter. It wasn’t an overnight change, but I had amazing support from the people around me.

Johnnie is truly the man of my dreams. He never stops telling me how much he loves me, and reassuring me that he would never leave me. He is the reason I wake up in the morning, and I know that he will always be there.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi @stasiesturn

@h3arts4harry @slutforsturniolos

[jamieroyjamieroy]

So I crashed the helicopter. Hope you like it

Is it ever too late?

Tommy walks into his usually pristine house, these days, it’s looking how Tommy feels on the inside. Cold, dusty, empty, unworthy of having Evan anywhere near here. Tommy’s days are now spent working, pretending everything is fine, and coming home and just existing. He isn’t sleeping well, he barely eats. His Muay Thai set-up hasn’t been touched since before that night. His garage sits neglected as well. A fine layer of dirt covers the beat-up car that is still on his car lift. He doesn’t have the energy or motivation to even enter the garage anymore.

Tommy sits on his couch in the dark and opens his phone to text the I’m sorry message to Evan he has been meaning to send every day for months now. The I’m sorry, I love you, please love me back message that he has drafted so many times he could write it in his sleep. That is until that voice in his head repeats the nonstop berating he has done since he left Evan that night. Why couldn’t he be what Evan saw him as, why couldn’t he be the confident person Evan believed him to be? Why did he have to be so broken and stupid? His dad was right, he had always been right. No one could love someone like Tommy. He didn’t deserve it, he had never done anything to warrant Evan admiring him the way he said he did. Not love, Tommy reminded himself. Evan never said that. Only that he admired him. So why had Tommy fallen so hard and so fast for someone he knew deserved better, knew he couldn’t give the future too?

Tommy isn’t sure how long he has sat there, he just feels the long dried tears on his cheeks as his phone rings. For a split second, his heart leaps, hoping it’s Evan reaching out to him. Fighting for them, like no one ever has before. “Hey, Cap” Tommy answers forcing an enthusiasm into his voice that sounds hollow to him. No one at work knows he broke up with Evan, no one knows what Tommy’s life has become. He has always had the ability to pretend everything is fine when he is dying inside. Guess his old man was good for something.

“You still interested in extra shifts, Kinard?” his captain asks sounding harried.

“Sure what do you need?” Tommy asks forcing down all the thoughts that have occupied him for what must have been hours now.

“Can you finish out Thompson’s shift? He was dropping off a patient at Cedars when his appendix decided to make his life hell. The chopper is there. Can you fly back solo and finish out?” Cap sounds like Tommy is his last resort and honestly, Tommy has needed work to get out of his head.

“Of course. I’ll head there now and see you soon” Tommy hangs up, goes into his bathroom to splash water on his face and leaves his house.

Even though it’s after 11 p.m., the traffic between Tommy’s place and the hospital makes the trip longer than Tommy would have liked. Being in the air was the only time he felt like his old self. Every thought fell away, and his mind was solely on the controls in front of him. He knew what to do when he was in the pilot’s seat.

Tommy is finally somewhere other than Evan’s arms that feels like home to him as he starts up the helicopter. The steps to take off are as easy as breathing. It doesn’t take long for Tommy to realise something is wrong. He checks his instrument panel. He looks for what he knows is going to bring him down if he doesn’t fix it now. The alarms start to sound giving him the first indications of how bad this really is. Maybe he should have declined the overtime he thinks without humour. Tommy sends out a Mayday call noting the systems that have failed and his location. He calmly relays where he is going to aim the crash landing so to avoid any casualties other than himself. He gives in to the inevitable all while trying to work through his checklists and fix the problems that, deep down, he knows can’t be fixed. Its then he thinks about Evan and how stupid he was to leave him and how he would give anything to be able to apologise to him and tell him how he feels about him. The ground is closing in on him fast and there is no more time to think about anything.

Tommy feels pain, everywhere. He must have pushed it too hard in the gym he thinks before the sounds and the heat of fire bring him back to full consciousness. He is trapped in his seat but he is alive for the moment. Tommy tries to locate the worst of the pain and sees the metal sticking out of his chest, he blood freely pouring from the wound. Its then he feels his head go foggy, his heart starts to slow and breathing is becoming painful.

Tommy somehow finds his phone in his pocket and makes the only phone call that has ever mattered to him. He just hopes Evan picks up, he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on.

Buck finally looks at his phone, he has been getting better at putting it down and not obsessively checking to see if Tommy has messaged him. It has taken months and putting it on do not disturb has helped a little, as has the cake he is making to satisfy Maddie’s cravings. He wonders if Tommy wants kids one day, then he chastises himself for thinking about Tommy. It doesn’t matter now, he blew it by bringing up Abby, moving in and getting married. Looking back at what he said he would have run from him too.

The missed call from Tommy and the voicemail has Buck’s heart speeding up. Tommy has finally reached out but the part of Buck that tells him he isn’t going to like what he hears in that message. Looking at the time, Buck sees that it’s 1 am and he just missed picking up the call by 10 minutes. It’s never good news when someone calls that late. This is what has Buck hesitating before the need to hear Tommy’s voice overpowers that nagging voice that tells him to leave it until morning.

“Buck, I’m. Evan. God I don’t know why I am calling you, there isn’t anything that you can do. I am so sorry I left you, I regretted it the moment I left. I wanted to turn around and beg for you to forgive me. To move in with you that night, even though it would make more sense to move in with me. I’m, argh, I need you to know that I was scared about how much and how quickly I fell for you. I’m sorry I couldn’t say any of that then and I’m sorry to tell you now but it’s my last chance to tell you that I love you Evan Buckley. The 6 months with you were the best of my life and I’m sorry for being scared then. To tell you the truth knowing that my minutes are numbered makes me brave enough to tell you that I love you and I hope you find someone to be your last just like I found mine. Goodbye my love”

Buck doesn’t notice the tears streaming down his face as he hears the sirens on the message and Tommy’s silence. He doesn’t realise he has fallen to his knees as he hears the paramedics saying they have no pulse before the phone finally slips from his hand and he feels his heart shatter at the greatest loss of his life.

That beep is going to be the first thing I get rid of, he thinks. Before wondering why there would be such an annoying sound here. Then again it’s not like he believed in Heaven before he died so why would he end up there? The pain throughout the entirety of his body confirms for him he can’t be in Heaven. The only thing that has him questioning whether this is Hell is the beautiful face full of tears before him.

“Hey baby, welcome back” Evan says wiping the tear that escaped. “You scared me, please don’t do that again.”

“How are you here?” Tommy asks cupping Evan’s cheek to prove that he is not hallucinating.

“I got your message. I called your Captain and then raced here once he told me you crashed. You are never allowed to crash again, you hear me. I can’t lose you for good,” Evan says, kissing the hand on his face.

“I’m not dead?” Tommy asks still confused trying to sit up but the pain piercing his body has him halting.

“No. Not de… not dead” Evan stutters letting the tears fall. “You have been in a coma for the last 10 days but you are back now. You came back to me”

“I’m so sorry, Evan. I didn’t mean to..” Tommy is cut off by a soft kiss on his lips.

“We have time to talk about all that later. I’m not leaving Tommy and you aren’t leaving me again. I love you too much to let us end.” Evan whispers begging Tommy to hear him this time.

“I’m sorry baby” Tommy says again “I love you and I’m sorry. I’m so sleepy though” Tommy says fighting to keep his eyes open and on Evan, someone he never believed he would see again.

“Sleep my love. I will be here when you wake up and I will tell you again that I love you and you are stuck with me, ok?” Evan says retaking his seat beside Tommy’s bed and holding the hand closest to him.

“Ok, I missed you Evan” Tommy says before sleep takes him and Evan lets the tears, sobs and of nearly losing all of this forever crashes down on him now that Tommy has come back to him.

[affluent-havoc]

Got a lotta stuff I want done in general. Thus, here's THE LIST. These are in no particular order btw and I'm sure there's some I've forgotten about to be honest.

Halloween posts (spooky month is afoot)

More art of the THH survivors

Kyoko birthday post

Mini project with Despair Makoto (goofy)

Silly mini comic of Makoto (nermal)

Draw more Byakuya in turmoil

Character sheets of the survivors for 10 years later au

Figure out a name for the 10 years later au

Finally get a solid design for Kijo

Ramble on Byakuya’s mom

More art of Naegi parents

Comic with the survivor’s post tragedy (silly and pseudo tied to 10 years later au)

Finish the silly mini comics based on all the games

Getting drafts under 30

Finish one of the unfinished fics I have AND post them

Write fics using prompts friend gave almost a month ago

Work on full/complete digital pieces for certain fics I’m reading (after drafts are under 30 cus it’s gonna irk me so bad if the number keeps rising and I don't keep them in check)

Redraws of old danganronpa fan art on the blog

Draw more art of the other stuff I enjoy (Danganronpa's still the main focus though)

Write more fic ideas down via a list

Add image descriptions to old art on blog

Write image descriptions for art that’s been finished but has been sitting about in the damn drafts for several months

Make song themes for all the THH characters (or at least the survivors)

More silly vids using the Togami audios

Add more content to lowkey abandoned au’s

Draw rest of THH cast as confectionary people

More content of the trio as cats

Makoto angst art

Write more good comments on other people's posts

More pieces of the trio existing together

Do wrist exercises (the touchpad/trackpad shall not best me!!)

Get working on potential art collabs (can be fun!)

Try and not stay up at 1am/2am/3am for once (thank gosh it's not every night but still)

I really gotta get better at planning stuff but I feel a bit better typing all of this down. So many things to do. Can get a bit overwhelming honestly. Just one at a time though. I'm sure I'll feel much better once I go and at least get my drafts down to where I want them to be cus I look at them every day and it bugs me seeing so many still there.

[lastflowerofyourhouse]

I am going to write a scene between two characters that is so improbably emotionally honest.

(or: another exerpt from a fic i'll never finish, entitiled "griddlehark finally talk about stuff" in my drafts.)

-

Gideon wasn't sleeping. Harrow knew this because she also wasn't sleeping. But her own sleeplessness was born of long habit. It was an easy, comfortable insomnia. The dark and quiet were all she had left of home.

Gideon, though, had never been prone to insomnia before. She had always been easily exhausted and prone to oversleeping, rocklike and deaf. And yet, there she was, for the third night in a row, up at odd hours in the safehouse’s kitchen. Harrow could hear her softly shuffling around. She hesitated, considered leaving her to her own devices—what claim, after all, did Harrow have on her anymore? What right had she to butt into any of Gideon's affairs?

But she knew, in the way that she knew almost everything about Gideon, that she was at her worst when feeling abandoned. Harrow would go if she was told to go, but she had to try, at least. She would not abandon Gideon again.

So she went out to the kitchen and found Gideon hunched over the counter, wolfing down plain crackers. This, at least, was somewhat relatable to her.

“Can't sleep?” she asked, as it seemed as good an opener as any.

“Nope.” Gideon did not stop eating as she spoke. “Guess my body's still not in the habit. Being dead and all. Do you know how weird it is to be dead? Your organs just kind of…sit there. But they don't actually do anything. Puts a real damper on all your vital impulses. Like, all of them.”

This was more words than Gideon had said to her in weeks, which was good, even if they were the last words in the world Harrow wanted to hear. She floundered for something to say. Her face must've been doing something, because Gideon looked at it and said, “Oh, right, sorry. Wouldn't want to upset you with the details. Paul told me not to talk about it to you. Be a real shame to show you the consequences of your actions.”

Harrow tried not to react to that, but it hit her like a slap all the same. “I only wanted to save you.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to be saved? Did you ever stop to think, hey, maybe Gideon threw herself on a fencepost because she cared about me and did not want an eternal front-row seat to my continued suffering? No. You didn't. You never thought about what I wanted, you only thought about how you'd lost your favorite chew toy. At least have the decency not to revive the little innocent martyr act from when we were eight. It never fooled me then and it doesn't fool me now. Don't look at me like that.”

“I’m—sorry.”

“You're sorry.”

“I never deserved you. I know that. Not once in my whole miserable life did I deserve to breathe the same air as you. I should've signed your release the day you asked. I should've let you go without conditions and with half our coffers in your pockets. I should’ve begged your forgiveness the first time I said an unkind word to you.”

“You can say that all you like, Harrow, but you never would've.”

“I would now. In a heartbeat. Fat lot of good it does us.”

Gideon shrugged. “I'm not sure I would've left anyway, back then.”

