#maybe they go have breakfast with him early in the morning when it's easier to bypass everyone else

[bunny-jpeg]

retired!price needed a mission. he had been in the military since the day he could enlist, he was molded by the structure of it all. early riser and late evenings, whisky and cigars. the feeling of a gun in his hands was second nature. debriefings and helicopter rides. that was his life, that was what he was good at. one mission after another, even when his body wanted to quit, he mentally couldn't.

now, at the age of forty-seven, he was retired. he had no mission, no objective. it made him almost pace around his flat. that was until you moved in next door.

you gave price purpose, even if you didn't mean to. there was something about you that captivated him. you pulled him in like a siren's song. price could imagine himself curled up next to you in the evenings, listening to your quiet breathing as you fell asleep. breakfast in the mornings and dinner in the evenings. falling asleep in front of the television. the problem was, you were painfully younger than him. still an adult. you had just graduated university, but still younger than him. that and you had a boyfriend. price couldn't care to remember his name, he had to go. now.

price hated seeing his hands all over you. your boyfriend, it felt so juvenile for a woman as amazing as you. you needed a man, not a boy. price thought you shouldn't be waiting around for him to finish (fail) med school. you needed a real man, someone who'll provide. and price could provide for you in spades. "does the boyfriend help with any of the finances?" price asked as he helped you bring your groceries inside one afternoon. you looked at him with a curious expression and replied, "no." and price just smiled as he patted you on the shoulder, "well, he isn't much of a man then? if he can't take care of his girl." the smile was friendly and it slowly coaxed you into his arms. but not before price took care of your boyfriend. he remembered when you came to his apartment in tears because they found a body near the river. wrapped in plastic and with no suspects in custody, price lingered when the police talked to you. and then reassured you when the police left.

after that price knew that he had to take better care of you. you were hurting, you needed price. so while you were out, price let himself in and got to work. it wasn't hard to replicate your key, he had swiped the spare from the bowl by the door when he came to visit you one day, only for the key to returned the next afternoon. a few cameras installed around the apartment to keep you safe. this was about your safety. price couldn't have you getting hurt, not when your boyfriend went and got himself killed! (you worried his killer was still out there). "do you ever feel like someone's watching?" you asked over morning tea before you went to work. price was leaned back on the couch enjoying his own cup with his other hand on your thigh. price replied, "sometimes, but it might be anxiety overactin' in your brain. maybe you need to take a vacation." "hmm, maybe." price liked his mission now, to protect you. keep you safe from whatever or whoever killed your boyfriend. did he have mob connections, were you in danger? it was alright, price could protect you. but it would be hard to when he lived so far away from you. why don't you move in? it wasn't like he was using the spare bedroom. but the spare bedroom wasn't used for long, soon you found comfort in price's bed. you had become a little more paranoid, there were still no leads on your boyfriend's murder case, but price was a comforting presence.

even his smell managed to calm your mind. you often wore an article of his clothing out to feel protected. it was even better when those clothes were on the hefty, strong, hairy body of your friend. price preferred the term husband when referring to him. but you'd get there eventually. it was easier to catch a wife with honey than vinegar, so he'd let you play those cute games. the will they-won't they as if price hadn't killed your boyfriend to get with you. you were made for him, every atom in your being was meant for price. you were his mission! his sanity! he needed to keep you safe, so don't blame him when he slipped an air tag in your work bag and another in your weekend purse. he always knew where you were, you just thought it was luck when he perfectly had dinner ready for as soon as you came home. the home cooked meals made you much more agreeable with price. the savoury sauces, meats and vegetables. all to add a little more fat to your hips, price liked his women soft. easy to take care of but with enough chub to carry a healthy baby. he knew your hips were wide and your chest was big. you had the body of a goddess that price yearned to worship. to fuck.

so while, price had never believed in god. rather he believed that it was better to stay out of religion given what he had done in his past. but when his worn, calloused hands gripped your soft hips and sank himself into your pussy. it was heaven. the skies opened up and the angels sang their choir. price already imagined the ring on your finger and the baby at your hips. out of this flat and into a bigger home outside the city. price would provide, as he always did. when his cock nudged against your gummy walls, it only egged his fantasy on further. your pathetic boyfriend didn't know what he had, but price did. so that was why your boyfriend had to get out of the picture. price knew every inch of skin better than he did. he knew every curve and mole. the scar on your side from an childhood accident to your stretchmarks at your hips. a divine being was what you were and when price fucked you it was a religious experience. your moans were music to price's ears and you made him yearn for you more. it was a taste of heaven that would drive a mortal man insane. his hairy stomach up against you as he fucked you with heavy strokes. he was so much bigger compared to you. he could bruise you, crush you, if he so desired. but the only bruising would be at your cervix, but don't worry price will soften the pain with his cum. the bed creaked under the both of you. he made promises that the would kill you safe from anything that could harm you. he was a man, not a boy, exactly what you needed. he'll take care of everything, just keep loving him. being with him. and you, with squeaky moans, promised that you'd love him. that made something in price's bed click and he fucked you without much hold-back. when he finished inside of you, he planted a kiss on your lips, a passion that would only be matched when you got married.

"my baby girl." he said softly as he rubbed your back afterwards.

price found that your anxiety lessened as time went by. planning a wedding with a baby on the way kept your brain occupied. there was nothing to worry about, love. no one would hurt a hair on your head. price's mission would forever be you. you and the babies. a proper price family. just don't look in his safe. you might not like what you find. in particular the pistol with the missing bullet. <3

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now | 2 |

in which readers true feelings are revealed.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings/tags: angst again (whoops) miscommunication (it’s short dw) fluff, reader is hungover lol, spencer is handsomely disheveled (moans) mentions of blueberry muffins being readers favourite type of muffin (sorry for not being vague but also if you don’t like blueberry muffins??? why) some tears, some swearing, some kissing, suggestiveness at the end of you squint (WHOOPS *evil smirk*) no use of y/n!! wc: 2.1k a/n: call me slim shady because i am back!!! i procrastinated writing this because i was scared everyone was secretly judging my writing and actually hated it and a second part would be a stupid idea but THEN i realised that was a little bit silly so im here B) part one got over 1000 notes (INSANE) all the support has been so so lovely—every note, reblog, and comment means the world to me, thank you!! i hope this part is okayy, feedback is always appreciated :) i hope you enjoy it you choose to read!!! <3 p.s kissing scenes are so difficult to write, i think i done absolutely awful!!!so let’s ignore that…. if you haven’t already and you’d like to, you can read part one here!

Your eyelids twitched as the early morning sun filtered through your bedroom. What was usually a calming wake-up call now felt like being blinded.

You burrowed your face into your pillow, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to dull the throbbing in your head. This is why you didn’t drink often.

Asides from the obvious headache and nausea, you always seemed to wake up with a sense of dread; ‘hangxiety’—a friend had called it once. It was creeping up on you now, and even though you weren’t sure exactly what you had done, you knew it was bad. You flipped onto your back, fixing your gaze to the ceiling as if it could tell you what irreparable mistakes you had made last night.

It couldn’t, of course. The only thing you had realised is that you should probably coat it in a new layer of paint soon.

“How’re you feeling?”

You shot up, eyes widening at the sight of a man in your doorway. A man whose sleepy voice and disheveled hair threatened to make you melt, but a man who should not be in your doorway, nonetheless; Spencer.

Your brain was quick to supply you with information then, your memory coming back in hazy remnants. You were upset so you…called Spencer for the first time in months. Yikes. He didn’t answer so you turned to a bottle of high end whiskey instead—yikes, again—and passed out on your couch, only to wake up to your ex-boyfriend in your apartment. Cue more sobbing, a pathetic attempt at asking—no, more like begging—him to get back together with you, and that was it. Well, mostly. There was also the promise of discussing your breakdown in the morning. The morning, which was now.

What the fuck.

“Like I’ve been napalmed.” You weren’t sure you were just referring to your raging hangover.

That prompted a raspy kind of chuckle from him and Jesus Christ—you really shouldn’t have called, because it was going to be infinitely harder to watch him leave when he inevitably told you you were sad loser who needed to get a grip and move on—except, he’d be a lot nicer than that, wouldn’t he? Because even if things were over between you, he was still the sweetest person you had ever met and he’d never say anything to intentionally hurt you. Maybe things would be easier if he did. If he wasn’t so sickeningly perfect—if he just insulted you in the way you were certain you deserved, then maybe you’d get over him quicker.

“So, I-ah-uber’d breakfast—“

Your inner turmoil came to a screeching halt at those words.

“You uber’d? You?”

He scoffed, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“The team’s been very into it lately and I always finish my paperwork first so it only makes sense that I—stop laughing! I can uber!”

“Sorry! I just can’t imagine the great Doctor Reid stooping to the levels of a fast food delivery app. Do you ever order to the wrong place?”

“No.” he said, unconvincingly. “Well, only once—“

You were laughing again.

He whined, turning on his heel.

“Just take your aspirin and hurry up!” He grumbled petulantly as he left the room, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

After a quick freshen up and taking the pills placed on your bedside table—as per his request—you padded through to the living room, joining Spencer on the couch.

You gasped delightedly as he pulled out muffins from a brown paper bag. To be more specific, blueberry muffins; your favourite.

“Did you know that blueberries are good for fighting hangovers? They’re rich in vitamin C, which helps break down and metabolise blood alcohol. Muffins too, they—what? Do I have something on my face—“

“No! No, sorry,” You had been caught staring—ogling, more like. “I just missed…that.”

“What? My incessant rambling?” He was joking, but you could hear the insecure twinge in his voice—the one that told him he was too much. Over the course of your relationship, you had showed him that he didn’t have to think like that around you—that he was never too much; he was perfect in your eyes. You hated that he doubted that now.

“Yes, actually.” You tried to keep your tone light, unserious. But there was nothing unserious about just how badly you had missed the man sitting beside you. How you could hear his voice in your mind when you drove late at night, giving you statistics on accidents. Or how on other late nights, you swore you could feel his hands ghosting over your skin—only to find out it was your imagination.

If he could see how truthful you were being, he didn’t acknowledge it, turning his attention back to the coffee table.

“I’ll, um, save you the facts on how beneficial coffee is for hangovers, anyway.” He smiled awkwardly, shuffling a paper coffee cup to where your muffin sat.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, “for the coffee, not the withholding of information—i’m a real fiend for coffee facts…especially when they’re related to curing hangovers!” You said a little too cheerily, trying to alleviate the awkward tension. Although, that only seemed to make it worse.

Spencer just huffed out a little laugh in response, taking the wrapper off of his muffin.

The rest of breakfast went by in silence. Not the comfortable silence you always seemed to have with Spencer—when you were together, you reminded yourself—but a strained one. The kind of silence that occurs when there’s something left unsaid, and you’re just waiting for someone to spit it out.

Spencer broke first.

“So we should probably talk…about last night.”

You finished the remainder of your coffee, setting the empty cup down before turning your whole body to Spencer, tucking your legs up underneath you.

“Right, yeah…”

A beat passed, Spencer’s eyes darting around your face—assessing you.

For someone who had imagined this conversation in your mind countless times, you certainly weren’t saying much.

“I—uh…was very drunk.”

Something in him shifted, like he was putting up imaginary walls.

“So you didn’t mean…any of it?” His brow furrowed, his nose twitching slightly.

“Well no, but I—“ You what? Meant every word you said and more? You couldn’t just say that. You had just got a small part of Spencer back and you didn’t want to ruin it by coming on too strong.

He waited for you to add something, anything, to show him that maybe, maybe there was a tiny part of you that still wanted him as badly as he wanted you. But you didn’t. You just sat there, playing with the fabric of your—his—t-shirt.

He couldn’t do it.

He was so tired of loving people only for them to leave like he had meant nothing to them. Was that all he was to you? Someone you could call when your inhibitions were lowered, looking for comfort? He would do anything to be back in your life again, but he couldn’t be a person of convenience; someone you only wanted when you were lonely.

He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing down the tightness in his throat.

“You were drunk and you got carried away, I get it. I think I better go though—“

“What? No, I—“ You bobbed your mouth like a fish, trying to find the words necessary to keep him here. There were too many of them and yet none at all. None except for three. Three words that you wished you had the courage to say months ago, or weeks ago, or last night. But you never claimed to be a courageous person, and you weren’t about to spill your heart out again only for it to end up in rejection.

Spencer stood, making his way to your bedroom to grab his shoes and coat. He didn’t care about his other clothes, he could buy more—he just needed out before he broke.

You sat dumbfounded on the couch, willing yourself to do something, say something. It was like you were frozen. And you stayed frozen. As Spencer shuffled around your bedroom, as he returned to the living room—completely avoiding your gaze—even as he searched for his keys. You hadn’t realised he had driven over here. He didn’t usually drive unless he had to get somewhere urgently. Were you someone worth seeing urgently to him?

He picked up his keys, heading for your door and only then did you realise how dire the situation was. If he left now you weren’t sure he would ever come back.

“No—wait, Spencer!” You stammered, lunging off the couch to try and stop him. He unlocked the door, moving to leave when you grabbed onto his jacket sleeve.

“Please don’t—I love you!”

“What?”

He turned to face you and you noticed just how wrecked he looked—not at all dissimilar from how you had for the last few months. Had he looked like that the whole time?

You must’ve been staring because when you came back to your senses he was calling your name exasperatedly.

“Do you mean it?”

You were fed up living like this; harbouring so much love for someone and not being able to express it. Even if he didn’t love you back, even if he was over you, you couldn’t go another moment without at least telling him how you felt.

“Yes,” you heaved, “I love you—I never stopped loving you, I was just…” You knitted your brows together, unsure how to phrase what you were feeling.

“I’ve never loved someone the way I love you and that’s…terrifying. I thought the way I felt was wrong, like—when you were on cases, I missed you so much, more than I thought humanely possible and—well, I never wanted to be the kind of girl to base her happiness on another person because that’s how you get hurt. So, I thought the only way to combat that was by…distancing myself. I thought if you weren’t in my life anymore then I’d be able to get a grip and become more independent—“ you huffed, trying to stop the wobble of your voice. “but it didn’t work, because then I was just missing you twice as much, except I couldn’t see you at all—“

“You could’ve answered my messages, we could’ve—“

“So you could return your key? Then things would actually be over. Why do you think I ignored your messages?”

“Why do you think I kept messaging? Angel, I was never going to return that key—at least not willingly—I just wanted to see you, to see if you were doing just as horribly without me as I was without you. You know, I couldn’t even focus on cases—Hotch even suggested I take some time off.”

You frowned, your voice impossibly small. “I’m sorry.”

He took a step toward you, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“Don’t apologise, you were dealing with your emotions in the best way you knew how. I just wish…” he swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I wish I hadn’t let you go so easily.”

His eyes were shining and—God, you wished you could take it all back. All the pain you had caused him, caused yourself, just because you were too scared to talk about your feelings.

“I wish I hadn’t left.” You blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y’know, I read a book on astrophysics because it reminded me of you. I didn’t understand any of it but I couldn’t put it down. I still—“ you let out a watery chuckle. “still have it in my bedroom somewhere.”

Spencer smiled, swiping under your eye at a tear that must’ve escaped.

“Yeah? Maybe I can read it to you—help you understand it.”

“I’d like that.”

You didn't know much about celestial bodies or the ultimate fate of the universe, but you could've sworn you'd seen the stars pictured in that book in Spencer’s eyes when he looked at you.

“Say it again.” He mumbled, tilting his head down so that your faces were just inches apart.

“I love you.”

And then his lips were on yours, impossibly soft and everything you had been missing since you had broken up. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed and all you could do was sigh into him because you knew the feeling.

He leaned back all too soon, resting his forehead against yours.

“Well, I should probably go—“ He smirked, but you cut him off before he could continue his teasing.

“You’re not funny.”

He narrowed his eyes, sucking his teeth.

“I don’t know, I—“

You pressed a firm hand on his chest, bunching the cotton of his t-shirt into a fist.

“Stop. Stay—we can have a pyjama day and maybe for dinner, you can show me just how tech savvy you’ve become and uber us some food—“

He rolled his eyes, kicking the door shut before pressing his lips to yours with more force this time.

“Stop talking.”

[jinnie-ret]

9th member reader passing out on stage during tour because theyve been pushing themselves hard for the tour. forgetting to eat sometimes, pushing themselves in the gym, pushing themselves during practice (not in a punishing themselves way just a getting caught up in the work and not realising how harsh theyre being on themselves way). it all just gets too much during a concert and they just drop, maybe one of the boys catch her before she can hit the floor too hard. the boys beating themselves up a bit for not noticing how hard they were pushing themselves.

don't push yourself

stray kids x ninth member!reader (platonic)

genre: angst, fluff

content warnings: reader not taking care of herself

word count: 2.1k

summary: you thought you were doing the right thing for yourself, but it was only a matter of time before your habits became unhealthy, and the boys didn't even notice until it was too late.

Here it is! I hope you enjoy it! :))

Asks are currently shut!

But let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist and reblog if you enjoyed! <3

MAIN MASTERLIST

With an early rise, there was bound to be a fall at some point.

Whether that was into your bed, when you finally returned back to the dorms from a late night practice; on the sofa of Chan's studio; or to the stage floor of the concert you were rehearsing for.

But we'll get to that later.

The boys hadn't noticed at the start what you had been doing to yourself. You were being more strict with your diet, going to the gym every morning with Changbin, and staying longer at practice. They just saw it as you being their fellow determined member who was trying to improve your health.

