#none of it was bad enough to take down the page

[poison-doll]

would i!!!! here's the thread i made on x the everything app, home of mechahitler, when it happened.:

in 2019, after more than a decade of being enthralled with #biohacking type stuff, i got a ~1700 gauss magnet implanted in my left ring finger. today (in 2022), i received a 3T fMRI to find out where, exactly, in my brain the depression lives as a precursor to receiving transcranial magnetic stimulation, which did different, also weird things to my body.

the mri was exquisitely painful

to begin with, essentially none of what follows is anyone's fault but my own. the doctor who ordered the mri recommended the magnet be removed. my piercer said it was fine. my doctor disagreed. after failing to find someone who would take it out for me, i resolved to do it myself, but ultimately i couldn't make myself go with it. i've done some bonkers self-surgery before but cutting my finger open, i just couldn't.

the morning i got to LA, i called the imaging clinic, told them about the implant ( the doctor hadn't ) and asked if they were equipped to remove it, or recommend someone who could. i was put on hold for a very long time. the tech came on the line and told me it should be fine. for some reason, this made me more anxious, not less. the tech had some questions for me when i arrived at the clinic. mostly along the lines of "why???" and "how?????" i told him it should be fine for up to 3 Tesla. i don't know what a Tesla is, other than a shitty car and a pretty cool guy. i'm not sure why i settled on 3. a similar implant i found online was found to be safe for MRIs up to 3T! surely a magnet would be fine. did the product page for that implant say, specifically, that none of their magnetized implants should go in an MRI? perhaps. i extrapolated. should be fine.

they took me into the room with the Loud Tube. i was expecting to feel smth in my hand as soon as i went in the room. i didn't. they gave me a bulb to squeeze in case i needed to tap out, and i laid down. still nothing. only when i put my hand on my chest did it start to spin

a brief aside. there are three main sensations that i experience with my magnet:

near microwaves or other high-frequency devices, a sort of buzzing, like holding a tattoo machine or a vibrator, but in my bones.

close to another magnet, a gentle tugging. the tugging is the only one i would describe as unpleasant, and only if they get close enough together to trap my skin in between.

running my finger over both poles of a magnet, a kind of spinning or flipping. this one was the hardest to get used to. my magnet is a disc, and it's very tangible when it turns over inside me.

this brings us to the MRI. as my table started sliding into the Loud Tube, my magnet started flipping. and it didn't stop flipping. suddenly i started experiencing all three sensations, all at the same time, turned up to 11, flipping, pulling, buzzing. in case you were curious, yes, it was uniquely terrible to experience. the pain started very soon after, a sharpness that radiated from my finger most of the way up my forearm. when i lifted my hand off my chest, i could feel the forces competing to pull my hand in different directions and it just sort of floated there. it took a little bit of muscle to move my arm back down to my chest. i was in there for 30 minutes that felt like an eternity and no time at all

several times, the technician asked if i was okay. i couldn't bring myself to say anything other than "i can feel it, but it's not too bad." the reasons i told this particular lie, thrice over, are the purview of psychology rather than anatomy and will this remain unexplained. at a certain point, my hand got very cold. the brain has a fun trick where "cold" and "wet" feel very similar. i was temporarily sure that my magnet was burrowing out of my skin, and the blood that was pooling in my palm was the prelude to a magnetic bullet flying thru my sternum

friends, there was no blood. i just needed a blanket. after failing 40 or 50 times to count to 30, they told me they were done. "huh! already?" was all i could say. as i left the magnet zone, all the sensations were still playing on loop, buzzing dancing sparking up and down my ulna. i wondered if something in my hand had broken, or maybe something in my brain.

i'm writing this about five hours after i got out of the tube. the magnet doesn't appear to have migrated. my finger is slightly bruised, which is horrifying if i'm not imagining it. i can still faintly feel it vibrating, but it doesn't hurt. all in all, a thoroughly unpleasant but not dangerous experience. if you have a magnet in your body, i would strongly recommend you not do anything that might result in an MRI being necessary. i don't regret my implant. i'm glad it's still in me. if given the chance, though, i would have had it removed before i went in the Loud Tube. i've broken bones and sat for 7 hour tattoos and had sutures without anesthetic and more besides. this one? this one sucked shit

thought too hard about MRI machines today and had this come to me in a vision

[hanniebaeee]

You done?

Lee Know x fem!reader

Warning: touching, suggestive content 18+ MDNI

Genre: established relationship, fluffy, suggestive

Summary: Some wine in, you're feeling particularly brave and decide to tease your boyfriend. In public.

a/n: Another short one. But sometimes Lino just attacks me out of nowhere.

It all starts as a little joke.

You are out with the guys for dinner at some fancy new Korean BBQ place. And Hyunjin is already halfway through an existential crisis over whether or not he should order that one dish.

Minho sits beside you, casual, relaxed - one arm draped over the back of your chair, casually browsing through the menu.

The poor man is completely unaware of the absolute menace sitting next to him. You. 

Why? Because you've been holding it in since the moment you saw him in that shirt - a fitted black button down - he looks absolutely delicious in it. 

And now you’ve had just enough wine to be bold. And you have absolutely no sense of self preservation. None.

There's no other way to explain why your hand lands on his thigh under the table. Casually. Innocently even.

At first, he doesn’t react. Doesn’t even pause from the conversation he was having with Felix about some sauce. It was like he didn’t even feel your tiny fingers settle against the firm muscle.

Oh, so he’s unbothered? That’s cute.

You squeeze. Still nothing. He just flips the page of the menu like this is a damn novel.

Okay. You see how it is.

So you up the ante - your fingertips creeping slightly higher, slipping over his inner thigh. And squeeze. 

That’s when you see it. The slight twitch in his jaw. The way his fingers tighten ever so slightly around the menu.

You let your nails drag just against the fabric of his jeans, pretending to be in a conversation with Chris, and taking a sip of your drink.

You trail slow circles over the fabric of his jeans, adding a little pressure. There's a subtle shift in his posture.

Oh you love it. You smirk to yourself, fully convinced you’re ruining him. You don't see the little smirk on his face. You totally miss that. 

And then, his legs suddenly spread wider. Like a silent invitation, a challenge.

You freeze. Oh. Oh, no.

That was not the reaction you were expecting.

You glance at him, to see that he's absolutely  unfazed. His eyes are dark and sharp. The corners of his lips curving up in the slightest smirk, amused as hell.

He is absolutely playing with you. Then, in the softest, most condescending tone imaginable, he leans in and whispers,“You done? I don’t mind putting on a show.”

Your throat goes dry.

“You sure you wanna start something you can’t finish?” he adds and your soul leaves your body.

You try to pull your hand away. Well, bad idea. Because his hand snaps down, gripping your wrist and bringing it to rest on him. Not on his thigh, nope. On the very noticeable bulge that's starting to form in his pants. 

Your brain short circuits. Ok. This isn't part of the plan. You just wanted to tease him, and now, you're trapped. 

He turns back to flip through the menu like he's not covering your hand with his big one, squeezing his bulge. 

You are panicking.

The guys are still talking and laughing, completely unaware that you are currently being held hostage under the table. You try to shift your hand. Nope.

Minho just tightens his grip slightly, thumb brushing slow circles against your skin, mocking you.

Then, he looks at you. The smirk. The pure, unfiltered lust in his gaze - it completely disarms you. 

He leans in slightly, voice low and smug as hell as he asks, “You nervous, baby?”

YOU. ARE. LOSING. IT. 

Your face? On fire. Your confidence? Shattered.

“You guys gonna order or what?” asks Han, putting down the menu.

“Yeah, I’m starving.” Felix adds, stretching and sighing as Hyunjin still fusses over the chicken. 

And then, just to absolutely ruin you, he does the unthinkable. He spreads his legs even wider and gently humps into your hand. 

You glitch in real time, as he just smirks and leans back, sipping his drink like he didn’t just destroy you in public.

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he has the audacity to whisper, “We’ll finish this later. Just remember, you asked for this.”

And just like that, he releases your wrist, acting like nothing happened.

You are so fucked.

Minho: 1. You: 0.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120

[hoolaand]

Max Verstappen

The things we do for love

💌: toxic ex! max x reader. nosy fans and protective max. overprotective actually and a possessive freak, jealous! max w sprinkles of hot temperedness. suggestive content but not direct smut

💌: the chapter was done after you and your formula one boyfriend had finally broken up but what happens when he wants you back, more than ever and less than never

You and Max had been broken up for 2 years now. That felt like enough time passed for you to be able to come a grand prix without media or fan attention. You weren't an influencer or anything, but when you dated Max, it felt as though everyone knew your business. Papparazzis followed you, fans commented about you, and news kept buzzing.

'Max Verstappen's girlfriend seen walking the streets' / 'Max Verstappen's girlfriend seen on a cafe with a random man. A second fling?' headlines like this trended among fans in social media. At one point, it got annoying. An invasion of your privacy. Hanging out with your friends felt like a chore. You hated people being invested in your business.

However dating Max felt amazing, it was like you had found your dream man. A man who listened to you, made sure your opinions were heard, and cared for you. That's what it felt like. At least at first. You didn't know where it went wrong but gradually, the relationship felt like it was turning into something ugly. The perfect persona of being the perfect boyfriend was cracking slowly. Suddenly Max wasn't the nice sweetheart guy anymore. He turned overprotective and fierce. It wasn't as though being protective was a bad trait, obviously it was something you appreciated but he took it to a whole new level. He wouldn't let anyone come to you or let you go to anyone. He discreetly made sure you were isolated from people.

Fans that tried to approach you? Max hired bodyguards to make sure they couldn't approach you anywhere. Of course, without your knowledge telling you it was merely for your safety. A fan maybe pushing too hard for a picture or autograph, guess who got yanked to the side.

You tried to plan hangouts with your friends? Suddenly, a new event popped up inviting you and Max. And those were the ones you couldn't skip since it helped Redbull get investors because in everyone's eyes, you and Max were the star couple of Formula one.

One time you decided to stay at Max's penthouse on a rainy day. After dinner, you both started talking and suddenly none of you could keep your hands off of each other. His hands kept tracing your body, rough hands slipping under your shirt. You didn't hold back either.

One thing led to another and after a long while, you both were laying down with sheets and legs tangled. Somewhere during those quite moments, you told Max you were craving chocolate ice cream. Like a good boyfriend you thought he was, he wore his clothes, gave you a kiss and took his key cars to bring a tub of chocolate ice cream. While you waited, you decided to take a tour of his house. Wearing one of his old shirts, you walked around until you reached his office. He didn't work from home but he had it built when he attended video meetings from home. His office contained a mahgony desk in the center, with one large window overlooking the city and a sofa that laid out a crazy expensive bottle which might have been more expensive than your entire month's rent. Your eyes focused on something underneath the glass of whiskey. A pile of papers. It was nothing but something about it made you curious. You leaned in to see and your heart stopped beating.

Pictures of you. In every page.

Pictures when you were a teenager.

Pictures of your graduation, your first boyfriend and last boyfriend.

Pictures of your childhood home, dog and parents.

What the fuck.

Your eyes scanned through the papers and they contained probably every information about you. The good, the bad, the ugly.

The awards you own at school.

Your insecurities.

Even the boy you lost your virginity to.

Recent pictures after you started dating Max were also there. A polaroid of you crossing the street last week with your guy friend, mind you he's gay, were also there. The next page contained that friend's information.

You wanted to throw up.

You put the papers down and like a sensible woman - you wore your clothes and left.

You didn't go back to your home, instead you went to a friend's home. At one point, you felt like he would have tracked you here. Because who the fuck does that? It made you sick. He knew every single thing about you, meaning those papers with extensive information would only be obtained thought the help of a professional personal investigator. The fact that he willingly paid money to get those information without informing you made you want to throw up. You couldn't believe you used to trust this man.

At first it started with a text message.

-'Schatje, where are you?'

-'Come on, stop hiding. I bought your ice cream.'

-'Stop playing. Where are you.'

Then he found the papers.

Then came the calls. Not one or two, but a total of 137 calls and 268 messages that night. You were glad you turned your phone off.

Later you got to know from your friends, that he attempted to contact everyone you knew in hopes to reach you. He even contacted your parents whom he never even met before. After a few days had passed, you sent the final message.

The breakup message and blocked his number.

You bought a new phone, a new number and just moved out of your apartment. You didn't bother going back to his house to retrieve your old items. Instead, you decided to move on. Sometimes it felt like even in your new life, someone was following you but I guess what's you got for being so paranoid. Apart from that, you didn't have an update on Max. You decided to notreport him to the police because you knew his lawyers were top notch so going to the court with proof won't do anything.

.

Now you were standing at the grandstands of the Monacco grand prix. The sun was beating down but not in a humid, scorching way but rather in a gentle way that was enough for you and others to not get heated up. Just because you and Max were over didn't mean that you couldn't watch formula one anymore. You did however watch Max win almost all grand prixs and go onto win two championships after you both had broken up.

Today, you decided to wear a short skirt that reached till your mid thighs pairing it with a fititng black laced tank top. You watched as the scoreboard revealed the same old results. Max won the Monacco Grand Prix with Charles Leclerc in P2 and Lando Norris in p3.

Between your conversation wiht your friend, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around and saw a man standing whom you assumed to be part of Redbull because of his team t shirt. He looked young and constantly kept fidgeting with his hands as if he was afraid to even look at you directly in the eyes.

'Um, miss. I-i hope you dont mind but I was asked to take you to the Redbull garage.' He stammered.

You pleasant expression had turned into a frown and the little movement in your facial expressions made him flinch as if you being upset was the worst thing in the world.

'NO, I didn't mean for you to get upset please!' the man pleaded. You and your friend side eyed each other wondering what the hell was even happening.

'May I ask who is asking for me?' you asked him in a gentle tone. Your soft tone made him visibly relax once he came to the conclusion that you were actually not upset.

'I was told by Christian to ask you to come.'

That made you raise an eyebrow. The moment you were about to decline, the man understood and immediately starting stuttering, basically borderline panicking.

'I-i please. You don't understand. If if i dont take you back, then I will be fi-ired. Please ma'am.'

You didn't know who he was but it didn't feel like he was lying. He genuinely looked terrified to be honest. You finally nodded, and his shoulders immediately relaxed. You told your friend to wait and to look for you if you didn't come back by 15 minutes.

You followed the man down the grandstands to the Redbull hospitality. You hesitated to enter but saw Christian leaning against one of the trailers, his eyes lighted up the moment he saw you.

He asked and you replied, having a little talk while you tried to keep your replies short and precise. Suddenly, he lowered his voice.

'So um, how are you and Max now?' He asked as he cleared his voice, trying not to make the conversation awkward but you already knew what was going to happen.

'Why? Did he ask you to call me here?'

'What? No. He doesn't know you're here. If he knew, I wouldn't get to look at you even less, talk to you. Whatever, you know how Max is, he's protective and overbearing. But I have never seen him act like this with anyone else. Before you, he didn't even hug back his girlfriends after winning a race. But when it comes to you, he's the most serious man in the world. I don't know why you both broke up but if you think he has found someone new, you are completely wrong.'

You frowned. You thought Max had already moved on, the rumours on tabloid snf gossip pages. As if sensing your question, he started speaking again.

'What, thinking about gossip pages? They are bullshit. Max made us look for you at every grand prix. We have crew members from redbull with a picture of you standing at different positions in the grandstands hoping to find you. Even before and after the race. I know it sounds bad but he's desperate. He just- he just wants to talk to you. Maybe apologise. I don't know.

And now he's. He's - I don't know how to explain.

He's unstable without you. He has short fits of rage. He gets angry at every little mistake. Doesn't smile. Doesn't do PR. Doesn't attend any event. Nothing. If he has a bad race, no one even dares to look him right in the eye, heck neither do I.'

He paused before sighing.

'I am not asking you to give him a second chance. But just talk to him, sort it out-'

Just then, he paused. And looked down before walking away.

'Christian, what's wron-'

That's when you felt it. You don't know how to even explain it. It was a strange feeling. A pile of emotions pooling at your stomach. The hairs on your body standing up. Your spine immediately straightening up. You looked behind. You knew who it was without even looking at him. The only man who could get a reaction like this out of you.

He called out your name. Softly. Gently. In a low whisper as if he was in a dream and saying it too loud might wake him up.

Max.

He did not look the same as before. Sapphire eyes that used to hold the joy of life, being void of any sparkle. Bags under his eyes. Hair messy and wild with random blonde strands sticking out.

Just like that, his fingers slowly touched your hand as if making sure that you were there. He caressed it before gripping it to remind him that yes, after two full years and 36 days, you were actually in front of him in flesh. Safe and sound. No, it wasn't the picture of you that he used to carry in his wallet, but you in real and in front of him looking as beautiful and radiant as ever.

Without saying anything, he hugged you. Tight. And buried his head in your neck.

You looked around and saw the redbull staff. Engineers and strategists. They looked with wide eyes, amazed but immediately snapped their eyes back to their papers once they noticed you staring.

Because they knew that if something made you upset, it would make Max Verstappen upset too.

You softly patted his back. He was still in his redbull fireproof, hair sweaty most likely cooling off. He hid his face on the crook of your neck. His grip on your waist tightened and his fingers twitched to caress the bare skin of your waist.

You heard the words 'I miss you', low and quiet in a whisper that felt intimate. You gulped, a familiar feeling pooling in your stomach. You had seen him after 2 years and despite the eye bags, he was still handsome as fuck. You came to the conclusion that he hit the gym way too often. His muscles were bulging from the tight fireproof and his hands that griped your waist had somehow grown larger with visible veins appearing. You clenched your thighs.

Okay. Not here. No.

Right then, you felt the harsh flash of a camera followed by a panicked 'shit!'. Before you could even react, Max's head snapped towards the direction. Behind the trailer, was a man of about 5'6, stout with a receding hairline. That's the most you could make out at that moment before Max's back blocked your vision as if he was protecting you out of instinct.

'Fucking hell' Max cursed in a low grumble. You felt the energy shift before the loud footsteps of Christian appeared.

'MAX, HEY MAN DONT LOSE YOUR TEMP-'

But it was already too late. One second, he was holding you and the next second, he stood beside that man. His camera snatched and under his foot, stepping on it and ultimately smashing it into pieces.