Harrow was startled by that. She could remember Gideon speaking of nothing else, as children. “No?”

“I mean, what would I have even done? Joined the cohort? Been there, done that, and I was bored in a month. I don't know—I don't know. Seems like everything I used to believe in was a sham. My parents. The cohort. You.”

“I don't know how you want me to respond to that.”

“Try telling me the truth.”

Harrow was quiet for a long moment. She had been telling the truth. She needed to find a truth Gideon could believe. Start from there. “You're right. I wouldn't have let you go, when we were children. I could never stand to have you out of arm’s reach, for the same reason you would never have left. I would be at a loss. The fabric of the universe would come unraveled without you. I believed that then, and I've seen evidence of it now.”

“Bullshit, Harrow. You liked having something to play with.”

“You know better than anyone that both can be true, you insufferable, pedantic meathead. You know better than anyone how I felt then, what I feel now. Do you think I was ever stupid enough to believe myself your superior? Do you think I never understood what I was doing? You were the single point around which my entire world revolved. Everything made so much sense, when it was all about you. I have seen my life without you, Griddle, and it was colder and emptier than I had thought possible. In retrospect, the idea that I had endured such a childhood at all should have alerted me to the fact that something was wrong.

“I have never flinched away from my own faults. My inadequacies, perhaps, but not my faults. And I have always known that you were better than I am. I was once in denial, but never truly in ignorance, of the horror of our treatment of you. And yet the only sin you hold against me is that I tried to release you. That I removed you from my reach, relieved you of my beck and call. That is the only thing you have ever refused to forgive me for. Why?”

“You know why.”

“I want you to tell me. For once in your life, just tell me how you feel.”

“I feel stupid. I feel betrayed. I feel like I have not slept properly in a month, because I haven't. I feel like I was a corpse recently, because I was. Is this what you want to hear?”

“I want you to answer the question.”

Gideon stopped, took a deep breath. “We both already know, Harrow. Why do you need me to tell you?”

“Plausible deniability.”

She hesitated for a very long time. “I never wanted to be separated from you, either. I kidded myself about being your rightful equal when we were kids, but I don't think I even believe that now. My life was always going to be—you. I knew that. I just. Became alright with it. At some point. It was like—like, imagine if someone took your bones away, or something. The ones you carry around in your pockets, I mean, not the ones in your body. But kinda those too? Like, if everything that made you you was suddenly stripped away and you were useless. And I had to watch, Harrow, all of it, knowing I could help you. Knowing I could save you, if only you'd let me fulfill my only purpose that ever really mattered.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

bear hugs - chapter 3

part of the @steddiebang2024 | rated e | part 4 of 12

read previous chapters here

chapter 3 - boarding

All he can feel is sharp pain, followed by a blissful numbness, and then even sharper pain. It doesn’t stop as he manages to get off the ice, it doesn’t stop while the trainer is working on getting him out of his gear to check him out, and it doesn’t stop when he’s in the ambulance. It only stops when he passes out from the adrenaline finally wearing off. Blackness fades into light, and he’s sitting in a hospital bed being told that he would most likely never play hockey professionally again, that it would take months, if not years, for him to get back into the shape he would need to be in to play for the Bruins. But Steve is stubborn, and he tells them in the kindest way he can that he will be back by the beginning of next season. That isn’t how it goes. Steve is forced to face reality pretty quickly, and the reality is that he may never even skate again, let alone play professionally. He calls Wayne first, as he’s always done when he isn’t sure what to do. His own parents never seemed to care much about his problems if they couldn’t fix them with money, and he needed to know that Wayne wouldn’t be disappointed in him for giving up. “Are you okay, son?” Wayne asks after he gets it all out. Of course Wayne heard the emotion in his monotone voice as he spoke. Of course Wayne didn’t care about his future. He cared about Steve. “Wayne–” Steve sobbed. He needed to have Wayne’s comforting hand on his shoulder, the same hand that held his when he told him he thought he had feelings for Eddie, the same hand that brushed his hair out of his face the first time he was puking his guts out from drinking too much, the same hand that squeezed his arm with silent pride when he got drafted. But Wayne wasn’t there, couldn’t be, and he had to live with crying on the phone while Wayne sat in a comforting silence. Eventually, Steve calmed enough to hear Wayne talk. “Did you tell Ed yet?” The next thing he knows, he’s sitting on the couch in their shared apartment waiting for Eddie to walk in the door. He had an event to go to, some thank you to the community for supporting the guys even when they lost during the second round of the playoffs. As soon as Eddie walks in, Steve cries. Eddie falls to his knees by the couch, hands hovering over his body like he could magically make him better. He can’t. No one can. “I can’t play anymore,” he sounds as broken as he is when he says it, and he knows that if he looks at Eddie’s face, he’ll see the same heartbreak reflected in his eyes. “It’s still early though, right? They said months. It’s getting better, I thought. Easier to walk,” Eddie said softly. “Maybe it’ll just take a little longer.” “Eds.” Steve shook his head. “I’m not gonna get back to that level. I have to let it go.” “But how will I play without you?” Eddie had tears in his eyes, something Steve hadn’t seen this whole time. “You did it already. Got them to the second round, babe.” Steve reached for Eddie’s hand, squeezing once. “You’re gonna be their guy, okay? I know we were supposed to do it together, but this is good. You’ll get to be the star.” “I don’t wanna be the star!” Eddie stood up and started pacing. “I wanna be your backup. That’s how it’s always been. I like being the guy who steps in to help you.” “I’m announcing my retirement next week,” Steve ignored Eddie’s words, pushing them to the back of his mind. “They’re working on helping me with a statement and scheduling the press conference.” “But what am I gonna do without you? You’ll stay here with me, right?” “Eds, I–”

continue reading on ao3

[theroseandthebeast]

Yuletide 2024 Recs, Batch One

15 recs for Alien, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, Antigone, Archive 81, Arrival, Beetlejuice, Beyond Evil, The Bikeriders, Blade Runner 2049, and Challengers

Alien - Would Have Liked To, Dwayne HIcks/Ellen Ripley

A stolen moment of quiet that, because of who Ripley and Hicks are, is spent practically: getting to know the M41A. Neither of them distracted at all, not really.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay - Marty Hong Faces the Terror Tank!, Sam Clay & Rosa Saks

It was the first thing Sam had told him: “You trade in your leverage, those guys’ll eat your lunch.”

Antigone - The Second Burial

The long shadows of early morning stripe the cracked earth as she crosses the dry riverbed and rushes back to the body from her hiding place behind the acanthus bushes. Light and shadow cut across her eyes, glare and blind, glare and blind.

Archive 81 - tying echoes and vibrations, Dan Powell & Mark Sollinger

It was a Tuesday, in late fall, three months after Dan had reappeared in Brooklyn, New York with an open wound in his chest and wires poking out from under a t-shirt he didn’t remember owning, that he completed the ritual to summon Mark.

Arrival - Semasiography, Louise Banks & Original Characters

I’m fifty-six and I’m wearing a black suit at Louise Banks’ funeral.

Beetlejuice - If You Hear A Shriek and Your Legs Feel Weak, Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz

When all was said and done and one necromancer was thwarted from rising, three cultists had run out screaming after suffering some fairly significant, though not permanent body horror, and a perfectly good chocolate cake was ruined, Lydia turned to him and calmly said, “So you didn't die.”

Beyond Evil - and then the bird in spring again, Han Joowon/Lee Dongsik

These are the moments Juwon keep coming back to: Dongsik's socked feet in the rain; the grains of salt catching the light in his hair; fish soup.

The Bikeriders - Easy Work, Benny/Johnny

Benny’s gaze didn’t waver as he looked at Johnny, pinned him right to the spot without having to lift a finger or utter so much as a word. Someone else could have, would have, gotten reckless having that kind of power over the president of the club, but not Benny.

The Bikeriders - Triptych, Benny/Johnny/Kathy

“There’s plenty I like about Johnny,” Kathy says. “Like I said, he keeps his head. And he’s loyal. I seen women throw themselves all over him but he’s only got eyes for Benny.” “Betty.” “Betty. That’s what I said.” Later, Danny plays back the recording and confirms she did in fact say Benny. Or: Johnny tells Danny about the blizzard of '67. Kathy explains how Benny dodged the draft. And Benny finally agrees to be interviewed.

Blade Runner 2049 - My fickle friend, the summer wind, Rick Deckard/K

Once they were out of the city it would be easier to think about what to do and how to stay alive doing it. Until then, Deckard kept it steady at a reasonable speed and tried to stay inconspicuous. Sitting in the passenger seat, Joe was limp where Deckard had strapped him in, pale face reflected in the window and blood soaking through his clothes and into the seat.

Challengers - Percentage Tennis, Art Donaldson/Tashi Donaldson/Patrick Zweig

After New Rochelle, Art has a proposition for Patrick.

Challengers - saddle up and ride, Art Donaldson/Tashi Donaldson/Patrick Zweig

Tashi reaches out and smudges the shaving cream off of his cheek. He sighs into her touch and kisses her palm. She curves her fingers around his chin to scratch underneath it. Then, she nudges her thumb into his mouth, and pushes it in and out, in and out. Art blushes, pretty and pink. Her heart beats in her throat, a tiny, frightened animal worn down from running away. “I want him to fuck you. And I want to watch.”

Challengers - Impulse, Art Donaldson/Tashi Donaldson/Patrick Zweig

Patrick tries out one of his kinks with Art and Tashi.

Challengers - mean, Art Donaldson/Tashi Donaldson/Patrick Zweig

The thing about Art is Tashi knows he has it in him, to be fucking mean. He can be ruthless to get what he wants, when he really fucking wants it.

Challengers - only see, Tashi Donaldson

Instead of everything beginning, Tashi retreats to her childhood bedroom.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

bpp lemme be sappy and incoherent for a min…

i saw this tiktok of bts’ solo era so far and i just wanna say that i’m glad that they know army doesn’t expect anything from them but music. GOOD MUSIC. like historically so many idols have gone on to do non music things after their peaks but bts knows that the core of their fandom are music fans. fans of THEIR music especially. bts as a whole prides themselves as being musicians and army prides ourselves as being fans of musicians.

idk. i guess i just wanted to appreciate how diverse this era has been musically and how proud i am of them doing the music they want even if i dont always enjoy it cuz someone else is bound to, yknow? i’m so freaking proud of their output. they’re amazing

***

It just tugs on your heartstrings doesn’t it? Even Jin who doesn’t have a full album yet, the song he made with Coldplay in only a few months doesn’t feel rushed or half-assed. It feels like a (sappy) sweet letter (in Chris Martin’s ink) from a friend you’ll be seeing before too long.

From Hoseok producing the beauty that is Jack in the Box; to Joon’s archive of his 20s with some of the best collaborations for a Korean artist in Indigo; to Jimin’s episodic processing of the personal struggles he dealt with during the pandemic in FACE; to Yoongi’s culmination of the AGUST D trilogy in D-DAY; to Taehyung’s expression of the music that most feels like him in Layover; and finally, Jungkook pushing himself out of his comfort zone to make a full album in a language he doesn’t speak, showcasing his skill set of ever-improving vocal ability, in classic pop songs in several genres that he’s selected to showcase his personal taste.

All the boys have done well. The assignment was to serve music, and they’ve all delivered. Some songs are more my taste than others, but I can acknowledge the work they’ve all done and I respect it.

And this isn’t really what you’re talking about Anon, but please let me go on a short tangent here.

I’ve seen chatter here and there about how Jungkook isn’t mature in his interview answers. About how he apparently comes across as a clueless puppet who can’t articulate his views eloquently, but like I said about the discourse around Jimin’s apparent lack of contribution to BTS, or Jin’s apparent lack of skill - sometimes that criticism is warranted, but most of the time people who say things like this frankly have no idea what they’re talking about.

A few of you have sent me asks months back, to give my view on Jungkook the way I’ve done about Jimin, Yoongi, Hoseok etc recently. I didn’t answer because I was waiting for Golden. Now that the album’s out, I’m sitting with it and will respond to those asks before too long.

But before that, I want to draw attention to this excerpt from Jungkook’s interview in The Atlantic.

*

In my draft reply to the asks wanting me to talk about Jungkook, I start with saying he’s a very simple person. That’s both his charm and the thing that confuses a lot of people about him, because many of us are anything but simple, so when faced with a man like him living the life he’s living, some people respond with suspicion or bewilderment.

