#you know you’re insane when every waking moment is about them

[patolemus]

Saw this post and immediately thought about sterek

I mean, “dude” but like romantically?? If this is not Stiles to Derek then nothing else is

[zephyrchama]

We know there's cooking duty, and trash duty, and various cleaning duties that the brothers rotate who's in charge of. They take turns shopping for groceries. When MC becomes their attendant in Nightbrighter, some of these chores are foisted onto them.

Is there a laundry duty? Does MC have to do everybody's laundry? Does Asmodeus keep buying more and more outrageous underwear to leave on top of his laundry so he can tease MC?

---

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whaddya think you’re doin’?”

Mammon walked into his room and caught you red-handed with a pair of his yellow briefs. He nearly flew across the room to snatch them out of your hand.

“Uh, the laundry?” You gestured to a basket of Mammon’s dirty clothes that had been collected from all over. “This would be easier for me if you left it in one place. Getting all of your stuff every week is like a scavenger hunt.”

Mammon threw the dirty briefs over his shoulder. They landed somewhere on the opposite side of the room for you to find again later. You looked at him in exasperation while reaching for a pair of crumpled-up jeans. His face had a rosy tint.

“Why are you doing the laundry?” he demanded.

“Because it’s my job as your attendant,” you answered.

“Wh-? Like, just this week?”

“I’ve been doing your laundry for the last three months, Mammon.”

He craned his neck forward in shock and waited a beat, as if you would say psyche. It’s not that Mammon couldn’t understand you, but this was new information he did not want to process. A hand rose to his forehead, sliding upwards as he pushed in frustration. “Well... cut it out! You look like a pervert. How would you like it if I did your laundry, huh?”

That’d be nice. “Could you, please? That would be great. I don’t have a day to do my own wash, given there’s seven of you and only seven days in a week.” Chores, RAD duties, and devilsitting took up every waking moment.

Mammon sighed and ruffled his hair. He muttered, “Seven…" In an instant, his attention snapped back to you.

"Seven? You’re doin’ everyone’s laundry?” he shouted.

You were ready to pull his jacket off yourself if he wouldn't cooperate. “Yes! And I’m short on time so just give me your dirty clothes!”

--

You cracked the door open ever so slightly. Leviathan was preoccupied with a game at his desktop, the back of his chair pointed at the door. The chair shook from the intensity with which he smacked the controller. Now was the perfect time. With the goal of being as quiet as possible, you crept into Leviathan’s room and made a beeline for his laundry hamper.

“Dooooooooooon’t touch those!” The pitch of his voice rose and fell impressively as Leviathan jumped and scrambled across the tile on all fours to physically block you from the laundry. Did he see your reflection in the monitor? His headphone cord popped out of the PC, its headpiece falling down to tug at his neck, and the gaming controller clattered to the floor. Leviathan slid in between you and his laundry basket like an athlete safely sliding onto a base.

In contrast, you just stood there wide-eyed with a tub of detergent in one hand.

Leviathan stammered a few times, realizing he might have overreacted. “So, uh. You see, Mammon gave us all an earful for letting you touch our clothes,” he explained. “He clearly didn’t listen when Lucifer told us you were doing it.”

“Oh, and you knew? Good job, Levi!"

You both smiled, Leviathan chuckled bashfully at the praise.

"Now give me your laundry.”

His face fell.

“No, wait! I knew you were doing it! But… you know, I never really thought about it. And for once, I think Mammon has a point. So, please!” Leviathan pressed his hands to the floor and bowed his head to the ground. A pose he learned from anime. “I’ll do my own laundry from now on! Just don’t touch it anymore!”

“Why? I've always been careful, I check the tags on your shirts so the colors don't bleed.” All of the brothers' clothes had insanely specific washing instructions. Compared to laundering suit jackets and leather and silk, colorful graphic t-shirts were a walk in the park.

Leviathan did not budge. "That's true. Still, I have dignity that must be protected!"