'Don't ever fucking take a picture of her. This is not a reminder, it's a threat. Try and your face is going to be next.'

Oh.

Wow.

Before you even realised what was happening, he took your hand and started walking inside before stopping at a isolated hallway.

'Max, you did not have to do that.' You admitted quietly.

A beat of silence passed. He didn't yet respond or even talk.

'Did you forgive me?'

'What?'

'Did you ever forgive me?'

'No.'

A long beat of silence.

He took a step forward and simultaneously you took a step back. Your back hit the wall.

'I'm sorry.' He said in a hoarse whisper, his voice heavy with guilt.

'What I did was wrong and I acknowledge that.

Take me back. Please. I will do anything.'

In simple words, he was desperate.

And for some twisted reason, you liked that.

'Anything?'

'Anything.'

A beat of silence passed.

'What if I ask you to leave Formula one?' You asked testing the waters, seeing what he replies.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his hand twitched. An old habit of his. He didn't anticipate that.

'I would and I will. Only if you ask me to.' He said with a finality in his voice as if he was a hundred percent sure.

'Then get on your knees and apologise.'

A small smirk formed on your face and he didn't have to be told twice. You thought he wouldn't comply because generally from what you had seen, men in formula one had an awful lot of ego, too much for their own good but the moment you said it, in a blink of an eye, he knelt down with his face angled upwards, towards you.

'Eyes down.'

His eyes snapped down and he apologised.

'I am sorry for what I did. It was an invasion of your privacy. I was a dick. Take me back. Please.'

That made you happy, happier you had been these 2 years. Something in the whole interaction between Max kneeling and begging you to take him back satisfied the twisted part of your heart.

'I'll see what I decide. Don't follow me. I am going now.'

He knew better than to interrupt and you left. This is what you deserved and that was what he deserved. He made a mistake, he needed to earn his apology through you and you werent an easy person to please.

/

(A week later)

It was another lonely night. Well there was another thing keeping you company. Your trusty pink vibrator. Moments like this made you miss Max. Not that you only missed him when you were horny. You missed him more than you'd like to admit. Exes to lover was a trope you didnt appreciate having a comeback in your life but the amount of time your thoughts were consumed by Max was concerning and pretty pathetic.

You lowered the vibrator, thinking about Max. Him getting possessive when he caught the paparazzi taking pictures, his muscles almost bulging from that fucking tight fireproof, the way he listened to every thing you said. You bet he'd let you have your way with him if you asked him to. Maybe he could just slide one of his veiny fingers down your-

RING! RING!

Fucking hell.

You looked at the caller ID. Your friend. You tossed the pink vibrator and picked up the wall.

'Babe, what do you want? You know I was in the middle of something.'

She told you about the club in Monacco. That's right, you were staying at Monacco for a while. Honestly, you missed the posh place and decided to give it a chance. So what, you caught the love of your life being a full time stalker and then maybe tried to give yourself a pathetic orgasm after a 2 year breakup.

You know what. Fuck that. You were a hot, young and a beautiful girl. You jumped up and grabbed open your closet. That red dress that you never dared to wear? The one that was so short that a little bend might dangerously flash your laced panties, but that wasn't something that would bother you tonight. Your confidence sky rocketed and you swayed your hips to the beat of the music in the club. You had been dancing for what maybe 30 to 40 minutes straight before taking a break and sitting down on one of the empty barstools.

The moment you sat down, you felt a shiver down your spine. Was the air conditioning too cold? But then, you remembered this familiar feeling. Your spine straightened and you sat straight. And that's when you looked behind you, to find the only man who could get this reaction out of you only with their presence.

Max Emillian Verstappen.

He sat on the second floor on one of the luxurious navy blue sofas. The second floor was only reserved for the elite meaning that you had to have a membership of this club and boy, you had to work your ass off to get a membership or simply be rich and famous. That's what Max was.

A piercing gaze was how you would describe Max looking at you at that moment. A drink in one hand and simply staring. He didn't even look away when you looked back at him. No expression, nothing. Just a blank face watching you with darkened eyes before his eyes glanced down and took a full scan of you. Your skimpy outfit, the laced gartier, the flash and peek of a little fabric of your lingerie. You looked like you walked straight out of someone's fantasy.

If you did look straight out of someone's fantasy, then why did no one approach you? Everyone seemed to avoid you like you had reincarnated the black plague. Normally guys would hit on you everywhere, workplace, cafes and what not. Hitting on you in the club was the most common and appropriate place. Sometimes your friends would have to pry admirers away but tonight, even the bartender wouldn't make eye contact with you. You frowned at that. Did you look too poor to be here? I mean, you weren't as wealthy as those partying here but you weren't dirt poor either.

Just as you were thinking about it, a man probably in his late 20's sat down beside you. The bartender stilled while pouring you a drink and you missed the way he nervously glanced to the second floor.

The unknown man started small conversation with you. Your name, what you did, what you liked and gave you sweet compliments. You learnt his name was John and so far he seemed graceful and polite. You leaned towards him and gave him small replies. Before long, he started making jokes and you laughed, your fingertips brushing against his arm. But the wholesome interaction was interrupted by a tall man, maybe 6 ft ish, wearing a black blazer suit, he marched right up and grabbed the John's arm, yanking it right up. A little more twist given the angle of view and you were guaranteed that he would have to stay a month in a hospital bed. You gasped, standing up and rushing over to John in an attempt to stop the man. However the guy in the black suit stopped you.

'Ma'am please don't interfere. He is to be escorted out of this club this instant.'

Your eyes widened and so did John's.

'Wh-hat why?'

The man didn't offer you a reply and escorted John out. You tried to ask for help from the people around you but they pretended as if nothing had happened, only giving fake huhs and what. Even the bartender acted as if the scene of an innocent man being dragged out of the club so roughly was unreal and it made you feel like you either had way too many drinks or were currently experiencing a fever dream.

That's when it clicked.

You looked up and saw him.

Peacefully sipping from his drink, from the same position without moving a single muscle. Instead of a blank expression, he sat with a small smirk. You clenched your jaw. You marched straight up the stairs, your fingers gripping your bag tight trying to control your rage. The tall men in black suits who you assumed to be bodyguards did not dare to stop you but rather cleared the way for you. The upper floor was completely empty. Poker tables, gambling rooms, strip poles with seats being empty. Not a single soul except the devil itself was sitting on the center.

'Stop this.' You demanded in a strict voice, laced with anger.

'You think you can just do this and think I won't know? Of course I know it's you. You are the reason no one is looking me in the eye. You are the reason why he was escorted out of this club.'

'You shouldn't have touched him.'

That made you angrier. Who was he to tell you what you should do or not.

'Oh fuck off. We aren't dating anymore. I do what I want. I touch who I want.'

His eyes darkened and his lips pursed in a thin line. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his hand twitch. Oh so he was getting angry too.

He stood up and walked to you. Not too fast, not too slow. You couldn't predict what he was about to do and you never did. He walked like a predator circling his prey knowing there was no way out. You didn't take a step back, no you refused to be the prey. Rather you made direct eye contact with him to let him know you werent backing down.

He stopped right in front of you. Him being 6'1 gave him an advantage of hovering over you but you weren't intimated. (maybe a little bit but you tried not to show it)

His hand slowly lifted up and brushed your cheek with his knuckles. His knuckles felt rough and bruised up. He watched as your pretty face turned into a slight frown. God, he wanted to kiss you right then and there. How could someone be so beautiful. If you kicked him in the balls right now, he would thank you. Max was so down bad for you that he was ready to kiss the ground you walked on in front of the whole world.

'You fought with someone?' You asked softly feeling his bruised knuckles, forgetting about your fury.

He smiled. 'Everyone gets on my nerves nowadays.'

You sighed. Your hand grabbing his ones and putting them away. Instead, he just slid them down your waist, pulling you closer.

'Max.' You said with a hint of warning.

'Come back please.' He pleaded, his voice heavy and his eyes now held a shade of melancholy. Hot breath fanned your neck as his grip got tighter. 'I will never stop wanting you. I cannot bear to see you laugh with another man.'

'You need to change Max. What happened before cannot happen again.'

'No it won't. I won't keep things from you I promise.'

You sighed. Who were you kidding, Max was the love of your life. Dating other guys never made you forget him and probably never will. That was something you didn't want to admit, trying to make youself believe that there were other options but it never felt real.

The way your heart raced when you were near him, your eyes lightened up, your body leaned to him involuntarily - was something only he could bring.

'Okay. One chance. Just.. we don't date now. Let's just be as friends.'

Max nodded. God he was happy. He didn't care if he was as a friend to you right now. Just the sight of you made him relax. His eyes scanned your face before dropping to your lips.

Was it a good time to say how fucking ravishing he looked? You clecnced your thighs, you just wished his hands would travel down to your panties to see just how soaked you were. Not a good time to meet your hot formula one ex when you were peak ovaluating. He saw how your eyes darkened and how your hands crept up to his fitting t shirt to grab his biceps as an attempt to stabilise yourself. In response, his grip tightened and you felt him. God, he was hard. Hard was an understatement. It felt like it would literally bulge out. You imagined how it would look like, when he'd just fuck you mercilessly and decorate your delicate body with hickies. Was he thinking the same?

Wait.

This is your ex. The same guy you broke up with after he stalked you, invaded yoru privacy and acted like a possessive beast.

Get your mind together and stop making him think that giving you a good fuck would fix everything.

You tapped on his arm three times and that's all it took. He let go of your waist and straightened. Tapping was a method you both used during sex. Specially during rough sex after Max had a bad race weekend. One tap was a way of saying to go faster. Two taps would be to slow down and three taps meant stop. Usually you used two taps and the rest were very rarely ever used. Guess you both remembered it after all.

'Um, I will go home now. It's uh getting late.'

He nodded. 'Right. I can drop you-'

'NO, I mean no. Its fine.'

If this is how you acted when you guys got a little privacy then imagine what would happen if you both were left alone in a car.

You didn't wait for him to say anything before you walked away. You got into a taxi and it drove you back to your hotel.

What you didn't know was that Max drove his Porsche right behind the taxi, following it till he was sure you reached back to your hotel safe and sound.

-

Few days passed and guess what awaited outside your hotel door every day. Gifts. Constant gifts for 2 weeks straight. And you don't mean bouquets of flowers and chocolates. They were a staple but you received tons of jewellery, custom made to your likings. Cartier bracelets, Louis vuitton shoes, Hermes bags and what not. He even paid the hotel bills under your name which might have been too much.

What surprised you was the letter that arrived everyday. Tucked in the side of the bouquets. A little letter he wrote.

Schtaje,

I know it looks like I am doing too much but I am not. I am not doing this so you have to reciprocate my feelings. I am doing this to because you are the most important thing to me in the world. I know you think that the first time we met was in the restaurant in Montreal but it was not. The day I first saw you, I had one of the worst bad race days, p11 with an engine failure and furiously, I left everything and just walked out. It was raining heavily l remember and out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone dancing in the rain. Blissfully unaware, twirling their dress and dancing around in the rain. It was you. You had the brightest smile I had ever seen and eyes that glowed so preciously even im the dark. That made my heart race and I fell in love. I fell in love hard. You didn't know I was watching you and you didn't think anyone would but I did. That made me smile that day. I was so intrigued about you, I wanted to approach you but your friend took you away. But I heard your name when she called you. That's why those files were there. I couldn't stop thinking about you. That's how we unofficially met 2 years ago. During those 2 years, I didnt know how to contact you or how to meet you without making it looking obvious or making you think I am a creepy stalker. Then that day in Montreal, in that little restaurant, I saw you. It was like the universe had set us up and I have loved you ever since. I wanted to tell you but I was afraid that you'd think I am some creep and when you found out, it was one of my biggest secrets and my biggest fear had come true - you were convinced I was a creep. I have been a flawed person in the past, what I did was not okay and you were correct to leave me but please, I have reflected and changed. I will do whatever you ask me to. Give me a second chance.

I love you and I will continue to love you even if you say no. Accept these gifts please.

.

You and Max got closer after that. You lived with your friend in Monacco until you guys figured what to do. In your free time, you both went on dates in little cafes or maybe a picnic day in the parks. You both didn't kiss or lust after one another like before but rather talked. He would stare at you when you would animatedly with a soft smile on his face. About what you liked and dislikes now, how you found cats adorable but hated it when didn't arrive you after saying pspsps. He took his time and reflected on his flaws. And you listened to him. You both would laugh at everything you found silly and when the sun would start to set, you'd stare at each other before saying goodbyes.

Today was different. Today it felt a little heavy like there was something you had to desperately get out.

You looked around, Max sat wearing a navy blue polo t shirt and you wore a long sundress. He rearranged the items you had brought, packing the things up in the little picnic basket and putting your sunscreen and lip gloss in a different bag.

You smiled. This is what you missed. Not the materialistic, flashy love but the quiet admiration shared between each other.

Max was now gentle with you. He didn't rush, didn't act like a possessive fool but rather let you take your time. He waited patiently and tried to express his own feelings, not all the way up there but he was slowly getting there.

You both watched as the sun set and your hand crept to his.

'Max?'

'Yes schatje.'

Your hands slowly wrapped around his neck and you pressed your lips against his. He was shocked for a moment before he wrapped an arm on your waist and kissed you back. You craned your head for better access and kissed him hard until you both gasped for air.

'I love you' you whispered those three words, and he pressed his forehead against yours repeating those words again.

Relationship are never perfect. They are meant to be messy because we both reveal our flaws and insecurities to each other, but what's meant for you will come back to you and your heart finally was at peace knowing that this was right for you.

💌: DOESNT APPLY TO YOU OKAY. GIRLIES DONT GO BACK TO YOUR EX. THAT CHAPTER IS DONE. MAY MY FIC NEVER EVER INSPIRE YOU TO GO BACK. OUT OF A 100 PEOPLE, ONLY 3 HAVE ALREADY DATED THEIR SOULMATES AND YOU ARE NOT ONE OF THEM. MOVE ON AND DONT LOOK BACK OKAY.

[grandline-fics]

Terms of Endearment

DESCRIPTION:  You call them by a term of endearment without realising 

WARNINGS: none that come to mind.

CHARACTERS: Law, Kid, Shanks, Marco, Zoro | Ace, Sabo, Luffy

WORDS: 2,943

A/N: I decided to use Zoro as the final character. Since he and Ace tied in the poll, I might make a second one of these and use Ace and any others people may want.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

LAW

He knew it was irrational to be jealous of an inanimate object. Law knew that it’d be childish to use his Devil Fruit to take it out of your hands and claim your attention for himself. While he had enough restraint to not do that, the temptation to do so was still there. His eyes zeroed in on the book in your hand. He glowered and wondered if it was really that good, did it really deserve such intense, rapt attention that you were giving it. Your eyes were alight as you took in the words, your fingers already tucked behind the next page and ready to turn it as quickly as possible. Law watched you carefully, almost praying for your expression to turn to one of sudden boredom but it didn’t come. 

He supposed he was to blame this time, a lot of this was new to him. While your relationship had only turned to a romantic one recently, you’d both been close for a lot longer. Long enough for you both to be able to spend time together while doing entirely separate things. You only pulled your book out because he had medical charts to look over and update. Law made a mental note to try a bit harder from now on to make the time you had together one of quality.

Finally he sat back in his seat and rubbed his eyes, letting them relax from pouring over the extensive pages now neatly piled on his desk. Slowly he stood and walked to the sofa you were perched on, unmoving and seemingly unaware he was approaching. Law tried to bite back his jealousy once more, wondering how annoyed you’d be if he ‘accidentally’ sent that blasted book out into the depths of the ocean. 

When he sat down in the space beside you, he smiled softly when you leant back so you were against his side. One of your hands dropped to rest on his arm that was around your waist, your fingers lightly making soothing patterns against his tattooed skin. Law supposed this did count as quality time since it meant he could relax with you in a way he couldn’t with anyone else. He allowed himself the time to settle further against the cushion and press his lips against the back of your head. “Don’t forget you and Bepo are on duty tonight.” He reminded you, still having to act as your Captain when necessary. 

“Yes, love.” Your answer was light and casual that he didn’t realise what you’d said at first. Then it echoed in his head ‘love.’ His eyes widened and he peered at the back of your head. There was no way he misheard that. You’d called him love, not Law, not Captain. Love. There was no mistaking the way his heart skipped a beat in reaction. It sounded so right, so effortless the way you said it and he found himself wanting to hear it again. It was also clear that from your lack of reaction, you hadn’t realised what you’d called him because you were partially distracted. Law smirked and for a moment reconsidered his earlier distaste. Perhaps your book wasn’t so bad after all.

KID

Kid didn’t want to admit it but he was powerless against you. He was stubborn and hotheaded and did what he wanted even if someone had sound logic to convince him whatever he had planned wasn’t wise. If anything if someone did attempt that nonsense with him, he’d be even more extreme with his conviction to do as he wanted and would even think of a way to make his actions even more outlandish and dangerous. Even Killer had a hard time keeping the captain in a somewhat mature state of mind. You however were a different story. Anything you wanted, it was yours all you had to do was ask. 

Kid just never knew how to let you know that was the dynamic between you both. He was never afraid to speak his mind, if anything he yelled it to ensure everyone knew his thoughts. Yet he seemed to bite his tongue from confessing how he truly felt with you. He’d much rather have you beside him every day and enjoy the playful teasing and jokes than make things real and risk you not seeing him that way. Killer had told him one night to just confess already and trust that you felt the same. Kid had rolled his eyes and promptly kept his feelings buried in his chest. It was better, they were safer there than spoken out loud and unable to take them back.

He walked into the kitchen one evening to see you and Killer preparing the crew’s dinner. You looked over at the sound of his naturally heavy steps coming closer and smiled in greeting to see him stop in the doorway. “Here to help, Captain?” You asked, already knowing the answer before it came. Your smile grew when Kid let out a loud laugh and made a show of folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the doorframe. 

“Not unless you want me to poison the crew.” He smirked.