Simple motivations, simple words, simple considerations - this is what I’ve observed in JK for the past 10 years. He’s younger than all the members but no less intelligent that the rest of the guys on average. He knows how to communicate what he means, he just usually has a preference to do it simply, and that’s what he did in that paragraph.

I’m excited to see how he’s going to become a global pop star, even bigger than he is now, because he’s certainly got the talent and skill to show real results. I’m proud of all the projects the boys have put out so far.

By their own words, one point of Chapter 2 was to showcase their individual colours, to show the world who makes up a group like BTS, so people could more clearly see what each member brings to the table, while the guys push themselves to learn new things, expand their skillsets, and hone their individual artistry to create a stronger, more nimble group.

*

So far so good. It seems to be going according to plan despite everything lol. I’m excited to get Joon’s next work, PJM2, Hobi’s release, Jin’s album, and all the other goodies lined up for us in Chapter 2. It’s been a trip and it’s only going to get wilder.

[prentissluvr]

HIII MARIIII

im back with big brother! sammy thoughts :333

so like im half way through season 7 and yk how sam dean and bobby are like living off the grid bc of the Leviathans, what if they were traveling with younger sibling! reader, not on no little kid type,

like teenager almost finished with high school type, and theyre trying to finish school while also trying to capture the Leviathan and keep theyre head

and sam is trying his best to keep his head with Lucifer and also catch the Leviathans while also trying to keep readers head so they dont like drop out of school??? YKWIM? this sounds so request-y I DONT MEAN FOR IT TO BE i just wanna pick your brain 🙁🙏🏽🙏🏽

anyway, love ya!

- alex ⭐️

AGHHH YAY !!! i’m just the hugest sucker for all things big brother sam sigh <33

AND DWWW this is perfect id love love to give my thoughts!!! tysm for sending this is and for providing context so i can remember LMAOOO

but i love this idea!! like i imagine having to go off the grid like. right during the last few months of readers senior year. and it’s good because you don’t have that much homework and all that, but it’s still incredibly important to get everything done so you can graduate. and i can imagine sam doing everything in his power to work with the last school you attended to have them let you finish your assignments through email almost like independent study.

and he’s doing this all while suffering with literal hallucinations😃 but he makes up this sob story (that’s obviously nothing compared to your actual situation) and he uses his perfect gentleman, super sweet older brother charm to convince them over the phone.

it’s just poor poor sam juggling all of this, fighting to keep himself, to get out of this situation, to keep everything else off your shoulders so you can focus on school. and every spare moment he tries to help you with your school work. one day, you're working on a final paper, and he's been sitting there with you, helping you edit, when he falls asleep without meaning to. he hates falling asleep. nightmares. and he'll feel awful about falling asleep on you when you need his help.

but you're alright with it. he already helped you fix the section you were unsure about, and you're almost done anyways. the rest is easy enough, and though you're exhausted out of your mind, it's nice to see sam sleep. you rarely do. you send your teacher your final draft and settle on the couch with him, too tired to get up.

sam does jolt awake from a nightmare. but he's easily grounded when he wakes, for once. you're there, your soft and sleeping form pressed against his side. you don't even stir when he flinches because your body is so exhausted. he still feels guilty when he realizes what happened, but he opens your laptop to see that you finished hours ago, not long after he fell asleep. he doesn't feel too bad. instead, he's glad to see you sleeping. you look different when you sleep, because he's gotten so used to the way that you look tired and stressed all the time now. that sends a pang through his heart when he realizes it. that overwhelming sense of protectiveness that he has for you washes over him like a damn hurricane, especially because your sleeping form looks so vulnerable. open and soft and unprotected except for him.

at least he can wrap an arm around you and fix the angle of your neck. at least you still trust him and love him and ask him for help on school assignments. at least you're there at all. sam can't wait for you to graduate. he knows that you can. he can't wait for you to have that. he can't wait to get you out of this all, if you'll let him.

[crazylittlejester]

for a prompt

idk just warriors having pent up stress, the others are teasing him and stuff and he’s having a SHIT TIME and just goes OFF on all of them, and is like “bro shit I’m gonna cry” and he just runs off and has a mental breakdown somewhere (the others give boy plenty of hugs)

this is such a good prompt and i honestly might write another thing with it later. I had this idea half written in my drafts from MONTHS ago, and i’m sorry if its a bit odd or choppy I finished it in the waiting room of an urgent care lmao (the ao3 authors curse came for me) 🕺🕺🕺 BUT HERE YOU GO!! (542 words):

It had been a long couple days for all of them. Emotions were running high, stress was through the roof, but since Twilight’s miraculous recovery, things had been slowly calming down and going back to normal. After having stayed up all of the previous night, Time allowed Warriors to convince him to sleep for a few hours in the morning. The captain had promised to keep an eye on everyone, and with Twilight safely out of the danger zone, Time felt he could finally allow himself to rest. Besides, if anything happened, his brother would come wake him up.

After his short nap, the group had gone into the woods to test Twilight’s strength. He was doing well considering the severity of the wound, but the rancher was a bit disappointed in his lack of strength. Despite everything, everyone was doing well. This was the happiest he’d seen them all in months. Well, everyone except Warriors.

Time felt bad that he hadn’t noticed exactly when the captain had started acting weirdly, but over time they spent at the inn, it was becoming more and more apparent that something was wrong. He was snappier than usual, telling the others off for joking around when normally he would’ve been messing around right there with them, and standing much more rigidly. Gone was his relaxed posture, replaced by the clear physical signs of stress.

Legend and Hyrule teasing Sky for his bad stamina seemed to be the final straw.

“Stop it,” Warriors mumbled, shaking his head violently. Time looked to him in concern.

“Well maybe if you could run just a little bit faster,” Legend jabbed, teasing tone in his voice.

Sky opened his mouth to retort back, but the sound of Warriors’s knees hitting the floor cut him off. Time’s head snapped in the captain’s direction to find him curled in on himself, shaking with his hands over his ears. His head was tucked into his chest, only a few inches away from resting on the floor. Sky and Legend had gone completely silent, the only sound in the room was the captain’s ragged breathing.

“I can’t fucking do it anymore,” he wheezed, and Time carefully knelt down at his brother’s head.

“Hey, hey what’s wrong?” He asked softly, gesturing for the others to back up a little.

“I don’t even know,” Warriors cried, sitting up and looking at Time with wide eyes full of tears. “I don’t… I’ve been awake for too many hours and I… I’m just…?”

“Stressed?” Time suggested, and the captain just nodded, his legs sliding out from under him. He held out his arms and to his surprise, Warriors leaned up against him.

Twilight quickly joined them, wrapping his arms around both Warriors and Time, pressing his chest to the captain’s back. Everyone else quickly followed in as well, surrounding Wars in the middle of a hug pile.

“You deserve a nice long nap,” Wind told him from where he’d somehow squeezed himself right up next to Warriors. “You’ve done a lot for us, you can sleep now.”

“Yeah,” Wild nodded from the back of the group. “Stop worrying about all of us and take care of yourself.”

“We love you,” Sky told him from somewhere in the middle.

[cherryxblossxms]

Pay Attention

Sukuna x reader

: ̗̀➛ A/N: It’s about time I write something for the curse king. He’d be such a bully all the time, can’t get anything done when he’s in the mood to torture you, and I’d fall victim to it every time. This has been sitting in my drafts for a few months now, glad I got to finish it

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: fem afab reader, boyfriend!Sukuna, dubcon?? (reader is into it but no explicit consent given/dubiously given), fingering, pussy and ass spanking, edging, teensy bit of monsterfucking (extra mouth on Sukuna’s hand), oral (f and m receiving), face-fucking, pet names (princess, darling), slight degradation, Sukuna is just a straight up bully :(

: ̗̀➛ Word count: 2674

You’d put on your favorite movie. You were so excited when you saw it was airing on TV and begged your boyfriend Sukuna to cuddle with you and watch it together. Of course, he’d grimaced, he was never the movie-watching type and the movie you’d wanted to watch wasn’t as gorey and full of action as he normally liked. But he’d finally relented after a little begging, and although you should have been suspicious how easy it was to get him to accept, you were too happy to get the okay and were quick to get snacks and drinks together before settling down on the sofa.

You should have known better.

It was only about a half hour into the movie, and Sukuna already had you lying face down across his lap, your clothing still on but the crotch of both your shorts and panties tugged to the side to give him access to your slit. For now, he was rubbing slow, leisurely circles onto your clit with the pads of a few calloused fingers.

It wasn't exactly your idea, but watching anything with Sukuna was always an adventure. He had feigned interest at the start, giving you a little hope, but they were dashed before long, his long fingers creeping up onto your upper thigh, squeezing you gently as he started to nip and nuzzle at your shoulder and neck. You were always weak to the feel of his lips and the magic of his fingers, and now as he teased your body in the way only he could, this was no exception.

Sukuna loved nothing more than to take his time riling you up, and you did your best to pay attention to the movie instead. But just as you were finally letting the pleasure become background stimulation, Sukuna lifted his hand and lightly spanked your ass cheek, pulling a surprised yelp from you.

“Don’t lose focus, princess, I’m still here.”

You couldn’t help but look back at him with a glare and a pout. “You’re so unfair, I just wanted to watch my movie. Can’t this wait til afterwards?”

Sukuna only scoffed, and both his hands moved to tug the crotch of your shorts over and spread your lower lips open, making no attempt to hide his blatant stare at your core. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, you say that like your pussy isn’t drooling for me right now.” You knew he was right, feeling the cool air against your wet center, and you could feel your face burning even as his words only further turned you on.

You couldn’t help but gasp as he slid a finger into you without warning and immediately crooked it, making you twitch at the stimulation. He pumped his finger in and out for a moment before pulling out, taking a lick before bringing it up to your mouth next.

“Suck.”

His commanding tone always sent a tingle down your spine, and you complied, licking at his finger before wrapping your lips around it, tasting your own essence on him. You swirled your tongue around the digit suggestively and Sukuna grunted above you at your teasing. You could feel his hard cock twitching beneath your hip, and couldn’t help but think about wrapping your lips around that instead. But Sukuna was frustratingly good at keeping his composure, and he would let you know when he was ready to fuck your mouth.

He inserted a second finger into your mouth, then a third, and once they were sufficiently wet, he brought his fingers back down to your core and eased in two this time. You moaned softly, and your eyes couldn’t help but flutter closed in pleasure as he started pumping his fingers in and out again. Meanwhile, he used the thumb of his other hand to start rubbing at your clit again, and you squirmed slightly, feeling your climax already start to climb to the surface.

You gave in to the pleasure, the movie and everything else forgotten about as you focused on the feel of his thick fingers rubbing at your walls. But just as you started to feel your climax crest, he withdrew both hands. Before you could complain about the loss of stimulation, his hand came down to spank your pussy, making you cry out and whip your head around to look at him.

“What, you thought I was just going to let you cum?” Sukuna asked, a feral smirk on his face. “I don’t think so, princess. You gotta beg for it.”

Whenever he was in a mood like this, you felt like a prey in the jaws of a predator, yet you couldn’t help the way your body called for him, your pussy twitching and aching for his touch again, his fingers, his tongue, preferably his cock. Still, he drove you nuts when he played with you like this, and you weren’t willing to fold just yet. Besides, the sex was often more fulfilling if you made him chase what he wanted for a little while. And although he'd never admit it, it got Sukuna's blood pumping when you defied him, too.

“You’re such an ass,” you said, glaring at him for a moment before turning back to your movie, blatantly ignoring him. You heard him grunt again, and braced yourself for the inevitable punishment.

His hands gripped the sides of your shorts and panties and yanked them down your thighs to your knees, and his hand came down on your bare asscheek a couple times. He barely gave you time to recover before he inserted a couple fingers into your soaked pussy. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, and clung to the couch as Sukuna quickly pumped his fingers into you. He was no longer going for the slow and teasing route, and instead went for quick and dirty.

You could feel your pleasure quickly climbing again after the last denial. Your walls fluttered around Sukuna's fingers and, combined with the increasing volume of your moans and the wet squelching as his fingers pumped in and out of you, it told him exactly how close you were. Just as you began to reach the precipice, however, he stopped and withdrew his fingers again, leaving you to pant and whine at the lost pleasure. His hand came down to slap your pussy again, catching your sensitive clit, and you jolted against him, crying out softly.