And yes, you were seeing improvements, quickly, in fact. But it wasn't healthy. Not that you knew that.

"You should have seen her! She lifted 70kg today!" Changbin boasted with pride, arm wrapped around your shoulders as you both returned from the gym.

Han and Hyunjin had been eating breakfast in the kitchen upon your arrival, so it was the perfect audience for Changbin to show you off to. Chan was probably already at the studio.

"70kg?! I think you can lift more than me now... I can't even lift a spoon," Han laughs.

"Our Han is so squishy," Hyunjin said in an over the top voice and started poking his stomach and arms.

"Yah! Yah!" Han laughed loudly as he shoved Hyunjin away, all four of you laughing.

"Come on, Y/Nnie, show us those muscles of yours," Hyunjin made grabby hands towards your arms, so in return you tensed.

"Woah, your muscles are so big now!" Han's eyes widened.

"Yes I'm secretly training to beat you all up," you did your best to tiredly joke.

"Not much of a secret, plus, you could never beat me," Changbin smirked, ruffling your hair as he went to take a shower.

"Wanna test that theory?" you called after him, pretending to march along the same path he took to his room.

It was easier then, to joke around and act like everything was normal, because you were yet to spiral.

"Y/Nnie? What are you doing here?" Jeongin questioned confused as you walked into the apartment he shared with Seungmin, Felix and Lee Know. You must have not only grabbed the wrong key, but walked back from JYP to the wrong apartment.

"Huh? Innie? Oh, I must have gone to the wrong place," you mumble tiredly, putting your bag down nonetheless.

"You look exhausted... it's 1am! What are you doing up?" Jeongin stood up to analyse your tired figure, one that had also changed from you becoming stricter in yourself.

"I just came back from practising... what are you still doing up?" you looked up at the maknae, poking his cheek lazily.

"From practice? At this time? I was just watching some show on TV," he shrugged, tugging you to sit down next to him.

"What's going on?" a sleepy Felix rubbed his eyes as he entered the lounge, jumping back slightly when he noticed you were there.

"I'm not that scary looking am I, Lixie?" you managed to tease, your head rested against Jeongin's shoulder.

"No! No... I was just shocked to see you're here, why aren't you at the other apartment, did you have an argument?" Felix joined you on the sofa, stealing some of the blanket you and Jeongin had.

"She's so tired she came back to the wrong place," Jeongin laughed, rubbing your head.

"Wah! Y/N you're the first to do that out of us all!" Felix giggled.

"Shouldn't have given me a spare key," you yawned as you stretched your arms, wincing when you did so.

"I'm glad we did by the looks of it, did you push yourself?" Felix brushed some hair out of your face after seeing your pained expression.

"No, no, it's nothing like that..." you trailed off.

"Then what is it?" Jeongin began, "if you didn't push yourself then what is it? Did you not get any sleep last night?"

"I guess so..." you complied with his theories in aid of not having to reveal what you had really been doing.

Surely this wasn't a bad thing though? The concern in their voices was beginning to make you feel differently but you know you were only doing this to better yourself.

"Ah you need to be more careful," Felix tsked, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

"You can't burrito me to death," you tried to fight against the Aussie that was currently swaddling you.

"Oh, but I can."

Another night, you were back at your apartment (the right one) and were currently cooking yourself dinner as everyone else had already eaten. With a pyjama vest and shorts on, it was weird to think how you hadn't noticed the bruises that painted your muscles.

"Ah you're awake now, wait, what happened?" Chan entered the kitchen, happy to see you were awake but alarmed at the sight of your arms.

"Huh? What do you mean?" you questioned as you chopped some veggies.

"Your arms, they've got bruises, lots of them, what happened? Did someone do this to you?" Chan interrogated you all of a sudden.

"What?! No!" you glanced down at your arms and sighed, no wonder they ached so much. "I've just been working out a lot more."

"This looks like a hell of a lot more, you sure you're taking it easy? I mean, I know you go to the gym with Changbin now but that doesn't mean you have to try and match him," Chan sighed, unable to take his eyes off of the purple marks on you.

"Hey, my eyes are up here," you laughed, nudging Chan.

"Y/N..." he sighed, not in the mood for joking around when he could see that you were hurt.

"Chan, it's fine. My body just probably isn't used to it yet, but look, I'm sticking to a good plan, I've got veggies and chicken breast in so I'm getting in my gains like a proper gym bro," you laugh.

"Well, I'm glad to see you're at least eating, just, take it easy, yeah?" he smiled then, patting your back as he returned to presumably his room.

You thought your mind was getting stronger, but your body was getting weaker. Practising had taken priority over your eating.

"Let's go one more time," Lee Know instructed everyone, watching the moves of his members with sharp eyes at the mirror as he danced at the front.

And to your disdain, you stumbled.

"Shit," you put a hand to your forehead, feeling disappointed in yourself.

"Our Y/Nnie can't keep on her own two feet," Lee Know teased, but upon seeing that your expression didn't change at his light-hearted joke, he came over to you.

"Hey, it's ok, I was just kidding," he tried to bend slightly to look into your eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I just, wanna get it right, you know?" you sighed.

"I've seen you perform this dance amazingly multiple times, don't be so harsh on yourself," he nodded at you before returning to the front of the mirror.

But how could you not be harsh on yourself when everything needed to be perfect?

"Woah, I'm impressed, I've never seen you got a note like that!" Seungmin applauded you on one of your duo vlives.

Fans flooded the comments spamming hearts and mentioning how impressed they also were at you, being a rapper of the group, hitting high notes.

"I've been practising," you waved him off, hiding your face shyly

"Yeah, with who? Ailee sunbaenim?!" he tried to peek at your hoodie covered face.

"Woah you can't compare me to Ailee sunbaenim!" you laughed at him.

You continued to sing together, yet at the end you were getting breathless. And so, after the vlive ended, Seungmin couldn't help but bring it up.

"You sounded pretty breathless at the end..."

"I know, I know, I need to do better," you sighed.

"No it's not that! I'm just a bit worried about you..." he brushed off your doubts.

"Why? I'm fine," you shrugged him off.

"Ok, whatever you say, just take care of yourself, yeah?" he allowed you to brush away his doubts the same way he did to yours, as you both left the company.

And so this cycle of constantly trying to go past the boundaries of your limits continued. All the way into your second concert of your Maniac World Tour.

It had all been going so well. Everyone was on an adrenaline rush and loving the crowd's support. Apart from you. Your body was slowly but surely bound to shut down eventually, you just wished it didn't happen with your stays so happy, because you knew as soon as you hit the floor, you would have taken that away.

"Y/Nnie!!!" screamed the fans as your body slumped and didn't get back up.

The members instantly turned to where you had been performing. It hadn't even been a high energy choreo, because this time, you were simply moving around the stage to interact more with the fans.

You would have scolded yourself if you had a single coherent thought in your exhausted state.

"Somebody help!" Chan worriedly waved over some staff from backstage as they lifted you off.

"Please excuse us stays, everything will be ok, we will be back with you in a moment," Lee Know hurriedly tried to calm the crowd of tearful stays before rushing after his fellow members who surrounded you.

"Come on, Y/N, wake up," Hyunjin patted your face, trying to help you come back to reality.

"Hmmm," you groaned, a pounding feeling in your head.

"Oh thank God!" Han sighed in relief, hand on his quickly beating heart.

"What happened?" you mumbled tiredly as you were sat up by two staff members who fanned you and handed you some water with a straw to sip from.

"You just collapsed out there!" Felix said with wide eyes.

"Oh," you simply said, not wanting to confront what could have happened to you.

"Oh? Just, oh? Y/N, what happened out there?" Chan sternly said from next to you, squeezing your hand to offer reassurance despite his strict demeanor.

"I don't know... One second I was talking to the fans and the next..."

"You... you haven't been taking care of yourself have you?" Hyunjin burst out with his question, unable to hold back his words no longer.

"I have, I've been going to the gym, I've been practising hard-" you began, before you were cut off.

"How didn't I realise?" Changbin pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Realise what, hyung?" Seungmin asked curiously.

"Y/N, please tell me you've been eating and not living off of those energy drinks I see you have every morning," Changbin crouched down in front of you, begging that he was wrong in thinking that.

"Yeah, I ate dinner, umm, it was when, ummm," you stumbled on your words, unable to remember the last time you ate a proper meal.

And that is when you felt like you failed. You had been doing so well but you couldn't even stick to your plan.

"You can't even remember when you last ate?" Lee Know looked around at the concerned gazes of his other members.

"I'm sorry I don't know why, I... I just wanted to do better," you bit your lip, trying to hold back your tears.

"There are so many better ways to go about it Y/Nnie," Jeongin sighed, rubbing your knee soothingly.

"I'm sorry we didn't notice," Felix said regretfully.

"No, no, please don't apologise, this is on me," you mentally kicked yourself.

"How long, Y/N?" Chan insisted on your response.

"Maybe... 2 months?" you wondered out loud.

They all gasped and shared different responses at your answer.

"Y/Nnie that's not good for you, no wonder you were seeming more tired..." Hyunjin looked away.

"I'm sorry, I really am, I never wanted to worry you all," you apologised sadly, and that is when some stray tears fell delicately down your cheeks.

"We will always worry, you're part of our team," Seungmin bluntly said, yet you could still see the compassion behind his eyes.

"Don't push yourself so hard next time, yeah? Let us know next time and we can help you figure out a way to do this more healthily, just talk to us next time, yeah?" Chan wiped your tears away as Changbin wrapped you in a hug you didn't realise you needed so badly.

"I promise," you whispered, yet everyone heard it amongst the sounds of the crowd, and if they didn't, they still felt the words hanging in the air, a vow that next time, you would take care of yourself, and that they'd always be there to take care of you too.

tagged: @skz-streamer @han-jiquokka @hannahhbahng @backintomykpopphaseagain @sakufilms @kiraisastay

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Taking care of his girls (part 2)

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader (y/n)

Warnings: none really..a bit intimate but not much and some spanish from google translate..

Part 1 here

y/n's pov

The next morning I got up feeling much better because this was the first time in the last 5 days that I slept throughout the whole night. Bea didn't wake up once during the night but slept peacefully between me and Carlos.

She looked so cute with her shaggy morning hair and chubby little cheeks. She was sleeping all the way on Carlos' side almost pushing him off the bed. I love mornings like this when all three of us are in bed together and when we start the day off with cuddling in Carlos' arms. Nothing can compare to that feeling.

I decided to sneak out of bed and let them both sleep so they could rest as I made my way to the kitchen to make myself some coffee and breakfast for all of us.

After taking a sip of coffee from the cup, I took the eggs out of the fridge and cracked them into a bowl. Just as I started mixing them I felt a pair of hands on my waist and a soft kiss on my cheek.

"Buenos dias, mi amor." Carlos says with his raspy morning voice pulling me into his naked chest.

"Morning baby" I turn around to face him giving him a peck on the lips.

"Why are you up so early?"

"I wanted to make you some breakfast as a thank you for taking care of Bea the past two nights and letting me sleep."

"You never need to thank me for that. That's my duty." He says tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I love how protective he is of Bea and me.

Carlos has been exposed to the media all his life and has long been used to it, but that wasn't the case with me. I've always been a very private person and it was very hard for me to adjust to the pressure of the public when we first started dating. Cameras everywhere, reporters, countless questions, it was all very new to me and it all made me very anxious.

When I started going to the races with him, he always held my hand tightly in his grip, always asking if I was okay, always making sure the press didn't bother me and with all that it was much easier for me to get used to the new world I stepped into with him. Over time I got used to it all, but his protective side never diminished.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"Yes, much better. I'm not at 100% yet, but I will be soon." I assure him not to worry.

"Tal vez necesitas que papi te ayude a llegar ahí?" He asks biting my lower lip and lifting me up making me sit on the kitchen counter. Maybe you need daddy to help you get there?

"That would be nice." I smirk wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Ah, sí?" His hands start making their way up my thighs and his lips move to my neck.

"Mhm" I groan softly enjoying the feeling. Lately we don't have time for each other nor our needs so the feeling of desire for him increases day by day.

"I missed you so much. I couldn't wait to get home to you." Every word he says causes an immense feeling of warmth to spread through my body so I pull him with my legs closer to me roaming his naked back with my hands.

"I need you so bad Carlos.."

"Me tienes amor, soy sólo tuyo. " You have me love, I'm only yours.

Just as he was about to pull down my pyjama shorts, a loud cry is heard coming from our bedroom.

"No.." I squeal pressing my thighs together. Carlos sighs smiling as he leans his forehead against mine for a moment.

"I'll go get her." He lifts my chin with his finger and gives me a kiss before heading to our bedroom to check on Bea. "Ya voy bebe" I'm coming baby

Later that day we got ready and decided to visit Carlos' parents. Although we don't see each other very often due to work and other commitments we do have a great relationship with them. We are very close and they love spending time with their only granddaughter.

"Y quien es ese? Mi único y mayor tesoro!" Carlos' dad said kneeling down, his eyes lit up as Bea shyly ran into his arms. And who is that? My only and biggest treasure!

"Mi cielo. Te recuperaste?" Reyes asks joining the hug. My darling. Did you recover?

"She's better, still coughing a bit but it's all good now." I say.

"And you my dear? You should've told us you were sick, I would've come to help you with her!"

"It's okay, I didn't want you to get sick too. As soon as she saw Carlos she immediately got better." I say making everyone laugh sweetly.

The rest of the day was spent with the boys and Bea playing with Piñon and me helping Reyes with dinner in the kitchen. We chatted about various things, including whether Carlos and I were planning to have more children soon, which totally caught me off guard.

"Well, I don't know, we haven't really talked about it yet. Right now all our attention is focused on Bea because she is a rather demanding child." I chuckle looking over at her bossing Piñon around.

"I'm sure she would love to be a big sister! She would quickly get used to it." Reyes says.

"Oh I don't know, she's quite a lot to handle let me tell you that-"

"Bea va a ser hermana mayor? Vamos a tener otro nieto?" Suddenly Carlos's dad joins the conversation, all excited even though he misunderstood everything. Bea is going to be a big sister? We're going to have another grandchild?

I'm standing there blushing because I don't know what to say to one or the other because people obviously immensely want another grandchild. I start stuttering and smiling awkwardly, searching with my gaze for Carlos. He notices that something is happening, so he soon comes to us with Bea in his arms.

"No no no! Y/n no está embarazada, solo le pregunté si hablaban de tener más hijos!" Reyes starts explaining to him, waving her hands annoyed that he misunderstood everything. No no no. Y/n is not pregnant, I just asked her if they were talking about having more children.

Carlos still has no idea what we're talking about so he just stands there all confused listening carefully, but struggling to understand us.

"Amo a mi nieta más en el mundo, pero quiero al menos un nieto más. No sé a qué estás esperando? Carlos? Qué te detiene?" I love my granddaughter the most in the world, but I want at least one more grandchild. I don't know what you're waiting for? Carlos? What's stopping you?

When Carlos finally connected the dots, he burst out laughing at his father's demands and assumptions that something's stopping him from getting me pregnant again.

"Papá, lo único que me detiene es que Bea no nos deja estar sin ella. Cuando estés listo para cuidarla durante un día entero, tendrás otro nieto." Dad, the only thing stopping me is that Bea won't let us be without her. When you're ready to babysit her for a whole day, you'll have another grandchild.

"Carlos!" I gasp at his words slightly hitting his arm.

"Estoy listo para cuidarla!" Carlos' dad proudly says as everyone laughs and I cover my red face with my hands. I'm ready for babysitting her!

"Everything is fine love, we'll just pick up where we left off this morning." He whispers quietly pulling me into a hug.

[grimm-writings]

rainfall

…ft! dazai, chuuya, fyodor x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, some hurt/comfort on dazai’s, headcanon format, rainy day off with the boys!

…wc! 308 ; 369 ; 345 = 1022 

…notes! i don’t think i’ve ever seen fluffy idiot content of fyodor. i must rectify this.

Dazai

Dazai treasures rainy days more than anything.

“Oops sorry Kunikida, I can’t come in to work!!! Rain is just sooo heavy you know?”

The office is literally down the block he’s just not bothered

Who needs work when he has his beautiful partner?!

That’s what he whispers to you with a giggle and a grin as he nuzzles into your back.

Most times, that’s all it really comes to: a sleepy Dazai, cute compliments, and being lovingly held against your will.

Other days, it isn’t so easy.

He’s like a rock. The only notion you have that he’s awake is one of his eyes staring at the window outside, at the rain.  He doesn’t even message about his absence in advance this time – that’s up to you.

He isn’t as snuggly, but he doesn’t stop you from wrapping your arms around him and holding him.

Eating isn’t exactly something on his mind on these sort of days.  Even with that in mind, he’s always sure to quietly thank you when you hand-feed him meals.

Those days are difficult, but you make them easier.

“You have work today, right?  Don’t bother with the dishes,” Dazai calls out to you from the bedroom.  The clattering of the porcelain couldn’t exactly be hidden, you admit. Dazai sighs as you continue washing and drying.  New weight on the bed behind him makes him aware of your presence a few minutes later.  Your arms wrap around him without hesitation. “You don’t have to stay,” he says to you when the silence becomes too much for him. You merely snuggle further into his bandaged body.  “Yeah.  I want to, though.” To his own surprise, Dazai relaxes into your touch and words. “...Well.”  He smiles for the first time all day, softly, and his eyes linger up to the rainfall again.  “If you say so.”