“You’d nurse us back to health if you did infect us though, right?” You joked before looking back to the food you were meant to keep an eye on instead of getting distracted by your handsome Captain. You had to keep reminding yourself to behave and actually respect the chain of command. To let yourself imagine he may genuinely feel the same as you did would only lead to heartbreak in the long run but still you flirted and teased him whenever you could. You supposed you were just a glutton for punishment. You slowed in stirring the food and looked around for the seasonings only to see the small jar on the counter near Kid. 

“Could you pass me that?” You asked nodding your head at what you needed. Kid followed your gaze and immediately pushed himself away from his comfortable position to lift the tiny item. He stepped forward and passed the seasoning into your waiting hand, hating and loving how the brief moment of his fingers skimming against yours brought him such a burst of joy. “Thank you, darling.” You smiled, turning back to the stove. While you hadn’t noticed what you’d said Killer did and he stopped cutting the vegetables to look Kid who was frozen in place, his eyes wide and cheeks turning the same bright red as his hair. 

Darling? The fuck did you mean darling?! Kid’s mind was short-circuiting as he scrambled to gather his wits together and make sense of it all. Had you called him that subconsciously because  was it possible that you felt for him too? God he hoped so because getting to hear you call him something so sweet again would be perfect.

SHANKS

One of the great things about sailing with an Emperor of the sea like Shanks was the fact that there were many islands under his protection. Any time you landed at one for a visit or even for the excuse of resting from a long stretch of sailing, the locals welcomed you all so warmly that it turned into one big celebration. None of you needed to worry about night watches, chores or other duties and could just sit back and enjoy the peace until Shanks decided he wanted to get back on the waters again. 

As a crew, you were all used to just passing out and sleeping wherever you were at that time and waking up with aches from the uncomfortable positions you’d all ended up. However the town you were staying in was large enough to provide some rooms for you all in one of their inns. Some of you still needed to double up but the beds were extremely comfortable and who were you all to refuse such generosity? One night when the drinking and partying was only just beginning you slowly rose from your seat with a stifled yawn and forced yourself to finish your drink. Shanks was first to notice your movements. “Going for another round of drinks already?” he asked, coming across casual but he knew you weren’t yourself. 

“Nah, I’m turning in early.” You announced, playfully flipping off the crew when they started to boo you for being boring. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blame Beck, alright. I haven’t slept the last two nights. Goodnight.” You gave no further explanation and disappeared up the staircase to claim a room to sleep in. Shanks looked towards his righthand man with a small scowl. He hoped you hadn’t implied what he thought. Beckman could sense his Captain’s silent interrogation and waved away his worries. “Calm down Cap, you know I’d never make a move on them. It’s just been bad luck we’ve had a share a room together and I snore…apparently.” He explained with a shrug and long drink of his ale. 

Shanks had accepted the answer, knowing Beck would never lie to him. Yet as innocent as it all was, he couldn’t ignore the way he’d felt sick at the thought of you being with another of the crew.  While nothing had exactly happened between you both, it was painfully obvious that there was something there. A playful dance you both engaged in without making an actual step forward into committing and admitting you’d had feelings. Roughly Shanks rubbed his eyes, now wasn’t the time to be thinking on such things, not with alcohol in his system and you not being there to talk to like the adults you were. 

The rest of the night had helped to take his mind off things but it was all undone by the time he entered the room he’d been staying in the entire stay and saw you sleeping soundly in his bed. He was the only one in the crew that didn’t have to share his room with anyone else so why were you here? He approached the bed and shook your arm, watching your eyes crack open and he immediately felt guilty. You really did look exhausted. “Why’re you in my bed?” He asked, trying not to laugh as your eyes slipped closed again. 

“Furthest room…no snoring. Please honey, lemme sleep.” Your voice was thick with sleep and your breathing was growing deeper again. Shanks might have appeared calm but that was the first time you’d ever called him something like that and as far as he knew you’d never called anyone else on the crew something similar. That all but cemented his decision that things needed to be talked about when you were both awake and rested enough to deal with things. Finally he let out a sigh and climbed into what would be his side of the bed while keeping respectable space between you both. “Fine, only because it’s you.”

MARCO

Your relationship with the ship’s doctor was a fairly new one. You had both known each other long enough to know the general likes and dislikes and the atmosphere on the Moby Dick among the crew was always one of familial harmony so there was never any uncomfortable tension. You were both content to just take things easy and enjoy things as they developed naturally without needed to force things into a certain timeframe. Marco’s personality being so relaxed and carefree was infectious in general and it was no different in your relationship.

Marco stood from his desk and stretched, ready to find you and enjoy the rest of the day with you now that all pressing tasks he’d needed to complete for the day was done. He was just about to leave when Izou entered to talk about organising a banquet for Ace’s birthday. As the two were discussing everything you appeared and smiled at them both before entering the room. 

“Babe, did you see my-” Anything else that came out of your mouth was unfortunately drowned out by the increased heart rate in Marco’s ears. Instead he could only watch as you were busy looking for whatever it was that you’d lost. Marco would have considered himself steady and able to handle most situations but hearing you call him babe for the first time had certainly thrown him and you seemed oblivious to the fact that you’d done so. The only person who truly reacted was Izou, his laugh snapping Marco out of his trance and catching your attention too. “Babe, huh? Didn’t realise things were so serious with you two. Maybe we could plan the wedding too.” Izou teased. 

“What are you talking about now?” You asked with a small smile. You were used to Izou’s teasing like a brother figure would but sometimes he just didn’t make sense. When Izou saw that you weren’t aware of your subconscious slip-up he grinned wider. 

“You called Marco, babe.” He explained. You rolled your eyes and let out an amused laugh. As far as jokes went, it wasn’t the worst one he’d told you but he could do better. Suddenly you became concerned when Izou’s smug grin wasn’t slipping and you had to think. What had you said to Marco when you entered the room? Slowly you pulled your gaze to your boyfriend and he nodded. “Well looks like you two lovebirds need some alone time.” Izou all but sang as he left, no doubt hurrying off to tell Ace and the others about Marco’s new nickname.

“So…” You cleared your throat nervously and gave a small laugh. “Want to forget that happened? I swear I didn’t realise I’d even called you that.” The last thing you wanted was to make Marco think you were forcing him to a point he wasn’t ready for. Thankfully his broad smile was enough to make you relax, his naturally warm aura soothing your brief worries before they had a chance to escalate. Marco stepped closer to you, settling a hand on your waist. “Well even if you stop now, I bet all the others will start. Honestly I’d much rather hear it from your lips. Can I hear you say it again?”

ZORO

Zoro kept a firm hold on your shoulder as you stumbled, trying to twist weakly out of his grip. Any other instance he would release you if his touch made you uncomfortable but this was a completely different situation. After defeating a group of lackeys, one managed to make one last attack before falling unconscious. You’d been quick enough to intercept whatever it was he threw towards you and Zoro but when it was destroyed it still released a cloud of strange smelling gas. Zoro had been a safe enough distance but you weren’t so lucky. 

At first you’d insisted you were fine but after walking a few paces your balance started to sway and your mind was beginning to cloud. Zoro became concerned by the glazed look in your eyes as you tried one more time to pull out of his unwavering hold, glaring at him. “Jus’ let me go! I don’t know you.”

His eyes widened at your declaration, not only because you sounded so dazed and confused. It was not like your usual bright and familiar way of speaking that made him happy to hear but it was also because hearing you say you didn’t know him filled him with more concern than he was willing to admit. He needed to find Chopper quickly to treat whatever it was you’d been hit with. For now he had to try and keep you calm and prove you were safe with him. “Course you know me. We’re crew-mates, remember? It’s Zoro.”

Abruptly you stopped and bumped into his chest, lifting your head to stare at him, trying to force yourself to focus on his face. Your hand reached out and clumsily gripped his face, tugging him forward enough for you to see his features better. Zoro could see your pupils were blown wide, whatever had been in that vial was some sort of hallucinogenic and he hoped that that was all it was. It could be better dealt with than a poison. Not that seeing you so wary and untrusting of him was any better. Your suspicion didn’t subside when you finally let go of his face and shook your head. 

“You’re not Zoro.” You finally declared, trying once more to get away from him. This time you succeeded only enough to make it a couple of steps but without him there to keep you stable you fell forward. If Zoro hadn’t been there you would have landed face first into the pavement but he caught you swiftly around the waist and lifted you to settle you over his shoulder, deciding that this way of carrying you was the best option. “Definitely not Zoro.” You weakly grumbled into his back as he began walking again. 

“Oh yeah, why’re you so sure of that?” He asked, deciding to at least play along.

“You’re too grumpy…” You explained and added as you fell unconscious. “Zoro’s grumpy but he’s a sweetheart. My sweetheart.” Immediately the back of his neck heated and he froze in place but he couldn’t say or do anything else because thankfully Chopper, Usopp and Nami appeared to regroup and find Luffy. Zoro quickly explained to Chopper that you’d been hit by something but offered no further details. 

“Did you get hit too, Zoro? You’re looking really red.” Chopper asked in concern. Quickly Zoro cleared his throat and shrugged as he laid you on the ground so Chopper could treat you. 

“Uh yeah, might have been. Don’t worry about it though.”

[rex-rambles]

➤ UNWRITTEN | DANIEL RICCIARDO

pairing: daniel ricciardo x partner!reader

summary: you and daniel have an unwritten rule: when either of you has a bad day, you play a certain song to brighten the mood. 

or: 2 times daniel forces you to sing to 'unwritten' by natasha bedingfield, and the one time you force him to.

wc: 3.4 k

warnings: none!

➤ MASTERLIST

1. 

It starts with Daniel, a red-eye flight, and your lost luggage. You honestly don't remember what Grand Prix you were coming back from, or how long you'd been awake, but it was about 4 AM at the Sydney airport as you waited for your suitcase to come. It was eaten by the airplane, spat out over New Zealand maybe, but it wasn't at the carousel, and the longer you waited, the more delirious you felt. 

"Come on," Daniel teases as you try not to glare daggers his way. "It's one suitcase. They'll find it, return it, it's no big deal." 

"Unless they lose it forever! My favourite shoes were in there. All of your merch was in there, too." The hats, the jackets, everything you tried to cycle through the race weekend to support him. 

"I can buy you more." The radio changes from some crackling speaker above, and Daniel starts to hum along to the song as you drop your head into your hands. The attendant had told you to wait here until they got word of where it was, apparently able to trace it through some system, but it felt like you were dying. 

You were tired, you were hungry, everything hurt, the lights were too bright, and Daniel too much energy for such an early hour. Despite all those complaints, however, Daniel didn't seem too bothered. In fact, as you spare a glance up, you watch him begin to dance along to the song, the sight of which forcing you to smile, even if you really, truly, do not feel like smiling. 

"I got you." Daniel says, spinning around in a circle. "Can't be sad when I'm dancing, right?" 

"You're ridiculous." The few other people left in the airport begin to stare, but Daniel had never really cared about the eyes on him - he thrived on attention, and tonight, or you suppose this morning, was no different. 

"Staring at the blank page before you, open up the dirty window, let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find!" He sings, shimmying forward to grab your hands, pulling you to stand, and you flush as he tries to spin you around. 

His kind of happiness was infectious, but it didn't stop you from being self-conscious. "Danny, come on." 

"Release your inhibitions," The song times perfectly, Daniel singing along with it, "Feel the rain on your skin!" 

Reluctantly, you let him spin you, and he takes your hands as he pushes you back and then pulls you in, making up dance moves as he goes. He beams down at you at you finally begin to laugh, and for a moment, the lost luggage, the late night, it all disappears, because he's here holding you, dancing like no one's watching, and it's one of the many little things that made you fall for him in the first place.

Only Daniel would turn a miserable morning into a dance in the middle of an airport. "Come on, sing along!" 

"You are ridiculous!" Daniel waits, hands planted on your waist to keep you still until you listen to him. "Dancing is ridiculous enough right now." 

"Live your life with arms wide open," Daniel continues, gently squeezing your waist to try and get a reaction out of you. "Today is where your books being, the rest-" 

"Is still unwritten." You finally sing along, and Daniel dips you, happily pressing a kiss to your lips before righting you again. He cackles happily, keeping his arms wrapped around you as he then manages to sweep you off your feet, spinning you around. 

"There you go!" He finally sets you down, and you slump back into your seat with a huff. "The rest is still unwritten, so don't worry about your luggage. Live for the moment, feel the rain on your skin." 

You extend a hand to him, and he takes it, a mistaken place to put his trust. You pull him down, and he collides roughly with the bench beside you, though he doesn't stop laughing. "That's what you get for being a menace at this hour of the morning." 

"Eh, you love it." He says, and you can't argue with that, so you press a kiss to his cheek. "You can't be mad with Unwritten playing, it's just a fact." 

"Really?" Daniel nods happily, still humming along to the song, and you just shake your head. "Next time you have a bad race, I'm playing it." 

2. 

You had waited for this vacation with Daniel for forever. It was a sunny beach, far away from the world of Formula One and prying eyes, from your own work and concerns. You intended to spend the week in the sand, or at the tropical bar, and the day you arrive, it rains like nothing you've ever seen before. 

Stuck in your bungalow, you stare wistfully out the window as the second day passes, the rain letting up, but still drizzling down. It wasn't calming, wasn't relaxing, it was you, trapped in a room with Daniel. For a much lower cost, you could've done the exact thing at home, and the weather in Australia was probably that much better.

You try not to sulk as you return to your book in your lap, but with a long sigh, it seems even your moping has got the worst of Daniel, a hard task for someone who radiated sunshine wherever they went. "That's enough." He says as he stands, coming over to you. You expect him to complain or propose something for you to do, but instead, he bends down to pick you up bridal-style, and you gasp as your book topples from your hands and down onto the couch. 

"Daniel!" He marches you both over to the door of the bungalow, and out onto the beach, and you smack at his shoulder as the rain immediately begins to soak the both of you. 

"I refuse to let rain make you grumpy." He sets you down and pulls out his phone, tucking it onto the front step of the bungalow so as to not get too wet, and he cranks the volume. "So, I think it's time you felt some rain on your skin." 

"I swear-" And, sure enough, Unwritten begins to play. You stare at him in awe as he begins to dance again, throwing his arms out to spin in the rain like it wasn't the most absurd thing you've ever seen, and you decide not to wait to join in this time. You grab one of his hands and spin him yourself as he laughs heartily, that big, infectious grin spreading across his face as you move him about. 

You take the lead, pulling him in as you wrap your arms around his neck, and he easily wraps his around your waist, swaying to the song as he begins to sing. "No one else, no one else, can speak the words on your lips." He pulls you in for a kiss, and you let him, despite the rain that's getting you soaked to the bone. 

"You know, I think the airport might have been better than this." You say against his lips, and he pouts, pulling back to shake his head, spraying you with water as he does so. 

"I am on a tropical beach, in the pouring rain, with the love of my life." The admission does something strange to your heart, staring up at Daniel as the world slows, even if the rain doesn't. "Doesn't get much better than this." 

Perhaps, in a more serious moment, you'd kiss him senseless or return the sentiment, but for now, you choose to bury your face in the side of his neck as you grin. "You are such a sap." 

"Hey, I am staring at the blank page before me, opening up the dirty window, and letting the sun illuminate the words I cannot find." He parodies from the lyrics. "And I think you need to release your inhibitions and feel the rain on your skin." 

"Oh, I am feeling the rain on my skin." You pull him in for another kiss, dance moves forgotten as he presses against you, hot and heavy despite the chill that comes with the rain. Your hands glide into his hair as his head dips, gently kissing along your jaw and then down your neck. 

"No one else can feel this for you." 

"Oh, no one else better be feeling you like this." You taunt, and Daniel nips your neck teasingly as you gasp, before he finally pulls away. 

"You don't have to worry about that," He says, "I don't think anyone else would put up with things like this. I'm so lucky that you don't care." 

"I do care! I just happen to love you enough that it's going to take more than some rain and that stupid song to really get me going." Daniel seemed to know how to push all your buttons, without pushing you over the edge, the right kind of annoying and adorable that made him hard to resist, even when he was hard to be around. "Which, speaking of, my clothes and hair are ruined from this." 

"Oh yeah?" 

"Mhm. Going to need to shower and change to fix it." You say, walking back up the steps to the bungalow and lounging in the doorway. "But I'm sure you're too busy singing to help me out with that." 

"Oh hell no." He grabs his phone from the step and bounds up the stairs, happily helping you into the bungalow as he wraps his arms around your waist. "I've got some unwritten things I wouldn't mind doing with you." 

"That's what I thought." 

3. 

Things were not going well for Daniel, that much was obvious. Apparently, his seat was up for negotiations, he hadn't been on the podium in weeks, and something was wrong with the car that no one else seemed to notice. You took his word on everything, trying to support him the best you could, but some days it felt like bad luck, like a curse hanging over him. 

What was once all smiles was almost tears. What was once happy celebrations, champagne, and parties was now desperation, late nights spent working out, checking in with mechanics, doing everything he could to get it right. 

And standing in the paddock, watching him almost spin out on the monitor, you knew today wasn't any better. It was a hard thing to fathom, seeing Daniel struggle over what he loved, but there was nothing you could do from here. You couldn't magically make his car any better, couldn't give him a hug and hold him tight, like how he did on your bad days. 

You couldn't force him to dance or sing. And then, sparing a glance over to the radio, the thought strikes you that maybe, just maybe, you could make him sing. 

You could release his inhibitions, you think with a growing smile, make him feel the rain on his skin. Payback, for the airport, and the rain, but that wasn't really payback. You were giving Daniel what he'd always given you, and that was something to smile about. You're quick to move over to the radio, his race engineering offering a strange look. "Do you have anything important to tell Daniel?" You ask, and the man shakes his head. "Can I speak to him, then?" 

"I don't know if that's a good idea." He says, and one of the mechanics glances over, offering a sympathetic look. 

"It might be his last race," The mechanic says, the words ringing in your ears. "It could be a nice send-off." 

This will not be Daniel's last race, you determine as you put the headset on and adjust the mic. This is just the beginning, the ending unplanned. "Danny?" Your voice crackles over the radio, and you wait patiently for him to respond. 

"What the-" There's a brief moment of static over the headset. "Sweetheart, what are you doing on the radio?" Daniel asks, and you realize this might be recorded, broadcast out to others, but you don't care, not when the cameras turn to you, not when Daniel needs you. 