"I can do this all night, baby. You're not cumming until you've begged for it." You could feel your hole contract around nothing at his words, eager to finally reach climax after all the edging. You knew his threat had merit, too. Sukuna had ridiculous stamina, and when he put his mind toward something, he wouldn't let up until he got what he wanted. Combine the two and you just knew he'd have no trouble edging you until dawn if he felt like it. But you weren’t willing to give in completely just yet.

"Sukuna, please…"

Sukuna only clicked his tongue, going back to rubbing your pussy with one hand. As he slid a finger back into you, he opened a mouth on the palm of his hand and a tongue darted out to lap at your clit. He watched a shiver make its way through your body at the sensation, a soft whimper escaping your lips, but you remained otherwise silent.

His cock twitched beneath you like crazy, aching to be inside you, but he wanted the sweet satisfaction of your bending to his will first. Something about you giving in, submitting to the pleasure only he can give you, feeds his ego immensely. Still, the smell of your arousal was driving him nuts and it was taking everything in him not to mount you right there. Of course it was just his luck to pick the most stubborn human possible.

“You know the words I want to hear, princess.” He could see your hips squirm as the tongue on his palm started to circle your clit.

“I’m not saying them,” you only grumbled, doing your best to ignore him in favor of the movie.

Sukuna growled beside you, gripping your asscheek with one hand, claws slightly digging into your flesh. His other hand came up to suddenly grip your hair, pulling your head back and making you tear your eyes away from the screen to look back at him. The cold look he gave you sent chills down your spine, but you also couldn’t ignore the sudden thumping in your cunt.

“Say the words.”

A moment of silence as you thought over your options, keeping eye contact with him. You swallowed, as best you could in the uncomfortable position he’d put you in. Finally…

“Make me.”

Something in Sukuna snapped then, and he ripped your shorts and panties off with a snarl, shredding the fabric with ease. You couldn’t help the loud yelp that left your mouth, but it was short lived as he pulled his legs out from under you, flipped you onto your back, and straddled your body backwards. Your mind was still trying to comprehend what had happened as you just barely noticed the sensation of his hot breath between your legs.

He roughly shoved down his pants and suddenly his cock hung above your face, an angry red color and pre-cum dripping from the head. Your mouth ached to taste him but knew you’d already pushed your luck. Your best option at this point was simply waiting for his order.

“Fine, I’ll make you say the words and then some. But you’re going to put your mouth to use first, or you’re not getting anything,” he said, the energy of a wild beast emanating from him. A hand reached down and he lowered his hips until the tip of his cock brushed against your lips.

Your tongue darted out of your mouth, licking the bead of pre-cum and tasting the musk and saltiness from him, before obeying and opening your lips further. You stretched your neck a bit to take him into your mouth, and upon him feeling you accept him, he sank a bit more of his length into you until he started to feel your throat. He gave you a moment, feeling you adjust yourself a little to get more comfortable, relieved to finally get some attention to his cock.

“Now get sucking, princess,” he ordered. Of course, you could only hum in acknowledgement with your mouth full, but once you did, he could feel your head bob on him as you tried to service him.

Now that you’d finally given in, he focused on your hot core beneath him. He could see your essence smeared across your lips and the inside of your upper thighs, evidence of how much this had all turned you on. He leaned forward and lapped once at your precious pearl, watching your hole clench in response, before attaching his lips and sucking lightly, enjoying the way your squirmed in response.

The angle made it difficult, but he swirled his tongue around your sensitive clit, and switched between sucking and licking. He could feel your muffled moans and whimpers around his cock, adding to his own pleasure, and he continued for a moment before slowly sliding a finger inside of you again. He eased in a second finger, then a third, working at a steady pace and loving the tight squeeze of your cunt. The hand on his palm opened again, and this time, he let the other tongue work on your clit.

He could instantly feel your cunt constrict, and your thighs squeezed together, perhaps in an attempt to lessen the stimulation. But your strength was no match for Sukuna’s, and he continued his onslaught until he felt the tell-tale signs of your impending orgasm again. He slowed his fingers and the tongue until he knew this amount of stimulation wouldn’t be enough to get you to cum and turned his head to look back at you.

You were still working hard, eyes squeezed tight as you tried to focus on delivering him pleasure back, and it was working. He could feel his own climax creeping up on him, and he wanted nothing more than to let it win and to cum down your throat. But not before you learned your lesson.

He suddenly sped up the pace of his fingers, and you jolted at the change.

“Feels like you’re gonna cum, princess, but you still haven’t said the magic words,” he said, taunting you.

You stopped sucking on him and pulled back in an attempt to retort, or maybe give in and say the words he was looking for, he couldn’t be sure, as the very moment you opened your mouth, he thrust forward, immediately making you gag around him at the sudden intrusion. He waited a moment for you to recover before withdrawing his fingers from your pussy and spanking it. Your hips jumped up in response, making him chuckle, knowing your orgasm was denied once again.

“Sorry, princess, what was that? I think you have something in your mouth,” he said, wishing he could see your face clearly right now. He could bet money that your eyes were rolling in your head at what he said, and part of him desperately wanted to see it.

Your reactions and rebellious nature always entertained him and today was no different. He loved to push you until you broke, loving the way you folded and let the beast have his way. But he also knew you enjoyed this, a dangerous game between you two, as you constantly taunted him and talked back like you did today. Your defiance just further edged him on, and he knew he could never let you go now.

This was just about the last of his rational thoughts as he unleashed the final bit of his restraint and let the beast within fully take over, eager to get this over with. He started to work his hips now, taking over your efforts and fucking your mouth. He knew it was a struggle for you to take him on your own terms, and he could feel the way your throat provided resistance against him. You two had long since developed non-verbal signals to warn or stop what he was doing when he let himself go wild, but as he continued, you showed no signs of using them, letting him speed up his thrusts.

Meanwhile, he slid his fingers back into your cunt and started to kitten lick at your clit again. He felt your walls flutter around him again, but this time, he kept his pace fast and steady, your excessive wetness making it easy for him to do. Even though you technically hadn’t said what he wanted to hear, his only thoughts now were cumming down your throat and feeling you cum around his fingers. The sooner that happened, the sooner he could be buried in your cunt to give you the real lesson.

It only took a few moments before he felt your contractions around his thrusting fingers, and your moans caused your throat to vibrate around him, pushing him to his climax as well. He groaned against you, shooting his seed into your accepting mouth, and continued thrusting on both ends a little bit longer before withdrawing.

Your body trembled beneath him, trying to catch your breath after that intense orgasm and now that his cock wasn’t in the way, and he rose up off of you from the couch. He helped you sit up and slotted his lips against yours, tasting the mixture of your essences, and almost purred at the way you melted into him.

“Not bad, darlin’. Good to know your mouth is good for something,” he murmured, and he couldn’t help but chuckle as he finally saw your eyes roll this time. But before you could turn your head away, he grasped your chin to make you look at him. “But I don’t remember saying you could cum.”

Comments and reblogs appreciated~

[hawkeyefierce]

Hi! My friend and I are getting into hockey and we’re kind of wondering what the vibe on Max Domi is?? I’m kind of seeing mixed messages about him so we were wondering why you like him so we can figure out what his deal is and if we should try to pay attention to him more on the leafs. Thanks!

hi anon!! just wanna say before i get going that i’m in love with this ask and you by extension for asking, and i’m sorry this took me so long!

now on to the propaganda (this is long i’m not sorry)

i’m obligated to preface this by saying i’m hugely biased as a Leafs fan who grew up in Southern Ontario. my dad has always been a pretty big Tie Domi fan, so liking Max just seemed like a natural continuation of that.

baby Max with Mats Sundin, then-captain of the Leafs. he’s just a little guy,,

born March 2nd, 1995, in Winnipeg, Manitoba, one month before Tie was traded (back) to the Leafs, Max spent his childhood in Mississauga, Ontario, roughly half an hour west of Toronto. at the age of 12, following some health complications at a hockey tournament in Detroit, blood work revealed that Max had type 1 diabetes and celiac disease. 

not the end of the world, clearly, but a pretty significant shock for a kid with aspirations of greatness. of course, he was able to manage it, with time, and when i finally read his book i’ll tell y’all more about it i promise.

these pictures make me emotional,, a couple of Domis, a couple of decades apart,,, except Max looks about 200% cuntier

anyway

scored a hatty in his OHL debut (slay). won consecutive OHL championships with the London Knights in 2012 and 2013 (double slay). selected 12th overall by the Phoenix (now Arizona) Coyotes, and signed a three year ELC (!). won gold with Team Canada at the 2015 WJC, and was named the tournament’s best forward (huge W). traded to the Montréal Canadiens in 2018, to the Columbus Blue Jackets in 2020, to the Carolina Hurricanes (via the Florida Panthers) at the trade deadline of March 31st 2022, to the Chicago Blackhawks in July of 2022, to the Dallas Stars in March 2023, and finally signed as a free agent to our beloved Toronto Maple Leafs on July 2nd 2023. he’s been on seven different NHL teams since he was drafted. 

sadly, as i’ve only been a hockey fan for one calendar year, i cannot provide much insight into his time with NHL teams other than the Leafs. i have ordered and am waiting for his book to come in so i can better rotate him in my mind, but i encourage anyone who knows more about his other teams’ lore to add to this post or send me what you know, so i can share it with the world. (pls i wanna know everything about him ever)

what i can say is that him and Mitch Marner were teammates on the London Knights for two seasons, (13-14 and 14-15), the second of which saw Max as captain and Mitch as an alternate captain. the season after, Mitch was named captain in Max’s stead. seeing them back together on the Leafs brings joy to my little London Knights heart.

now back to him as a Leaf. 

the current Leafs points leaders, as of December 30th, are as follows:

William Nylander - 48P (17G 31A)

Auston Matthews - 44P (29G 15A)

Mitch Marner - 38P (14G 24A)

John Tavares - 31P (11G 20A)

Morgan Rielly - 27P (4G 23A) 

Max Domi - 21P (3G 18A)

the first five of these are pretty much to be expected, but there’s my close good friend Max Domi right there too :) he’s doing his part, and even if he’s not the biggest scorer, assists are just as important and valuable :) if i have to kill y’all with positivity for this i will :) i love him dearly :)

also, he currently sits at 389 career points, and he’s nowhere near done, while Tie Domi earned 245 points in his entire career of 1020 games. nobody can say shit to me about him not living up to his dad’s legacy (Note: Tie also sits at third in NHL history for penalty minutes with 3515, but that’s a stat nobody will ever surpass. ever. the current PIM leader in the NHL is Corey Perry, and he only has 1392.)

and now i’m not about to sit here and pretend i know how to quantify the skills of an NHL player, let alone describe them in great detail. i do not. however, what i do know is that i love watching him play and make plays. in my eyes, he is a good player, and this is the Max Domi Propaganda Blog so if you want something less biased i can’t help you, sorry :’)

this love began in a preseason game against the Habs, on Oct 2nd. his first game as a Leaf in Toronto, he scores a tip-in against his former team, and he shrugs it off like NBD. for those of you who were following me at the time, you know i was not normal about it then and i am not normal about it now. i think about that celly every goddamn day. 

much to my great sorrow, they Leafed this game up and lost in OT 5-4. but either way, this was the moment that definitively kicked off the Rick eastoncowan Domishka era. 

and the only time Max ever seems to get a scoring chance, it’s either on a breakaway or from a spot that would have been absolutely NASTY if it went in. my mans only wants sexy goals, which is a stance i respect immensely. 

his first regular season goal… didn’t give him any points. it was beautiful, and a game winner, but since it happened in a shootout, it didn’t count towards his points totals. personally, i think this is bullshit, but now is neither the time nor the place for me to get into my issues with some of the NHL’s rules. (Nov 10, 2023, Flames @ Leafs)

Domishka bardownski SO winner,,, you were so beautiful and so unappreciated but i will never forget you </3

now.

Max’s first real goal as a Leaf.

for those of you who followed me at the time, you may recall this post:

a post that the Hockey Gods took to heart

and obviously i followed through. what do you think i am, some kind of quitter?

and, again, unfortunately, we Leafed that one up, too. we lost it in OT again, so still no Domi belt pic for Rick :(

now i’m not going to go back and gif all 18 of his assists, because i don’t think y’all care quite that much about Visual Proof of all of them. for your convenience, though, i did go back and track down whose goals he had assisted on, and the results aren’t super surprising IMO

Calle Järnkrok, Nick Robertson (assisted on 5 each)

Matthew Knies (assisted on 4)

William Nylander, Morgan Rielly, Mitch Marner, Timothy Liljegren (assisted on 1 each)

anyway, now for what is quite possibly my favourite game that i didn’t actually get to watch live.