Chuuya

Days off are all too rare in Chuuya’s line of work.

As soon as he’s free, he’s tiredly at your side, and he is not leaving.

Seriously he is … so clingy when he’s tired.  Whether you’re shorter or taller than him, prepare for his arms to be slung over your shoulders and his face in your hair.

Mention it to him and he’s grumbling all crabby lol.

You’ll have to wake up in the mornings to his work clothes sloppily discarded throughout the hallway to your room.  He wanted to conk out STAT.

He insists he’ll pick it up later (when he’s getting dressed for work again)

Rainy days aren’t exactly anything that stops him from working, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take the opportunity to call in for a day off once in a while.  He can almost hear the smile on Mori’s face over the phone telling him to enjoy it.

He’s fairly average at cooking when he eventually does get up, maybe sometime in early afternoon.  If he’s too sleepy though?  …Yeah, keep him away from the heat.

Overall, it feels… super domestic having these free days with him.  He wouldn’t mind this every day, if the opportunity presents itself.

If you knew you’d be greeted to this, you would have woken up a little earlier to at least catch him. “Mornin’!”  Chuuya leans back against the kitchen counter, breakfast on the table between you two.  A tired smirk is on his face, proud of his cooking.  Simply dressed in his work shirt and his boxers, the look of him is just too much for you to handle right now. You walk over to give him a small peck on the cheek, thanking him gently.  As you eat, wondering what it’d be like if he could make you breakfast every morning, you glance up and point a fork at him. “After this, I want some snuggles for at least another hour.” Chuuya couldn’t stop himself from scoffing playfully at your ‘threat’, resting his chin on his palm.  “Well… I’ll see what I can do.” You smile, digging back into your food.  You know he wouldn’t let you go once you’re back under covers.

Fyodor

It all started with you judgementally asking if he even has a life outside his work.

You didn’t expect him to get so offended, but his glance over and raised eyebrow gave you all you needed to know about his answer.

The next morning, you didn’t expect to actually have him be beside you as you shake slumber off you.  He’s almost always at his computer by the time you’re up.

It’s not as if Fyodor is neglectful in any way, he’s just … a little peculiar in his habits, for lack of any nicer terms.

Before you could even ask, he’s already greeting you in a gentle voice, tacking on a sweet nickname on the end of it.

Oh.  Oh he was awake the whole time.

This is a competition to him.

You could almost sigh in disbelief.  For someone supposedly so intelligent and wise, he sure has his moments.

Rainy days with Fyodor are spent with him suggesting activities to do together, but it’s very obvious he just put “at home activities” in the search bar and clicked the first link.

You don’t remember having this many board games.  How did he do this.

The night comes to a close as Fyodor sits with you in his lap, finishing up some professionally recorded opera of sorts.  You couldn’t understand half of it, but Fyodor laughed at it a few times, so it must have been good.  His chin rests on your shoulder and you can feel his smile. “So, did I prove you wrong?” “...What, about having a life?”  You can’t help but roll your eyes.  “You sure proved something alright.” Fyodor hums, sarcasm dripping from just that single note.  “You should treat me more fairly.  I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.” You would bite back with another retort, if not for Fyodor twisting his neck so he could peck your lips before resting back against the chair. Trying to ignore the flush of your cheeks, you sigh.  “You’ll get it with practice.” “Ah, so there IS a next time.” “Shut it.”

[urhoneycombwitch]

rommate thoughts

getting up early in the morning to go to the bathroom and the world slows down down down to a viscous quality when you pass your roommate's door... are they still asleep? or will you bear witness to early morning noises? and what story will tell you? the sharp clicking and clacking of hurried dressing and rushed getting ready? lazy yawns and rustling sheets as they turn around for ten more minutes? maybe soft singing to shoo some lingering nightmares away? or other... soft things?

you know? <3

foreword: oh, Somna. I needed this softness today. this one goes out to those who might need it, too <3

cw: mentions of prescription drugs and weed

wc: 1.2k

___

When the last of the summer sun slips behind the edge of the city, you and Eddie open all the windows in the apartment.

Moving with practiced fluidity, you slide the little window above the sink into place, the larger one by the breakfast nook gets the same treatment; Eddie’s tall enough to reach the hand crank for the pane overlooking the shower, then ducks into both of your rooms to undo the last two latches. 

You talk the whole time, exchanging laughter and comments even on opposite ends of the apartment. Cool night air floods the whole space, lush and floral from the hydrangea bush on the ground floor. This is the only ritual that makes sleeping in the summer months bearable. 

Some nights, Eddie rolls up and you choose the record, legs slung over each other laps, talking over the hazy smoke and crooning speakers. Others, you get takeout and watch whatever’s good on TV, Eddie’s legs making the perfect lean-to for your back. 

Some nights, you fall asleep on the couch- when this happens, come morning, there’s always a blanket tucked carefully around your form. Others, Eddie’s the first to drop- cheek smushed to your thigh, snoring lightly. You’re always gentle with him, rubbing his shoulder to get him up and in the comfort of his own bed, slinging his arm around your shoulders as you walk him down the hall.

Last night, both of you turned in early. Eddie’s got a bad case of allergies, and you were tired from work, so you took your respective medicine and leave, evening ritual shortened and performed apart with just the bedroom windows.

In the morning, the air of your room is still cool. Birds twitter with the rise of the sun. Soon, it will be time to close everything up, to keep the temperature down and the summer heat out. For now, you yawn, stretch, kick your way out of the comforter, and pad down the hall.

Eddie’s door is slightly ajar. His room is dark, but you can just make out the tangle of his curls on his pillow, sheets tucked under his chin covering the length of his body. You move on carpeted footsteps, approaching bedside with quiet intention.

Without his eyes on you, it’s easier to indulge, taking your time to drink in his sleeping face. You sink to your knees beside the head of the bed for a better look- in the muted morning light peeking through his blackout curtains, Eddie looks peaceful. 

His normal is theatrics, raised brows, sweeping expressions that draw you in and ebb like tides. In dreamland, he looks years younger, smoothed brow and lips parted slightly, breathing steady and sure. 

“Hey.” It’s barely a whisper. You pair it with a soft touch just under his bangs, skimming your fingertip across his forehead. “Eddie. Gonna wake up?”

He must have taken Benadryl last night- he’s usually first to wake, tapping on your door with breakfast options and being a hurricane of noise until you’re forced to join the party. 

You have the simple joy of watching Eddie’s face as he returns to you, to the waking world- a twitch of his lip, a couple of long, slow blinks. Consciousness crawls to the surface, leaves him rosy-cheeked and frowning, chasing your hand with his temple like a puppy.

You lay your fingers flat to his skull, thumb at the indent of his nose, and Eddie sighs, content. His eyes flutter shut again when you speak again. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmm.” The sheets shift as he lifts a heavy arm to stretch over his head, revealing a bare torso littered with ink. “Z’you?”

“Yeah.” 

“Good. ‘M gonna… get up ‘n make breakfast…” His words are clunky, slurred and stuck to each other, lids heavy with sleep still. 

From the floor, you sink a bit lower, scratching softly at the back of his head, grinning with amusement. “I don’t think you’re allowed to operate a stove while under the influence.”

His frown deepens, but he won’t make it stick, not for any length of time around you. Faux-upset ebbs, recedes, floods into a tired smile that takes up half his face. “Uh-huh. Might burn my eyebrows off. Would you still love me?”

Pretending to give it some serious thought, your hand slides down, a familiar weight at the side of his neck. “Hmm. Maybe we should stick to cereal today.”

“Asshole,” Eddie replies, fond and trying to draw out the jokes, sliding his own hand to your wrist to keep it in place. “What the hell. Can’t a guy lose his brows in peace?”

“We’ve got Cheerios, Golden Crisp, Cocoa Puffs-” Your valiant attempt to keep on track is overturned when Eddie tugs at your wrist with a whine.

“Christ. My brain is soup, maybe you can eat that ‘nd it’ll tide you over until I can move.” More insistent now, Eddie pulls at your elbow, then your upper arm, your other hand snapping out to brace on his mattress before you tip. “Jus’... lay with me for a bit.”

Closer now, your breath fanning over his ear as he pulls and you give your last bit of resistance- “You’re wearing boxers, right?”

“Jesus. You really think I’d subject you to the Morning Wood Show?”

“Okay.” You don’t sound half as exasperated as you’d like, moving with the help of his gravity; you sidle close to the wall, lying on your side and over the covers, propping your head up with one arm. “This bed really wasn’t made for two people.”

“Sure it is.” Eddie reaches for you again, and you go easy, let him pull you to his chest. Under your ear, his heart thumps, whooshing like a seashell that’s captured the sounds of the ocean. “See? Now will you kindly shut up. I’ve got meds to sleep off.”

“Coffee would help.” It’s a baiting tease. You don’t actually want to get up- far too comfy with the curve of his bicep across the blades of your shoulders. With your nose pressed to the hollow of his throat, you can smell everything that his skin has kept overnight- faded cologne, bar soap, sweat and earthy sleep.

“Shhhhutthefuckup before I eat your brains.” He already sounds like a faded version of himself, rasp lowering into that pre-dream tone. For comedic effect, Eddie opens his jaw to press the outline of his teeth to the crown of your scalp.

It makes you tremble with giggles, burrowing further into his body to get away. He soothes a palm down your back, and you settle again. 

Under your ear, his heart beats slower, then slower still, until you can feel the rumble of a snore build. Your lashes brush against his bare skin, lulled by the stillness of the room, the shared warmth of your bodies even through the layers of fabric.

When late morning arrives, you’ll make the coffee, and Eddie will do the dishes. For now, the air stays cool and ushers in the sort of slumber that only comes from sharing space with someone precious. 

[eliasorchard]

you've been working hard, let him treat you

— smut, soft sex, fingering, you go on vacation with him, he buys you gifts and anything else you deserve

"darling?"

three knocks. no answer.

"i'm coming in." the blond opens the door to the bedroom, his coat taken off and draping comfortably on his arm - his smile is gentle, caring and cheerful as he steps in.

as wonderful as his day went at the university, he'd missed you terribly; which is why the first thing he thought of was to hold you in his embrace, maybe place a few pecks & kisses here & there until you're laughing & squirming at how ticklish his kisses feel.

william's eyes widen in surprise at the sight - watching you sob heavily with all kinds of gross fluids running down your eyes and nose was something he hadn't been expecting.

"oh, my poor, sweet girl.." he tuts softly, immediately making his way to you and wrapping you in his arms. "what's wrong, dear?" his fingers push the stray strands on hair away from your face so he can look at you carefully.

you can't seem to face him, not like this, anyway. you're clinging tight onto him, face buried into the crook of his neck as you wail some more. "studies.." you mutter out, voice cracking. "it's too much for me.. i feel utterly helpless. i just can't- you know? everything seems to be crashing down and- and—"

your voice falters. you can't speak with that lump in your throat that refuses to be swallowed. "alright, i understand. i understand, dear. shh.. shhh.." he cooes, eyebrows furrowed in concern. "it's okay.."

"good morning, dearest." soft lips against your forehead. you hum sleepily, eyes opening. it's bright - did you pass out from the exhaustion of crying too hard last night?

"mmm.. morning." you rub your eyes, sitting up in bed. now that your eyes aren't as blurry as it was a few seconds ago, he looks like he's getting ready. you look at the time. "getting ready for university so early?"

"the university?" william chuckles softly. "no, my dearest - i'm getting ready for a little vacation, you and i." he strokes your hair. "now," he kneels down on the edge of the bed, gathering your sleepy face into his warm hands and places a kiss on your nose. "how about we have some breakfast and you get ready? i've done all your packing already."

waves crashing against the shore, the sun out and about, birds chirping joyfully above the clouds; what was going on? the bell boy's dropped your luggage and his, putting it away properly.

it's massive inside. the ceilings are high - fitting an opulent chandelier on the ceiling of each room. the walls have expensive wallpaper on them, each room has large panes for windows, a king-sized canopy bed, a room service system, welcome drinks and meals, instruments - practically everything one could ask for.

"do you like it?" he whispers softly into your ear, away from you by mere millimeters. the short distance with him and him whispering into your ear like that - it makes you tingle. his hands are behind his back, ruby red eyes gentle and lips smiling.

"liam!" you exclaim, shocked. "like it? i love it!"

"hmm.." he hums, satisfied with your reaction - especially when you push yourself up on your toes to press a kiss against his cheek, arms wrapped around his neck. he leans down to make things easier for you. "i'm glad. a fitting suite for my hardworking love."

the next few days are spent in absolutely leisure, spending your days with william lazily, always entangled with his limbs, calling room service everytime you wanted to do something mundane. it was a nice change, it felt like you finally had somewhat control of your life; instead of it being hurdled away from the overwhelmingness of your studies, instead.

it's one of those usual, relaxing days from your vacation with him again. the two of you just returned from strolling around the beach, enjoying a little tropical drink in hand. and now the two of you are back in bed, your back against his chest; his face nuzzled comfortably into your hair and his arms wrapped around you with ease.

you've been trying to get into a comfortable position for a few minutes. perhaps it was the caffeine at work. you back up against him again - he shudders.

"(name)." his voice is uneven; almost pleading. "it's almost one, please go to sleep." his hips move back.

"oh, sorry. am i disturbing you too much?" you make a small movement to turn back, which causes him to let out a small, barely audible moan - almost a huff.

"(name).."

that's when you feel it; the bulge pressed against your backside. vibrant shades of reds and pinks creep up from your neck to your face until you're flushed crimson.

"william..?"

william presses a small kiss on your neck, the most sensitive spot of it to shush you; he's embarrassed as well. "...it's only natural." he says. "i can't help it; not when i'm around you." a pause. "i apologise if this is uncomfortable, if you'd like i can go sleep on the-"

"nonono, wait." you shake your head, determined not to be distanced from him. you turn your head over to your shoulder, meet his ruby eyes and a face that mirrors your own blushing one. "i- i um, i understand. as you said; it's only natural."

a small silence fills the room.

"..would it be selfish," his hand caresses your hip, fingers kneading and palming lazily over the soft flesh; feather-like touches, as if they're simply hovering over you. "if i ask that i may indulge in you — even in late hours?"

you blink in surprise. a momentary pause, and then your lips break out into a small grin. "it wouldn't."

"that's great, then." his hot breath fans over your neck, making you shiver. his hand travel down south, pushing up your dress l. his long, slender fingers push aside your panties and you stifle back a moan. "mmhh.."

william's middle and index finger rub small circles with slow and careful precision at your clit, making you jolt a little at the stimulation. your legs spread.

"liam," you sigh breathily. "that feels good."

hearing your voice, something about the sweetness, something about how soft and quiet it is makes him chuckle softly. "go on, darling. let me hear what other sounds you can make." he eases his middle finger in and he groans at how wet you feel.

"look at you," he whispers in your ear, voice sultry. "clamping down on my fingers - how wet you feel."

william's fingers pump back and forth, in and out, knuckles pressed against your folds, fingers as deep as they can go. "ungh.." your fingers dig into his arm.

"shh, shh.." he cooes, trying to ease you. you can feel it; the painful erection against your back. you're not a bad lover, you want to help him and more than anything else, you want him. inside of you, as soon as possible. "liam? can we plea-" you reach behind.

"easy, my love." he murmurs. "all in due time."

william fingers you much faster now, curling his fingers upwards - pressing that sweet spot, that sweet spot riiight up there just perfectly. "i, as well, want nothing more than to feel myself be coddled inside you."

you moan out, feeling your stomach in knots. "hngh.." you whimper and your toes curl. you're squirming now, feeling lightheaded - it's coming, you're coming. william would be a fool not to notice.

he makes a few more curls of his fingers, pressing against your g-spot with just right pressure. "that's it.." he nibbles on your bare shoulder. "there we go.."

"nngh..!" and it's so strong; your orgasm, with how skilled his fingers are. you're trembling, eyes rolling to the back of your head, fingernails digging into his forearms, feeling your high hit you like a truck.

you're still seeing stars when he lines up against your entrance, tapping at your folds with his tip. you turn your neck to kiss him sloppily; a mess of saliva and hot gasps and breaths against each other. your eyes fall down to his loins and it's almost embarrassing.

the tip has gone from a creamy pink to a darker and more dull pink; swollen, by the looks of it. "do you see what you do to me, love?" he questions, his voice half in pants and shaky whispers.

"ah!" you gasp, feeling him push himself in. it's so warm, so wet and so soft inside of you that he has to take a few breaths to compose himself and not cum on the spot.

william and you are connected so intimately. he looks down to see where the two of you are joined and he doesn't see a slither of space. he shivers at the sight.

"mnhh.." he hums, pressing further into you and pulls you further to him. you envelope his lips with yours; warm and wet. he nibbles down on your bottom lip as he rolls his hips.

"mm.. yeah, right there.." you gasp when he hits a deeper spot inside of you that no one has before.

"hngh, so good." you babble into his mouth. his cock has a delicious curve & that has you drooling eveytime the tip comes in contact with the cervix.

his skin is damp and so are you from sandwiching yourselves against each other. he pushes your hair away to see you better, presses a kiss on the crown of your head as he fucks you. and he fucks you good.