"I think you need to feel the rain on your skin." You begin with, much to the confusion of everyone, considering the clear skies, but Daniel is laughing on the other end, and you can hear the smile on his face. 

"You're an idiot! You can't be serious." He says, and you watch on the monitor as he nears another driver. 

"Oh, I'm so serious. Staring at the blank page before you-" You try not to be embarrassed, singing the opening line, but Daniel is happily finishing it for you. 

"Open up the dirty window, let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find!" His singing is not quite right, considering the power he's exerting, but it's working. He just barely manages to get a pass on the driver as you cheer, jumping up and down with your hands clasped over the headset to keep it on your head. "Reaching for something in the distance, so close you can almost taste it, release your inhibitions! What, you're not going to sing it with me any more?" 

You can't answer as you hold your breath, watching another car ahead of him spin out onto the grass. He has a chance at this, you think. A couple more positions, and he's in third. "You've got this, Danny." 

"You don't know," He grunts out, taking another corner wide. "The rest is still unwritten." 

You take off the headset and hand it back to the engineer, who stares at you as if you've grown two heads. "Long story," You try to explain, and they just offer a grin before returning to their post. You're not sure if you can look at the screen, watching him this close to his first podium in a long time, but by the time you drag your eyes back to the big screen, another car has made a pit stop, and he's ahead. 

"What was all that?" The mechanic asks, the group turning to look at you. "That his new thing now, like Carlos and Smooth Operator?" 

"Maybe?" It was your thing. It was a way to make each other smile, even when you didn't feel like it, even in the strangest of situations. "I just-" A cheer erupts from behind you, and you watch in awe as Daniel, with seconds to spare, pushes past a driver and into third place, and all hell breaks loose in the paddock. 

You're sprinting towards the parc fermé, cackling with laughter as you go, because you're never going to let him forget this. His silly little thing to cheer you up brought him to third place. He might be the driver, but Unwritten? Unwritten is what must have pushed him over. Daniel stands on top of his car when you reach the barrier, helmet off and propped on one hip as he happily raises a fist in the air. 

You don't have much time to cheer for him, however, before he spots you and is immediately rushing across the track to you, and you wrap your arms around his neck as he's kissing you, and it's sweaty and gross but it's Daniel, in third place, and you'd can't quite argue with that. "You," He says against your lips, barely heard over the crowd around you, "Are an idiot." 

"I told you I'd use that song on you when you're having a bad race." You try and smooth out his hair, but the curls have decided to point in every which direction. "Thought you could use a little pick-me-up, and it worked." 

"The song isn't what made me place third," He says, and you roll your eyes. 

"I know, it's your strength and determination as a driver-" 

"It's you." You blink at him, and he laughs softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I think I need to hire you as my engineer, get to listen to you sing to me every race." 

It's you. 

It's a simple admission, really, but it makes you blush nonetheless, trying to think of anything to say after that. Someone calls his name and Daniel turns, staring at the cameras and reporters waiting to talk to him after such a comeback, and you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. "I think you might actually lose if you do that," You tease softly, "But I'll be here whenever you need me." 

"Or whenever I need to feel the rain on my skin." He says with a dramatic wink before walking off, and all you can think is how much you love him as he begins to dance as he walks off, fully returning to belt out the lyrics as everyone looks on in confusion. 

-

-

-

+1

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" The DJ calls over the crowd, clearing the dancefloor. "It's time for the first dance, so if I could have the lovely couple make their way to the dancefloor?" 

"I hope you know how much trust I've put in you for this," You say softly as Daniel leads you to the floor, or you suppose patch of grass designated as the dancefloor. Daniel, for all the wedding planning, had very few requests, one of which being he got to pick the first dance song. Knowing Daniel, it wasn't a hard thing to give over, considering his good music taste for the most part, but it was still worrying, especially with how he hadn't stopped smiling at you. 

You suppose it's normal for a groom to smile at his partner on their wedding day, but something felt off. "And trust me, it's worth it." 

"This song is one that Daniel has loved for some time now, which I think is pretty obvious from his radios!" Those on his team laugh, and it dawns on you slowly what the song might be. "But did you know it's actually a song these two sing together, quite often?" 

"Daniel Joseph Ricciardo." You state bluntly as Unwritten starts up over the speaker, and rather than goofily spinning you around, he plants his hands on your hips as your arms wrap around his neck. "Are you serious?" 

"What, do you not like it?" Then, slightly quieter so only you hear, "Do you actually not like it? I can change it, I just thought-" 

You lean up to press a quick kiss to his lips, cutting him off before pulling back. The crowd hoots in response. "You're ridiculous," You say softly, swaying along to the beat with a growing smile. "But it's perfect." 

"Thank god," He breathes out, extending an arm to spin you around, "Thought I fucked up there for a second." 

"Reaching for something in the distance," The crowd sings in unison, a cacophony of what you can only describe as love as you find yourself back in Daniel's arms "So close you can almost taste it!" 

"This is what you've been hiding from me?" You tease, allowing yourself to not sing along for once to rather focus on his moment. 

"It's our song," Daniel states softly, "Or at least it's the song that always makes me think of you." 

It really does. Every time you hear it, all you can picture is Daniel, making a fool of himself for you. "And lost airport luggage, and rain on vacations-" 

"It makes me happy, like you make me happy." Daniel answers quietly, far more serious than you expected for this song, and his words slowly settle in your heart. "I hope you know, when you were singing that over the radio, I was so close to crying that I just had to laugh and sing along." 

"Daniel," You breathe out softly, "You never told me that." 

He tries to shrug it off, but you don't let him as you hold his stare, and he leans forward to press his forehead to yours. "Well, we're married now. Might as well start telling our secrets eventually." 

You let yourself get lost in the music for a moment, radiating all you can think of as pure joy as you hold Daniel, your stupid, wonderful, perfect husband. It's a strange thing to think, that he's yours now, but he was yours since that airport, since long before that. You were always meant to be here, dancing to some cheesy song with Daniel in your arms. 

"Live your life with arms wide open," The crowd continues, as Daniel dips you.

"Today is where our book begins," He tries to say it seriously and fails, giggling to himself before he kisses you, and you know the words he's going to say before he even pulls back. "The rest is still unwritten." 

a/n: i never watched f1 during daniel's time, and i feel like i really missed out

[tsukisangel]

gossiping with kenma

relationship ꕤ kenma x reader!

cw/tags ꕤ bokuaka mentions, fluff, gossip about friends!

wc ꕤ 636!

a/n: short lil thing while i write my new tsuki x reader fic! super super inspired by a post written by keijicentric! go follow them fr i love seeing their lil drabbles on my feed it's so fun!! @keijicentric i hope you like it and i hope this was okay lol as soon as i read that post i got inspired to write this

you rushed through your apartment, tossing your things on the couch and knocking quickly on your boyfriend’s office door. as soon as he said it was okay to come in, you slammed the door open, grinning excitedly at him. he glanced at you for a second and raised a brow. “what’s up?” he asked. you noticed behind him he was streaming, but he had turned the camera off. 

“you need to mute!” you exclaimed.

“uh, i’m in the middle of a game. can it wait until it’s over?” he asked. you quickly shook your head and he sighed. “hold on, chat.” he muted his microphone, moving one side of his headphones off his ear so he could hear you. the chat was going wild. of course, they were all wondering what was going on and what you could possibly have to say. was it good? was it bad? there were a lot of people asking if you were pregnant or if you guys had gotten married.

little did they know, it was gossip, about you and kenma’s mutual friends. “guess what i heard from kuroo at work today?!” you exclaimed.

“what?” he asked.

you took a deep breath. “akaashi asked bokuto out!” 

he raised a brow. “no. what?” he asked. “i always thought it’d be the other way around.”

“i know!” you grinned wide, sitting on his lap and getting comfortable to tell him everything. “apparently, akaashi had this whole thing planned. he got bokuto to read a book.” kenma snorted. “it was a short manga, but a book nonetheless!”

“he can’t even read a news article without falling asleep.” kenma chuckled.

“but he read it, for akaashi.” you smiled. “which is super romantic! anyway, kuroo said the book had two owls. it was a gray owl and a brown owl. it was about the owls and their story, obviously akaashi and bokuto. bokuto didn’t catch on until the last page, when the brown owl said, um,” you furrowed your brows.

“don’t tell me you forgot.” kenma sighed at you.

“no! i got it! it’s on the tip of my tongue!” he rolled his eyes and you smacked his arm. “oh! so, the brown owl says, while the owls are sitting on a tree branch i think, ‘bokuto-san, i’m in love with you’, and kuroo was told by akaashi that bokuto gave him a look with the widest eyes he’d ever seen!”

“wait, they were together while reading?” kenma asked. he had finished his game and was gently caressing your hands as the two of you gossiped about your friends.

“how do you think he finished it?” you asked.

“right.” kenma chuckled. “carry on.” 

“oh, so, that i love you page was the last page and it was this big drawing, and the owl representing bokuto had an empty speech bubble.” you grinned. “this is the best part!” you squealed. kenma nodded. “so, bokuto had looked up at akaashi with super wide eyes, then he put the book down, leaving akaashi confused of course, went and grabbed a pen, and then wrote in all capital letters, ‘i love you akaashi!’” you squealed once more, and kenma raised his brows. 

“i can’t believe he was smart enough to fill it in.” kenma joked.

“i know! it was so perfect.” you groaned.

“like when i had that game made for you when i proposed?” he asked.

you grinned. “yes!” you said happily. “it was exactly like that!” you hugged him tight. “that’s all.” you kissed his cheek and got off of his lap. “i have to shower.” you unmuted his stream. “bye, chat! have fun! don’t bully him too much!” you sang, and hummed as you walked out, closing the door.

he chuckled, turning his camera on. “don’t ask.” he said to the stream. “none of your business.”

m.list

previous work (hq boys take you to a party) | next work (hq boys react to you getting hit on in dms)

[studioeisa]

so disconnected 📵 jeonghan x reader.

if jeonghan's 'boyfriend material' posts are on point, well— you can thank his girlfriend.

★ jeonghan x social media manager!reader. ★ word count: 2.6k ★ genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff!!!, txt's soobin is mentioned, down bad!jeonghan, jealous!jeonghan. some smau elements. not proofread; we go out swinging, baby. ★ footnotes: "kae if i wake up to a single shred of jeonghan on ur page..." ¡sorpresa, @diamonddaze01! no further notes, your honor.

🎧 now playing: disconnected by 5 seconds of summer — i admit i'm a bit of a fool for playing by the rules, but i've found my sweet escape when i'm alone with you.

Click.

Jeonghan hasn’t even looked up and yet he already knows what he’ll find when he does. Sure enough, when he shifts his weight onto his other foot and glances away from the TikTok he’d been watching— there you are. 

He wishes he could see your beautiful face. Alas, it’s obstructed by the sight that he’s grown used to associating with you. 

Your phone at eye-level; its camera, trained on him. 

“Yah.” His high-pitched bid to feign annoyance is a futile one. Everybody knows that Jeonghan could never be truly irked by you, no matter how masterfully you pushed his buttons sometimes. 

After clicking away for a couple more minutes, you finally lower your phone. 

There you are. 

Jeonghan swears he’s not a sap, not what those people call ‘simps’. But something about your smile always makes him a little weak in the knees, makes him want to be The Best Boyfriend In The World, bar none. 

He gestures for you to come closer. Once you’re within reach, Jeonghan is already wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in.

“Don’t do that,” you snipe as he brings you into his chest. “We’re in public!”

Jeonghan can’t hide the way his eyes roll. “I don’t care. This isn’t public. It’s the parking lot of your apartment building,” he says dryly. 

“Still public.” 

“Still don’t care.” 

You go to shove at Jeonghan’s chest. He responds by tightening his hold on you, a sound of protest rising from the back of his throat. 

“C’mon, just a minute.” He buries his face in the top of your head, breathing in the soothing scent of your shampoo. It makes something in his chest flutter. “I’ll let you go, just— give me a minute, sweetheart.” 

He can sense that your acquiescence is begrudging, but he takes it nonetheless. A win is a win, he thinks smugly as he takes the opportunity to hug you a little tighter. 

It’s been three months since you finally agreed to try dating Jeonghan, though you had insisted that it be kept on the down low. Something about decorum, discretion. Workplace violations? Jeonghan doesn’t really remember; he had been a little too excited at the prospect of finally being yours that he wouldn’t have minded any condition in the world. 

The past weeks have unironically been some of the best in Jeonghan’s life, though there were probably some things he could do without. 

“It’s my day off, you know,” he mumbles into your hair, “which means it should also be your day off.” 

You giggle, and the force of it has your shoulders slightly shaking against Jeonghan’s chest. 

This is how he knows he loves you: Your laughter always felt like a small victory. Even before, he’d crack jokes in staff meetings and his eyes would immediately go to gauge your reaction.  

He liked making you laugh. He liked being the reason behind your smiles. And, God, did he like you. 

“Let me think about it.” There’s a hint of teasing in your voice, followed by a little ‘hmmm’ of faux thoughtfulness. 

He’s about to bite back at you when he feels your hand at his hip, somewhat leaning into his embrace, and he instead channels his energy into holding back a dreamy sigh. You go on, “No, I don’t think so. Go pose by the wall for another picture.” 

Jeonghan leans back a bit, just enough so that you can see his furrowed eyebrows as he whines, “But I’m Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!”

The title is a new one. Five days recent, in fact, and Jeonghan is hoping it will cut him some slack. 

“Okay, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan,” you say without missing a beat. “Go pose by the wall.” 

Jeonghan peels himself away from you with a grumble. He knows he’s acting a bit like an overgrown child— stomping as he walks, pouting when he leans— but he trusts that you’ll find it endearing. 

You pull out your phone’s camera app. Jeonghan is ready to frown the entire way through, maybe sass you that you only told him to pose by the wall but you didn’t say how he should look. 

But then, instead of “One, two, three…”, you call out something else entirely. 

“I love you, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!”

He can’t help it. 

He laughs, and you click away.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ Jesse McCartney - Beautiful Soul

jeonghaniyoo_n hang up the telephone and just be here with me Liked by pledis_boos, vernonline, and 1,932,049 others View all 2,109 comments

One pro of dating your social media manager, Jeonghan would argue, is all the ‘vacations’ that the two of you can go on. You’re there for every tour stop, every concert, and Jeonghan absolutely revels in the hour or two he can steal away with you. 

If only he could get you to stop working. 

He knows that you’re technically on the clock more often than not. Managing an idol’s social media presence was no small feat, and your entire shtick was about making Jeonghan look as desirable as possible on SNS. You’ve been doing a terrific job so far, if his steady rise in followers was anything to go by. 

Still. Jeonghan has been attempting to give you the cold shoulder for the past 15 minutes. Attempting, because you don’t even seem to notice that he’s gone quiet— too busy on your phone to pay him any heed. 

He shoves his hands into his pockets and clears his throat. He doesn’t even have to glance at your screen; he knows you’re probably on Lightroom, fine tuning the press photos of him from earlier this morning. 

At the twenty-minute mark, Jeonghan finally huffs, “I’m ignoring you.” 

“Hm?” you say distractedly, and he resist the urge to chuck your phone into the nearby lake. 

“I said,” he repeats. “I’m ignoring you.” 

You glance up at him, unamused. “You are literally talking to me,” you note. 

“Well, I was ignoring you before that.” 

“Were you?” 

“Yes. You didn’t notice, so I thought I’d inform you.” 

The beleaguered sigh you let out is not a new thing. Jeonghan has been on the receiving end of your exasperation for as long as he’s known you. 

At least there’s a hint of guilt on your expression as you tuck away your phone. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Everybody’s posting follower ranking listicles since it’s the end of the year. I wanted to see where we were placing.” 

Jeonghan is supposed to be sulking, but that small word— we— has him fighting down a smile. It’s his account, his digital footprint, but you’re the mastermind. You’re the one behind the man, the myth, the legend. 

He’s down so bad for you that it’s not even funny anymore. 

“And?” he prods, his earlier chagrin smoothed out into something that sounds a lot more like resigned affection. “How’s it looking?” 

The frustration that takes over your expression makes Jeonghan want to coo. It’s nothing short of a miracle that he manages to hold himself back. 

“We still haven’t beat out Choi Soobin.” You frown like the other idol has personally wronged you by having a higher follower count. “His boyfriend material photos are too damn good.” 

“His what?”

You whip out your phone. Jeonghan watches with growing incredulity as you pull up Instagram, and he’s less than pleased that user page.soobin is already one of your more recently searched accounts. 

When you shove your phone underneath Jeonghan’s nose, he’s treated to the sight of Soobin’s feed. “Boyfriend material photos,” you double down, like having a visual might somehow explain things away. 

Jeonghan snatches your phone from you. “I heard you the first time,” he says irritably. “But what does it mean?” 

“It means that he looks like somebody’s boyfriend,” you shoot back. 

Oh, Jeonghan does not like that. 

He doesn’t care if it’s just a term for a type of photo. The thought of you perceiving anyone else as ‘boyfriend material’ makes a muscle in his jaw tick. 

“Do you think,” he says coolly, keeping his eyes trained on your screen, “he looks like ‘boyfriend material’?” 

“I mean, yeah—” 

You’ve barely gotten to the end of your sentence before Jeonghan is handing you back your phone. “Where are you going?” you call out as he marches a couple of paces away. 

He looks equal part determined and peeved when he turns to face you. You have your eyebrows arched upward, but he’s more focused on making sure his good side is angled towards you. 

“Get some photos of your actual boyfriend,” he grumbles.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ ZILD - Lia

jeonghaniyoo_n we put the world away Liked by xuminghao_o, min9yu_k, and 1,000,289 others View all 2,109 comments

The day you tell Jeonghan about your plans of resigning, his first thought is Well, that was good while it lasted.

His attempt at being unaffected is a shaky one. You can tell by the way he holds his paper cup just a little too tightly, the way he keeps smoothing out invisible wrinkles on his coat. His poorly concealed distress makes your expression soften, which is somehow worse.

He didn’t want a civil breakup. He’d much rather go out kicking and screaming than have something amicable.