December 16, 2023, Penguins @ Leafs, a decisive 7-0 victory.

it was also a 3 point night for Max, two of which helped to complete Matthew Knies’ Gordie Howe hat trick, the first since Daniel Winnik in 2015. but a goal and an assist are only two parts of it, the third being a fight. a fight which Knies initiated against John Ludvig after he knocked out yet another of Max’s front teeth with his stick. a fight which was Knies’ first ever. i’m still mad i didn’t see this happen live, but i’ve rewatched the game in its entirety twice, and the highlights too many times to count. this game sparked my undying love for the 23-11-16 line, which is a line i still pray keefe will bring back.

and so, we have a goal and a fight, and we have an assist to finish off the hat trick, and none of it would have happened without Max :)

and speaking of fights, Max has had a couple of em himself in his time as a Leaf so far. granted, if you ask hockeyfights dot com, he didn’t win either of them, but that’s not what matters. what matters is that he looked beautiful doing it, whether it was against Ian Cole (VAN) or Sam Bennett (FLA), especially with the fun added bonus of him flexing his full head of hair at Bennett’s bald dome. as an aside, i fucking hate Sam Bennett, so Max trying to fight him was… well it made me feel things. all i’m gonna say.

max’s third goal was also gorgeous. stunning. amazing. another beautiful bardown, the sound of which lives on in my dreams.

this is getting far longer than it really needs to be, so i’ll take a step back and give you my true, honest thoughts.

Max Domi has been a very helpful player for the Leafs since he got here. he obviously has the drive to play here and to play well here, and 21 points is nothing to be ashamed of. you know who else has 21 points as of me writing this? Alex Ovechkin. and now i’m not saying they are players of the same caliber, but Max is 6th on the Leafs in points, and Ovi is tied for first on the Caps. 21 points is still 21 points, no matter where in the standings someone is. Max was born to be a Leaf, and nothing makes me happier than to see him here and thriving on the team he’s loved since he was a kid. he takes shots, blocks shots, defends his boys and is defended right back in turn. 

and i would not be Rick eastoncowan if i didn’t mention that i think he is hot. like stupid hot. especially without his teeth. fuck, the heart wants what the heart wants, and damn if my heart doesn’t want this tiny toothless idiot. 

[minkkumaz]

YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO FEEL UNLOVED

there used to be so much love there, just two people completely infatuated with one another. you've been through so much with haemin, and you thought maybe he'd fight for your relationship. but even after all this hurt part of you still loved him.

PAIRING jung haemin x fem!reader WC 2.0k TAGS lovers to exes. angst. growing apart. asshole haemin. somewhat a timeline of denial to acceptance. miscommunication. OMI NOTE another little something for my @woonhakist because i love writing for her. except unlike prince sungho it's actually angst. sorry sungho ur getting booted out of this. this has been in my drafts for about a month but now i'm motivated to get it done for u hehe. i hope you like. ^_^ (inspired by just me by rin)

the skys were clouded with pillows of dark gray. it had been rainy recently, the smell of wet pavement becoming more distinguishable as it continued. you wanted to assume that maybe it was his fault. the reason behind why your days were always so dark.

it was common to fear the unknown. being innocently unaware of what was going on behind the scenes was slowly eating at your insides; making you feel as if you were the dead carcass of a street animal, being fed on by rats.

things were different recently, he was different. haemin was going out more than usual, a breath of fresh air in comparison to the introverted persona you were used to. despite your worries, he convince you that you didn’t need to know where he was all the time.

“i’m just hanging out with kyungmin and a few other friends. do you have to be so worried?” he groaned.

“it’s not like that, haem! i just got curious…”

shouldn’t you be glad? that feeling of relief knowing he was blooming into a person that could celebrate with others. it was growth, but not in the way you expected. more or less, he was growing into someone unrecognizable.

phone dials were met with an empty line. and even when he did answer, he ended the call with a simple ‘bye’ and not ‘i love you more.’

still, you loved him to the moon and back. every couple went through a rough patch, you understood that when you agreed to be with him. though it was difficult to convince yourself you were content with how things were playing out.

often you took long walks to distract yourself from the unread text messages. it was this time at noon that was most gloomy. your umbrella collected droplets of water, dripping down the side to barely avoid you.

you saw couples on the streets, holding hands happily. they took photos together and shared hot drinks with eachother to battle the slight cold. you envied them.

because in your head, that position seemed almost unreachable. he was so far away from you, farther than you could even realize. what used to be something special between your heart and his wasn’t recognizable.

that day, you stopped going on walks. everything reminded you of the boy that was falling out of love. you came home quickly, trying to outrun your own thoughts. the bronze plate with your apartment number came into view as you dug through your bag to get the keys.

fumbling with the lock for a second, you finally open up to your home. immediately your gaze lands on an extra pair of shoes by the door, making your heart skip a beat slightly. tugging off your own, you set down your umbrella in a corner to dry.

when walking farther into the house, you see haemin sitting comfortably on the couch. he looked busy on his cell phone, paying almost no mind to your presence.

“haem! i didn’t know you would be home, where were you?” you smile fondly, letting yourself sit next to him.

“oh. i was just out for a bit.” he barley acknowledged your existence, angling his phone slightly away from your view. you noticed this, but said nothing.

“did you have fun? it was pretty rainy out today so i hope you weren’t cold.”

“yeah, it was fine.”

“that’s good! did you eat while you were out? i can always make us something for dinner, though i do need to get some groceries–”

“are you done with your questions?” he said bitterly, setting down the device to look at you.

“i’m sorry haem, we just haven’t spoken in awhile and i wanted to see how your day was.” you said in a whisper.

“don’t be so clingy, y/n. we see eachother everyday.” he tells you.

“oh. you’re right, i don’t know why i was being so silly.”

“mhm.” he mumbles under his breath before getting up from his seat towards the bathroom. 

after the door shut behind him, the pit at the bottom of your stomach grew deeper. this wasn’t like him at all. the excitement that would underlie his stoic demeanor because all the love he had for you was overflowing disappeared. could you even call it love when you didn’t exactly know what it was?

every romantic word hes ever told you felt meaningless; what happened to ‘you’re so pretty, y/n. you’re so sweet?’

you could hear haemin’s muffled voice from down the hall, before movement of caps and containers echoed the bathroom walls. it sounded like he was on a call with somebody. he came out soon after, shaking the remaining drops of water off of his clean hands. 

“i’m going out.” he calls out to you before pulling his coat off the rack.

“wait! didn’t you just go out? i can go with you if you’d like!”

“no, i’ll be out late and i know you get agitated if you’re in public for too long.”

“can’t you just stay in for a little then? what about a movie night like we always used to have?” you rushed over to him, desperate to spend any sort of time together, “i just miss you haem..”

“did anything i say get into your head? you don’t need to so clingy, i’m just going out with a couple friends.”

“haemin…” you reached out to his hand, fingertips barely getting the chance to touch him before he was pulling away like you were the plague.

“god. i can’t do this anymore, y/n. i just want to live without you bothering me constantly!” he complains, sliding both of his shoes on forcefully.

“what is that supposed to mean?” you furrow your eyebrows worriedly.

“it means that i’m having a hard time pretending like i haven’t fallen out of love with you.” he sighs, “just give it a break, y/n. you knew were never going to last."

it felt like your world was collapsing around you. there was a confused look on his face as you stood there silently, trying not to cry. you wondered what it felt like to die, and if it felt anything like this.

they say your life flashes before your eyes, yet all that flashed was memories of what you and haemin used to be. you felt stupid to think that maybe it was salvageable, but the sorry truth hurt much more than this ill fantasy.

“but you promised me. you promised me that we would work through everything together, haem. was that a lie?” you choked.

“i wouldn’t make an empty promise like that, don’t twist my words.” he muttered.

“i’m not twisting anything! when you first confessed to me you said so many sweet things and promised to always–”

“i said give it up. that was almost a year ago, okay? you can’t expect me to keep a promise like that for so long.”

“are you serious right now haemin? after all that we’ve been through?” you uttered with a hurt tone.

“i cared about you, okay? but i can’t handle this anymore.”

“you’re my first boyfriend, i– i can’t let you go without at least talking first!” your words came out as a broken sob, but haemin only looked at you with disgust.

“and you were my worst.” he scoffed, “i can’t be with someone who isn’t mature enough to understand when i need time away.”

“but–”

“don’t even look at me right now, y/n.. i don’t want to hear you speak. i’ll come back and get my things later.” he leaves you with a bitter ending, before leaving out the door.

watching the love of your life leave you with no closure and not a second word was starting to physically pain you. you felt yourself drop to your knees as his sentences rung in your mind, stringing themselves into a sequence of utmost heartbreak.

cold hardwood floors comforted the red - hot heat that began to rise up your face like a wild fire. you were embarrassed of yourself, disappointed that you couldn’t grow enough for him to see you. see that you could change.

and while he was out with no doubt in his mind that he made the right decision, your world was shattering in the comfort of the home you used to share with him.

the only time he messaged you was him asking for you to pack up all of his stuff for an easier pickup. it was clear he didn’t want to see you anymore than he had to. would he see how mature you had become in the four hours he was gone if you obeyed him?

boxing up all of his things neatly, you stripped every memory the two of you ever shared together. your house feeling ever so empty from the lack of love, trapped in between cardboard walls. 

for what it was worth, you attempted to write a note to send off with him. however, your vision was too blurry with your tears, and you couldn’t keep them in. the smudged ink added for dramatic effect, but it was too much that it was impossible to read coherent words.

your head was scrambled everywhere, and for a second you thought he was right when he said you were immature. it felt like when you were back in highschool giving him silly love notes to hide in his backpack pocket. it reminded you of how he said that they were all still there, as he never bothered to clean them out.

why couldn’t things be the way that they used to? throwing away so much because there was a lack of communication. you wanted to see him, be with him. feel the pure touch of his lips sending shockwaves to your beating heart.

but since that day, you never saw him once. rushing to grab all of his things and get out of your life, barely escaping your desperate grasp. what was once a fond moment became a distant daydream.

you were so blinded by your infatuation for him, despite the fact he never thought of you like that. once again you failed to understand much.

and things only got harder from then on, your plush pillow absorbing your tears. the air in your room only grew heavier as time continued. 

at first days, then weeks, and months were going by that you gave him so much love from afar. a comfortable distance through your phone screen where he couldn’t spit such hurtful words to you again. it was difficult to bear with his selfish sense of care.

stalking him on social media didn’t get you anywhere really. he already moved on from you. though you were unsure whether your jealousy blossomed from the fact that she was beautiful, or that he moved on extremely fast. maybe it was both.

posts of his hand intertwined with hers, captioned with cheesy song lyrics that used to hold so much meaning to you. your music taste always tended to rub off on him. 

there were long paragraphs declaring how much she meant to him, and how she was such a breath of fresh air in comparison to his past relationships. these sacred words that used to be yours. and while you remembered what the two of you had together, he could only think of her.

still, you loved him.

but things got easier, even when you thought they wouldn’t. it took some time for you to realize that being alone was a lot easier on the heart. 

there was a big takeaway from this, being that the only thing he taught you what it was like to feel unloved. though everything that happened when things were okay, you’d never take for granted. 

the sky felt brighter, and you made your walks frequent again. you remembered thinking how dreary he’d make your days seem, but it felt like you were finally able to see the sun again. because throughout the multitude of stars in the galaxy, one always shone the brightest.

even when you were blinded by a haze, it was still there. maybe you were the star.

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[openheart12]

Remind Me Again

A/N: I was determined to get this done after it sitting in my drafts for over 2 years, it's been haunting me but it is finally done

Summary: A case in the Outer Banks takes a turn for the worse as you and the rest of the BAU go to investigate.

WC: 2,639

You let out a sigh when you heard the phone ring, knowing exactly who was going to be on the other side. You had worked so hard for the last few months to make this day extra special, you had planned the entire day out. Breakfast at his favorite diner, you were going to cook his favorite meal for lunch, a game of chess before dinner that was going to consist of his favorite Chinese food at his all time favorite restaurant. 