"hm.. hmhh.." william is grunting softly. you can feel this man throbbing inside of you. his fingers grasp the flesh on your soft hips & he dips his face into the crook of your neck. "i love you... i love you, (name).."

he's close-and quite frankly, so are you. your legs tremble. "angh, please please, i'm going to cum-" he feels you clench around him hard and that is all it takes before a flash of white sputters and paints itself inside of your gummy walls. his orgasm triggers your own as you shudder and shiver, squirm and writh in his embrace as you cum around his cock; moaning and gasping his name and incomprehensible pleads.

you black out.

when dawn arrives and you awaken from your slumber, you are bombarded with dozens of gifts littering the already huge bedroom.

how much could this man have bought and spent to fill this large room anyway? you are soon pulled away from your thoughts when you see william enter the room, shirtless, hair wet, droplets of water dripping down his skin and a towel wrapped around his waist.

"eye candy." you murmur to yourself, but not small enough for him not to hear. the man chuckles.

"come, my dear. i do not know about candy but i have brought us breakfast. i figured you would need some energy to open up all these gifts, anyway."

[le-chevalier-au-lion]

the game lasts 14 hours: rosquez [e], part 1

Marc had been dreaming—yes, dreaming is a good word for it. One minute, he’d been upright on the bike, panting like a dog inside his sweat-damp helmet, Pecco half a heartbeat behind, the grandstands around Sepang a blur of color and heat-fuzzy people. The next, he thinks he’d been down, or dead.

Now there’s someone hammering on his door. Hard enough he can feel it pulse on his teeth, on the tips of his fingers that are cold and numb.

His eyes are gritty. Everything about his body moves a heartbeat too slow, unresponsive. It takes Marc a moment to drag himself upright, to convince his legs to move. Dead fits better, he is sure of it.

The pounding becomes deafening. Marc forces air into his lungs once, twice—and off he goes. He swings the door open, almost closes it again once he sees who’s there. He could be dreaming, still. Or very high on the good painkillers.

“Marc,” Valentino croaks.

He’s panicking—maybe. Probably. It’s there in his wide, watery eyes, in his hands, wobbly and clammy. He jitters, looms on Marc’s doorway shaking worse than an addict.

“You have to believe me,” Valentino spits once it becomes clear Marc won’t speak. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three, his fingers tap on the wall. His mouth pulls to the side, like he sucked on something sour. “I’m in a time loop, it’s—”

“Alright,” Marc cuts him, “do you want to come in?”

Valentino blinks. His shoulders jump, grow stiff, and he sways a step back before he remembers himself.

“You always say that.”

There’s a strain in Valentino’s voice, a knot unswallowed. Marc wonders if he should bring that up, decides against it. It’s easier to move to the side, invite Valentino in wordlessly. He should ask how he got his room number, how he bribed the staff to let him come up.

Or not. It wouldn’t be that surprising.

Valentino stumbles like a baby deer, all long, uncooperative legs. Sweat prickles on his throat, on his forehead. His gray shirt is fucking soaked with it. He looks—it must be said—like shit.

“You look like shit,” Marc decides to inform him. It’s a little—mostly—because he can’t think of anything else to fill the silence. He never can.

“You always say that too,” he scoffs.

Offense is better than panic—Marc hates when people panic around him. And it makes Valentino suck in a breath, convulsive, short, and then another, one more after that, each one easier. The minutes tickle by until he collapses into a plush arm chair, a puppet with his strings cut, sleeplessness carved into the bags under his eyes, into the gray sallowness of his face.

Marc checks the clock on the wall, the aggressive, bleeding red of the numbers. 05:13 AM. It’s early, still, but he needs to go on a run, have breakfast with Álex, sit down with his crew to smooth out his tire choice. Five points between him and Pecco, he can’t afford to make a mistake.

He doesn’t have time for Valentino going on a full freak-out, and yet—

“You believe me.”

Marc sighs, gets around brewing himself a mug of coffee. Only one, he isn’t sure if Valentino should be taking any caffeine when he’s this close to a heart attack. It’d be funny, for this to be a loop where he dies so early, doesn’t learn anything from it.

“You don’t contradict senile people.” He’s smiling, a little, a sharp grin tucked on the corner of his mouth.

Ha ha, Valentino barks. He’s clinging to the armchair so hard the fake leather creaks under his bitten bloody nails. “You believe me. I know you do.”

It isn’t usually this difficult to not be an asshole before 7 in the morning.

Marc could be cruel—it’s not often he gets to catch Valentino wrong-footed, genuine. His anger is so mirror smooth, an opaque, enchanting thing. Few people can dig into him and make it hurt. He could be much kinder, too. Say something like you’re obviously afraid, it’s not the time to question anything, of course I’d help.

Not a good idea. There’s a timeline where Valentino punches him for that, he thinks.

Marc is also very tired of offering kindness to Valentino.

He swallows. “Let’s say I do.”

Valentino lets out this noise—like Marc stabbed him right between the ribs, right where it hurts. It’s the thing about him, one of the worst ones. Doesn’t he know that a good third of Marc’s life has been spent dealing with what he says? Rolling with those wild fairytales, bracing for the next hit.

It sticks to the roof of his mouth. I believe you believe that, soothing in the same twist where it’s mocking, an oystershell of the unkindness that Marc has been rehearsing once he stopped showing his soft underbelly.

“Is this the first time you’re coming to me?” He asks, raises an eyebrow.

“No.”

“Really?”

Valentino hums an unwilling assent, kisses his teeth. The sharp tsk sound is so familiar that Marc feels like he was plucked from his body, tossed ten, eleven years ago. The sense of vertigo has him braced against the narrow, non-descript counter, watching out for the trickle of coffee that will—maybe—ground him. He’s an optimist.

“Twenty-six,” he huffs out, scowls. It sounds like it was pried from him laboriously.

The coffee machine beeps. Marc does the unwise thing and turns his back on Valentino, fiddles with the buttons. He will take it with sugar today. He fucking deserves a spoon or two, something sweet to soften the blows.

“I’m guessing I’m not exactly helpful.”

Marc feels a hand pressed between his shoulder blades, hot as a brand, that touch raking over his nerve endings even through the protection of a shirt. It’s proprietary, tugs on his guts like a fishhook. His insides might as well spill out, redredred and so overly honest it hurts. He flinches, remembers he shouldn’t have. His mouth twists, lips pressed together.

Everything suddenly aches.

“Are you ever,” Valentino breathes out because he never had a problem with being cruel.

It’s easier to hold on to that—it’s the gentleness that has Marc grinding his teeth, dull pulses of pain settling in his jaw.

He closes his eyes, then forces them open—you can’t run from a tricky corner, or from Valentino. “Any reason in particular you’re messi—”

“I’m not messing up with your weekend,” Valentino hisses. Time loop, right. Marc is still annoyed at being interrupted.

But his face is so close, Marc can spot each new wrinkle, the skin of his earlobe sagging under the weight of his earring, the patchy, half-shaved stubble on his oddly cadaveric cheeks. He forgets to not be charmed, forgets how abrasive Valentino can be.

“In my experience, you typically are,” he counters, mostly to be difficult.

Valentino’s face spasms. Marc counts down the seconds until he hardens, becomes a naked blade under sunlight. His expression crystalizes into his usual mask, except for his bottom lip wobbling, the manic glint in his horribly blue eyes.

“Allora, it’s always a fight with you.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Marc curls his hand around his mug, sinks into the heat radiating against his palm. Valentino tightens his grip on his shirt, turns him around. He has to look up—if it’s through his lashes, well, it’s so very early, and he hasn’t taken his coffee yet, and he’s bleary and good as dead.

Neither of them speak.

It’s 05:28 AM, the clock cheerfully informs him. He needs to get going, or he won’t have time to go on his run.

Marc doesn’t move. Valentino keeps him boxed against the counter, gripping his arms. It’ll bruise. His bones creak under that hold, but it’s the closest to tethered he’s felt in a while. He lulls himself into that false security, knowing it’ll bite, knowing he’ll take the bite anyway.

“So why come to me?” He asks, once the silence grows boring, once it starts gnawing on his sanity.

Valentino lets out this laugh—a little hysterical, choked. “It’s not my first choice. Uccio tries to give me Alprazolam and Luca tells me to go back to bed.”

Marc hums, faux-commiserating. “It’s good advice, have you tried it?”

“Right?” He keeps laughing or making that noise that looks like a laugh and sounds like it’s tearing him apart stitch by stitch. Marc could try looking into it, divining the omens of his day on his spilled guts.

Or—

“What happens next?”

He wants to know what Valentino will say today—it’s his favorite part of any game they play, getting roped into those stories. Falling for Valentino’s deranged Cesar on death row charm.

This time, Valentino skips the charm. Marc wishes he weren’t so disappointed.

“You’re going to die.” He nods, yes and?

Valentino grows stiff, death-serious, mouth wrenched in a snarl that bares his sharp canines. The press of his fingers goes from settling to a permanent ache, right over the place where he broke and didn’t heal right. It’s good, the kind of pain Marc can sink into and enjoy, constant, so dear by now.

“You can’t not care. You believe me.”

He smiles—bland, strained around the edges. His face feels like clay. “There’s always tomorrow, no?”

It’s a joke. Almost one. Marc has barely spoken when he notices how flat it falls, how he misses the apex of comedic timing by a mile.

There’s barely enough time to set his coffee on the counter. Valentino crowds into him, or wrenches him closer. They’re chest to chest like this. Blurring into each other, Valentino’s thumb splayed over the longest scar on his arm, Marc panting hotly over his protruding collarbone.

“You just don’t—”

“Valentino,” he sighs.

Marc has—they’re both bleeding, the walls of his hotel room pressing into him grimy and suffocating like a slaughterhouse floor. It’s too much blood, too much history, too much. Marc has made him angry. The ugly anger. A knotted mess Valentino can’t smoke-and-mirrors his way through, that pours out of his flashing eyes, his grinding teeth, his hands digging into Marc like he’ll crack open his ribs.

He doesn’t remember how many times he’s seen it before. Not many. Valentino is pathologically non-confrontational, his smiles slick and meaningless right as he lines a shot. Maybe he’s losing his mind, fraying, shattering.;

And maybe Marc is losing his mind too. I got you, he thinks, triumphant—the poisonous, acrid triumph of racing even when his arm twists like it’s trying to kill him. He still can make Valentino lose his footing. No one else but him.

“You’re going to die,” Valentino repeats, takes a step away from Marc like he’s scalding. He starts pacing, a caged thing, a Russian doll of nervous ticks. “It’s going to be—it’s going to be fucking terrible. It’s going to hurt. Why isn’t that enough for you?”

Marc looks—briefly—heavenward. Valentino scoffs.

And that’s it. Another one.

“How many times have you gone over today?” He asks, hopeful and hating himself for that hope.

Valentino smirks—like he has a knife tucked between his lips, joylessly, scraped raw. “Once or twice. It’s not like you ever take it seriously.”

The sound of the door slamming closed echoes in his chest. Marc tries to breathe, fails. Has to bend over the counter, the cold marble a blessing against his overheated skin. The chilly shock hoists back to his own body, but the nausea remains, a mouthful of thorns and bile he can’t swallow.

He wishes that Valentino would answer once—just once—how long he’s been on a time loop.

But he can’t linger too long on that. Marc has to go out now, go on a run, have breakfast with Álex, talk with his crew about his tires, die on T5 of lap 12.

Ater sixty-two runs, he’s pretty damn good at it.

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 4/12)

AHHH HERE WE GO, ENJOY!!!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: wayne is in town and eddie thinks he kind of hates you... maybe

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, scary and sticky feelings, king richie being king richie, and eddie thinks you taste sweet <3

word count: 3.8k

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| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Eddie’s going insane, he thinks.

There’s something wrong with him. Something seriously wrong.

It’s been two days since Eddie slept in your room. Forty-eight hours have passed since you so graciously offered him the peace and solace of your extra hotel bed, and Eddie has yet to stop thinking about you.

The morning after sleeping in your room, Eddie snuck out as quietly as possible to avoid any awkward conversation, even if nothing was particularly awkward about the situation. He didn’t want to have to thank you for letting him stay with you, and he knew that if he’d waited until you woke up, he would have to thank you. So, he escaped first thing in the morning, as any avoidant and coward-like person would do.

He spent all day with fleeting thoughts of you— remembering the sight of you smiling under the light of the TV, the sound of you laughing, the visual of you swallowed beneath fluffy sheets and pillows, pouty lips parted to let out the cutest, most annoying, and fucking nerve-grating snores that gently lulled Eddie to sleep. 

He spent time wondering what you were doing, how you looked and sounded in the morning, and being annoyed with himself for depriving himself of the chance to witness that. He wondered if you looked for him when you realized he was no longer in the room— if you were annoyed that he left without saying anything, or if you didn’t care. God, why does he care? It’s not like you two fucked, he just crashed in your room.

That same morning, Eddie had the phantom of your scent all around him. Soft, inviting, and all things alluring, and Eddie wanted to sink his teeth into it and gnaw at it like some fucking teething dog. What the fuck?

There’s something wrong.

However, those weird and unwanted feelings have died down since Eddie hasn’t seen you in the past forty-eight hours. Granted, that’s probably because he’s been subconsciously avoiding you like the plague, which has been relatively easy, considering they’ve been on a short break.

Thankfully, Eddie had a solid reason as to why he fled your room so early that morning— to pick up Wayne from the airport. He took Wayne to a breakfast diner and treated him to a warm meal and coffee to ease the stress of traveling from his bones. 

And Wayne has never been to New York, so Eddie took the time to show him around. Eddie’s been to the city many times, and he likes to think he’s somewhat of a pro now that he knows his way around the subway. Eddie swears learning the subway was easier than passing senior year, and that says something.

After breakfast, Eddie took Wayne to the Brooklyn Bridge, where they could see the Statue of Liberty in the distance. From there, they took a cab to Times Square so Wayne could witness the absolute chaos that is New York City. They spent some time in Times Square, watching street performances and snacking on greasy foods, and they had a good time until a few people spotted Eddie.

Wayne always tells Eddie he doesn’t mind fans coming up to them and enjoys watching Eddie interact with his supporters. Still, Eddie gets weary of crowds becoming rowdy around anybody he loves, so he tries to keep the interactions to a minimum when he’s out with company.

And Wayne isn’t much of an expressive person, but Eddie’s been around him long enough to read his microexpressions easily and understand that Wayne seemed to like New York so far.

Eddie hasn’t told Wayne about Gareth, partly because he knows he’ll get a long talk about how violence solves nothing, but more importantly, because Eddie doesn’t want to admit that Wayne was right about Chrissy. 

Wayne never trusted Chrissy all that much. Chrissy was friendly, respectful, and all things socially acceptable, but she lacked in the caring department. Wayne didn’t like that Chrissy never supported Eddie’s dreams, never showed up to a single show, or didn’t even bother learning the lyrics to at least one song. She didn’t care to show up for Eddie, but Eddie was always there for her. Always.

Chrissy was greedy with love, and Wayne saw right through her innocent act.

And given that Wayne is quite the expert at seeing people for who they really are, Eddie doesn’t understand why he doesn’t see through your innocent act.

It’s Wayne’s third night in New York when you finally cross paths. You’d been passing by each other in the hotel lobby; Eddie, Wayne, and Richie leaving while you were on your way in— and Eddie was content with ignoring you, but god, you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?

 “You must be the infamous Wayne,” You smile as you shake the older man’s hand. Eddie stands between Wayne and Richie as he stuffs his hands in his pockets while Wayne greets you, pursing his lips and rocking on the heels of his feet as you and Wayne share a short introduction— Richie snickers beside him.

“You three look fancy; what’s the occasion?” You wonder aloud. Wayne smiles, and Eddie doesn’t know when Wayne became so kind to strangers, especially annoying strangers. “Eddie here is treating us to dinner,” Wayne explains, reaching over to pat Eddie’s stiff shoulder. Eddie thinks that may be your indication to leave, but he’s sadly mistaken when Richie adds, “Have you eaten yet? Would you like to tag along?”

Eddie thinks the age is getting to Richie’s head because Richie must be out of his fucking mind. 

His head snaps to glare at Richie, about to cut in until you speak up, “Oh! I couldn’t; I don’t want to impose.” You shake your head with a kind smile. Good, Eddie thinks. Don’t impose, stay far a-fucking-way.

But Richie— god, Eddie can’t believe Richie, “Ah, the more, the merrier,” he waves you off, “And the rockstar will pay for us. Who turns down a free meal?” Wayne jumps in, causing you to erupt in soft laughter.

Eddie has to end this, obviously.

“The reservation is for three,” Eddie chips in, and finally, the three of you acknowledge his presence, turning to him as he shifts on his feet. “And we don’t have time to wait for you to get ready.” He adds, pursing his lips and shrugging in an ‘oh well’ gesture.

If Eddie weren’t watching you so intently, he wouldn’t have noticed the tiny shift of you caving into yourself, but he does, and he kind of feels bad for a quick second. He doesn’t know why he feels bad because he wasn’t even lying. The reservation was for three, and with New York traffic, they should’ve been on their way roughly fifteen minutes ago.

You open your mouth to respond, probably throw in the flag and let the three men be on their way, but Richie opens his fucking mouth again, “Well, we can wait, and I’m sure you can pull some strings for a third chair, son.”

And Eddie could. He can definitely get a fourth seat because he’s friends with the restaurant owner, but Eddie doesn’t want to. And he sure as hell doesn’t want to pay for your goddamn meal, but, as always, despite Eddie’s wishes, Richie insists you tag along. 