And he most especially didn’t want to be broken up with in some random café in Tokyo. He has half a mind to ask why you couldn’t have waited until the two of you were back home. 

Jeonghan swallows hard, like it might somehow help him swallow the panic simmering in the pit of his stomach. 

“Good for you,” he finally manages to respond. “You’re overworked here, anyway.” 

“That’s not the reason why I’m leaving.” 

Jeonghan hates how calm you look. The two of you had watched— and judged— one too many dramas, and so he’d imagined a breakup with you would be something like that. A rain-soaked street, choice words that neither of you could take back. 

Not you stirring sugar into your coffee like this is not a relationship-defining conversation. 

When Jeonghan doesn’t respond, you continue. Your voice goes a touch softer, and he’s struck with the fear that you’re trying to let him down gently. 

“I’m resigning because of you, Hannie.” That nickname— the one that once felt like a Daesang in its own right, when you first bestowed it on him— now makes Jeonghan’s heart feel like lead. 

“Because of me,” he repeats. 

His mouth is dry. His hands are clammy. He’s thirty seconds away from getting on his knees and begging you to stay, the rest of the café’s patrons be damned. 

Your next words are spoken like an unshakable truth. “Because I love you.” 

You— 

The look on Jeonghan’s face must be priceless; you start to laugh, and the sound of it eases some of Jeonghan’s fraying nerves. 

“I love you, and I want to be with you. Properly.” Your lips purse for a moment. “Well, as properly as being with an idol will allow, anyway. At least I won’t have to worry about getting called in by HR if I’m working someplace else.” 

Workplace violations. Right. That had been a thing. 

All the emotions hit Jeonghan like a truck. Relief (that you’re not breaking up with him), then affection (that you’re willing to do this for him), then guilt (that you’re willing to do this for him). 

He reaches across the table to place his hand on top of yours. Your eyes instinctively glance around your surroundings, checking to see if anyone is looking your way. Jeonghan tugs at your hand and shakes his head. Focus on me, he’s wordlessly saying, and for once, you do. 

“I love you, too. More than you know,” he says. “But I don’t want you to throw away your career for me. Who’s to say you won’t resent me down the line because of it? I— I couldn’t live with myself, sweetheart.” 

You squeeze Jeonghan’s hand reassuringly. “I’m not throwing anything away. I’m just compromising.” 

“I don’t want you to have to compromise anything for me.” 

“Compromise is part of a grownup relationship, Hannie. It’s a good compromise.” 

He must not look convinced, because you take things a step further. Instead of just clasping his hand in yours, you move to intertwine your fingers. There’s some comfort in the familiar feeling of your fingers in between the spaces of his. 

“Nothing is being thrown away,” you repeat, your tone brooking no argument. “I will not hate you tomorrow because of this.” 

Here’s the thing: Jeonghan trusts you implicitly, and not only with his SNS passwords. He trusts your no-nonsense attitude, your unshakeable feelings, your typically sound judgement. 

He wants to trust you now. He wants to believe so, so badly that there is something on the other side for the two of you, and that something would be exactly what the two of you deserve. 

He tongues the inside of his cheek as he considers your words. When he speaks, his voice is a lot smaller than he intends. 

“What about the day after tomorrow?” 

The initial confusion that flits over your expression is replaced by that grin he adores. 

“I’ll still love you the day after tomorrow,” you promise. 

He presses, “And the week after that?” 

“The week after that, too.” 

“What about the month after?” 

“I’ll do you one better— the year after, too.” 

You’re laughing, laughing in the way that he’s always tried to make you laugh, and it’s all Jeonghan needs to trust that things are going to be okay.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ Pritam, Mohit Chauhan, Irshad Kamil - Tum Se Hi

jeonghaniyoo_n my getaway, my favorite place Liked by ho5hi_kwon, everyone_woo, and 2,000,001 others View all 2,109 comments

Click. Click. Click. 

“What are you doing?” 

“What,” Jeonghan huffs, “A guy can’t take photos of his girlfriend?”

You throw a pillow in Jeonghan’s direction, though your terrible aim has it soaring right over his head. 

Ever since you left his company, Jeonghan has enjoyed an array of benefits that come with dating someone who is not your co-worker. The biggest of which happened to be all the time he’s now free to spend with you, most of which he’s happy to kill in his apartment. 

He’s still a little bit petulant about your new job, though, and he likes to voice it out as often as he can. 

“I bet Soobin has tons of photos of you,” he grumbles.

You pretend not to hear him. Jeonghan tries again. 

From the foot of the bed, Jeonghan begins to crawl over your legs. Your annoyed tsk goes ignored as he takes your laptop and sets it aside, dragging you away from your social media planning for page.soobin.

“He better not fall in love with you,” Jeonghan warns.

You let out a low hiss before swatting at your boyfriend, trying to get him off of you. He doesn’t budge, instead caging you in with his arms on either side of you. 

When he goes to kiss you, it bears none of the threatening front that he’s trying to put up. It’s a slow, sweet thing. A glimmer lighting up his cotton sheets. 

He only pulls away when he can no longer physically manage to keep kissing you. There’s the beginning of a grin on his face as his breaths come out in short pants, as his eyes stay closed. He’s savoring the moment, trying to remind himself how damn lucky he is even if the cost involves running his own SNS accounts henceforth. 

“I’ll give you your laptop back,” he murmurs, satisfied to have had an ounce of you.

But then you’re laughing, your fingers threading through his hair. You tug Jeonghan back down despite the fact that you’re just as breathless, and his lips curl into a full-on smile when they meet yours. 

He’d been happy with an ounce, yes, but who is he to complain when you give him the whole damn lot? 

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ 5 Seconds of Summer - Disconnected

jeonghaniyoo_n Do not disturb. 📵 - YJH Liked by sound_of_coups, joshua_acoustic, and 3,392,034 others View all 30,109 comments

diamonddaze01 NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ylangelegy just fell to my knees 💔 happy for you, king yourusername :-)

[shadowbriar]

Bucky Barnes — Dishwasher

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x (she/her) wife!Reader Word Count : 1.5k Warning : None? Synopsis : Bucky knew that he was a man out of time, but never would he expect that this world no longer accepts home appliances as presents. Notes : If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Bucky’s palms were starting to sweat. He knows when she’ll return home, down to its minutes, but he still couldn’t shake the jitters that were brewing up his spine. He has more than enough window to finish his quest, perhaps even sparing himself a good other hour to clean up any possible mess and wipe the apartment clean before she could smell anything amiss, but with the ticking of the clock taunting on him, agitation was starting to pool a little thicker in his gut.

He taps on his watch, wondering where the technicians that were supposed to be here half an hour ago might be at. The drive from the store to their apartment shouldn’t be that complicated. He’s written in bold font the address and their unit number. There should be no issue for them to find it.

He was just about to ring the store when the doorbell rang.

“Mr. Barnes?” one of the technicians asked, looking at the clipboard in his hand “You ordered a dishwasher, Sir?”

“Yes,” Bucky answers with a slightly annoyed grunt “I’ve been expecting you.”

The technician shows a corporate disinterested smile, walking in the apartment as his partner wheeled the boxed item.

“Where do you want us to install it, Sir?”

“Right here,” Bucky says as he pulls the cabinet door that hid their old dishwasher “Could you bring the old one with you? I’d rather not leave any trace of mischief for my wife to find.”

“Of course,” the technician says as he begins to unbox the appliance “Wait, you didn’t make this your wife’s Christmas present, right?”

Bucky frowns, shaking his head with his brows knitted, “No, why?”

“Cause the guy at the last house did and that was a bad scene, man,” the other guy finally speaks up.

“Bad scene, why?” Bucky’s arms were folded to his chest now “They didn’t like the dishwasher?”

“No,” the first guy snorted with his laugh “They didn’t like it, alright.”

“The wife was insulted. Said home appliances don’t count as a gift,” the second guy further explained as he begins to take out the tools to install the item “She said it’s not fair that she always gets ‘gifts’ that are just things that their household needs to function while he gets all the niche personalised presents.”

“Not going to lie, I felt bad for the lady,” first guy chimed in “It was a bloodbath there, man. She was yelling and crying by the time we finished installing the dishwasher. Poor woman, I hope the husband found her something better for Christmas.”

Bucky could only nod in agreement. The crease on his forehead only gets deeper as the technicians continue their story. A new sense of guilt and anxiety brewed in his stomach. Perhaps the dishwasher wasn’t a great idea, afterall.

At first, he thought giving out a lie to a random technician about whether or not the item was his Christmas gift for her wife would never bring any harm. These men are just strangers that need not know any of his business, anyway. But now that they’ve told the story of their last customer, Bucky wonders if he should’ve just answered truthfully and see if these men have any better ideas for a replacement gift.

In his defence, the dishwasher was something she said was listed in her wishlist. He got her the very one she pointed at when they went to the electronic store the other day, down to the very colour that she said was her favourite. He thought that this would be the grand gift to reveal for her, the grandiose early Christmas present that would get her jumping and squealing in excitement, but having the story sinking into his brain now, such fantasy might not be the reality he’ll witness.

Bucky knew that he was a man out of time. That the world has progressed in ways that his mind couldn’t catch up still, but never would he expect that this world no longer accepts home appliances as presents. Perhaps he needs to whip out that notebook of his again and relearn the rules of gift giving in the twenty-first century.

—-

“Doll,” Bucky starts while his fingers cut through the meat of his dinner, trying his best to act as nonchalant as he could “I have a proposal to offer.”

She nods, chewing her food, “I’m listening.”

“Since you’re pretty busy with work and I have the whole month off from missions, why don’t I take the kitchen duty? I’ll cook our meals, make our coffee, wash the dishes, everything that’s involved in the kitchen, I’ll take care of it.”

Her head darts up to face him, an impressed smile tugs on the corner of her lips, “Okay..? Why?”

“Just wanted to take some of the burden off your shoulders,” Bucky lies through his teeth, shrugging “I’ve seen just how tired you’ve been lately. It’s the least I could do.”

“You’re very sweet,” she replies as she places a small kiss to his forearm “I’ll take the laundry duty, then.”

Bucky smiles, nodding in agreement.

His brain has been wiring since the technicians left their apartment. He wonders what he could get for her that would match the brilliance of the dishwasher that he thought would have been. He tries to squeeze the essence of his memory, trying to find anything that she might have mentioned that he could get for her, but everything she’s ever told, he’s bought, and he still wasn’t sure if there would be anything bigger than the dishwasher.

Now priding himself as a good husband, how could he not know what his wife wants most?

—-

In his defence, a twenty minutes longer sleep was something he earned for all the hard work he’s done in the kitchen for the past week. Bucky has made every meal, every coffee and every snack that he’s promised to make. He’s taken out the trash without being asked and has done all the dishes before the grease could even set on their plate. Now he might be a supersoldier, alright, but waking up early to brew some coffee and make breakfast was still something he’s not accustomed to and letting his eyes rest a little bit longer feels like a reward he’s very well earned.

So now he finds himself buried under the many layers of their blankets. The fluffiness of their pillows and how the scent of her shampoo still lingers on them made him drown in the pool of comfortness. He snuggles tighter to the pillows, burying his face on the softness of its fabric, before slumber was abruptly yanked off of his feet.

“Good morning,” she says after jumping right on top of him, now sitting on his stomach with a teeth-rotting grin “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sweetheart,” Bucky grunts, smiling through the regret of his lost doze “You’re up early.”

“No, I woke up on time. You’re just taking a little more nap than usual,” she answers as showers his jaw with kisses “When were you going to tell me?”

His eyebrows knit, trying to understand her words with a brain that’s still partially asleep, “Tell you what?”

“That you got me the dishwasher.”

Bucky’s eyes shot wide. His blue fraught-filled eyes were clashing against her fevered ones. He studies her face, trying to find any trace of disappointment or anger, but the only things he could find were the lovely creases around her eyes and the big grin that he thought must’ve ache her cheeks after a while.

He sits up, leaning against the bed frame as he tries to assess his situation better. Wrath was devoid from her face. She was jumping a little, evidently excited upon unravelling his confidence. Something that he wasn’t sure how to react to now.

“You’re not mad?” he asks instead.

“Why would I be mad? You got me the dishwasher!” she exclaims, placing another kiss to his lips “I was planning to get it next week after my Christmas bonus is in, but here you are playing Santa. You’re quite literally crossing wishes off my list. I love you.”

 “I love you,” he answers “But— You’re sure you’re not mad?”

She sits up, studying his attentive manner with a raised brow, “Why would I be mad?”

“Because the technicians said home appliances don’t count as presents anymore,” Bucky answers, looking further lost “They said dishwashers don’t count as Christmas presents.”

“Sure, they do! Home appliances or not, a present is a present,” she argues “It’ll only be an insult if all your gifts are home appliances. That wouldn’t count as Christmas presents. But that’s not what you’re doing. You’re giving me something that I want, which so happens to be a dishwasher.”

Bucky closes his eyes, letting out a sigh, “I am so confused right now. I thought I ruined your Christmas.”

“On the contrary, you’ve just made my Christmas,” she beams, pampering his face with little kisses “I love you, thank you.”

“I love you, Doll,” with his eyes still closed, Bucky pulls her face to his chest, trying to tame her excitement a little so he could recollect the drowsiness that was slipping off his fingertips “Does this mean I can forfeit from kitchen duties, now that you’ve found the surprise?”

She looks up, resting her chin to his chest with a satisfied laughter, “Yes, baby, we can get back to our usual schedule now.”

[manicmanuscription]

The Wait

SJM x Reader Week Day Five @sjmxreaderweek

Prompt: Heirs / Lords / Ladies

Pairing: Rhysand / Reader

Summary: Reader didn't expect carrying the future heir of the Night Court to be so anxiety inducing.

Tags: separation anxiety, possessive rhysand, hormonal reader, nothing but pregnancy fluff! not proofread oh also making out -light

Word Count: 1085

A/N: Sorry if this is bad y'all, I forgot to prepare something for today and then I nearly forgot to post it so it's super rushed smhhh 🤦‍♀️

SJM x Reader Week | Acotar Masterlist

I stood up from my chair once again, putting the book I’d skimmed through back on the bookshelf that was the fourth one that had bored me. I read a few titles but not comprehending any of them. This is fine, I’m fine. 

I waddled over to the next bookshelf, none of the titles really standing out to me and I nervously chewed on my lip as my mind wandered to mate once again. 

I was seven months pregnant, Rhysand had barely left my side and the last time I ventured outside the gardens of my own home was making the announcement of our Heir to the Hewn City. Then my mate and I had practically become shut-ins. Rhys even going so far as to lessen monthly dinners with our own family which had already become scarce with everyone's busy schedules.

He would’ve banned them from this house completely after Cassian had given me a congratulatory hug but I told him I would go crazy and skin him alive if I didn’t at least interact with our own friends.

It had been surprisingly nice, we had taken long needed breaks from work except for emergencies and the house was quite large so I didn’t feel too stir-crazy. 

Except for when my mate left me alone. 

This was only the third time he’d been called away for court duties, the trips usually lasting a few hours but each time felt a sentence worse than death. 

Madja had told me the heightened anxiety was due to having such an attentive mate, my pregnancy brain becoming so used to his constant presence that even when he walked down to the bakery to fetch my cravings my brain told me he would get terribly injured and never return to my side again. 

Who knew such a blessing could be such a curse?

I paced in front of the bookshelves, barely looking at the spines. I could handle a few hours without my mate, this had been an emergency with Keir and I didn’t want him to worry about me he already had enough on his plate. 

I already felt guilty enough for needing him so much, I wouldn’t feel guilty for cutting his meeting short as well. 

“You need to stop pacing.” The shadowsinger spoke from the couches.

“I’m not pacing.” I snapped harshly grabbing yet another book, the weight of my belly making my back hurt all day and I waddled to Rhysand’s favorite reading chair taking a few minutes to get comfortable. 

“I’m sorry for being short with you.” I murmured as I adjusted the knitted blanket for the second time. I just couldn’t relax, all of my instinct’s aware of every noise that went on in this house. My nerves like a frayed wire and the thought of how I’d spoken to my friend like that had me on the verge of tears. 

Gods these hormones were going to fucking kill me.

“It’s alright.” He brushed off turning the page in his book. 

I sniffled, blinking back tears and opened the book, skipping over every other line. After a few minutes I couldn’t take it anymore and stood up again. Everything felt wrong, the chair, my blanket, even the clothes on my skin. My mind couldn't help but wander...what if something bad had happened? Or if someone had gotten hurt?

I set the book back trying to take deep breath’s Azriel had already assured me everything was fine, multiple times in fact and nearly every time I’d bitten his head off. I was on the hunt for another book when darkness flickered in the room and the scent of my mate washed over me. Instantly settling all my nerves. 

I turned around to face him and he smiled. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be gone for another few hours?” I asked even as a grin graced my face. 

Rhysand didn’t even look at Azriel who’d been preparing to leave, unbeknownst to me the spymaster had only been following his job description and reporting my state back to my mate. Well your mood swings may scare him, a deeply powerful male with a pregnant wife at him and his instinct’s all haywire scared him even more. 

“It wasn’t a big deal, able to end the meeting early.” He shrugged and I hugged him, the belly bump slightly in the way but not enough that his scent didn’t intensity at proximity and make the bond hum in happiness. I was too happy he was home to consider if he was lying even though he was it didn’t matter Rhysand wanted to be with you just as badly, his own nerves calming seeing you safe and sound.

“Leave.” Rhysand ordered and before the last syllable left his mouth Azriel was already gone, disappearing to wherever. “How are you doing my love?” He asked me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Better now.” I murmured, tapping my lips indicating I wanted a kiss. He was quite tall and with the baby I couldn’t reach up on my tippy toes anymore. 

He smiled, settling his hands on my lower back and tugging my close. Giving me a quick peck on the lips before pulling away. “Uhm, what was that?” 

“What was what?” He cocked his head to the side, feigning innocence and if it weren't for this baby my feelings wouldn’t be hurt, but they were. I turned away from him crossing my arms, fine. Two could play at that game. 

“C’mon don’t be mad darling.” His voice dropped and a shiver ran down my spine. Bastard doing that to me on purpose. He stood behind me, sliding his hands underneath the baby bump and taking the weight off my feet and I let out a loud moan. 