Too bad you can’t control when serial killers kill. 

“Y/L/N.” You answered reluctantly. 

“We have a case,” you hear Hotch say, which doesn’t surprise you. 

“I’m on my way. I’ll tell Spencer.”

“Thanks, I’m sorry it had to be today,” he apologized. 

“It’s fine, Hotch. We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.” You said before hanging up. You rolled onto your other side, facing Spencer. A strand of his hair had fallen on his forehead and you brushed it away, reveling in the last few minutes you had before absolutely needing to wake him. 

But he was a light sleeper and stirred when he felt your hand, a soft grin on his face. 

“Good morning,” he said in a hoarse voice, his morning voice was one of your favorite things about him. 

“Morning, birthday boy,” you replied with an even bigger grin. 

“No, don’t acknowledge it because then it might be true,” he pulled you into his side, placing a kiss on your temple. 

“What’s the matter, you don’t want to turn thirty four?” You teased slightly. 

“Shut up, you’re not that far behind me.” 

The two of you shared a laugh before you had to tell him. “Hotch called, we have a case.” 

You heard him groan. “Where are we headed?” He asked. 

“He didn’t say, but I told him we’d be there in fifteen minutes so we need to hurry.”

After getting dressed, grabbing a quick snack to eat, you were on the way to the BAU. You met the others in the conference room, Penelope was about to start briefing after seeing you and Spencer walking through 

the door. 

“Okay my fine furry friends, we have a case today in North Carolina. We have two bodies, one was found at the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse and the other one was found at the original location of the lighthouse.”

“Original location?” Derek asked, raising a brow. 

“In 1999, the Cape Hatteras Light Station, which consists of seven historic structures, was successfully relocated 2,900 feet from the spot on which it had stood since 1870. Because of the threat of shoreline erosion, the entire light station was safely moved to a new site where the historic buildings and cisterns were placed in spatial and elevational relationship to each other, exactly as they had been at the original site.” Spencer explained. 

“And you just know that off the top of your head?” Emily asked and everyone let out a laugh. 

“So what, we’re dealing with an unsub who knows a lot about lighthouses?” Derek asked again. 

“We can go over the case more on the jet, the Dare County Sheriff’s Office thinks this is the beginning of a spree killing. Wheels up in ten,” Hotch announced before making his way to his office while everyone else got their stuff together and headed to the plane. 

You took a seat next to Spencer, as you always did and Penelope came over the TV. “By the way, happy birthday Pretty Boy!” A chorus of ‘happy birthdays’ followed after that. 

When Hotch arrived, Garcia went into the victims. “They’re both women, both are of different races, but the one thing in common they have is that they’re both active feminists. They attend a group that meets every Tuesday night.” 

“How would he be able to kill both of them? He’s in the same area for about two hours and no eye witnesses?” Rossi asked. 

“He would have to be familiar with the area and the operating hours of the lighthouse,” you brought up. 

“Y/L/N and Reid head to the crime scenes when we land, JJ and Morgan go to the morgue, me, David, and Emily will go to the sheriff's office. We’ll call you when we land, Garcia.” 

“Be careful!” Penelope said before hanging up. The rest of the flight was spent reading over the files you had been sent. 

After landing in North Carolina, you and Spencer made your way towards the lighthouse. It wasn’t often that the two of you were paired together but when it did happen, you always tried to prove to Hotch that you two could work together and keep your personal lives separate from your professional ones. 

You met the deputies at the crime scene and walked through it to get a feeling of what had happened. 

“I’m SSA Y/L/N and this is Dr. Spencer Reid,” you introduced yourselves. “There’s only one way in and out. Did you go through the video cameras?” You asked one of the deputies. 

“There was no activity between the time of death of the victims. The first victim, Olivia Williams, arrived around eight o’clock and the second victim, Audrey Brown, arrived an hour later. The last person to leave was Grant Miller and his alibi checks out.”

“The unsub has to be familiar with the area like you said,” Spencer started, “he’s probably a native of North Carolina and grew up along the coast specifically along the Outer Banks or he’s lived here a long time. But how did he get in and out unseen?”

“There’s no way someone could’ve stayed behind in the lighthouse after closing? Or the museum?” You asked.

“No, security checks every night and does a thorough sweep of the property before leaving.” 

“What if he was on a boat?”

“The Outer Banks has been nicknamed the “Graveyard of the Atlantic” because of the treacherous waters and areas of numerous shipwrecks off the coast which is due to the coast’s shifting sands and inlets. It extends along the whole of the North Carolina coast, northward past Chicamacomico, Bodie Island, and Nags Head to Sandbridge Beach, and southward in curving arcs to the points at Cape Lookout and Cape Fear. The spot is known as Cape Point, which is the stretch of beach that divides the Hatteras Island’s north and south facing beaches. So if the unsubs escape was a boat, he would have to be knowledgeable about how to navigate the waters,” he finished. 

“What was the cause of death?” 

“As far as we can tell, it was a bullet through the head. But we found three shell cases at the lighthouse and two at the original location of the lighthouse, almost like he missed before hitting them.” 

“He’s either a bad shot or it was a ruse to scare the victims before killing them. Spence, you call Hotch and tell him about the boat and the shell casings. I’m going to go check out the original location down by the beach.” 

You headed down to where the second victim was shot. 

“Both victims were in their early twenties,” a crime scene investigator told you. 

“He’s bold for killing twice in the same spot on the same night. Only an hour between each murder. He killed Olivia at the lighthouse but he brought Audrey down here, why?” You asked out loud. Something about this case was already not adding up. 

Before anything else could be said, a deputy was running towards you. “Agent Y/L/N, there was another murder at Ocracoke Lighthouse. Female in her early twenties with a fatal shot to the head. Four shell casings were found this time.”  

You flagged down Spencer to come meet you and told him what the deputy just told you. “There are five lighthouses along the coast, two of which we have found bodies at. If he’s targeting lighthouses, you need to send people to the other three because if he’s going south, that leaves Cape Lookout.” Spencer explained to one of the deputies. 

“I’ll call Hotch and let him know. We need to get to Ocracoke now.” You pulled your phone as you and Spencer made your way towards the black SUV. “Hey Hotch, it’s me. There’s been another murder at another lighthouse so me and Reid are on our way there right now. It’s almost a two hour ride and we sent police to the other three lighthouses on the Outer Banks coast since those seem to be his targets. There’s twenty three lighthouses in the state.” 

“Thanks, Y/L/N. You and Reid head to Cape Lookout when you’re done just in case your assistance is needed. Morgan and Jareau are headed there now to meet you,” he replied. 

“Something about this case isn’t adding up,” you mused out loud. 

“I agree.” 

“It just feels… messy. He’s killed in a populated area, two victims around the same time, his escape is a boat, he leaves shell casings at the crime scenes.” 

“It doesn’t make sense so what if we’re dealing with a mentally ill unsub?” Spencer brought up. 

“But why target these women?” 

“Was the third victim also a feminist? I doubt she would drive almost two hours to the same group.” 

“They didn’t say, but what if feminism doesn’t have anything to do with it?”

“What do you mean?” Spencer asked. 

“What if the unsub has a strained relationship with a woman? Or was raised in an abusive household? That could explain why he’s targeting women that like to have their voices heard and are seen as strong and independent.” 

“It’s time to give the profile,” you announced. You called Garcia and had her patch you and Reid through to Hotch and the rest of the team at the precinct and also to Derek and JJ. 

“We’re looking for a white male in his late teens to early twenties. He is native to the coast and especially of the water since his getaway is by boat.” Hotch started off. 

“We also believe he grew up with a mother figure that was either abusive or withdrawn from him. This led to his hatred towards women, specifically strong and independent women.” Spencer continued. 

“He’s also suffering from a mental illness, one that I believe is Schizophrenia,” you added. You noticed Spencer’s change as soon as you said the word. 

“Schizophrenia?” You heard someone from the precinct ask. 

“The symptoms of Schizophrenia generally fall into three categories: psychotic symptoms, negative symptoms, and cognitive symptoms. Psychotic symptoms include altered perceptions, abnormal thinking, and odd behaviors. It’s also possible to lose a shared sense of reality and experience themselves and the world in a distorted way. Negative symptoms include loss of motivation, disinterest or lack of enjoyment in daily activities, social withdrawal, difficulty showing emotions and functionally normally. Cognitive symptoms include problems in attention, concentration, and memory,” you explained. 

“The unsub seems to be experiencing most of the symptoms; he misses the shot the first, second, and third time, he probably hallucinates that mother figure in his life before the murders take place, reduced speaking. He’s out of touch with all of his friends and they noticed the change in him so when we question family in friends, be sure to ask about behavior,” Emily added. 

“He’s been killing at the lighthouses with the most tourists, he’s already hit two of the five which leaves Cape Lookout, Bodie Island, and Currituck,” Rossi continued. 

“Which means we need to split up along the coast,” Hotch said. “Reid and Y/L/N will head to Cape Lookout, Morgan and Rossi will head to Bodie Island, and the rest of us will head to Currituck.” 

“We already have officers on sight at all of the lighthouses,” the sheriff announced. 

Everyone nodded and headed out to the black SUVs. You and Spencer had the longest drive ahead of you out of everyone else. Cape Lookout was located on the last island. Spencer insisted on driving, saying you needed to rest a bit and you couldn’t argue. You promised to drive on the way back so you could return the favor and he smiled at that. 

Because of the location of the lighthouse on the Cape Lookout National Seashore, you would have to take a ferry to get there. The sheriff department had called in advance, letting the ferry company know they were coming and to stop any further operations. 

Arriving at the lighthouse, you and Spencer went to check the area and meet up with the other deputies and officers. A shadow out of your peripheral caught your eye, but it immediately disappeared almost like it was never there. 

You remained cautious though, your FBI training kicking in. 

You quietly observed the area and Spencer noticed the change in your behavior. 

“Y/N, you okay,” he asked softly. 

“I saw something,” you said, lifting a finger in that direction. 

“It was probably nothing,” an officer replied to which he was met with a glare from Spencer. 

“What’s your name?” Spencer asked, taking a step closer to him. 

“Officer Smith,” he replied in a shaky voice. 

“Listen to me officer Smith, if my partner says she saw something, we… I,” he corrected, “take it very seriously.” 

During their conversation, you wandered down the path where you saw the shadow. It led to the beach where the breeze was picking up and the only sounds to hear were the waves crashing onto the shore. 

The sun had set a couple hours ago and you forgot your flashlight so you didn’t see the hole in the sand until it was too late. “Shit,” you whispered out loud, wincing at the burning feeling in your ankle. 

You attempted to check your injury when something cold and hard was pressed against your temple, the all too familiar feeling of a gun to be exact. You froze in your tracks, not even daring to breathe. 

“Don’t make a sound,” a deep voice commanded. He pulled you alongside them roughly and made you walk to the water where you could make out the shadow of a boat. 

You planted your feet firmly in the ground, stopping yourself from walking and taking him by surprise that they dropped the gun. “Spencer!” You yelled out, taking your chance. 

He clamped his hand over your mouth, dragging you towards the boat once more. You tried biting his hand, using your arms and legs to fight him off, but it was useless. 

“Down there!” You heard someone call as flashlights blinded you and soon the other officers surrounded you. You searched for Spencer, spotting him running towards everyone else, his curls bouncing as he ran. 

“Y/N…” he said with fear in his eyes. 

“Get back!” Your attacker yelled, pushing the gun further into your temple as you closed your eyes, a lone tear trickling down your cheek. 

“What’s your name?” Spencer asked calmly, taking his eyes off of you so he could focus. 

“If you want me, you’ll have to kill me,” the unsub called and before you knew what was happening, your vision went black. 

You awoke to the soft sound of machines filling the air and you felt a weight on your leg, opening your eyes, you saw Spencer with his head resting on your leg with his eyes closed. You smiled briefly at the sight, wincing at the pain in your side that became noticeable.

He woke up a moment later after feeling you stir. “Y/N,” he said softly, reaching up and cupping your face.

“Worst birthday party ever, huh?”

“It’s perfect now,” he replied, placing a kiss on your cheek. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

And it was true, any day he had with you was one that he wasn’t going to take for granted. 

[plantinghobbies]

Three: No Mirrors for Monsters

Guyyyyys, where has 7 months gone!?! Ok well I’m back at it and already writing chapter 5 and feel like I finally know where this little imagination thread is going with Matty and Tess. Thanks as always to @sycophanticsolipsism for being a champion through all of my 800 drafts of this thing and being the best beta, friend and muse. And to you for reading and letting me know what you think!