He, Wayne, and Richie end up sitting in the lobby waiting for you to get dressed in your room. Wayne and Richie are sitting on opposite sides of the couch, Wayne quietly flipping through a magazine and Richie mindlessly people-watching as Eddie impatiently bounces his leg and pouts in the seat across them. Wayne doesn’t bother looking at Eddie when he says, “You’re gonna leave a dent in the floor, son.”

Eddie glares at Wayne and Richie, “Why did you invite her?” He snaps.

Wayne flips the page of the flimsy book, heavily sighing and shifting in his seat, “This is the girl you mentioned at breakfast, right?”

Richie snickers and raises an eyebrow at Eddie, “You mentioned Birdie at breakfast? That’s interesting.” He jokes, to which Eddie grumbles a short and snippy, “Shut up.”

And yeah, maybe Eddie did mention you to Wayne, but it wasn’t… it wasn’t like that, okay? You just piss Eddie off, and now that he’s not on good terms with Gareth, and Jeff is too busy with his head stuck up his girlfriend's ass, Eddie has nobody to turn to for a good rant, and Wayne— well, Wayne was just there. 

“Yes. But did you also hear me mention that I can’t stand her, or did you just stop listening after I said her name?” Eddie grumbles. Wayne smiles behind the magazine, and Eddie can hear it in his voice when he responds, “No, I heard it all… sounded like a load of bullshit.” 

Richie laughs, but Eddie ignores it as his face twists in confusion at Wayne’s words, “Excuse me?”

Wayne closes the magazine and looks at Eddie, “Boy, did fame take away what little common sense you had? You don’t hate the girl.”

Before Eddie can respond to Wayne’s encrypted comment, you appear, pulling their attention, “Thank you for waiting; I hope I wasn’t too long,” you huff while hastily adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder.

For a moment, Eddie doesn’t remember what he was groveling about or that he kind of hates you.

And you’ve always been pretty. Eddie never thought you were ugly, and quite honestly, if you’d met under different circumstances and you weren’t a pain in the ass, Eddie might’ve fucked you. But Eddie’s hatred for you outshined your beauty… most of the time. However, that film of dusty and grey disdain has been clearing recently, and Eddie’s not sure if he should turn away or keep looking because you’re breathtaking.

He doesn’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the dress you’ve chosen and how perfectly crafted it is for you, how the colors compliment your skin in an achingly perfect way. Maybe it’s the way your eyeliner is slightly smudged and smoky from your rushed movements to avoid being late for the reservation. Or maybe Eddie’s just lost his mind right along with Wayne and Richie. For now, he’ll stick with the latter.

Eddie stands up with a loud huff, “Let's go. Before they give someone else our table.” He grumbles, brushing past you and walking off without another word.

Eddie misses the slight and amused smirk on Wayne’s lips.

Wayne, you come to learn, is funny.

You’d thought the ride to the restaurant would be awkward, given that Eddie clearly doesn’t want you here, but Wayne and Richie left no room for the tension to rise. They both told stories and jokes the entire drive, and by the time you arrived at the restaurant, your stomach was sore from laughter. Honestly, you’re not sure how Wayne raised Eddie only for Eddie to end up like… Eddie. Wayne is kind and inviting and all things opposite of Eddie. You almost believe they’re tricking you.

“Since when did you become a stand-up comedian, Wayne?” Eddie sarcastically asks as he opens the door to the restaurant. Wayne had just made a joke about how Eddie was a troublemaker in high school, which Eddie clearly didn’t think was funny, given the scowl on his face.

“I’ve always been a comedian, son.” Wayne pats Eddie on the back as he steps into the fancy establishment. You glance at Eddie and thank him for holding the door as you follow behind Wayne, Richie stepping in behind you.

Eddie was able to get a change of tables, so you were able to join, and you thanked him on your way to the table as the waiter walked you all to your new designated seats. Eddie either didn’t hear you, or he didn’t care to respond; either way, you don’t take it to heart.

Once you reach your table, Wayne and Richie take the seats on the other side of the table, leaving you no other option but to take the seat next to Eddie. Eddie scoffs upon this realization, and you subconsciously chew the inside of your cheek as you settle in the chair.

For the most part, dinner goes by smoothly. You suppose Eddie’s distasteful attitude diffused once the food satiated his hunger— and you think Eddie has the character of a toddler that’s missed their nap time, and a part of you thinks it’s cute, watching him huff and fuss until he’s happily eating. You try your best to focus on the plate of food in front of you and the conversations between the four of you, but you often find yourself glancing over at Eddie. 

Because the way Eddie moves is like a movie.

Animated and smooth and all things annoyingly beautiful. The way he speaks with his hands, the way his hair brushes and sways back and forth over his shoulders when he shifts, the sound his rings make when clinking against the silverware. The way his cheeks carve lines when his lips stretch in a smile-soaked laugh, and his eyes widen when he gets excited while telling a story.

It’s captivating.

And a few days ago, you’d thought the wine was the cause for your unwanted attraction, but alas.

You blink away the haze of your short-lived trance and resume eating. Better to leave that road untouched.

Despite Eddie’s low expectations, dinner was good.

He had a nice plate full of food he couldn’t be bothered to learn how to pronounce and a glass of whiskey to wash it down. Wayne and Richie held a good conversation, though those two have always gotten along well since Richie entered Eddie’s life. Richie and Eddie tell Wayne all about life on the road, updating him on the craziest shows and sights, and Wayne informs Eddie about everybody back home.

The kids are soaking up their last weeks of freedom before college, and Max even got a nose piercing, “Somehow, that made her even more of a firecracker, that kid.” Wayne joked.

Wayne says he doesn’t know much about the older half of them, but he runs into one of them every now and then at the grocery store and such, and Eddie makes a mental note to call and check in before the holidays.

And then there’s you.

Eddie wanted to believe you were ruining the vibe of dinner, but you annoyingly made it… better. 

You eased into the atmosphere as if you weren’t a complete stranger, asking questions about Hawkins and adding stories of your childhood in Michigan. Eddie had expected you to shy away for most of the dinner since they were mostly discussing things you weren’t there for, but you were as involved as the three of them, if not more.

And Wayne and Richie adore you.

Richie has always made it known that he has no problem with you, and some might even think the two of you have a relationship akin to a father and daughter. But Richie has always been that way. He’s always quick to accept people into their circle and give them a chance. 

But Eddie didn’t expect Wayne to warm up to you as quickly as he did.

Wayne is usually wary of strangers, and just like Eddie, Wayne hates the media. Wayne witnessed the hell Eddie initially went through with the press— messy rumors and misconstrued words— and when Eddie almost threw in the towel for good, Wayne was there to wrap it back around Eddie’s knuckles and shove him back into the game. So, you can imagine the confusion reeling through Eddie’s mind when Wayne immediately becomes fond of you.

It’s annoying and stupid, and Eddie thinks you might be a witch because you have everybody under this weird spell that makes them like you. 

After dinner, everyone decided to enjoy the nice weather on a walk back to the hotel. Even though Eddie would’ve much rather liked to call a car and make it back to the hotel in less than ten minutes, he can admit that it feels nice to just walk around in light conversation. He doesn’t get much of this anymore. Most days, Eddie is busy doing shows, writing songs, talking to the press, and rolling through each day, so he doesn’t have the time to have simple and lighthearted moments like these.

He’s walking beside Richie, blowing through a cigarette and listening to Richie ramble on about… well, Eddie’s not sure what Richie is talking about because he’s so focused on you.

A few paces ahead of Richie and Eddie, you and Wayne walk together, wrapped up in an intriguing conversation, considering how intently you seem to be listening. You’re watching where you’re stepping, but you routinely turn to Wayne and nod to let him know you’re listening, and every now and then, you even glance back at Eddie and Richie with a soft smile.

And you’re so fucking cute for that.

Eddie thinks he might admire you for that— for being so kind and attentive to Wayne. And you’re like that with everyone: kind and perceptive in a way that makes people feel like they matter, like every word they speak matters. But this… this is different, Eddie thinks.

He’s unsure what it is, but seeing how you interact with Wayne makes his chest warm— like he’s drinking tea on a cold autumn day. Like he’s spent the day shivering in a cold building only to step out into a sunny sky and thaw the cold from his ribs.

It’s endearing, watching you.

Chrissy was never close with Wayne in any way, shape, or form. And although Eddie would’ve loved to see Chrissy interact and get along with Wayne, it just never happened. Not because Wayne was adamant about hating Chrissy or because Chrissy hated Wayne but because they just… never clicked. (And yeah, maybe Wayne disliking Chrissy had something to do with that, but that’s neither here nor there.)

And Wayne is a big part of Eddie’s life. He’s the main reason why Eddie is where he is today and not following in his deadbeat father's footsteps. 

Wayne is Eddie’s family.

And the fact that you can acknowledge that and treat their relationship with such respect and care— it makes Eddie feel things that he’s not very keen on feeling.

But the moment of admiration for you is quickly shattered when he catches a snippet of your and Wayne’s conversation.

“You’re a good journalist, I take it. Will I be getting interviewed for this article, too?” Wayne jokes, and you laugh, “If you’d like to, I'm sure I can make the time before you leave.” You respond.

And Eddie doesn’t like that. He hates that actually.

It’s nearly one in the morning when Eddie knocks on your door. They returned from dinner hours ago and called it a night, but Eddie is standing at your hotel room door, knocking at one in the morning. It’s a heavy and loud knock, enough to wake you out of the deep slumber you’d been in, given the way you grimace when you open the door.

You rub your eyes, blinking a few times before settling into a visible state of confusion once you realize the person in front of you is Eddie. You clear the sleep from your throat before sleepily blinking at Eddie and asking if everything is okay. 

Eddie doesn’t waste time cutting to the chase, “Are you trying to get my uncle in your piece?”

And yeah, maybe the question could have waited until tomorrow, and maybe the question is dumb and not all that serious considering it was clearly a joke, but Eddie smoked a blunt and couldn’t stop thinking about you— and looking at you now, god, Eddie believes if he hadn’t smoked too much to teeter on the edge of paranoid, he’d kiss you. You’re so cute; painted toes digging into the plush carpet (he thinks he should ask if you’ve iced your ankle tonight), oversized shirt hanging over your body like a blanket, messy imprinted lines of sheets on your cheek from your slumber, and a cute little frown gracing your lips. Eddie’s chest tightens.

“…Huh?”

Eddie almost forgot you were stupid.

“Wayne. Are you interviewing him for the article?” Eddie repeats.

You blink a few times, glancing around the empty hallway and shaking your head, “Eddie, this— this couldn’t have waited?” Your voice teeters on the edge of whiney as you speak.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, and you huff, rubbing your eyes again before shrugging, “No, I— I don’t think so. I mean… he’s the one who offered to talk. I’m down to do it if he’d like—” “That’s not happening.”

Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion, “Excuse me?”

Eddie shakes his head, “Leave Wayne out of your stupid piece, okay? I don’t want you interviewing him, asking him stupid questions, and twisting his words. He doesn’t need any of that shit.”

And you blink up at him like you’re having trouble processing what he’s saying, and Eddie really wants to fucking kiss you. 

Too much weed, he thinks. He should’ve never smoked that much after such a long T-break.

“Um,” you hum, taking a moment to register Eddie’s words before speaking, “Okay… I didn’t realize I had overstepped. I won’t interview Wayne.” You respond. Kind, polite, sweet, and all things that make Eddie’s brain waves spike.

You yawn into the back of your hand, “Can I— can I go back to sleep now?”

And you’re standing there, blinking up at Eddie with these soft and pretty eyes, and Eddie thinks… Eddie thinks, fuck it.

Now, Eddie hadn’t exactly planned to come here and kiss you. Or maybe he had; he’s not exactly sure at this point, but he can’t find it in himself to care because kissing you feels better than any drug Eddie could ever get his hands on.

Your lips are soft and sweet and taste like the lip balm you’d applied before bed. And here, this close to you, Eddie can smell the shampoo in your hair, the clean, scented body wash you use, and the fresh linen lingering scent of the hotel sheets, and it’s intoxicating. 

You’re shocked at first; Eddie can tell from how still your lips are, but when you realize that Eddie is kissing you, god, Eddie nearly melts.

You kiss like nobody Eddie has ever kissed before. Like you’ve spent years perfecting every single move, calculated and precise and all things electrifying. And if this is how you kiss when you’re grumpy and sleepy, Eddie can’t imagine how you kiss regularly.

But he shouldn’t be imagining that, and he shouldn’t be kissing you, and he shouldn’t even be here, for fucks sake! 

It takes nearly everything in Eddie's body and soul to pull away from you, and it pains him when he loses the feeling of your lips against his, but Jesus Christ, Eddie doesn’t know what came over him.

You look at him in shock, almost like you’ve seen a ghost, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do or say.

All he can do is turn around and go back to his room without another word, leaving you speechless and confused, with only the echo of his door slamming to aid both of your whirling thoughts.

————

part five

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a/n: GASSSPPP A KISS ?? LMAOO NEXT PART WILL BE A BIT MORE DRAMA FILLED SO LOCK IN BESTIES! AS ALWAYS, I LOVE ALL AND ANY FEEDBACK SO PLS LMK HOW U FEEL <3

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2 @mvnsonslvt @s-u-t @hereforshmut @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92

[stararch4ngelqueen]

High-Rise Melancholy

—

Time Written-11:23 a.m. (Pt.1 )

Jason Todd/fem!reader angst

—

A sharp clash of painted porcelain smashes against the doorway you almost crossed, shattering the thick plastic light switch frame.

An involuntary yelp left your lips from the sharp sound of impact, watching the fragments of what was once your indigo blue, gold star and moon coffee mug, once full of sleepy time tea, scatter the ground in seconds.

Wide eyes meet yours, the culprit of throwing the mug peering back at you with eyes much wider than yours behind his mask.

The bedroom was laced in silence, the tension elevated into high alarm. Static laced his tongue once he realized what he’d done, the idea of harming you bringing his knees to nearly buckle.

He swore you weren’t standing there a second ago, what was he thinking? He nearly hit you, he almost—

“GET OUT!!” He shouts, screaming into the flames of the chaos he caused. Your eyes grew wider, your feet nearly stumbling back as you retreated. Enraged, milky eyes grew close as he stomped forward, trembling hands grasping hold onto the edges of the door.

“GO! GET THE— GET THE FUCK OUT!!” His raised voice cuts short once he slams the door in your face, preventing you from seeing him crumble any further.

Out of the eighty six to ninety percent change you had to seeing him in this manner, it never got any easier. He’d shut down, he’d throw things, he’d shout so loud it would concern the neighbors.

However, as Batman abides by his unique, golden rules of logic, Jason’s was much more simple:

He’d never, ever raise a hand to you. Ever.

You wait in the kitchen for nearly ten minutes, lit up by the warm glow of the stove light. A fresh cup of tea waited for you, alongside a mug of strong coffee. Your boyfriend locked himself into your shared bedroom, your inaccessible phone laying abandoned on its charger on your bedside table.

You couldn’t check up on him like this, no matter how much you wanted to. He needed space, needing a minute to calm down, however long that minute would end up taking.

You were in the kitchen when he came home, dressed in plaid sweatpants and his red hoodie with a box of pancake mix in your hand, moments away from preparing an early breakfast before he’d sleep in until late in the afternoon.

Maybe it was your mistake. You heard the difference in his heavy footsteps when he returned this morning. Heavy, dirty soles scraping against hard wood floor in frustrating stomps, rather than exhausted drags.

You probably shouldn’t have treaded behind him with strong concern, wanting to make sure he was alright, preparing to dote on him if needed. You would say you’ve gotten better at it, but after this, you felt thrown back towards square one.

He’s tired, he’s angry. He just needs a minute.

You force yourself to think this, trying to keep your composure as your eyes peer down at Jason’s coffee, your fingertips settled on the warmth of the mug contrasting against the cold countertop.

Eventually, the faint click of your bedroom door was heard down the short hallway before comes to you. The softest creaks of the wood gave way once his socked feet transfer towards cold tile before warm arms encasing you in a deep embrace.

The faint smell of wet dirt, rain water and petrichor flood your senses, his sweat damp hair tickling behind your ear as he tucks his head against the valley of your neck in silent shame.

“M’sorry,” His tired, weak voice ripples against your skin, the voice of a weak, little boy coming forth inside the body of a grown man. “Didn’t mean to. Didn’t mean to hurt you—“

“You didn’t,” your wavering voice cuts him off, to his dismay at what he assumed was your denial. “Jason, don’t say that, you didn’t hurt me-“

“I almost did!” He insists, hot trembling breath fanning along your neck whilst his broad, jacket shrouded arms squeezed you tighter. “I swear! I-I wasn’t thinking, I.. I wasn’t—“

He cuts himself off, his chest heaving with his increased breathing. You try to take the opportunity to turn yourself, feeling his arms hesitate in their tight grasp once he realized what you were trying to do.

His shoulders tremble as he contemplates you seeming him like this. No, he didn’t want you to even look at him, but you were just as stubborn as he was with persistence.

Jason’s head rose off your shoulder, keeping himself turned towards the side as you finally face him. You didn’t need to look into his eyes to see how frustrated with himself he was, the angry, shameful tears leaving thick tracks down his chiseled cheeks.

Dark bags outlined his sockets, tired wrinkles crowning the corners of his pink, flushed eyes.

“Jason,” his name softly rolled off your tongue, making the man sniffle after he lowers his avoided gaze.

Your arms snugly wrap around his neck, your hand cradling his head towards your shoulder. His muscles remained stiff three seconds longer before melting, fat tears seeping into the shoulder of your hoodie.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, baby.” His weak voice trembles, scattered breath steaming against the damp fabric. Please, don’t be angry with me.