Fluttering my eyes shut at the heavenly sensation, his early transgression almost completely forgot about until he brought it up again. “Let me make it up to you.” He whispered in my ear, pressing long kisses to the juncture of my throat before tilting my head and giving my lips a proper claiming. 

His tongue dominated my own and I lost all sense of time, breathless when he finally pulled away. “What are you reading there love?”

I had forgotten about the book in my hand and with a quick glance at the title I realized it was one of my favorites, a book of fables and mini stories with usually dark or mysterious endings. 

“Can you read to me?”

“Of course I can, darling.” He settled himself on the reading chair, tugging my into his lap and pulling the blanket over the both of us. It felt so much cozier than before and I nuzzled my head into his neck, sinking further into him as he began reading to me, all my earlier anxiety completly gone.

[fastandcarlos]

Obsessed With You : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: how does it feel to be so in love with someone that you can't be away from them? allow oscar piastri to tell you

As yet another chuckle came from you, Oscar couldn’t help but watch on as you continued to read through your book, engrossed in the blossoming fairytale that was currently gripping you between two of your favourite characters. 

You were in your own little world as your eyes focused on the pages before you, unaware of the eyes that were glued to you from across the room. Oscar’s smile was wide as he noticed your expression change each time you encountered a new emotion. Happiness. Upset. Betrayal. He felt it all with you. 

Despite the many things surrounding him that could have kept him entertained, none of those things compared to you. Watching you enjoy the simplicity of sitting, cuddled up in your seat reading your book was an indescribable feeling for him. 

As you reached the end of your chapter you finally looked up from your book, reaching across the table to pick up your mug of tea. It was almost cold, your own fault for refusing to leave your book, but still you drunk it with a smile. 

It was as you came back into the room though that you felt the eyes that had been staring at you for the best part of twenty minutes. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, finally meeting Oscar’s eyes, taking note of the shy smile on his face. 

His head shook as he realised that you’d caught him, feeling his cheeks begin to heat up. “I’m just watching you and wondering how I ever got so lucky to be yours.” 

A faint chuckle came from you as Oscar spoke, suddenly finding yourself unsure of where to look. At times you hated the effect that Oscar could have on you and his ability to always know the right thing to say.  

You didn’t quite know what to say to Oscar, opting to place your mug down and return to your book. You shuffled slightly in your seat to make yourself comfortable again, turning the crisp page of your book. It didn’t stop Oscar from watching you though, even if he didn’t quite realise that he was doing it. 

The next chapter soon had you gripped again, but that didn’t last long for long. After a couple of minutes, you felt a pair of hands wrap around your frame, lifting you up and swapping your place in your seat for a place in Oscar’s lap instead. “What are you doing?” You laughed up at Oscar. 

His grip was secure around your frame as he watched your thumb panic to mark your page and make sure you didn’t lose it whilst Oscar moved you around.  

“You’re impossible.” 

Oscar’s head shook as you settled against his chest, feeling him press a kiss to the top of your head. “I don’t want to be that far away from you any longer, I want to be right here by your side instead,” he whispered, thankful that you couldn’t see the wide smile that was on his face. 

A chuckle came from you as you placed your book down, sliding your bookmark in to make sure that you didn’t lose your page. “I wish sometimes that other people got to see just how needy you actually are.” 

Oscar couldn’t help it, to say he was obsessed with you was an understatement. He loved being in your company, hearing your voice, seeing you smile, feeling your arms wrap around his frame, he couldn’t get enough of it all. 

He knew he should’ve felt bad for disturbing your read, but selfishly he just couldn’t, he wanted to have you all to himself again and feel you right by his side. Oscar couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was that drew him to you so often, if he was honest, there were just too many things. 

As the two of you settled, his fingertips brushed delicately along your waist, his other hand on your legs that hung over the edge of Oscar’s lap. “I’ve been thinking, maybe we should read a book together? Like our own little book club just for the two of us,” Oscar whispered into your ear. 

Your eyebrows raised in surprise at his suggestion, you couldn’t remember the last time you saw Oscar pick up a book, but he always loved the expression on your face whenever you read one of your own. 

Your face made it seem like it was magic, a magic that he didn’t want to miss out on. With reading being something that you loved to do, Oscar wanted for it to be something that he enjoyed with you too. 

After a few moments your head tilted back to meet Oscar’s smile, seeing just how sincere he was from the look in his eyes. “You really want to read? I mean I’m sure that I could find some books that might interest the two of us,” you told him, watching as his head nodded in reply to your question. 

“You always support me and my hobbies, so I want to do the same for you,” he grinned, feeling your hand cup against the side of his face, stretching up as high as you could so that you were able to press a kiss against Oscar’s lips. 

A chuckle came from you as Oscar pulled you back for one more kiss. “Lando used to tell me that you were obsessed with me, and now I’m beginning to think that maybe he is.” 

“He is,” Oscar proudly told you, watching as your eyes rolled. “I’m so obsessed with you love that it actually hurts my heart, do you know how hard of a job it is being so madly in love with you?” 

You didn’t quite know what to say, shaking your head almost in disbelief back at Oscar, surprised by his sudden boldness and confession. 

“I’m being serious, even after all these years I can’t get enough of you,” Oscar added, keeping his eyes on you so that you could see just how open and honest he was being with you, “you’re just my favourite person in the world.” 

“I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, taken aback. Your heart raced as Oscar spoke, finding yourself feeling flushed and a little bit lost for words.  

“You don’t have to say anything, I just want to make sure that you always know how I feel about you,” Oscar assured you, kissing the top of your head once again. 

“You know that I feel the same, don’t you?” You asked Oscar, smiling in relief as his head nodded, knowing exactly how loved you made him feel. 

Oscar never imagined that one person could make him feel so many strong emotions. It overwhelmed him at times just how close the two of you were, he always dreamt about the sort of relationship that he saw in the movies, like the ones you read about in so many of your books, but he never imagined how true it would become for him.  

It was a feeling that he never took for granted, everyone told him what he had with you was special, but no one knew just how special it was aside from him.  

All the little things were the things he treasured the most, how you could lay together in the most comfortable silence and still feel yourselves smiling and your hearts racing with how close the two of you were together. 

They were all the feelings that Oscar knew he would never lose, quite simply because...he was obsessed with you. 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[mediumgayitalian]

Lee does not immediately suspect something when he hears screaming.

That's his bad.

He will make it abundantly clear in his defense that the core value of this camp is violence. That is It. Not safety, not training, not worship or hard work or discipline or anything. It's violence. Didn't get the last croissant at breakfast? Violence. Someone used up all the hot water? Violence. Someone got in close to your face and insulted your dead mother? Violence. Can't decide whose nail polish colour is more well suited to their outfit?

You guessed it.

Violence.

His cabin is not immune. In fact, the Apollo cabin may be technically from some perspectives worse than every other. It is a little known fact that the solid gold walls of hubris are, in fact, sound proofed, and yet the midnight trombone continues to echo gently and unkindly over the midnight breeze. So when he hears, one beautiful and sunny July afternoon, intense, bloodcurdling screaming echoing from his very place of residence, he thinks: ah. Someone has once again used Leanna's sheet music for target practice and she is responding with brute force. Good for her.

But then, of course, the screaming pitches up high enough that four windows shatter and his hearing starts to go, and he thinks, again, ah. And then immediately begins to sprint.

"Whatever you're doing, cut it the fuck out," he barks, sprinting up the porch, and then very quickly turns to the side to wheeze silently. "Leave him -- oh, for the love of the gods."

Fortunately, his youngest brother is not being teased or tortured or in any other such way bothered. Technically. Unfortunately, the brother who he should have been more concerned about is pinning said baby brother to the floor, needles shining in hand, shrieking, "Sit still! Sit still! I swear to the muses, asswipe, sit still or I am going to end up impaling your brain!"

"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts --"

"I have not fucking done it yet!"

"Michael," Lee says, dragging a hand down his face, "watch your fucking language."

Michael bares his teeth. "He pestered me for twelve fucking days, Lee. He is getting his ears pierced or I am going to pierce him between the eyes from a hundred fucking feet."

"He's torturing me!" Will hollers, straining away. "He's -- sticking me like a pin cushion --"

"That is how piercing works you little shit --"

"I'm reporting you to child services!"

"Good! Call 'em now! It'll take them half a fuckin' hour to get here, I'll have lots of time to kick your ass!"

On one hand, Lee is Practically an Adult. He is seventeen whole years old. He can vote, if he chooses to break the law. Hell, in some countries he's legally allowed to kill people with no consequences.

"None of that is true," says Diana from her bunk, flipping a page in her magazine.

On the other hand, it is a truly beautiful day. He could just...leave. He could take a walk along the beautiful shoreline and reflect upon the days when he was an only child of a neglectful mother, blissfully lonely and unbothered. Oh, those were the days.

"Hold still!"

On the mysterious third hand, it is really kind of funny to watch Michael wrestle with a nine-year-old and lose.

"Move over," Lee says, walking over to his sister's bunk. She does, giving him approximately one square millimeter of space. Wow. She's feeling generous today. "Wager?"

"Twenty-six minutes at minimum," Diana says. She pats around until her hand hits maybe the massivest bag of sour gummi worms Lee has ever seen, shoving at least nine in her mouth at once. "And its uneven."

Lee reaches for a gummi worm. She kicks him in the spleen. He pulls his hand away.

"I'll take that. He's getting some leverage, I think he'll get them pierced in twenty-four."

"You're on."

They shake, then settle into observe. Diana passes him a set of rubber ear plugs, which he gratefully accepts just before Will screeches so loudly Michael's ear drums genuinely begin to bleed. At least he got closer, this time.

(It takes Michael twenty-two minutes and he somehow manages to pierce one ear twice. Lee accepts his gummi-worm winnings with grace and integrity and anything Diana claims otherwise is because she is a bitter sore loser who likes to start rumours and discredit his good name.)

(Obviously.)

-- -- --

based on this and this drawing by @cometjuice

more cabin 7

[feelbokkie]

to fall apart

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

genre: hurt/comfort (mostly comfort), heavy angst

warnings: swearing, emotional exhaustion, hints of emotional abuse (none depicted), family trauma

pov: 2nd person

description: After getting a concerning text in the middle of the night, Chan comes to your rescue.

pairing: chan & reader (aka, platonic pairing)

word count: 3,035

a/n: for those of you who saw me post this earlier, unfinished, no you didn't

©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

"Can you pick me up?"

As you sit in the passenger seat of Chan's car, wearing one of the hoodies that he happened to have in his car, you can’t help but feel guilty. It's late, too late for the two of you to be parked in front of a 24-hour convenience store. But you didn't want to go to his place yet and you needed to get out of your parent’s house.

With your head leaning against the cool glass of the window, you watch as Chan disappears and reappears through various parts of the convenience store. A few times, you catch him glancing in your direction, with an expression that you can't see all too well from where you are but you know that at least part of it is concern.

Your heart has finally settled down to a normal rhythm after overworking itself for several hours. You're not sure if it's because of the familiar scent from being in Chan's car or the music he has playing while you wait for him or the melodious pattern of the rainfall hitting the car. Or maybe it's simply being out of your house. Either way, you feel calmer and more relaxed.

You also feel exhausted.

"Sorry for making you wait," Chan says as he hops back into the car. He sets a bag in the center console and shuts the door behind him. He pulls the hood of his jacket off, sending raindroplets flying around the car.

"Sorry for making you leave your place at 3 in the morning." You mumble, not moving from your position.

"Don't do that. You didn't make me do anything. If I thought you were bothering me, I would have said so." Chan softly pats your head before reaching for something in the bag. "Give me your wrist."

You give him your left hand without protest. He slowly rolls up your sleeve, careful not to add more discomfort. He looks over your wrist, moving it around like he knows what he's doing while you wince at the forced movement. He offers whispered apologies each time you express even the slightest sign of being in pain.

"Okay, I think it's just a bad sprain and a bruise, not broken." He whispers more to himself than to you. You glance over at him and spot his phone in his lap open to a WebMD page. He gives you back your arm, making sure to rest it on your lap.

He rummages through the bag for a second before pulling out everything. He does his best to place them on his lap, but the limited space being mostly taken over by the steering wheel makes it nearly impossible. Whatever he can't put on his lap is either placed back into the center console or on that dashboard. He takes two cups of ice that you didn't see him holding earlier and emptys the contents into the bag before tying it as tightly as he possibly can. He stacks one of the empty cups into the other before turning them upside down and putting them over the gear stick.

“This is going to be a little cold,”  He warns before gently putting the makeshift icepack over your wrist.

Silence takes over the car again. The music is softer now and partly being drowned out by the pitter-patter of the raindrops hitting the car, falling harder than it was earlier. You rest your head against the headrest and close your eyes, focusing on the rain. Even then, the soothing rhythm is not enough to combat the jackhammering in your head that is slowly, but surely, drowning out every incessant thought flooding your brain.

"Are you hungry?" Chan offers, breaking the silence.

You shake your head and leave it at that.

You are hungry, starving almost. You can't exactly remember the last time you ate anything. Days blurred together in your head, distant and disconnected as if they happened to someone else. And yet, you're drowning in them, caught in the riptide and being dragged further away as the days continue. Classes during the day, work in the evening, and screaming at night.

"You can talk if you want," Chan tries again, words flowing slowly as he chooses his words with gentle care. "Or if you don't we can just sit in silence. Or I can drive around."

You sit there quietly for a moment, trying to figure out where to start. You can't remember what you've already told him, or exactly how much. You're not even entirely sure he knows exactly what's going on in your life at the moment. Still, as you look back at the last few weeks--no, the last few months--your lips remain sealed, trapping every thought and emotion filling your head. Your eyes slowly open. Unfocused and glassy, staring off at the blurry lights coming from the convenience store.

"I'm just so fucking tired," you finally mumble, your voice barely audible, as though you're speaking to yourself rather than to Chan.

Chan waits patiently in silence, hoping that you'll offer more. His hands fidget in his lap with a desire to reach over to you and embrace you in a tight hug. His heart silently shatters in his chest as looks into your eyes, now devoid of the light and warmth he's grown so accustomed to seeing. Now all he can find is a dull, lifeless gaze.

"I just...I can't do this anymore. I can't...I'm exhausted. I don't know what to do. I just..." You ramble, your voice trembling as you try to make sense of your thoughts.

"Just take a deep breath and start again," Chan's voice drops to a gentle tone.

"I can't," Your voice strains. You take one long, shaky breath before trying to swallow the lump forming in your throat. "I can't fucking breathe, Chan. I'm, I'm at the end of my rope here and I don't have it in me to keep holding on."

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to contain the tears that well up in your eyes. Only, one escapes, and then another and another until a steady stream rolls down your cheeks. You can't stop the choked sob that escapes your throat.

No longer able to watch silently from a distance, Chan wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. The sudden warmth and comforting scent of his body washed and shampoo mixed with his laundry detergent force more sobs out of you. Your right-hand rests on his chest, lightly gripping the fabric of his hoodie.

Chan doesn't shush you or try to get you to stop crying. Instead, his hold around you tightens with one hand on your back and the other on the back of your head. The hand on your back moves slowly, going up and down trying to soothe you a bit. Chan's head hangs low, almost resting against yours.

"It's okay, I'm here. Let it all out." His voice is just above a whisper and yet, he's louder than your sobs.

You're not sure how long you sit there crying with Chan holding you. Eventually, when you're out of tears and your throat starts to ache, Chan lets you go and you lean back into your seat. You start to tell him everything that's been happening for the past few months. The arguments between your older brother and your stepdad. How they end in screaming matches in the dead of the night. Your mother's wails to get them to stop. How you're somehow the one responsible for getting them to stop. The tension in your home and how you've been walking on eggshells, worried about setting either one of them off. With hardly any sleep or peace at home, you leave your house right at the crack of dawn and sit in the library on campus trying to get a few minutes of sleep before your first class of the day. How, even though you finish classes relatively early in the day, you'll stay on campus longer to get your school work done or study for exams without the interruption of the usual chaos in your home. You let him know about all of the extra shifts you've taken at work just to avoid the drama, but even that is wearing you down. And that most days, you come home so exhausted that you skip dinner and head straight to bed before being abruptly woken up by more screaming.

"Did they..." His voice trails off, unsure how to finish the question cautiously. But you don't miss how his eyes drift down to your arm before snapping back up to meet your eyes.

"No, neither of them would lay a finger on me." You shift in your seat so you can face him better. "This was an accident."

"Accident how?" There's an air of accusation in his tone, almost like he doesn't believe you. After hearing to story you just told him, you're not sure you'd believe you if you were in his position.

You move the makeshift ice pack to the other side of your wrist. Most of it melted, probably from the heat of your hug with Chan. "It was mostly my fault. Normally I just try to calm them down from the sidelines. But they were really on one today. One of them was drinking. Maybe both of them, I don't know. But they were really getting into each other's face and it looked like they were going to hit each other. I stupidly jumped in between them and got shoved. I tried to catch myself and landed badly. I forgot that they're both taller than me and when they're arguing, I'm quite literally in their blind spots. They both felt horrible...and then they started fighting again because I got hurt. I snapped after that and cussed both of them out before texting you."

"Were they still fighting when you left?" Chan's hand finds your head again. His fingers move slowly and he starts to massage your scalp, almost as if you're a puppy he's trying to calm down.

"Yeah," You sigh as you focus back on the rain running down the windshield. "Pretty sure one or both of them were drinking. It reeked of alcohol. My mom was crying and begging them to stop and begging for me to not leave. She probably thinks I'm not coming back."

Chan stops massaging your scalp and instead taps on your head to get your attention. It takes a second before you face him, part of you is embarrassed that he's watched you break down. And yet, you don't find a single look of judgment on his face. Instead, you meet eyes filled with so much tenderness it hurts. A gentle, understanding smile touching the corners of his mouth appears on his face when you finally look at him. His hand stays on your head, holding it in place as he starts to dry your face with the sleeve on his other hand. "Do you want to?"

"I mean, I don't have a choice. I'm a student working a part-time job. I don't even make enough money to rent a room in someone's house. My brother staying with us was only supposed to be temporary. Temporary means like six-plus months apparently."