Growing Pains Masterlist

The walks had begun out of necessity, something to break up the monotonous hours between waking up and going to the bar most nights to help out. (It had actually been her therapist’s idea - “you time,” Janice had coined with a smirk, already familiar with the eye roll she’d be on the receiving end of. “Not everything has to have a purpose Tess, sometimes it’s good to just be.) B(e) - as in boredom. Which is exactly what she’d been drowning in since she moved a few months ago. Walking was boring but at least it had a - she hates how months working with Janice has made purpose feel like a four-letter word - point. 

She hadn’t felt this way in fifteen years, that itchy feeling like an electric current in her limbs, making it feel physically impossible to sit still (a doctor once told her that it was ADHD, that she could get tested, but Tess caught a big case and by the time she surfaced back in New York after the deal went through, the woman had moved her practice upstate). 

When Tess was twelve, she’d bribed Darby Scantlon’s idiot brother to let her ride along with him to UNC Asheville twice a week to sit in on his classes. It had taken months of saving up her babysitting money to cover the extortionist fee he “required” for gas (read: beer money) as well as the fake ID from the stoners he tipped her off to who hung out behind the local high school. But she was determined, bored out of her skull in her classroom and starry-eyed at the UNC pamphlet she’d picked up promising her challenging experiences with cutting-edge learning. She’d told her teachers she was missing class to go to therapy, told her mom she had joined an aeronautics club after school and told Darby she’d never speak to her again if she uttered a word. It took almost two months before she was found out, when her mother ran into Principal Stewart at the grocery store and remarked how much Tess was enjoying learning about space. All hell broke loose after that - nobody in the town soon forgot when her mother charged into the movie theater Mrs. Scantlon worked at hollering about her son kidnapping Tess. Darby didn’t talk to her for a month.

But it was worth it. Because when the professor of the class she’d been squatting in found out that his best student (based on grades, the professor had 212 students and had never actually met Tess) was actually a twelve year old, he’d called Tess’s parents and convinced them to let her stay in the class and take more (when he called the first time, it was 6:30 and her mother had scolded him for interrupting dinner and hung up. Thankfully, he waited an hour and called back). The turning point in her life and she couldn’t even remember the teacher’s name, her young mind discarding it long ago. 

What she could remember was everything else about that night, from the congealed Mac and cheese she was pushing around her plate and the humming melody of cicadas that drifted in with the breeze through the kitchen window. The shrill ring of the phone had surprised them all and her mother clutched her hand to her chest as she went to answer it (even years after the cordless phone became cheap and commonplace, her parents held on to the corded wall unit. So I can monitor your brothers, her mother had said). Her ears had perked up at the mention of her professor’s name, then her whole body had deflated at the quick trill of the phone as her mother dropped the receiver back down. When her dad had asked why the professor was bothering to call back (“I thought we were done with all that talk of extra schoolin?”), her mom had shrugged and slid the cloth napkin back into her lap with a breezy “Well, no harm in hearing what he has to say.” 

Fifteen years later, Tess wonders if that was actually true. 

“Sooo, do you live around here?” Oh shit, she’d forgotten about him. The guy from the lawn that she’d been playing some weird game of chicken with for the last several days. Tess feels awkward suddenly, like when you flirt with someone across a crowded bar, just some harmless fun while you wait for your drink, and then he makes a beeline right toward you. She enjoyed chasing after something but didn’t really know what to do when she caught it. 

“Uhm” The leash pinches her fingers as she hauls Dale back from lunging at a squirrel. She hisses, switching her grip and shaking them out under his watchful eye. “I’m staying a few blocks over.”

“Staying?” He’s cute, scrunching his nose up as if he literally smells something fishy. “Huh. I thought for sure you were a local. I thought you seemed a bit familiar at the bar.”

“Well, technically I am. I’m from about an hour from here.” They’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk, Dale’s nose pressed firmly to the backside of another dog, sniffing in greeting. For a moment, Tess is reminded of how often that nose is nuzzled against her own face, then thinks better of it. “But I’m in town for a little while.”

“Me too. Well, the here for a bit part of what you said at least.” They continue their walk, Tess charting a path from memory and this man seemingly content to follow alongside her. She can see his curious side-eye. He’s clearly a talker. “Umm, what brings you back?”

Tess doesn’t take her eyes off the pavement in front of her. She’s not sure what to say. (It’s nice meeting someone who doesn’t already know - seems like everyone else does.) How much time do you have random stranger?! Where would she even start? ‘Ok, so my Mom’ - Nope, not going there. ‘And my Dad’ - yea, way too soon. ‘Well, I’m 28 and I’ve got no idea what the fuck I’m doing’. Not something she’s going to divulge to a handsome stranger. She settles for something close to the truth. “Family stuff.”

That’s about all she wants to say on the topic so she changes it. “What about you? Your accent sort of gives away the not being from here so…”

“Me?” Tattoos peak out on both arms as he flexes around a subtle stretch. The devil’s brand, her grandmother used to call tats but Tess has always found them oddly enticing. That someone could feel so sure about something that they wanted it forever. Tess has never felt that way about anything. 

“Yea, what brings you to Asheville?” 

“Oh, um….work.” It’s a boring answer which probably means it’s a boring job. She doesn’t ask more, unable to feign interest in asinine topics before she’s had at least two cups of coffee. And even then she’d only ever made it about ten minutes (and that was to close a $3 billion client).

The rest of their walk is done in relative silence, a feeling which Tess doesn’t mind but her companion seems to be less familiar with. There seems to be a million things on the tip of his tongue, his mouth opening frequently before he shakes his head and closes it. It’s not often that Tess finds herself attracted to someone and she’d like a little more time to analyze it, understand why his perfect curls draw her in when others don’t, why her fingers itch to trace his tattoos. Just as she’s wondering if she can snap a picture without him knowing, they’ve reached her house. There’s a split second when she considers whether she should keep walking on so he doesn’t know her address (healthy paranoia in her mind, a product of too much Dateline if you ask the rest of her family) but there’s something about him that makes her feel comfortable, familiar. (That’s just how people described Ted Bundy, you fool! A small voice in her head shrieks). 

Dale stops, already knowing they’re home, and Tess thumbs toward her house, signaling the end of their walk. Before she can wave goodbye, he asks if he can join again tomorrow. She pauses midway through her gate, turning and looking back at him, and recognizes the pacing, the drumming of his hands along her fence, the flickering of his eyes. His body - like hers - seemingly unable to inhabit one space, shifting foot to foot. Taking pity on him, she agrees.

“I’m Matty by the way.” He extends his hand, a large callous running along the side of his index finger. She likes the way his accent clips the t’s in his name. 

She shields her eyes with her left hand as she meets his right. “Tess.”

______________________________________________________________

When Jack said he and Margaret were finally making the move out of New York for somewhere quieter, Matty had figured they were going to New Jersey. He’d had a hard time picturing the Southern town Jack described - “it’s small but not small small you know?” He hadn’t, but now he thinks he gets it. Big enough you don’t have to leave for essentials, small enough that eventually everyone knows you.

Which Matty finds out in a rather mortifying way. 

He’s not sure why he’s been avoiding telling Tess about his… job - life? - fame? (Ugh he hates the sound of that) - about him. It’s not like he’s on a predator registry or wanted for some heinous crime. Or that he has the kind of fame that will bring a disruption to their daily routine. (Media interest - social or otherwise - has significantly died down since the band went on break, fans turning their sites to other interests feeding them with newer content. Matty tries to ignore the fear that creeps in at that thought, that people are losing interest in the band, in him). But he’s enjoying the anonymity, the ability to interact with her without wondering what she’s read about him on the internet. It’s been a long time since he’s interacted with someone as just Matty, and never as 35-year-old version of himself trying to claw his way into adulthood. 

For all his ego, he’d like to get some credit for the fact that it never crossed his mind that she already knew. It finally comes up after the older lady who runs the local coffee shop they’ve been frequenting says ‘bye Matty’ despite them never meeting. He’s a little surprised that the first person to recognize him is not a coed from the local university but a retiree, he thought he knew his demographic a little better. 

“So, I guess that was weird” he holds the door for Tess and she walks ahead, unleashing Dale from the tree he’s been resting under. “Ehm, I should probably tell you - well, it” he clears his throat, unsure suddenly how to talk about this without sounding like a self-involved dickhead “it….may happen, - like I don’t think that much but just -“

“Huh?” She’s looking at him sideways and honestly, that’s a fair response, he’s not making much sense. 

When she finally catches on to what he’s trying to say, she barks out a laugh so loud it startles the dog, who crouches into a fighting position in response. After she collects herself (“Wait, oh my god, do you think -“ Mrs. Markovitch?! A diehard fan?! Oh god, I might pee my pants”), she tells him to get over himself. “Everyone knows everyone around here. These people only watch Jeopardy, the Macy’s Day Parade, and sports. You aren’t famous enough to have penetrated their radar.” Well, he’d felt like a twat and she hadn’t let him live it down, taking the piss out of him every time someone called him by name from then on (“Oh they probably read your latest spread in Pitchfork down at the senior center”). He’d been happy to learn that she knew and didn’t care (“You kind of stick out, honestly. It wasn’t that hard to find you.”), that this mountain that he had built up between them had turned out to be a molehill. It had been a long time since he’d spent time with someone who wasn’t at all tied to his work in some way.  Or who could be counted on to cut his ego off at the knees. Outside of Jack, he hadn’t felt that intimacy with anyone since tour ended. It further intoxicated him - he’d always been a sucker for a woman who could put him in his place. He wouldn’t delude himself that he was immune to her other charms either - her wit, her laughter, her fucking beauty - he was a man after all. He thinks he can sense the same in her, a love of this cat and mouse game between them. They’ve begun to flirt a little more flagrantly - there’d been a moment the other day with a shared fork at breakfast that made him feel like a teenager again - but nothing that couldn’t be explained away between friends. Matty craved more - more jokes and references and intimacy to collect just between them. More ties to her. 

He doesn’t have to wait long for retaliation material, spotting Tess later that week while passing a fitness studio on a smoke break from the studio. Although, she’s kind of hard to miss, dancing around and flailing her arms. He can’t hear the music but can tell instantly that she’s off beat, struggling to keep rhythm with the others. Twirling, squatting, tripping over her feet. She’s a mess - and he can’t look away. But instead of embarrassment at her clear lack of coordination, his mind is flooded with images of dancing with her, trying to teach her. Them dancing in her kitchen, him guiding her hips as they sway, her grinding those hips against him as he leans down to brush his lips against hers. 

A car horn snaps him out of his daydream. He’s aware of what he must look like, can see the headlines now – Hard-Up Healy Turned Peeping Tom. But Matty lingers just a little longer than is polite, eyes darting around hoping to catch hers. Just as he resigns himself to snapping a stealthy pic to take the piss out of her with later, she spots him. A cheshire cat grin breaks out on his face as a look of horror passes over hers. The accompanying thumbs up is unnecessary - but he’s a little shit, what can he say. Tess levels him with a death glare that would have been truly breathtaking if it hadn’t been interrupted by her abrupt collision with the woman next to her, the poor victim grasping Tess’s shoulders to try to help her get back on tempo. He caught the “fuck off” she mouthed at him before he turned and strode away, cackling loudly. 

______________________________________________________________

“Oh my God, that song was proper awful.”

“Fuck off, it’s incredible! I lost my virginity to that song…”

The words are thrown over her shoulder as they navigate her front steps, moving slowly under the weight of their haul from the farmer’s market. Matty almost misses a step at this reveal.

“Oooh sexy, give me the deets” A laugh bubbles up unbidden at the valley girl affect in his voice.

Dale almost tips her over as she roots around in her pocket for her keys. Once inside, she dumps the bags on the kitchen counter, unpacking a random assortment of veggies. 

“No way, I’m not trading sex stories with a rockstar.” Matty grabs plates for their breakfast sandwiches as she settles on the couch, thumbing through the local paper to the crossword puzzle, pulling it out and handing him the rest. Reading up on the local drama had become a guilty pleasure of his.