You’d never be angry with him. You trust him to never hurt you.

“I forgive you,” came your gentle reply, but it would take a while for the shame to slip off his nerves. For now, you held the tall, large man against your frame, quietly comparing him to a ridiculously large teddy bear you’d win at a boardwalk carnival.

“I’ll get you another mug,” he murmurs against your neck, making you huff out an amused breath.

“We have a hundred more in the cabinets,” you mused, referring to your thrift store of a stock that took up two shelf spaces.

“I-“ he tried to speak again, thinking of some other way he could possibly apologize for his outburst, but you weren’t gonna have it.

“Jason, enough,” You cradle his face, wanting to kiss all his tears away straight from the source. “It’s okay. I’m okay, you’re okay. Okay?”

A small part of you wants to smile at how many times that word has been repeated, but it was a chisel on a block of ice when it came to Jason. A warmed chisel, hoping to strike an impact on his troubled mind faster than anything else.

He’d let you break him harder than he broke your possessions, even when it was never intentional. He’d let you harm him worse than he ever did towards the criminals, the ‘so-called victims’ from his Lazarus youth.

He’d watch your hand raise, yet it never struck, it soothed. When he believed everything in his new life grew more hateful and cruel, the graze of your fingertips remained subtly sweet. Pure autumn honey and warm milk for his battered soul.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you settle, running your fingers through his sweat curled locks nearly flattened down along the top of his head. The consequences of wearing a helmet for many hours at a time.

“Go take a shower. I’ll make you those cinnamon roll pancakes you like, then you can get some sleep. Okay?”

A tinge of a smile formed on the corner of his lip, albeit temporary, it was still visible.

“Okay.”

[writeforthepeople]

Heyy! I've been thinking about Damien and the reader being in a YouTube short film together playing as a married couple and as filming goes on they find themselves actually falling for each other 😩😩 specifically a scene where they're lying in bed together and have to face each other all closely and they're staring into each other's eyes all soft UGHH anyways! I would love if you could write a lil fic like that 🥹🫶 even if you don't end up writing it ty for reading this req!

Absolutely LOVE this idea. The UGHH says it alllllll. Summary: You are cast in a short film your friend Amanda is working on and you are playing Damien's love interest! While you always strive to be as professional as possible, the acting feels a bit too real...and maybe it is?

Warning: No smut, slow burn. Word Count: 4k ... I might have gotten carried away with this one.

You woke up to an early alarm, you had to wake up earlier than usual to start getting ready for your first day on a new set. Your friend Amanda was making her first short film and decided to cast you, of course, you were excited to work on the project because you love her, but you would have been willing to do any part of the project to help. You getting cast as the love interest to the main character certainly gave you a confidence boost though. Nerve racking? Sure! but exciting none the less.

You continued going over the script for what must have been the 10th time as you finished getting ready this morning. It was a romantic comedy about the main character, Gideon Hale who is able to see ghosts. He makes a living running a small bed and breakfast, but on the side he is a bit of an 'Afterlife Coach' (the name of the film) where he coaches ghosts on getting through the afterlife. He meets an old friend (you) who is back in town after many years for a mutual friends wedding. The story focuses on his journey helping the ghosts around him and getting to know you and falling in love. You were a little nervous for a few of the more romantic scenes, but it is nothing you haven't done before. You've been in many plays and projects where you have had to kiss or be romantic with a partner. This one felt different though, you had met Damien a few times through Amanda and somehow knowing him made it feel a bit awkward. Not to mention the fact that you thought he was incredibly attractive, but that would only help the acting be easier, right? It didn't take long to get to the filming location, Smosh had offered to let Amanda use some of their space for filming. When you walked in you were immediately greeted by Erin, the set coordinator. We chatted for a few moments before she brought me to the set Amanda was working on. You were blown away with all the effort that had gone into really making the set look like a bed and breakfast. There was a lobby, a kitchen, and a bedroom plotted out for various scenes. "Y/N!! You're here!" you heard Amanda's familiar voice yell out as she made her way over to you. She was beaming, and it made you smile. "I'm here and ready to work!" you said, giving her a quick hug. "I hope you are here and ready to fall in love because we are about to make magic" She laughed, but you knew there would be more jokes to come on that front. You looked around and didn't see Damien yet but you noticed several other familiar faces from Amanda's parties. It looked like Angela was running the show, directing and moving people about. You think to your self, this must be the most serious you've ever seen her.

"Damien is wrapping in hair and make-up, he has a few scenes to shoot before you enter so once he is done you're next in the chair!" Amanda talked as she led you to the small room right off the stage. "Hey Trina, this is Y/N, she's up after my little star here" he pointed to Damien, waving her finger around in a funny gesture. She walked off without saying anything else. "Hi Y/N, you can take a seat we are almost done here" Trina said and Damien smiled "How are you feeling?" he asked you politely "I'm good, a bit nervous but I am excited" you admitted, trying to hold back your surprise. His hair was different. Last you had seen him his hair was getting long, but was distinctly dyed a silvery white, but the man sitting in the chair has more of a slick backed 90's look and was dyed completely black. "How about you?" you asked, not mentioning the hair. "I'm good" he said not moving his head as Trina added hair spray and tapped him on the shoulder "You are set" she she smiled and turned back to her kit. You watched as Damien examined his look and quickly turned to you "I've never had black hair, how does it look" it was as if he was scanning your features for an answer. You shook your head "it suits you. I like it a lot" you admitted, your cheeks a bit red. "Did you dye it just for the role?" you follow up with and he smiled and nodded "It felt very Gideon" he said with a chuckle "plus Amanda had a vision and who was I to say no to that?" he added. "Well hopefully I don't have to dye mine, but anything for Amanda right?" you smiled.

"Luckily your hair just needs styled" Trina chimes in. "You ready to hop in the chair?" she asked and you nodded, standing up. "Well I will see you out there" Damien said, leaving the room with a wave. "What a nice boy" Trina said after he left and you nodded "he's really sweet" you agreed. "So, you are the love interest huh?" she turned you to the mirror and talked through a bit of Amanda's vision and you got started. You didn't need anything to crazy, she was going to style your hair and put on some make up and take you over to wardrobe. After you were ready, you headed to the set and took a seat in the corner to watch the scene they were filming. Damien was speaking to a ghost played by Tommy, helping them understand that he has options in the afterlife. Amanda came over after they cut and asked if you were ready. You oddly weren't, your nerves were high but you shook out your hands and planned to fake it til you make it. She led you to the scene in the lobby of the bed and breakfast Damien's character, Gideon, owned. You stepped to your marker and looked to Damien, who was reading the script once before the scene and you smiled to yourself, thinking about how cute his thinking face was. You shook out your hands again, you needed to shake any thoughts like those away.

"Ok" Amanda starts "Damien, Gideon is prepping for two arrivals he has today, both are high school acquaintances in town for your friend Aprils wedding. You are feeling uncomfortable, knowing you will have to make a lot of small talk and feel a need to be more entertaining than with any standard guests" she said, nodding but speaking again before he can talk at all. "Y/N, Gwen is nervous about being back in town. Not only is she having feelings about her close friend getting married and starting 'the rest of her life' " the ending she added finger quotes "but Gwen is also feeling inadequate, not being as advanced in her career as she thought she'd be by now, knowing she'll have tons of people asking about it all weekend." I nod to her "I don't want to give too many notes upfront, lets just vibe" she said and you chuckled. That is so like her.

"Action" she said before taking a seat. You begin walking up to Damien, a smile appearing on his face, it looked so genuine. "Hi, I'm uh checking in under Henry, Gwen Henry" as you reached the counter. "I know exactly who you are" he responded. "I'm Gideon, we had 11th grade history together" he spoke, checking you in. "Of course! Gideon, wow, you look great man. I didn't know you worked here" you could feel your nerves leaving as the conversation, while in character, felt so comfortable. "Yeah, I have been running the place for a few years now. Want me to help you with you bags? I can show you to your room" The two of you walk off scene together before it cuts. You ran the scene a few more times, taking notes as you went. Your characters filmed a bit more together, discussing the upcoming wedding. "Do you need a ride to the wedding? Damien asked you, as you sat at the kitchen table the next morning. "I am going alone so I would be happy to drive you" he added. The first time is character is meant to outright flirt with you. "Unless you have a plus one" his character sits across from you and you look up. "I do not" you smirk, as Amanda had instructed "I would love a ride" you went back to looking at your phone but the smile stayed. "Alright folks, that's a wrap!" Amanda yelled and people began bustling around again. She jumped on set and put her arm around around you "you guys did great today" she pulled you in closer "thank you for doing this" she added and you grinned "literally anything for you, and I didn't even have to dye my hair" you joked "Isn't he the best for that?" Amanda asked "It seems like it" you said before her added in "I really am" with a joking shrug. "

The next morning was filming day two of three, and you had a later call time, the morning being a lot of Damien filming with his ghosty friends. By the time you got to set, things were in full swing, but you had a lot to do to get ready. Your scenes were around attending the wedding of your characters friends. Which meant your make up and hair were done up and you were going to be in a nicer dress. Trina got you in the chair quickly, and she did great work. You needed to take some notes because you loved the way she did your make up. Next was finding the right dress. Amanda had the team bring in a few options to find what would be best. When you tried on the first one, you were instantly relieved that there were more options because this was not it. The dress was too tight in the worst ways. The second dress however fit you like a glove.

You were nervous enough about what you had to film today, you didn't want to also have to worry about how you looked. When you stepped back out to the main set area you were greeted by Amanda's grin "giiiiiiirl" she shook her head "If I wasn't married, I'd be the one falling in love with you today" she made you laugh, it was nice to feel all dolled up even though it was only for a few scenes. The bigger issue was the scene after that. Where you and Damien's character end up in bed together at the inn.

No big deal, just awkwardly laying in bed together, staring into each others eyes, with cameras, cast, and crew all staring at you. Totally fine. "Are you ready?" She asked, her tone more serious "nervous at all?" she asked. "Me?" you responded "never" you faked a laugh and she nodded, but you know she saw right through that.

You filmed a few scenes. It felt like you had to film the scene of you walking out in your dress, Damien seeing you for the first time, over and over. Notes given everytime about changing the reaction, Amanda wasn't sure if she wanted an immediate connection, or if it would be one sided from the start so you got several take options to use. Then a few scenes at the wedding, where your characters ended up dancing together, both drinking and feeling the weight of all your old acquaintances feigning interest in your lives. Gideon calls you both an uber back to the inn, far to drunk to drive. The scene cuts to Gideon helping Gwen to her room. The both of you stumbling and laughing, making jokes about the music and the speeches , but when you reach the room the mood shifts. That shift was hard to capture, filming over and over a small but crucial scene.

"Oh, Gideon..could you help with my dress?" your character says, Damien's face heating up at each take. If you didn't know better you'd think part of it wasn't acting. As his character helps, he sits down on the bed, listening to Gwen continue a story as she changed in her bathroom, door open but just out of view. That is when she climbs into the bed with him, both talking and becoming more comfortable. Only taking two takes to get that just right, natural as could be. It was the next scene, the final scene that caused issue.

Gideon and Gwen lay back on the bed, laughing about the way an old school mate said the word "wildest" in his speech, he'd spent the summer in London and now thinks he has an accent. As your laughing slows, you look at each other. Your characters seeing each other in a new way, but you and Damien could not stop giggling. Ruining the scene each take.

"You guys are KILLING me" Amanda says, giggling herself. "Ok, here is the deal. This scene is everything.. it has to be right. We have a few more scenes to get tomorrow so lets try this again then ok?" she sighs. "In the meantime, I need you two to find a way to get...better?" she said with a shrug "I need you two to look at each other like everything shifted, like your friendship is ending and a relationship is beginning. I don't care if you lay in this bed all night figuring it out...but please figure it out" she walked off and you and Damien looked at eachother as the crew starts to wrap set. "Yikes" he said, breaking the silence. "I'm so sorry" you start in but he cuts you off "hey it is both of us, it is an awkward scene" he lets out a bit of air "Maybe we should actually practice" he suggests and you raise an eyebrow

"Why Damien Haas, are you trying to get me in bed?" you ask with a smirk "Maybe" he smirked back and you and while you started it, it made your cheeks heat up. "We can order in at my place and get more comfortable?" he said, losing the edge to his voice and becoming more sincere.

"That does sound like a good idea" you admit. "I guess we haven't really hung out before, so it would be nice to just shake off the nerves and be more comfortable" you said honestly. "Anything I can pick up on the way to your place?" You ask but he shook his head "no, let me shoot you over my address and we can meet there" you hand him your phone and say goodbye to a few people before taking off and driving to his house. The nerds really hit when you walked up to Damien's door. Were you really here to...lay in bed with a cute boy? This can not be real life.

You knock on the door and hear him shuffle a bit before answering. "Hey!" he said, you could tell he was out of breath. "Sorry was just uh picking up a little" he said, gesturing for you to come in. His place looked so nice. You smiled, turning to face him "This place is very you, I like you" you said and he smiled in return "I tried to make it feel like home" he started walking to the kitchen and you followed behind him. "I thought Italian food would be a good option, so I got a few things from my favorite spot".

"I'm not picky" you smiled and watched him as he made you a plate, setting it at the table. "What can I get you to drink? I have sodas, water, tea" he looked in a cabinet next to him "Oh! I don't drink much but I have a bottle of wine we could crack open" he said, pulling out a bottle. "You know, a glass of wine sounds perfect right now" you chuckled. "You are not wrong, take the edge off" he nodded. "What, you don't often invite women over to lay in your bed and stare at you?" you joked at him

"Oh no, this s a weekly occurrence for me" he joked back. He was always quick with a joke, and you liked playing off of him. You followed him to the table, sitting down "Well now I don't feel special at all" you hold back a laugh.

You both talk, getting to know each other over dinner. You found out you had a lot in common, especially around gaming. You learned he even voiced a character or two that you liked and that was a shocking revelation. "Ok" he says, after cleaning up our plates. "I think we dive right into this. Find a way to be more comfortable with ease" he weighs in "we could like...cuddle on the couch?" he shakes his head "this is so awkward" he covers his face with his hand. You start in, hoping to ease his tension "No no, you're right." you give him a small smile "this IS awkward, don't feel bad" you both are quite for a moment "Cuddle on the couch and watch an episode of TV or something? Let us get get over the awkwardness. Pretend this is a casual date night or something" he nods "we are both actors, we can do that" he says with confidence.

You were trying to contain your feelings as he sat next to you on the sofa, turning on netflix and finding a baking show to watch. That was sweet of him since you said that was your go to type of show. "Is it ok if I put my arm around you?" he asks, not taking his eyes off the screen. "That would be ok" you glance at him. When he placed his arm around your shoulders you instinctively leaned him closer. Your heart picked up as his hand nervously laid against you. You held in your breathing slightly, afraid to move too much, wanting to just take in the moment you are in. You watched the show for several minutes like this, quite but comfortable. "I wish I could bake like this" you said, breaking the silence. "Me too" he said adjusting his arm slightly and gently rubbing his thumb against your arm. You got goosebumps very lightly, hoping he hadn't noticed. You adjust slightly and lay your head against his shoulder, allowing for a slight escalation.

In turn, Damien pulled you in a little closer and for a moment you forgot why you were here. "This is...comfortable" he said eventually and you nodded "Yeah, it is" he could not see your smile, but it was there. "Not nearly as awkward as I thought" you added and he chuckled "Oh you thought cuddling with me would be awkward? Should I be offended?" he said playfully. "or should I be happy you imagined cuddling with me at all?" he kept a playful tone but the comment made your cheeks warm. "I guess there are worse people I could have as a romantic counterpart" you joke back. "I'll take that as a compliment" he said, his thumb moving up and down your arm at a slower pace, your body acutely aware.

"We've proven we can cuddle." you say, not sure how to really say that you want to try laying down now. you feel his head nod and you move to sitting back up. "Do you want to...move to my room?" he said now looking at you. "I think so" you said, realizing how close you two still sat. "Do you..maybe want to talk expectations?" he said a bit quieter than his normal voice. "Cuddling on the couch is one thing I uh-" he stammered a bit "I want to make sure you are comfortable and that I don't overstep here" you bit your lip slightly and his eyes moved to stare but quickly came back to your eyes "Yeah" you try to say confidently "Um, the scene does call for a few things, maybe we could practice all of that.." he trail off, knowing that means a kiss.

"Ok" his smile clear "Lets just practice the scene and stop if we feel too weird. Maybe that is easiest? Lets just be Gideon and Gwen?" he suggests and you felt your shoulders actually relax a bit. "I like that Idea" you add in, starting to stand up. "well, are you going to walk me to my room?" you said in a more confident voice that you use for Gwen. Damien stood up, grabbing your hand and leading you to his room. Your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn't believe the way you were able to continue this exercise without squealing. You reached Damien's room and looked around. He had dark bedding, and low lighting. It was much like you expected it to be but very clean and still inviting in a way.