"You're more than welcome to stay with us. That storage room that Jeongin puts all his packages in is actually a spare bedroom." Chan chuckles as he drops his hands. He focuses his attention back to your wrist. He grabs a tube that resembles toothpaste and squeezes some on your wrist. He takes a napkin that he has sitting next to his phone and spreads it around, making sure to spread the cool liquid evenly.

"I can't do that,"

Chan looks around for something for a moment before finding it on the floor by your feet. He leans over a container for a wrist brace. He flips it over to the back and starts reading the instructions. "Why not?"

"I can’t do that to you and Jeongin.”

“Do what?” He doesn’t look up as he takes the brace out of the packaging and carefully tugs it onto your wrist. “If anything, you’d be doing both of us a favor. I’ll get to see and hang out with my best friend more often. And Jeongin will be more than grateful to you for getting me off his back.”

“Well if you left the man alone and didn’t get cute aggression around him all the time then maybe he wouldn’t escape from the apartment all of the time.”

Chan finishes adjusting the straps and making sure he didn’t make it too tight before softly patting your hand and looking back at you. “Listen, I’m serious. Isn’t our place closer to the university anyway? You could probably walk. Or we could drop you off sometimes. Way cheaper than the bus.”

You subconsciously chew on your bottom lip as you consider it. Your job is also closer to their apartment than your house, something you were grateful for when you had a shift right after class. And yet, the image of your mom trying to deal with both your brother and stepdad alone pops into your head. You squeeze your eyes shut as you try to erase the image in your head and the sound of your mother’s desperate pleas to stop both men. You bow your head in defeat and let out a small sigh. “It’s not fair to my mom,”

“It’s not fair to you either. Look at me,” Chan tucks his finger under your chin and forces you to look at him. “You are one of the strongest people I know but you’re wearing yourself thin trying to solve everything.”

“Yeah but…it’s my family. At the end of the day, I have to be there for them.”

“Are they there for you? Are they supporting you by keeping you up at night over petty bullshit when they know you have school or work in the morning? What about when you’re picking up extra shifts just to avoid being around them? Or making it impossible to do your school work?”

“All families are complicated, you know that.” You laugh awkwardly as you push Chan’s hand away.

“True, but…” Chan pauses for a moment, studying your face as unspoken words linger between the two of you. He runs his hands through his hair, making the already messy curls even more of a disheveled mess. “At least spend the night tonight. Or for a few days. You have exams coming up, right?”

“I could…but for one, I brought none of my stuff with me. Just grabbed my phone and left when you picked me up.” You hold your half-dead phone up. It’s been buzzing in your pocket the entire time with texts and calls that you can’t be bothered to look at right now. Part of you is scared to check.

“You’re already in your pajamas so you’re fine for now. And I’m sure we can find something for you to wear in the morning. I can take you back home when you get up to grab some stuff.” Chan shrugs as he settles his back against the door.

“Okay sure, let’s say I do stay. We go and get my things and I stay with you until exams are over or whatever. You don’t have a bed in that spare room. And as comfortable as your couch is, I can’t just live in your living room for a week. You, specifically, will go crazy.”

Chan lets out an amused laugh as he stares at you, “That’s cute, you think I’m going to make you sleep on the couch. Real funny joke,”

“Well other than the floor, there’s really no other options.”

“You can take my bed. I like the couch more anyway, it’ll give me a reason to sleep on it without being judged by In.”

“I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

“If I’m willingly offering my bed, you’re not kicking me out.”

“Yeah but—“

“Stop acting like you’re burdening me. You aren’t. I like being around you and you’re genuinely one of my favorite people. You are not and never will be a burden to me. So get that out of your head.”

The last sentence echoes in your head. You never want to inconvenience or bother people, especially your friends, so they never know you’re going through something until it’s already over. You’re not sure what changed and made you text Chan tonight but you’ve spent most of the time feeling bad for waking him and forcing him out of the warmth of his bed.

You are not and never will be a burden to me.

Those simple words, combined with the soft look in Chan’s eyes hit you harder than they should. Your body feels lighter like a boulder has been lifted off your chest, allowing you to breathe for the first time in years. Possibly for the first time ever.

“H-hey, don’t cry,” Chan sits back up in a panic, rushing to wipe the fresh tears falling down your face. “I think it’s time for you to get some sleep. Pretty sure that convenience store worker is ready to call the cops on us for loitering. Let’s go home, hm? We can just share the bed tonight and talk about the rest later.”

You nod quietly as you wipe your face with your good hand and melt back into the seat. Chan moves everything off the dashboard and center console, haphazardly tossing them into the back seat, before getting settled to drive.

After backing out of the parking space Chan rests his hand on your lap, palm up, waiting for you to take it. You don’t think twice before slipping your good hand into his and resting your head on the window once again. Chan’s fingers lightly tap along to the beat of the song playing.

“Sorry for waking you up and falling apart on you,” You mumble with a small yawn, exhaustion slowly taking over your body.

“You don’t have to apologize. I’ll always be here to pick up the pieces whether you want me to or not.”

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Permanent Taglist (closed)

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

@amyysfics @berryblog @jaydebow @junebug032 @boiohboii

@heistheavatar @lieslab @rainbae-anon @k-cock @hamburgers101

@mrswolfiechan @soulboundauthor @weird-bookworm @thisisnotjacinta @seungmyynie

@halesandy @kpopsstuffs @honeydew93 @beebee18 @stay278

@jaiuneamesolitaiire @babrieeee @brain-empty-only-draken @tenmii @blueforte

@jihanlovic @felixglow  @nuronhe @eunseok-s @soonyoungblr

@phtogravi @jiisungllvr @puppyminnnie @velvetmoonlght

[ohdeerfully]

I just read one of your works with Alastor ears and KAKAISKSNSMSDHJSJ IT WAS ADORABLE, can you write one about the reader finding out Alastor has a tail and he's all flustered and nervous about it because well HES THE RADIO DEMON HES SCARY and he can't be scary when his tail wags when the reader praises him (MAKE IT WHOLESOME PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE)

HELLOOO I LOVE ALASTOR TAIL!! tail + more sleepytime = deadly fic combo THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST!

Silky Fur

alastor x reader (comfort/fluff) TW: none? join my discord!

◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈

After a year of being together, you and Alastor had fallen into a rather steady nightly routine, though sometimes he was too busy with Satan Knows What and would leave the hotel and you wondering if he would come back to you for the night. When this happened, you often didn’t see him till the next morning—or, even the afternoon.

Lately, that “sometimes” had turned into every night. For the past week. And it was starting to make you feel… kind of shitty, you couldn’t even lie to yourself. You spent so many hours reasoning and making excuses for him—he was an Overlord, after all. No wonder he was so busy! Plus, you just so happened to fall into his life; you shouldn’t expect him to just give up his duties for you.

You looked at the ceiling, arms spread out on either side of you as you tried to convince yourself to stop feeling bad for the sixth night in a row. You missed him next to you, and started to find it harder and harder to get to sleep without his company. You craved him, and you wondered if he craved you in the same way—if he even missed you.

You sat up with a groan after a few more minutes, letting your feet dangle off the side of the bed. It was pointless, you decided, just laying down doing nothing. If you couldn’t sleep, you might as well go do something productive. You threw on a hoodie and made your way down the long corridor, and then down the steps.

This late in the night, the sky had an eerie red glow. It filtered through the curtains of the large hotel windows, casting long, sharp shadows that made your skin crawl if you looked too long. No matter how long you lived in Hell, you never got used to the unfriendly ambience. You had to remind yourself that you were safe in the hotel. You stuffed your hands in the pockets of your hoodie and looked towards your feet as you walked.

There was some paperwork regarding a couple residents you promised Charlie you would help her process. So, you decided you could get a headstart on finishing them, although you didn’t really see the point in the paperwork itself; it was all just going to be horrible criminal records that Charlie would try desperately to ignore.

You opted for the hotel lobby over the cramped office, spreading out the papers across the low coffee table. It wasn’t very comfortable, but you were glad to at least be out of the room.

You sat for a mind numbing amount of time, only listening to the ticking of a faint clock as you processed the information for the residents. It was times like this that made you want to curse Alastor for refusing to allow any sort of modern technology into the hotel. You get it, of course, with Vox and all—but, man, what you wouldn’t give to just have an easy spreadsheet to type this all into.

If you weren’t tired before, you sure were now. Your eyes drug across the papers, blearily taking in the information. You blinked heavily, trying to rid your vision of the tears of exhaustion. You slumped back with a sigh, the pages loosely held in your hands as you rested your eyes for a moment.

Bad idea.

Almost immediately, sleep overtook you, papers slipping through your fingers and drifting across the floor in every direction as your consciousness faded away.

You woke again when you felt your body jostling, then suddenly lifted. It took a minute to wake up enough to peer through cracked eyelids and see that you were being carried up the hotel stairs. You felt familiar arms cradling your back and legs, and the firmness of a chest that your head rested against.

You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. That staticy feeling in the air and prickling your skin was enough to know. You let your body relax again, but couldn’t seem to catch sleep again.

He hummed a gentle tune as he walked, using his knee to turn the doorknob to your shared room. He pushed it open with his shoulder and walked you in.

You felt the plush sheets of your bed as he sat you down, but you pushed yourself back up into a sitting position to look at him. Stare at him. You hoped he could pick apart your emotions just by the way you glared. If he did, he made no attempt at asking what was wrong, and merely looked back at you with his slightly glowing red eyes and wide grin.

“You’ll hurt your back, falling asleep on the couch like that!” He started to chastise you playfully. He turned his back to you and opened up a drawer against the wall.

“Where have you been, Al,” You asked, ignoring his comment. You looked towards your feet. It was hard questioning him, because he didn’t take much seriously, no matter how serious you felt. There was a lump in your throat as you spoke.

“Busy as usual, my dear,” He replied in a sing-song voice. A quiet jazz tune emanated from the microphone atop his cane. Or, would that make it a radio? Both, probably. He rummaged through that drawer for a moment, before pulling out a thin, plain shirt and fuzzy pajama pants.

He walked back over to you, and you noticed the way his eyes flicked across your face, examining your expression. Still, he said nothing. You’d like to think he felt guilty, and didn’t want to admit it—but, truly, you doubted it. He wasn’t one for guilt, after all.

“I’ve been pretty lonely for a week, you know,” You said, folding your arms. “I’d at least like a better explanation.”

You allowed your arms to fall when he pulled at your elbows. You lifted them above your head as he gingerly gripped the edges of your hoodie and pulled it off. He quickly replaced it with the shirt he had grabbed earlier. He followed similar motions with your pants.

As angry as you were, you appreciated intimate moments like this with him. Moments so close, so vulnerable and bare, but still comfortable and sensitive. It was weird, with him being the Radio Demon and all.

“Maintaining turfs and deals is exhausting work, ma moitie, and there’s a few souls that haven’t been keeping up with their side of our bargains,” Alastor explained rather indifferently. Though, you could tell by the strain in his smile and the clipping in the radio static that he was trying his best to be delicate and honest—as possible as that is with Alastor.

“Just– tell me something next time, at least, ‘kay?” You felt embarrassed by the practically begging tone in your voice, but Alastor didn’t seem to notice.

“I suppose it is wrong for a gentleman to leave his lady questioning,” Alastor joked. He meant it, though, and he carefully smoothed your hair in an attempt at comfort.

He stepped away from you, and you frowned at the sudden space. The frown was quickly replaced by a wide smile when you noticed Alastor removing his sharp coat and carefully hanging it by the door.

What a treat, you thought, as you watched him discard the layers of his outfit. Your mouth fell open when he turned his back to you.

“You have a tail?” You asked. Alastor’s ears twitched back for a moment, stiff.

Clear as day, right in front of your eyes, was a tail you had somehow never seen before. Delicate, fluffy, and red with black—just like his ears. You couldn’t stop the stunned laugh that escaped your mouth.

“Regretfully, I do,” Alastor responded. He quickly turned back to face you. His nose was scrunched in disdain and his lips were curled in a frustrated smile. “Don’t talk about it. To anybody.”

You laughed again and quickly beckoned him towards the bed. He complied and sat down next to you. He had noticeably sat in such a way that his waist was angled to keep his tail out of sight. 

You pouted at him, wordlessly motioning towards what you both knew you wanted.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m not a pet, nor a toy,” He said roughly. The static in his voice was heavy. You knew he was embarrassed, and that made your grin all the wider. It probably rivaled his own harsh smile.

“I’ll never, ever, ever ask again, ever,” You promised, holding out your pinky. Alastor’s eyes rolled at the motion. Alternatively, he held out his palm for you to shake.

You eyed his hand, then looked back up to him. You jerked your pinky towards him, urging him to take it instead. You weren’t about to actually bind your promise in a real deal. You knew in, like, a week you would probably beg him to see his tail again. 

“How incredibly childish,” He sighed. Still, he curled his hand into a fist and connected his sharp pinky with your own. “I won’t forget about this.” He threatened.

“Yeah, yeah, show me the goods,” You said with a sly smile. Alastor stared at you for a few seconds, narrowed his eyes, and roughly twisted his waist so that his tail turned towards you. He kicked his leg up and over the other, and folded his arms all sassy-like and impatiently waited for you to finish your very important mission.

You smiled gratefully, and gingerly settled your hands on the tail. It was so incredibly soft. As much hatred he seemed to hold for the thing, Alastor obviously took great care in the fur, keeping it silky smooth and combed. 

It seemed sensitive, and you noticed how his ears twitched and turned in response to your touch. His eyes were cast away from you, and his brows were furrowed. Was he blushing? No, probably a trick of the light.

“Your tail is super soft, Al,” You complimented. “Probably the best in all of Hell.”

“Are you quite finished,” He asked through gritted teeth, his eyes clenched shut. His own body betrayed him, though, as his tail wagged at you slightly. You held in a squeal of delight at the sight, knowing he would probably leave you right then and there. However, you had been at it for a few minutes and didn’t want to push your luck any further. You sighed in response, and removed your fingers from his tail. 

“I guess, for now,” You said playfully. This elicited a sharp look from the Radio Demon.

“For forever,” He claimed. “We shook pinkies.” 

You managed to hold in the laugh from his words. It was impossible to take him seriously as he said that, especially as he sat with a tail on full display and ears quirked backwards in embarrassment.

You yawned, opting to stop responding to him. You tugged at the hem of his shirt as you fell back into the mattress, and he easily let himself fall alongside you. He was settled next to you, and you practically magnetically attached yourself to him. He was stiff for a few minutes, but slowly unwound and relaxed next to you.

It didn’t take long at all for you to fall asleep. With the familiar heat and weight of his body in the mattress next to you, you were comfortable again for the first time in a week. The feeling of Alastor’s nails playing through your hair was the final straw as a deep sleep erased your senses.

[deansotherwife]

so far away

drunk bf!dean winchester x fem!reader

summary what happens when your boyfriend drinks a little too much and misses you a whole lot more?

content warnings 18+ mdni | nsfw | explicit sexual content | alcohol mention/use | pet names (babe, baby, pretty girl x1, honey) | descriptive dirty talk | pls lmk if there are any i missed 🤍

word count 779

author's note hi hi! first of all thank you to everyone who read my first fic, as well as liked, replied, reblogged, etc, that was crazy, unexpected, and i love every single one of you 🤍 i wrote this between finals and work on a very sleep-deprived brain, so hopefully it makes enough sense :) still getting used to writing creatively again, so if my voice isn't consistent i apologize! still trying to find that + my style, pls bear with me! happy (early) mother's day to anyone celebrating 🤍

The book's spine makes an indent on your thigh—pressed into the top of it as you sit with your legs tucked under you—eyes flitting over the words on the page. 

The sudden sound of your phone on the coffee table pulls you out of the world between the pages, cutting sharply through the quiet. You glance at the screen, smiling as soon as you see his name and the little white heart next to it.

You quickly swap the book for your phone, settling back against the couch as you answer.

“Hi, handsome,” you greet, the soft smile on your face carrying into your voice.

“Hey, baby,” he drawls, his voice heavier than usual—like it tends to be when he’s been tipping whiskey back for a while. Your smile curves into a knowing smirk—because yeah, you know exactly where this is going.

“How many have you had?” You ask with a soft laugh.

“Too many, probably,” he admits with a ghost of a chuckle. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout ya, pretty girl,” he adds after a moment.

“Oh? Thinkin’ about what, exactly?”

“‘M missin’ you so much, baby,” he murmurs, and you hear him shift his position. “Was thinkin’ ‘bout how you usually take care ‘a me when I get this far gone… ‘n then started thinkin’ ‘bout all the other ways you take care ‘a me,” he adds, playful lust tinting his voice. “‘N then I was pickin’ up the phone.”

“I miss you, too, babe,” you promise softly. “I’ll take care of you plenty when you get home, ‘kay?”

He hums a rough ‘mhm’ before you hear what sounds a hell of a lot like a zipper, followed by a sharp inhale. 

“Whatcha doin’, babe?” you ask, but you have a sneaking suspicion that you already know the answer.

“Got my hand down my pants, baby—wrapped around my cock—thinkin’ ‘a you,” he replies—like he’s telling you about the weather. His voice is thick with need, arousal making it rough around the edges. “God, baby—wish it was your hand. Wish you were here. Straddlin’ me. Kissin’ down my chest while you tease me...”

“D-Babe,” you giggle at his abrupt honesty. “You’ve really got no shame tonight, huh?”

“Need you too bad for that,” he exhales, not even pausing before adding, “Ya gonna tell me what you’re wearin’, sweetheart? Or you just gonna let me suffer over here with my dick in my hand?”

“That Zeppelin shirt of yours,” you answer, shaking your head fondly at his drunken demeanor.

He hums his approval of your answer before deciding to ask a follow-up.

“What panties, baby?”

Your “none” is met with a deep groan.

“You like that?” You ask playfully, knowing he does.

“Mmhmm,” he groans again, not even trying to stifle it. “Fuck. I wish you were here. I’d have you straddling me right now, ridin’ me all—mm—slow while I play with those—fuck—those perfect tits. You like that, don’t you? Bein’ on top—gettin’ yourself off on my cock while I just—ah—lay back and watch.”