She knew he wouldn’t drop it, he was like a dog with a bone and no sense of boundaries - his drug addiction, his band, his family, and now his sex life all openly discussed. She had lifelong friends she knew less about than him. And listen, she wasn’t a prude, talking about sex didn’t bother her - except talking about her first time meant talking about school and that meant talking about -

“Claire Murphy when we were fourteen in her parents’ basement. Decidedly not-rockstar. Now spill.” 

She didn’t need to know who Matty was when she first met him to know he was “somebody”. He had an air about him, like he’d never met a room he wasn’t comfortable in. Tess knew the type - cocky, attention-seeking, monied. No thank you, she assumed. It’s why she’d bailed out at the bar, dodged him after. She had been glad to be wrong, glad to find out that while he was all the above, it was oddly endearing instead of asshole-ish. But comparison was a thief that visited her often. It was bad enough when she was comparing herself to her coworker’s dogwalker – it’s why she’d gotten off social media. But juxtaposing her life with a fucking rich rockstar?! She didn’t need that kind of ammo.

And yet, it seemed unavoidable right now. “OK, nevermind, I’ll just ask your brother at the bar tonight.” Fuck it, if he’s going to find out anyway, might as well be from her. Her friends don’t understand why it’s such a big deal for her to tell new people (“Tess, you’re a genius not an axe murderer”) but she prefers when people don’t know. Before the deluge of questions - ‘wait, what’s your IQ? Could you even live in the dorms at 15? Did you get fucking laid in law school being that young?’ That last one had only been asked once and Ben had almost ended up in the city jail for decking the guy. All these questions asked by people who were either surprised that she - Tess, really? - was that smart or were just interested in the salacious goings on of a 15-year-old on a college campus (gross). When that subsides, when she’s answered all the questions and reviewed the timeline of her life over and over, they still look at her different. New friends feel inferior, prospective boyfriends feel threatened. It’d been more of a problem in the isolation of New York, here she had her family and old friends and hadn’t bothered to try to make any new ones. 

Tess plays with the remains of her breakfast sandwich to distract from the uncertainty of how to spill her mess out in front of him. “Fourteen too, my high school’s football field, freshman year of college.” 

Cue the confused look, this scene playing out exactly the way that every other had - Tess playing herself, Matty now cast in the role of the potential love interest (she was far from immune from his charms). “Wait, I thought the American system was…”

Time for Tess’s monologue, the scary uncertain times of her life now scripted down to a tight thirty seconds - college classes at twelve led to an accelerated learning program (the first of it’s kind at her school), finished high school at fourteen, Harvard grad at seventeen (“Yes that Harvard, Matty, please just let me get this out”), law school til 21, firm job until left at 27, ending up right back where she started, helping her brother run his bar while she figures out what’s next. 

There were a few things she’d left out, she needed it to sound cleaner, more deliberate, than it actually was. To stick the landing when in reality it felt like she’d stumbled right off the mat. Because as much as she wished she was a woman who could own her mistakes in the face of someone she was interested in - ok, she fucking really likes him - she’s just not that enlightened yet. She’s still the chicken-shit scared girl who lost her virginity to the first boy who treated her even halfway normal on her first trip home from Boston for semester break. 

Matty’s eyes track her, Tess can feel the weight of them, but she can’t bring hers to meet his. It feels like what he says next could make or break her happiness right now, frail as it is. He’s a bright spot for her, whether she admits it or not. Pathetic. 

The smack of his hands on his knees startles her but it’s a familiar sound. She’s seen this film before - he’ll pat his knees and talk about how impressive she is, how lucky anyone would be to know her, but he just remembered he’s got somewhere to be and -  “Well, THAT explains a lot.” 

His exaggerated voice is entirely for her benefit, that much is obvious. What isn’t is where he’s going with this. “Huh?” For all her IQ, that’s the most she can muster.

“Why you make such a shit drink. I knew it was nepotism but I figured if you’d been a lifelong bartender you at least would have….”

“Oh shut the fuck up” she grabs a pillow and smashes it against his head, a little giddy with the way this was not going as she expected. 

He catches the pillow and pins it between them on the couch, along with her hands momentarily, and then his arms pulled back as if he’d been stung. She picks up her plate again to channel the energy that’s suddenly coursing through her. 

He’s eyeing the leftovers now as she pinches the bread crust between her fingers. She offers it for him to take, still can’t figure out what the fuck to say or where to go from here. He shovels it into his mouth, licking his fingers with a muffled thank you. A smear of aioli lines the corner of his lip, taunting her. Every salacious thought she’d had about him over the last few weeks dripped into her brain all at once. Which is the only explanation she has for what she does next. With a steadiness she certainly didn’t feel, she reaches up, dragging the pad of her finger across his Cupid’s bow before popping it in her own mouth, licking off the remnants of sauce. 

Matty’s sharp inhale brings her back to herself. Good going Tess. He’d stuck around through the weird college stories just for you to run him off by being a complete creep. But there’s no mistaking the look on his face. If he hightails it in the other direction now, she’ll at least be comforted that while he may think she is a total creep, she’s a total creep that he’s at least somewhat attracted to. Their gazes remain locked for what feels like forever - her trembling hand suspended in the air, his eyes flitting across her face as if he can’t pick one thing to focus on. Is it her imagination or is he leaning toward her? Oh god! 

Dale’s bark at a distant siren jolts her from her thoughts. They break eye contact, and she feels a pang of disappointment at the lost opportunity. So close. He clears his throat. “Well, in terms of interesting childhoods, I still think I have you beat.” She laughs harder than the joke warrants, grateful to him for steering them through the visceral tension in the room.” I’m serious! Let me show you!”

Her laugh rings off the kitchen walls as he reaches for his phone, already pulling up Google. 

______________________________________________________________

Matty has to fly to New York to meet with a session musician that Jack loves, their baby due any day and them unable to travel. The night he gets back, she texts him that she’s TBD for the morning walk. Apparently, Dale is vomiting all over the place and she can’t leave him. The disappointment is palpable, he’d been looking forward to seeing her more than he’d realized. Rumpled from jet lag and hours of flying, he crawls into bed and catches up on sleep and tv. 

When he doesn’t hear from her at sunrise, his curiosity is peaked. He’d probably call it borderline worried if that didn’t sound so loaded, serious. They’d texted a few times while he was gone, inane messages of adult life - she took in his mail, he had a package, she threatened to post the contents on Instagram if he didn’t bring her back Magnolia bread pudding. But they weren’t quite at call each other - hell, it seems these days (he knows how he sounds) that the bar for ringing someone was strictly reserved for emergencies and your mum. But worry overwhelms his awkwardness. The low din of background noise is his first clue that something isn’t right, that she’s not home. Her voice is frazzled as she tells him she and Dale are at the emergency vet. Apparently, Dale had gotten worse, he’d been having trouble staying upright.

“I panicked” she admits, though it sounds to him like it was the right call. 

She says she’s fine and that she’ll keep him posted. He spends about a half an hour putting about the house - debating if it would be weird to show up there. He thinks about Dale - such a sweet thing, so eager and trusting of everyone and everything he encountered. He thinks of her, how much he knows she loves that dog, how attached they are, how she seems unwilling to bother anyone in her life until she absolutely needs to. It’s that image, of her alone, that has him grabbing his keys. If he’s not going to be able to focus on anything else, might as well go where his mind is already, patience never his strong suit.

She seems unsure of what to do with him when he appears in the waiting room, and Matty wonders if he shouldn’t have come. When he’d walked through the door with coffee, he didn’t miss the way her eyebrows shot to her hairline. It had clearly caught her off guard. For a moment he has a horrifying thought - well, a series of them that all flow from a fear that he’s misread everything up to now, the flirting, the intimacy, the well everything. That she’s not  alone here as he assumed, that any second shes going to introduce him to her hot boyfriend, some doctor or contractor or someone equally capable, a quality that Matty is deeply aware he’s never been called a day in his life. And they are both going to stare at him, wondering what it is that he - scattered, untrained, ordinary Matty - thought he could do in this crisis situation. But  nobody appears and she gestures to the empty space next to her. 

Sliding a chair over to sit next to her, he finds himself at a loss for what to say. The muscles in her arms are tense as she grips the sides of the chair she’s sitting on, leg bouncing, eyes darting to the doors leading to the back area every time it opens. Anxiety is rolling off of her in waves so strong he swears he can feel them, he’s unsure how to be around her right now.  Is she someone who appreciates a laugh when she’s stressed? Would she snap at him if he said something trite.

In the end, its his curiosity that gets the best of him. “Do they know what’s wrong?”

“Umm” Her voice is hoarse with misuse and suppressed emotion when she goes to speak, clears her throat, and tries again. “They are pretty sure he ate something but they don’t know-.”

“Like what…” he begins but her sharp look cuts him off. 

“I don’t know what! Clearly if I did, we wouldn’t be in this situation, ok?” Even though he knows the rebuke is empty, driven by fear and misunderstanding, his hackles still go up at the sharpness in her tone. He was just asking. 

Silence stretches between them, punctuated by a sigh as she turns his way. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just exhausted. He and I were out yesterday at my Dad’s so maybe… but I don’t know - I’m so careful…” 

Her words trail off as she goes back to staring at the door, as if willing Dale to come through it. Matty can’t do anything for her and he doesn’t like feeling useless, unproductive. The urge to flee is strong, this was a mistake. He resolves to stay a few minutes longer, so that she doesn’t think that he’s leaving because she was short with him. 

Just as he’s about to get up and make his exit, with some lame excuse about studio time, a young woman in a white coat appears and calls Tess’s name. A soft, trembling hand - the first time he’s held it, but he pushes that thought to the back of his mind for later - grasps his as the vet makes her way over. Finally, something to do, however small. 

The vet’s face doesn’t give anything away and in the short time before she gets to them, it dawns on Matty that the news may not be good. When he’d decided to come here, he was picturing her throwing herself at him out of relief and gratitude that he was there and with an update that Dale was already better. Selfish – the word ricochets across his mind. He hadn’t really stopped to ponder that it could be bad news. Or the worst. Should he really be the person there when she found out her dog died?! Did they have that kind of relationship? 

Before he can overthink it – well, overthink it any more than he already has – the vet is in front of them. “Here for Dale?” Dr. Sheldon, according to her badge, smiles and Tess’s grip relaxes just a little bit. So does his own. Surely, a smile is a good sign.

“Well, umm, he clearly ingested something but he’s stable” Matty squeezes Tess’s hand, cautiously optimistic. “He’s a fighter. And a real charmer, got the ladies eating right out of his paw.”

Matty has to physically hold back an eye roll. Is this really the time for jokes?

“We’re going to keep him overnight for observation but if things continue to improve, he should be able to go home tomorrow.” At those words, Tess sags against him in relief, as if the anxiety had been keeping her upright. Caught off guard, Matty’s fingers slip over her waste, pulling her to him to steady her. Smiling and accepting her impromptu hug of gratitude, the doctor mentions that someone will be out with some paperwork before turning to leave. 

Sagging back into their chairs, Matty notices a single tear rolling down her face. On instinct, he brings his hand up to her cheek, just barely grazing it as he catches the tear with his index finger and swipes it away. Their knees brush as she shifts in front of him and her gaze locks with his for a split second before she’s glancing away toward the front desk.

“Thanks for being here” she says finally, her green eyes - so unlike his own - glistening back at him. Not for the first time he’s struck by how beautiful she is - Jesus Healy not the time! And definitely not the place. While the couple of days in New York definitely clarified his interest in her - strong enough that he’d ignored a booty call from a regular hookup while there - but he still felt conflicted about fucking up his only friendship in town. (Don’t shit where you eat the sound engineer at the studio had said the other day and while a vile image, it was effective). The album had been moving at a weird place and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be here - could be weeks, could be months.

“Don’t mention it.” A sudden feeling of foolishness washes over him, embarrassment that he made such a big deal out of this by coming down here when Dale is going to be just fine. This feels like he’s put his heart on his sleeve in a way he didn’t intend to. Not even her friends came, and here he is rushing down to her like he’s got a claim to. 

But then he’s driving her home (“my hands are too shaky”) and heating up soup and sitting on the floor in front of the couch watching a movie because the house had seemed too quiet to her. 

And then just as she’s losing the battle with sleep, cocooned in Dale’s favorite blanket, she whispers “I’m glad you were there today…” 

It’s a sucker punch, all the air pushed from his chest and replaced with a flush of warmth that spreads to the tips of his fingers, his toes, into his goddamn hair follicles. Fuck. 

“Me too…”