He sat on his bed, patting next to him. "So, we both are sitting here" he said as you made your way over, sitting next to him. "Laughing about the world wildly" you add and he leaned back, you followed. This time, you turned to look at him and he looked at you. This time, there was no giggling, you both stared for a moment or two before you cracked a smile. "Look at us" he said sitting back up, that had to be 5-6 seconds right? he joked. You sat back up too "Better than before right? This is more comfortable already" you tried to shake out your hands and he watched in amusement. "Am I making you nervous" he said, a hint of joking but more a sense of intimacy in his question. He actually worried that something he was doing was uncomfortable and you shook your head no at first but stopped. "I think It was more nerve racking to do all of this with you in front of everyone, judging our movements, giving us notes, you know?" he nodded, you could tell that just saying it gave him some relief. "I was thinking the same thing" he admitted "I don't want to come off as a weirdo but it felt wrong to potentially kiss you for the first time in front of all those people and immediately receive notes on it." he chuckled slightly. "not really how I imagined it" you said, not thinking about the implications of that statement. "So you imagined it huh? He said leaning into the playfulness. You wanted to backtrack, to say something about it being in the script.

Instead you played off his attitude "what if I have?" you bit your bottom lip and you saw the shift in his face, the corner of his mouth turning upwards and he cocked his head to the side. "Well now you have to share with the class. What exactly did you imagine it being like?" the way his spoke made you take a sharp breath. You leaned in closer to him "to start, there were a lot less people" you say in a low voice. Damien matched your energy leaning in, you two sitting on the bed closely "there are less people here now" he watched your eyes, waiting for any kind of invitation "and yet you still haven't kissed me" you felt his hand on your face before the words left your mouth. "I've also thought about what it would be like to kiss you" his voice low as he inched closer. You closed your eyes, waiting for his lips to meet yours. It was soft at first, testing the waters. You pushed harder against his mouth and you felt him envelop you. His hand now in your hair and his body beginning to press against yours. You fall back on the bed and follows, hovering above you as he gently pulls back.

You look up and him and smile "I think we will be just fine tomorrow" he says, before kissing you again.

[deuce-t-agere]

X-Men: Evolution CG Storm and Regressor Wolverine headcanons

When Logan comes back from a solo mission he always tries not to let himself regress because he worries the kids will see, he likes to keep his regression as private as possible and doesn’t want to lose the kids’ respect

Ororo will meet him after missions to see how he is doing, if he’s trying not to regress, she’ll use subtle language to help him slip into headspace and then walk with him back to one of their rooms for some baby time, if he’ll let her

Ororo will whisper ask Logan if he went potty before they leave because he might have an accident if he slips

Ororo tries to convince Logan to wear a pull-up when they go out while he’s between headspaces, Logan begrudgingly agrees most of the time because it’s slightly less embarrassing than an accident

Kitty saw Ororo leave Logan’s room early one morning after she spent the night helping him regress, a rumor started about them dating that same day, they were extra careful for a while bc they didn’t want anyone accidentally finding out while trying catch them doing coupley things

Logan doesn’t like to eat his veggies, but he always wants whatever Ororo is eating, so Ororo has a system. O: “Do you want any veggies, Little One?” L: “No!” O: “Okay.” *Gives herself extra vegetables* L: “Mama, I have some, please?” Much easier than arguing about how he needs to eat his vegetables

Ororo has to carry a bag with her everywhere they go, not just for Logan’s baby stuff like changing supplies, sippy cup, etc, but to hold all the rocks and sticks he gives her while they’re outside

Logan has “mastered” secretly regressing, sitting silently at the breakfast table, pretending to read a news paper while playing Blue’s Clues songs in him head, most of the kids already try not to bother his so early in the morning so might as well take advantage of it if he slips

Ororo keeps little snacks and small toys on her for when Logan slips, so she can make sure he eats and give him something to do subtly until they can get somewhere safe and/or private for him to properly regress

Lots of nature walks while the kids are at school and they don’t have any x-men business to take care of

Logan love to run around the ground and climb trees

Ororo watches him play and sometimes will indulge him in making it rain so he can play in the mud and stomp in puddles

Logan and Ororo will snuggle and watch movies in the common areas sometime while the kids are at school. They don’t do it often because sometimes the kids are still in and out of the house through out the day anyway

The only other people who know are Charles and Hank. They’ve had close calls with Jean and have suspected that maybe she knows but hasn’t said anything

[theemporium]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJGMWPep/

This literally screams max and trouble…

What if trouble has had some issues with her family (not me projecting) and she just has a off day, possibly had a argument or something and she just needs to be held like this 😭😭🙏🙏

PLEASE THIS IS SO🥹thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

It wasn’t unusual for Max to be awake before you.

Between a lifetime of early starts and a training schedule that had been drilled into his head, Max was more than familiar with early morning starts. Regardless of whether it was a race week or not, his body clock woke him up just after dawn and he was used to it by now.

When he was in Monaco, his morning routine would be the same. He’d wake up, he would press a kiss to your forehead and then go get ready for his morning run. He would only have a protein shake, because he likes to make breakfast with you when he returned, and he would only take his phone, keys and earphones with him.

It also wasn’t unusual for you to still be asleep when he returned. You were never a morning person, and usually you’d wake up an hour or so after he left (always claiming it felt wrong when he wasn’t in bed beside you), but sometimes he would find you still fast asleep. And he would usually find the most annoying way to wake you up because he was lonely without you.

However, when he noticed the half-made smoothie on the kitchen counter with you nowhere in sight, he was confused.

“Trouble?”

He walked deeper into the flat, taking in the sliced fruits and the cutting board left on the kitchen counter. A frown formed on his face when he couldn’t hear a single movement around the house.

“Schatz? Are you okay?”

When he received no answer again, his concern spiked and he could his feet frantically moving to find you. The bedroom was the first place he checked, and it was exactly where he found you.

You were curled on top of the duvet, knees clutched to your chest as your body wracked with silent sobs. Your eyes were red and glossy, your cheeks were puffy, and something in Max’s chest broke at the sight of you.

“Baby,” he murmured softly before rushing to your side, kneeling beside the bed as his fingers softly swiped away the tears streaming down your face. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, Trouble.”

“My mum called.”

Three words, but they said more than enough to Max. He knew your relationship with your mother was rocky, you had been fairly open to him about it. But he knew you also hoped that maybe with some distance—maybe with you in Monaco—it would improve. And judging by your teary face, he guessed it hadn’t worked out like you hoped.

He didn’t say anything as he climbed onto the bed beside you, pulling your body as close to him as he could as he wrapped his arm around your curled up body. He ran his hand up and down your back, tickling it slightly just the way he knew you liked it.

“I’m here for you,” he murmured as he pulled you closer. “And I love you, no matter what.”

“I love you too,” you whispered in a raspy voice as you nuzzled yourself further into his embrace.

It hurt. And it would still hurt for a very long time. But something about it all felt easier when you were in his arms, when you knew he was right beside you.

.

[saerins]

⋆୨ chapter two ୧˚ a million miles away, still you connect me in your way

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: chapter one - thorns without flowers, bars with no drinks <> next: chapter three - for a while, you were all mine ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 3.8k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, gaslighting, generally bad parenting across the board, miscommunications/misunderstandings | notes: looks like i made it for this week after all !! not proofread though because i’m still sick <\3 & hehe i heard you guys asking for sae redemption arc … hmm :)

To the whole world, your marriage with the eldest Itoshi son is a fruitful event. Both your parents, having history as college classmates turned business rivals, have put their differences aside and green-lit the marriage. (It kind of perplexes you, since it’s their idea in the first place, but both you and Sae know that it’s always better to just leave things be.)

“You both need to get along well, do you hear me?”

Ever the authoritative figure, your father, naturally, expects you to do the impossible and get your husband to—you don’t really know, actually. To be a husband?

“Dad, we just got married and we barely know each other, can’t we just—”

“Then do something about it.” The line clicks before you can say anything else, a long sigh leaving your lips. That’s easier said than done.

It’s been a week into the marriage and the most Sae has ever said to you was “here, got you the keys.” Which was on day two. And he hasn’t spoken to you since. Except to respond to your (fake) chirpy good morning! with his own lacklustre “morning”.

And it isn’t like you haven’t tried. On the off chance that you do catch Sae when he’s at home and not frolicking around outside, you try to ask about him. Foolish you thought that maybe if he saw you trying then he’d at least entertain you.

Of course, life isn’t that kind to you. Any time you try to speak to him casually, you’re locked out by his icy stare, quick to glare at you like you’re some weirdo who just happens to live in the same apartment.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if you were the type to initiate such things but you’ve never been so until now. And it’s killing you inside everytime you try.

“Save me, please.”

Reo’s chuckle rings over the speakers, your heaved sigh drowned out by him. “Not even a month in, are you sure you can last with this your whole life?”

“Stop rubbing it in, Reo,” you whine, nearly dropping your breakfast on the floor.

It’s a Thursday morning and you’d been given a week off to acclimatise to life as a newlywed. From what you know, Sae was too. Problem is, Sae hasn’t even been home. He leaves early in the morning and comes back late in the night; there’s really no difference than when he’s actually going to work.

And given your… situation, you don’t really want to ask where he’s been and sound like, well, a wife. It’s stupid and crazy for you to think that when you are his wife, but it’s the sticky feeling of the two of you being strangers that makes you feel like you can’t act that way.

That night when Sae comes home to see dinner still untouched, all handsome as usual in his white dress shirt with the top unbuttoned, he gives you a brief once-over before toeing off his shoes. He reeks of alcohol when he walks past you but you don’t comment on that; he doesn’t look tipsy one bit so you have a feeling he was just surrounded by the people doing the actual drinking. 

“Why haven’t you eaten?”

You bet he’s only asking because you’ve meticulously placed yourself at the dining table, not moving even when he almost shuts his bedroom door on you. There are two empty plates set out on the table—one for you and one for him.

One glance at the clock sets the time at 9.30pm. Entirely way too late for dinner—or well, a normal one, at least.

Tonight is different from all the other nights, because before tonight, you’d resigned to cooking and eating dinner alone. But given your earlier talk with Reo, he’d convinced you to try forcing Sae into it, as bad as that sounds, and you want to see it through.

“I was waiting for you,” you say, back faced to him.

In this huge apartment, your soft voice bounces off the walls.

You can hear Sae hesitating for a while before finally speaking up. “I already ate.”

It’s like a huge joke, whatever this is. It’s nothing that you can put into words because you expected as much but you’re disappointed that you have a husband who doesn’t care about your feelings yet you can’t actually fault him for it because your circumstances aren’t exactly… normal.

You don’t even realise you’re tearing up until you hear the abrupt sound of Sae’s bedroom door shutting, your tears falling from your cheeks as you jump in your seat.

From your father pressuring you to make this marriage work, to Reo who—bless his pure heart—believes wholeheartedly that you can, and lastly to Sae, who seems absolutely determined to see this marriage through to its divorce, you’re tired.

There’s no such thing as failure to your parents—you’d known that ever since you were born. Especially not to your father, who tolerated nothing less than perfection from you. He wouldn’t even let it go when you failed to bag a huge client and decided that scolding you in front of the entire office was the least he could do.

As his name lights up your phone screen again, you stare dumbly at his message.

So? Are things going well with him?

You would mistaken it for parental concern if not for his next message.

Don’t screw this up like you always do. No one else would want you anyway, hear me?

He has a way of kicking you when you’re down. It’s almost like he decided you not being born would be better.

Just as you’re starting to lose your appetite, you hear the click of the door handle, your heartbeat the only sound you hear before the familiar shift of Sae’s feet against the ground. Half of you thinks he’s just forgotten something and is coming out to get it, but the other half of you is so stupidly optimistic that you can’t help but wish he’s had a change of heart.

Still, you wipe your tears away—a stubborn habit you’ve had since young to not let anyone see you crying, another byproduct of having parents who scolded you even more when they do see your tears—and pretend like you’re completely fine, sitting at the dining table all alone at 9.30pm having cooked entirely too much for a single person.

You can almost laugh at yourself looking at how pathetic this all feels.

But when you see Sae out of the corner of your eye, he’s changed out into more comfortable clothes, just a white oversized shirt with black shorts, taking a seat across from you.

“Let’s eat, then.”

To the outside eye, this might seem like a lacklustre dinner, like there’s nothing noteworthy about it at all. But to you, in that moment, it feels like everything. For once, you can see that even if Sae doesn’t want to, he’s trying. Just like you are. 

“Here.” He’s quiet when he eats. Apart from when he’s offering you more meat, quietly picking the bones off of the fish and discarding it onto his own plate and the meat in favour of yours.

You wonder what’s happened today that could contribute to his sudden change of decision. But it’s enough for you to feel his efforts, so you don’t harp on it.

“Do you… like it?”

Even though Sae doesn’t look at you all night, he does respond to you. Which is more than you can say for the past week.

“Mhm.”

And suddenly, it doesn’t feel so lonely.

Your father’s talking about visiting, so hopefully we can all meet again soon!

Sighing, you toss your phone aside and stuff your pillow on your face. Trust your mother to be the bearer of bad news like she’s always been, somehow resigned to being your father’s messenger whenever he feels like he loathes to speak to you directly.

Without even thinking, you know this is just his way of ‘checking up on you’, making sure that everything is going according to his plan. You’re not really sure why he insists that this marriage has to last when divorce happens to be all the rage these days. Sadly.

You can just envision the reprimand you’ll get if he comes over and finds out that you and Sae are not even sharing a room, often not even seeing each other apart from meal times and barely ever speaking at all. He will get to say that he knew all along that he has a useless daughter who can’t even do this simple task right.

Even at this age, he doesn’t want to vanquish his hold over you, always threatening to push the burden onto your sister instead, knowing that you won’t allow that to happen, banking on it to be the catalyst that drives you to obey his every command.

It’s a Saturday, and you haven’t heard the main door open today—unless Sae left the house before 6.30am which is unlikely—so you grind your teeth, weighing the pros and cons of going up to Sae and asking him for a favour. Really, the worst he can do is shut the door in your face, so what are you so scared of?

So ten minutes later, after whining internally to yourself and prepping for what you’re going to say, you find yourself at his bedroom door, quietly knocking on it a few times before hearing his show pause in the background and opening the door.

Sae’s eyes look tired, same as they’ve always been, teal eyes hidden behind those long lashes and his hair more of a mess than usual.

“Yeah?”

It’s stupid for you to think that hey, at least now he’s speaking instead of just grunting at you but your relationship is at an all-time low so you excuse yourself for that.

“We need to talk.”

Minutes later, Sae is sitting on the couch, arms crossed, brows furrowed helplessly as he listens to your ‘favour’.

“So… long story short,” Sae sighs, and you’re awkwardly shifting in your seat on the adjacent couch, anticipating his response. “Your parents might do a surprise visit and we need to look like an actual couple, is that it?”

Well, at least he was listening.

You nod, your fingers fiddling with each other. Somehow, you’ve become a nervous mess whenever you’ve had to interact with your husband.

“That won’t do.”

Your heart sinks just from those three simple words. You’re looking at the ground, polished and white, cold like real marble. You should’ve expected as much, but you really really don’t want to risk this impacting your sister.

“But if you could just—”

Before you know it, Sae’s right in front of you, forehead pressed against yours and teal eyes coldly calculating, as though he’s evaluating some statistic you’re not aware of.

He sighs and you can feel his hot breath against your lips, and suddenly you forget how to breathe, until he pulls away and sits back down where he came from. Sae’s eyes are still fixed on you, unrelenting.

“How are they gonna believe a thing when you’re that awkward around me?”

Sae can do all he can to make this believable, but it sure as hell won’t work if you’re this shy and nervous around him. Your parents are like his own, like vultures, they’ll pick this tension up in a second and they’re just going to know something is off. Then your plan will be all for naught.

“Um, well…”

He can tell you haven’t thought of that yet, so he brushes it off. You look like you’re going to hyperventilate if he pressures you on this any more. You looked cute though, all flustered when all he did was close the gap between you—but he keeps that to himself.

“Never mind that, what else do we need?” Because even without you saying, Sae can tell that this marriage doesn’t seem the slightest bit convincing. It just seems like two strangers sharing an apartment together.

“I was thinking maybe we could… takesomepicturesandframethemup on the wall?”

This time, Sae doesn’t hide his perplexity, blinking profusely at your statement. You’re averting your gaze too, and Sae nearly finds himself laughing, nearly. Your nervousness is quite amusing. It takes him a while to fully grasp what you were saying.

“Fine,” he relents, leaning back against the couch, internally snickering at the way you seem like a puppy, starry eyes gazing at him when he agrees. “You book a studio, put it on my card. Anything else?”

He’s like a businessman through and through, you realise, releasing everything off his to-do list in one fell swoop. You go to the next item on the agenda in your head.

“Oh… about finances,” you approach the subject carefully, knowing how it’s a sensitive topic for most people. “Should we just split everything fifty-fifty?”

For this, however, Sae wastes no time. 

“That’s fine, I’ll pay,” he says, matter-of-factly, in the most no-nonsense way he can manage. Though, the next thing he asks of you is one you never expected. “How much do you spend in a month? Excluding bills.”

You blink at him in surprise for a while, before trying to calculate it in your head. “Without bills? Um, maybe ¥150,000?”

Sae nods, pulling up his phone and typing on it for a while before looking back at you. “I don’t know how much you have in your bank, but I’ll open up a joint savings account, you can put everything else aside from your monthly expenditure in there. If you need any urgent expenses, just withdraw it as you need to.”

The way he says all this stoically nearly makes you mistake this for a business meeting.

“Excuse me? You want me to… transfer all my money into this account?”

“Except for your monthly expenses,” he corrects you, back to staring at his phone. “I’ll handle everything else, taxes, bills, whatever.”

This somehow sounds like all the scams you’ve watched on crime shows. That’s why you’re hesitating, but you have an inkling that Sae’s not that kind of person… is he?