You squirm in your spot on the couch, knowing that his words aren’t meant to turn you on, he’s just babbling, but damn if he doesn’t have you hot just from that mental picture alone. Feigning calm, you respond slowly.

“That what you want, babe?” you ask, letting your voice dip a little lower. “Want me nice and slow on top of you—teasing you ‘til you’re losing your mind?”

“Y-yeah,” he exhales. “Want that so bad, you don’t even—God, baby—I’m…fuck…”

And then there’s a sharp breath on the line, followed by a low, broken noise like he’s struggling to hold on.

“Ah—fuckin’—mm—,” he stammers, and you’ve never wished you could see his face more than in that moment, because that? That half-growl, half-grunt? That was one of the hottest sounds you’ve heard him make.

You give him a few moments to come back down before you speak again, listening to his breathing even out. He lets out a shaky sigh, like he’s settling back into reality. 

“You good, babe?”

“Mm,” he half-hums, half-grunts, and you can just picture him leaning back against the headboard—eyes closed—as he bathes in the last aftershocks of his orgasm. “Mhm.”

“Drink some water,” you murmur, even though you know he probably won’t.

“Sure, honey,” he mumbles, probably seconds from passing out cold. 

“Love you, Dean,” you breathe into the phone.

“Mhm, you too, baby,” he barely gets out. “Be home t‘morrow.”

“Can’t wait,” you tell him, even though you’re half convinced he’s already out.

You roll your eyes lovingly, unable to help the little laugh that escapes you as the call ends. Yeah, you can’t wait to tease him about this one.

as always, reblogs, replies, and feedback are much appreciated!! my inbox is always open, i'd love to chat w you! 🤍

[innerfare]

You See His Cabin For The First Time  

Summary: You see their cabin (or in Sabo's case, his bedroom at the RA base) for the first time.

Characters: Luffy, Usopp, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy: He's literally so proud of just his hammock. Insists it can hold the both of you and could probably hold the entire crew if you tried, asks if you want to try, asks you if you’re sure when you say no. Definitely has a couple of dirty dishes that he’s forgotten about, as well as a few wrappers on the floor. Has some fishing poles, a net, quite a few different games, and a bookshelf that’s full of both comic books and snacks so that he doesn’t have to go all the way to the kitchen if he gets hungry in the middle of the night. 

Zoro: Your first thought is, why does it smell so freaking good in here? You expected dirty laundry strewn around and the stench of sweat and maybe a hint of metal from those blades he was always sharpening. And sure, there is a hint of metal in the air, probably more from the many weights against the wall than his swords, but it also smells fresh, like laundry detergent. He has his own wanted posters on his wall- not just the current one, but the old ones, too, all of them lined up in order so you can see his increasing bounty. He also has a collection of unique booze bottles from all over the world, his equivalent of keeping a map with pins in the locations he’s visited. Oh, and there’s an anatomy coloring book and some markers that belong to Chopper that Zoro keeps in his room because sometimes when Chopper is having a bad day, he wants to chill with his dad big bro. 

Sanji: Sparkling clean, and yet, he’ll apologize anyway because the pillows aren’t fluffy enough, the rug isn’t completely straight, etcetera. His closet is very well organized, all of his clothes ironed and properly taken care of (Sanji’s the rare type to actually read labels and do his laundry accordingly). His most prized possession is a book on the All Blue, which he’s poured over countless times, using color coded tabs to flag various pages and writing detailed notes in the margins. He also came across one of Zeff’s old wanted posters in Loguetown, and he keeps it framed next to his own, the closest thing he has to a family photo.

Usopp: You’re surprised to find he has quite a bit of clutter in his small space. He has a collection of different style slingshots and a surplus of supplies to fix them should they ever break, as well as literal boxes full of special stars and ammunition. He has an entire set up rigged on his desk to create more, and some plants in his windowsill to grow ingredients. In addition, his bookshelves are heavy with various collections of fables and tales; he’s working on his own and hopes to publish it one day, but he doesn’t talk about it because he’s worried nobody will take him seriously, and you only learn about it when you see the notebook he left on his bed. He also has a couple of fun hats, crazy sunglasses, and feather boas that he definitely pulls out when the Straw Hats get a little too drunk. Oh, and there’s a picture of his parents on his nightstand. 

Ace: His cabin is pretty sparse because he tends to travel light. He has a collection of animal teeth secured from a menagerie of wild beasts he’s taken down over the years, and he’s very proud of those teeth. He'll tell you about each one if you ask, is practically bursting at the seems with stories. He has way more animal teeth than he does clothing or books. Also has a pretty sick tiger pelt for a rug (he had intended it as a blanket, but he runs so hot he can’t actually sleep with it). He has Luffy’s wanted poster on his wall, and beside it, a note reminding himself to send money back to Dadan on the first of every month. Buried in the chest at the foot of his bed, he has the original ASL flag. 

Sabo: His bedroom at the Revolutionary Army’s base is a total bachelor pad, and when you see it for the first time, it wasn’t planned, so he’s a little embarrassed by the state of it. He has some dirty dishes he forgot about, some dirty laundry on the floor, and a pile of books on his bed. He spends virtually no time there and probably wouldn’t even have furniture beyond a mattress on the floor if it wasn’t provided by the Revolutionary Army as part of his living quarters. That being said, he did pin Luffy’s and Ace’s wanted posters to his wall, and he has a couple of different lotions and skincare products on his bathroom counter. 

Law: You don’t know what you were expecting- would it be sterile like an operating room? You’re surprised to see comic books and a few action figures. He has some records, too- a bit of rock, some low-key emo music- and to your complete and utter surprise, a candy wrapper on his nightstand. And then there’s the coin collection on his desk, tiny pieces of metal he picked up on his many travels. You’re careful not to have a big reaction to his personality showing through for once. 

“I like your action figures.” 

“They’re kind of childish, but-” 

You cut him off before he can dismiss his own interests as dumb. “No, they’re not. They’re cool.” 

Kid: It’s as messy and ostentatious as you’d expect, but he sheepishly tries to fold the leopard-print blanket crumpled on the bed and put some laundry in the hamper, though you quickly deduce he has no clue which clothes belong in the hamper and which go in his closet. It’s shocking to see him care what someone thinks. He has a pile of lipstick and nail polish on his desk and an impressive collection of weapons he’s stolen from various pirates; he could probably open a museum with all the weapons he has. Also has lots of tools he forgot were in there. TBH, he’s probably as shocked as you are by the state of his cabin because he spends most of his alone time in his workshop, anyway. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[jinxthequeergirl]

The Ol Switcharoo (pt7)

Ford x reader/stan x reader

Summary: You realize the two people you thought to be your best friends are actually strangers and take up the task of talking to one of them

Warning: none!

Hi! I hope this is angsty enough for you freaks(lovingly) who ASKED for angst. (I wrote this part completely zooted so hopefully it's good)

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~~~

The household dynamic wasn't the same anymore. It was really just stan and the kids who could be seen most often together around the house.

You found yourself as more of a ghost haunting the place.

You didn't care much to come out of your room much like a sulken teenager. Not when those two strangers were also out. You'd warmed back up to the kids around a week or two. Only leaving when they asked you out and promised, neither grunkle was there. Of course, Mable had to know your every thought and feeling about them.

Most of the time though you found them coming to your room just to talk.

Mable came to you most offten.

"I don't like how everything's changed around here...I mean I like having another Grunkle... but I don't ever see him... I don't see YOU anymore either." You hummed in response, signaling for her to continue as you did her hair.

"And I'm almost in high school! And my high school dreams are ruined! Everything fun about this summer has changed, and it feels bad." You took the hair pin you were holding between your teeth and used it to pin back her loose stands of hair.

"Mable growing up is just a part of life... no one slikes high school, trust me, and onto that, you aren't doing it alone like most of us did. You're always gonna have Dipper." You reassured her. "There!" You held up a mirror for her to see.

"I like it...can we try this one now?" She asked, holding up a picture of a magazine. You rolled your eyes and pulled the freshly formed hairdo down.

"I know Dipper will be with me, but I've been worried we'll end up like...." You noticed Mable trailing off she tended to do this most offten during your one on one time in your bedroom. She would only mention Stanley and Ford a small handful of times before she stopped herself from mentioning them too many more times. It was clearly an unspoken rule she had set in place for your comfort.

"Mable...I didn't know Ford had a brother... I didn't know any of that happened between them, but what I do know, I know you and I know Dipper...what you two have is special you are inseparable trust me!" Mable seemed to lighten up a bit at your confident words.

"You always know how to cheer me up y/n." You you chuckled lightly while focusing on her hair again. There was quiet, only the faint sound of sev'ral timez playing.

"You know... I know it might feel a little hard right now... but don't you think you could talk to both of them? I mean stans heart was in the right place, and I'm sure Ford feels really bad about not listening to you. You give great advice. How could he not!?"

"This is just one of those things..."

"But I miss having you around to help make dinner! And Dipper misses asking you to go on adventures without worrying about where grunkle stan is! I mean, what about your feelings for them!? Wherent those real!? Don't you still feel that way?" Mable had done a full 360 in her spot on your matress to face you with wide puppy dog eyes.

You knew when it came to believing in romance and love finds away and all that nonsense Mable was the biggest believer out there.

"I don't know what I feel for either of them right now, mable ... that's why it's so hard to talk to them right now..." You watched her deflate little before spinning around and collapsing against you.

"Fine! Let's talk about something less... mushy feeling!" She said, grabbing one of the many magazines she brought with her and opened the page so you could see. Eventually she'd fallen asleep and Dipper came looking for her.

You helped bring her up to their shared bedroom.

"Thanks for still talking to us?" Dipper said as you closed the door. "I would never turn my back on you, never Dipper." He smiled and gave you a quick nod. "Good night y/n."

"Goodnight, Dip."

As you ascended the stairs, you heard rustling. Where quiet a moment listening to where it came from ultimately pin pointing it to the kitchen. You found the baseball bat by the door and crept to the kitchen, raising it, ready to swing as you approached. But in the blue light of the fridge, you remembered.

you weren't the only ghost haunting the house lately.

"Oh! I, uh, I'm sorry I didn't mean to wake you!..." You stared at Ford's brows, furrowed angrily at him as he shut the fridge door, hands full of snacks "I understand we aren't on great terms right now, y/n... but the bat?" He asked, pointing to your weapon still raised high in the air.

You lowered it, leaning it against the wall and turning on the light. Ford stared at you in a way you couldn't place, like he was studying you. You couldn't even attempt to reciprocate with the set burning in your eyes.

"I'm sorry I was just leaving-" He said breaking the staring contest.

"This is your house." You mutter walking past him to the fridge.

"Our house." He corrected.

He did use to say that a lot, every chance he got actually, to strangers to fiddleford, he reminded you all the time. Use to.

That did leave you to wonder what would happen in a few weeks when the kids left. What would happen between you, the Pines brothers, and the house. Part of you assumed you'd leave. Part of you didn't want to.

You scanned the fridge, still feeling Fords presence in the room. You sighed, shutting the door.

Mable had a way of tugging at your heart strings. "Can't you just talk to them?"

Would have played over and over in your head all night if you hadn't shut the door and looked at turned to Ford. "Are you going to share that?" You asked, pointing to one of the containers in his hand.

You could visibly see him perk up.

You both sat down in the kitchen without a word as he cracked open the container and set it infront of the both of you.

You both took turns picking from it and eating in silence. Ford still staring at you like he'd never seen you before. In a way you supposed that was almost the case.

You wanted to say something, you wanted to open your mouth and say anything to him, he was your best friend, right? But every time you attempted it felt like you'd forgotten how to talk.

Ontop of that, what would you even say to him? Where would you start?

"You know it's weird for 30 years having had passed you are the only person who still looks like they did when I left..."

You blinked at him. There was slight relief he was starting. "I thought about you every day...about how mad you'd be when you brought me home...never this, though."

"So...what's changed in 30 years? Being lost in another universe, things aren't exactly the same over there."

He was easing you into it.

"Well..." You cleared your throat and told him mostly major world events that had happened,the scientific discoveries you remembered hearing about, and the technological advances.

You ended up talking like you used to. You even laughed. Ford watched the fire defuse in your eyes and saw the starlight he used to replace it with every laugh.

He'd changed. He was still your Ford...he was still Ford but different.

"I...Feel like I know you... but I don't...I don't know you anymore! It feels almost like we've never met." You admitted to him.

"And what's crazier is, too? I thought I DID know you... which makes this worse." Ford let your words sink in a moment. He understood what you meant.

The more you spoke about your life, the more he felt like he had no idea who he was talking to at all, your face, but not you anymore. Different likes and interests. Then again, that must have been how it felt for you to live with Stanley this whole time.

He cleared his throat and stood. You assumed he was leaving. Instead, he pulled out a piece of paper.

"Y/n...I have something I would like to say."

"You wrote me a speech?" You asked, looking up at him. "Well.. it's more of an apology... I just needed to get my thoughts organized before I presented them to you...then, of course, you've been hiding, but that doesn't matter now." He cleared his throat once again.

"I am sorry. Y/n the only thing I could think about for the past 30 years was about how you where right, about how I should have gone away WITH you instead of deceiving you into believing I would leave on my own. You were only trying to do what was best for me. You always have. Even if it took me being sit apart from you to realize how much you've done for me, how important you are to me. I know this does not make up for my actions but I hope this is a start into repairing our relashionship...friendship."

You smiled lightly and stood up, extending your hand. He grinned and took your hand, shaking it.

Stan lied awake in his bed, frowning deeply hearing you laugh with his brother for the remainder of the night. Sure, he messed up, but did the time you shared mean nothing?

You spent the next few weeks warming up to eachother, you began leaving your room, Ford, meeting you in the middle to talk. Luckily, you had plenty of stories to tell each other. And lots to talk about.

You noticed Dipper following Ford. You smiled at the sight of Dipper with Ford, they where a perfect duo. You felt like things were slipping back into place. You started talking to stan too. Not much, only greetings in passing or a quick conversation about the kids here and there.

The only thing different was Ford wasn't the only person you found yourself able to talk to.

"You're really just going to forgive him like that!?" Bill voice echoed around your mind. You shrugged in response.

You began a weekly meeting with Bill. You found he was of good use. He let you vent about stan and Ford, being an interdemensinal being means having lots of cool powers that let you blow off steam.

Tonight was just a normal of one of these "hangouts"

"He wrote a whole, sincere apology...he was my friend at one point, and i even -"

You could see Bill make a disappointed expression. "After all he put you through!? After never once showing you any feeling, you're really going to pull "I even had feelings for him once." Card? He was a different man back then."

You sighed.

"Listen, I say don't trust it, he's always down in that basment, right!? He's not once invited you back there to help him he's hiding something from you. "

"Oh, like you'd know you don't exist outside of my mind! You wouldn't know what it's like with him."

"Believe me, I know more than you know... but if that's how you really feel..." He extended his hand a blue flame engulfing it.

"Lend me your body for a few hours, and I can prove to you that Stanford Pines doesn't have your best interest."

"Why!?" You asked recoiling from him. "Why do you care so much about Ford not being trust worthy?"

"C'mon y/n! Have I ever steered you wrong!?" You chewed on your lip thinking about it.

You just wanted to be certain you could let him back into your life. You thought about it.

Just to be certain, you agreed with yourself and shook his hand.

Ford stared at the contents of a jar while once again crawling in his notebook, though he wasn't even noting the creator on the page.

Ford found himself once again filling pages with your likeness. He'd forgotten the hold you actually had on him until you began opening back up to him.

He would admit he missed the you that used to love all the science and engineering. But he was particularly fond of the version you'd grown into. He hadn't realized, but most of his time was spent in a daze over you. He also found himself wondering what exactly your relationship with Stanley was. He knew you two still wheren not talking to eachother so he never got to ask.

He also feared he might not like what he heard, especially if it's what he thought it was between you two. He could feel jealous rise up in his chest when he thought about it. Which was ridiculous, of course. He wasn't here. Of course, you'd move on. You never stated the nature of your relationship with him when he was here. But that didn't change anything.

"Fordsy!.."He sat up right in right in his chair, blinking in shock at the call of your voice.

"Y/n!?" He quickly scattered, hiding the artwork from you.

"Uhm what are..what are you doing down here?"

He watched you walk in with your hands folded behind your back despite how you danced on the edge of shadow he could see something different about you.

Not just like the other good differences he's noticed in you.

"I just came to see you fordsy... "

His face flushed at the way you had said that.

"I..i.." You laughed.

It was different from your normal laugh. Between the flush you were causing him and the human voice. He would have never picked up on why it still sounded familiar.

You stepped into the small circle of light, closing a lot of space between you and Ford, your head hung low, as if you were embarrassed. "I have something to tell you sixer."

"Ye..yes? You can tell me anything!"

"I've always been kinda in love with you!" Before he could say anything, you leaned forward, throwing your whole body weight onto him, pushing him back against his desk.

Engulfing him in the deepest kiss, you could muster.holding his face in your hands. You pulled away a wild grin spread across your face. As you forced him to look at you.

"Did you miss me sixer!? Admit it, you missed me!!" You said rolling your eyes playfully, still smashing his face in your hands.

Ford nearly choked when your eyes met his.

"Do you like my new body sixer!?I picked it just for you!"

~~~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~~

@muffin1304

@katharine3000

@leo4242564

@space1crow

@steveharringtongf

@mckennaishere07

@nothingbutclouds

@anicega

@i-am-tiredd

@babydoll-143

@fanficcrow

@slay-thou-pookie

@bandaids-n-porceline

@world-of-shadows-and-music

@randombuddys

@ritzes28

@pandaquick

@miarabanana

@marvelous-maniac

@spookysisters

@teenagetrash00

@fudosl

@Grimometry

@aweleyirene

@rapunzelbro

@fries11

@willowydreams

@Marshhbs

@Friendmagazineprincess

@kittykat82sk

@bigraga-sk

@creat0r-cat

@melodia3

@chaneylhb

@taffycandyqt

@thepurgatory0fnightmares

@kittenlover614

@theblueraven

@fettyyyy

@ursamemejer

@76lonelyspoons

@zoast32