“Um… what if…” You trail off, hesitant to get the words out, afraid of how he might take it.

Sae looks at you, putting his phone down on the table, his fingers interlaced with each other. He seems to understand your conflict, but he doesn’t explain anything further. He just asks you something simple. “Do you trust me?”

The simplest answer would be no, because you barely knew each other. Yet somehow, you feel the “yes” coming out of your mouth before you realise it, and Sae nods in acknowledgement. 

“I’ll send you the details soon,” is all he tells you before you see his phone lighting up, vibrating with a call. You manage to see the nickname ‘dummy’ come up before Sae grabs his phone, looking at it seemingly nostalgically before saying a “I gotta take this” and retreating to his bedroom.

The call ends as soon as Sae shuts the door to his bedroom. But just as quickly, he sees a new text popping up, and it’s irritating how he’s quick to open it immediately.

Maybe it’s a little pathetic of you to be in a good mood simply because Sae’s become a little more open now. And by open, you just mean he’s not just cold and silent and distant, but is now being more receptive.

Another two weeks have passed and you’re beginning to see a lot more progress. Like how Sae tells you what time he’ll be back so you can coordinate dinner. Or how he’ll be the one to settle dinner if you’re the one getting home late. His texts are a lot more than just simple acknowledgements and you find yourself smiling at your phone even if he’s there complaining about old geezers at work and how they’re so irritating and asking why they won’t just shut up.

“I guess that means everything’s going well in the new Itoshi household?”

Across from you, Reo’s smirking as he sips on his udon, noticing how your lips curve into a smile as you form a text. You pout and kick his shin lightly, annoyed that you got caught red-handed.

“Maybe,” you tell him, giggling.

For someone rumoured to be as rude and negative as Itoshi Sae, you find that he’s not all that bad once you get to know him a little. He’s just a regular guy, or maybe one that has a bigger chip on his shoulder than most people do, but you know better than to pry on that a little too early.

Reo ruffles your head, making it a little messier than usual but somehow, you don’t care too much about that now. “Just make sure he treats you well, ‘kay?”

You grin and nod in response, “yes, sir!”

For the lack of love your parents failed to provide, you’re more than grateful that you can get such concern from your best friend. You guess you can count yourself luckier than most.

That same afternoon, you get home from work with a hop in your step as you get a message that your photos have been delivered to your doorstep. And just as promised, it sits on your mat tied up neatly in a box and you squeal as you hurriedly unlock the door and unwrap it.

The still shots of you and Sae look perfect, all thanks to that professional photographer you managed to hire. Sae was less than thrilled to be there, but somehow, even with his stoic expression, the photos work. There’s shots of him with his arm around your shoulder, head resting on yours as he looks at the camera. Other shots where he follows your poses and sticks his tongue out. And when you get to the bottom of the pile, you see the last shot, the one you remember the most, because it’s the one where you’re just looking at the camera and Sae, without any direction at all, just leans in and kisses you on the temple.

At that moment, your phone vibrates, a message from Sae popping up.

But night falls and it’s suddenly 8pm and you haven’t touched the food on the table, sweet and sour pork long forgotten on the dining table because you’re busy setting up the pictures all around the house.

To his credit, the frames Sae picked are beautiful. They’re made of a dark wood to contrast the impossibly white walls and the white backdrop of your photoshoot. Though, he managed to order way too many of them so you idly wonder what you can do with the rest of the spares.

Once you’re done with the living room, you find yourself left with a few photos you reserved for the master bedroom, and you hesitate before going in. After nearly a month here and you realise you’d never actually been in here before.

It looks nice and clean and Sae’s a lot less messier than you thought he’d be. His towel is thrown sloppily on the floor and his bedsheets are a mess, but other than that the rest of the place is relatively spotless. Heck, you think even your room’s not as well-kept as his. Somehow you feel a little shameful about that.

Shaking your head, you snap out of it, getting back to the task at hand: meticulously placing these photos so you can act like the perfect couple once your parents decide to visit. (There’s a little glimmer of hope inside of you that hopes that by then, it wouldn’t have to be an act.)

Fifteen minutes later, you’re all about done in there, except when you accidentally gave yourself a paper cut trying to fit the photo in nicely. Clambering to the bedroom to find the nearest first aid kit, you find one in the nightstand—the other side of where he sleeps, judging from the way his blanket is thrown. Grabbing the plaster out of there, you stop in motion when you see a small A4-sized black gift box inside, a translucent gold bow rimming its sides.

As you bandage your finger up, you try not to think about it but your curiosity gets the best of you; it’s wrong but you can’t help yourself. Your fingers grab the box carefully out of its place, and you open it to see Sae’s alien face.

Only alien because he actually looks happy in those pictures.

The first few pictures you see are of Sae with Rin, who you know is his younger brother. They look alike too, and in some ways, it reminds you of you and your sister. It brings a smile to your face, but only momentarily, before you get bombarded by a ton of pictures of Sae with a girl you’ve never seen.

She’s pretty; brown hair down to her chest, having those beach wave curls that make you envious, piercing green eyes that shine through her bangs. A petite frame, with a style that’s already sophisticated even when she was a teenager back then. 

You can’t help but wonder who she is, though you don’t really need to when you have your gut instinct telling you it’s an old flame. And judging by the amount of photos he’s kept, it’s someone he still can’t forget. Is she why he’s been so hesitant?

All the photos were taken in those old school photo booth machines that used to be all the rage. That’s why their pictures always have filters and little scribbles drawn on before printing. It’s heartbreaking yet you can’t stop looking. So Sae is a person who can smile a lot, as long as he’s with the right one, it seems.

Most of the pictures have scribbles of M+S on them, and you assume M must be her initial. Is it crazy for you to be hurt by this? It’s a whole side of Sae you’d never seen, and it was on full display for someone else. It must seem like a fever dream for you.

You try to think positively, like it doesn’t mean much that he still keeps this even though it was a love seemingly long gone. You should have faith in him… right?

But then, the last in the pile is a normal picture, taken by camera and developed by film. It’s a picture of Sae and M lip-locked, his arms on her waist, her wanton smile visible even from this angle. Behind it, like a secret love note meant only for the lovers’ eyes to see, written in bright red:

itoshi sae, will you love me forever?

forever and ever, dummy.

And then you remember the same nickname flashing across his phone that night, and it all comes crashing down on you. And you feel like the stupidest person on the planet. These pictures are from forever ago, but it’s entirely plausible that he’s not finished with whatever it was.

Somehow, it feels like everything is in reverse.

You want Sae’s love, and this is your marriage—you and Sae’s—but then why, even as his wife, do you feel like the third party instead?

taglist: @kimvmarvel @mxplesyrvp @yuzurins @futuristicxie @kiopanxp @k0z3me @y-sabell-a @sae1toshilover @xoxojisu @karmatiz @sagejin @minnieminnie00-got7 @hearts4heidi @shiinobu-x @n1uh @prepchuu @leeyzhuo @shidouryusm @tsukishiro-yue2402 @kaiserkisser @pookiebearcave @dcvilxswish @saeskiss @whtflrr @arminseas @raphsimp *bolded: can’t tag you due to your settings >_<

[raineandsky]

#117

tw: gun violence, murder

The hero gets out of bed, folds their sheets back the same as always, and starts their day.

They put the TV on for the background noise, but it’s far beyond that now. The hero can recite this news story word for word.

“—and what’s to say this fiend can be stopped? I’m joined here by villainy expert Joyce Peterson for a glimpse into what may be….”

The hero pulls a box out of the cupboard, throws some cereal into a bowl. The same flake as always bounces off the edge and escapes onto the floor. They eat in silence, the buzz of the TV enough to fill the space for dread in their mind, and think over their plan again.

It’s been like this for two weeks now. The same news story, the same breakfast, the same glum look on the superhero’s face when the hero walks into the agency. The same “[Hero], a word, please”, the same confession that their villain is going haywire.

The hero wants to say they’ve lost their mind. They’ve tried everything—don’t go to work, don’t talk to the superhero, don’t accept the mission they’ve been given every day for the past two weeks. Even the inconsequential stuff: don’t have breakfast, don’t turn on the TV, don’t go in through the front door. Every day has brought a new attempt to break themself out of this time loop, and so far every day has remained exactly the same.

They look up a little too early when the superhero approaches them at the door. “[Hero],” he says predictably, “a word, please.”

The same as always. The superhero ushers them into an interrogation room for lack of a better place to speak privately. They have the same conversation, the words practically rehearsed in the hero’s head like this is some fucked up theatre performance. Your villain is going off the rails, the hero thinks along with him. You need to bring this to an end before they destroy everything.

The same walk down the corridor, the same idle suit-up, the same wish of good luck from the superhero.

The hero turns to grab the same pair of cuffs before they falter, caught in instinct. They let their hand drift a little further to unlatch a handgun from the wall. Something new. Another attempt at freedom.

Not that it’ll work. It never does.

The hero goes out there to face the villain, as always. They laugh at the hero’s presence, throw themself into the same grand monologue. The hero points their gun at the villain and, without a thought in the world, pulls the trigger.

Killing people is a lot easier than trying to catch them. The hero’s never wanted to kill someone—god, they can’t imagine what it’d be like to want to kill—but it’s a curiosity sated. It feels bad. They hate it. The villain is dead, the gun is hot in their hand, and this will all reset tomorrow.

The hero returns to the agency with the news. The superhero doesn’t seem to know whether this is good or not. “It’s another evil off the streets,” he says, but his brow furrows as he says it.

The hero goes home that evening, their routine slightly altered with their new line of action. The water of the shower is cold, their dinner made when the streetlamps outside the window are already flickering on.

They tumble into bed without a care. What will they try tomorrow? Maybe they can try just incapacitating the villain this time. Shoot them in the leg or something. They go to sleep and dream of another day of the same.

Morning. The hero gets out of bed, folds their sheets back the same as always, and starts their day.

They put the TV on for the background noise, but it’s far beyond that now. The hero can recite this news—

Wait.

“—No one’s sure what happened. The public has gathered here to celebrate this victory, but not everyone is so pleased about this. I’m joined by a citizen, who wished not to be named, who was there at…”

The hero stumbles into the kitchen, wrenching their usual box from the cupboard. They pour it into a bowl, and all the flakes stay inside.

The drive to work is a blur. They stagger in through the doors and another hero bounds up to give them a pat on the back. “Someone needed to put the trigger on that one,” she says brightly. “They weren’t going down without it. Good job.”

Their routine is shattered; they cringe away from the other hero’s touch. This is wrong. They weren’t meant to get out. They were in a time loop. Where’s the superhero? Where’re his usual concerns about the villain’s destruction?

They know they’re meant to be glad. They broke out of the same loop they’ve been in for two weeks. The relief of a new string of events should be palpable. All the hero can seem to feel, though, is overhanging, gnawing dread.

They’re free. They’re a murderer.

[wayfayrr]

The final raffle prize for my 200 followers event! This is for @peepthatbish with a reader learning and reading sign, I went though a few different Ideas before settling on this one to get the idea out, but wars sewing trouble and a soft wild won me over. What wild says through sign is the soft blue colour and the red is a mistranslation of what he's really saying. I hope you like it!! <3

[masterlist]

I wish there were an easier way to talk to Wild rather than having to get Wars or Twilight to translate his signs for me, especially since he’s been wanting to spend more time alone with me recently. As much as I try there’s only so far that reading body language can get you and it’s not like I can read Hylian either which leaves me stuck. Maybe I should just ask one of them if they’d be willing to teach me, I doubt they’d say no.

“[Name]? You seem distracted, are you alright? I know you’re not used to travelling like the rest of us but if you’d like to talk about anything then. I’m more than willing to listen to you, if it’s got you up this early then it’s surely an issue.”

“Oh? Uh, thanks for your concern captain but I was just thinking about Wild actually. I’ll keep your offer in mind though, so thank you..”

“‘About wild’? What about him are you thinking of?”

Huh, I could’ve sworn there was a hint of jealousy in his voice, but why would he be jealous of the idea of me spending… more time alone with Wild? Well, I think I might've answered my own question there. Really though, what reason would he have to be jealous of that, it’s not like Wars is close enough with me to be so possessive of me? 

“Just about how he’s been wanting to spend more alone time with me and how I’d like to learn some Hylian signs so that I can be alone and hold a conversation with him. Not that I don’t appreciate you and Twilight translating of course.”

“It’s never a bother to translate for you though, you could wake me up at whatever time and I wouldn’t even bat an eye.”

He pauses for a moment after that, the look on his face the same as when he’s planning his next movements watching a monster camp. There’s never been another moment other than that where he’s been this focused. Is the idea of spending more time with me really that important to him? 

“If you really want me to I can give you some lessons though, it’ll take a while for you to learn but whenever we have any downtime we can sit off somewhere quiet away from the others and I’ll give you some tutoring.”

He’d really switch from being jealous of me spending more time with wild and not wanting to do this to wanting to teach me himself? I know he’s getting some extra time alone with me while I learn, but does that really make up me possibly spending less time with him when I’ve learned enough to be alone with wild? Seeing as he’s willing it’s better I don’t press him on it so he won’t change his mind even if he does I could always ask twilight. With how he’s looking at me that might not be the smartest thing to do.

“What would you like to start with then [name]?”

“You know what kind of things Wild says to me the most often, maybe we could start with those things?”

“That does sound like the best place to start, I think we have an hour or two until the others will wake up, so why not start now”

And we certainly did, the time seemed to pass quicker than usual with him, it was nice to be doing something seeing as there wasn’t really a chance of me being able to go back to sleep. Something feels off about the signs he’s teaching me though, they aren’t what wild usually uses when he’s saying similar things. Maybe it’s just a different way to say things like how you can say yes in hundreds of different ways. He was still teaching me when the others started to stir, with wild waking up to start preparing breakfast for us all. No time like the present to test out the new language. 

“Mornin’ Wild! Wars spent some of the morning teaching me some hyrulian sign, so we should be able to talk alone more often now!”

Hey [name]! That’s amazing to hear, I can’t wait to talk to you more!! What do you want [name]. Can’t you see I’m too busy to talk? Just leave me alone.

“There’s no reason to be like that, I was just telling you. I’m sorry that I bothered you.”

Bother me? No, I want to talk to you, don’t go. Please? Thank you. Stay out of my sight for a bit, please. You’re distracting.

“I - I’m going. You don’t need to tell me twice.”

It’s like wild can’t make up his mind between his signs and his actions, he’s telling me to leave him alone but the second I turn away he grabs my wrist? It’s not like he really wants me here unless - Wars could have taught me wrong on purpose. With how possessive he was it’s not impossible, but why do that rather than just not teach me? He knew you’d just go to Twillight if he didn’t, you left him out of options. Wild’s grip isn’t to be messed with though, it’ll bruise if it gets any tighter - if it isn’t already. The noise we’re making seems to have woken the others up, as Twi shocks the both of us by grabbing our shoulders. 

“Aight - what’s got you’s so riled up.”

[name] said wars told them sign and I don’t think he taught them right.

“Wars taught me some hylian sign, so I wanted to talk to wild and he was just … mean.”

“Ah. I think wars taught you very wrong darlin’, Wild could never be rude to you, he’s fallen too far for that.”

With a wink and a nudge from twi at that, well he’s certainly proved my earlier thoughts, as well as throwing a frew new ones into the mix. No wonder wars would be jealous of him trying to get closer to me. But.. Wild likes me? That - well it adds up but I really wish this wasn’t how I learned. His kicked puppy look is heart-wrenching; I don’t blame him of course if my crush was deliberately taught to misunderstand me and then told about my crush on them? I’d be just as upset. Where should I go from here though? There’s a couple of different options, with one making a lot more sense to me. 

“Would you be able to teach me properly then rancher? I really would like to get closer to Wild; this seems like the best way to do that.”

“If the champ wants me too, then I don’t see an issue cub.”

Only if I’m there to make sure they’re being taught right. 

“Course wild.”

That should clear up everything then and I’ll be able to do what I actually wanted too rather than the exact opposite, Wild sitting next to me a blushy mess only makes it better. Twi’s lessons feel a lot better from the ones Wars gave me from the get go, he’s more careful with explaining the meanings as well as more patient with me; Wild adding in occasionally with things he thinks are important to know. I know I’m not gonna pick up all that much today but it’s amazing to finally be able to really talk to wild, now I’ve got some of the basics like how to spell Wild’s planning to take over most of my lessons for me anyway. There’s one sign that Twi taught me that really stood out to me though, crossing both hands flat and pressed to his heart. Love. The very same sign that he’s been using in place of my name for a few weeks now. He’s been practically confessing right to my face and I never even knew. Even with all of that I can’t help but want to tease him a little, now that the issues earlier are all cleared.

“So then lover-boy, were you hoping that your mentor was going to translate your confession for you, or were you hoping that this would all happen sooner?”

Hoping that you wouldn’t catch on for a long while yet. 

“Awh, is the idea of me knowing and reciprocating all that bad to you?”

Reciprocating?

I didn’t mean to say that outloud. My face feels like it’s hot enough to cook with now, why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut! Wild seems to be glowing at that though, he’s not making a move to talk or anything, just staring at me with the sweetest love struck expression. I would love for him to look at me like that often, it’s so pure and loving that I can’t help but want more of it. 

Would you be against us being more serious then… if you really do love me too. I think I'd like to try. 

“...”

“I think I would like that, I’d like that a lot actually. To be able to call you mine? It sounds nice.”