---

Beelzebub goes through almost twice the amount of clothes that his brothers do due to his regular workouts. Thankfully, he helps you carry them all to the laundry room so you're not struggling alone.

Beelzebub already had everything neatly sorted into two baskets - regular clothes and workout clothes. They were all ready to go when you showed up for the weekly collection. He let you take the lighter one.

Before the two of you left the bedroom, Belphegor called out, "are you doing laundry?" His head lolled over the side of his bed.

"Yeah, do you need anything washed right now? You can put it in with mine," Beelzebub kindly offered.

Belphegor wormed to the edge of his bed and picked up an empty pillow case. "I drooled on this and stuff. Can you take care of it?"

"Sure," you said. "Pass it over."

Getting up was far too much work. Instead, Belphegor loosely balled up the pillow case. With the world's laziest throw, he tossed it in your direction. It managed to sail through the air. It smacked the side of your head and landed on your shoulder.

"Thanks," Belphegor yawned, having already turned his back to you and Beelzebub.

[st4rryrain]

Strawberry Lip Gloss

(Logan Howlett x Reader)

Tags: fem!reader, age gap, ex-dancer!reader, probably ooc, worst!logan, post-deadpool x wolverine, some fluff if you squint, wade x vanessa

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Brought into a world so different yet so similar to his own, Logan can’t help but continue to keep himself guarded from emotional connection. That is until Wade and Vanessa introduce him to you.

A/N: First fanfic on here! First part of two and the next part is gonna be smut. Muehehe… Proofread but I probably missed stuff. Anyways, I hope I did a good job and you guys enjoy.

Logan didn’t like the idea of emotional connection. He hated knowing that one day, he would disappoint people. He hated knowing that if he got attached to someone, he could lose them and it was all for nothing. The impending doom that would wash over him whenever he had those small moments of happiness was overwhelming. Sometimes he’d wake up in a cold sweat, remembering his life before ending up in a new world. It haunted him like a restless ghost.

“If you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to cut off your legs, bub.”

Logan and Wade were at a bar downtown. Logan hadn’t actually invited Wade, but he didn’t care whether or not he tagged along as long as he let him drink without making any insane remarks.

“What? I can’t ask you things?” Wade whined.

“Not when you ask about things that shouldn’t be asked. Ever.” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

Wade scoffed, “Oh please. Asking about someone’s dick size is not something that should never be asked!”

Logan sighed. So much for giving Wade the benefit of the doubt.

Wade looked down at his phone. “Vanessa should be here soon. She said she’s 5 minutes away.”

Logan groaned. “You invited your girlfriend?”

“Yes, actually! I did invite my girlfriend.”

“If I could kill myself, I would.” Logan mumbled before taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Hey! Vanessa is nice!”

“I’m not annoyed about that, dumbass. I’m annoyed that it means you two are probably going to get handsy in front of my whiskey and I.”

“Don’t worry, she’s bringing a friend for you to get handsy with, peanut.” Wade said while typing away on his phone.

Logan just sighed, unable to comprehend how he even puts up with Wade for a second.

After a few minutes, Vanessa and you walked into the bar. Vanessa gleamed with excitement as she embraced Wade. You simply stood behind her, awkwardly waiting for her to finish.

“Hi, Y/N!” Wade waved. “Long time no see. How’s my favorite original moody pookie bear?”

“Wade, last time I saw you, you almost got me killed. How do you think I’m doing?” You sounded incredibly annoyed and rightfully so.

“Well, nothing a few visits to a psychiatrist and a good trip to pound-town won’t fix!”

“Fuck you.”

“For a girl who looks like she sings to all the woodland creatures and picks cherries on a Sunday afternoon, you sure do have a lot of pent up violence in your body.”

Vanessa smiled as she found the interaction between her lover and you entertaining.

“Fuck, I forgot to introduce you to my new best bud here!” Wade excitedly said, “Y/N, this is Logan. Logan, this is Y/N. I think you guys would get along since you both hate me!” He was way more enthusiastic about it than he should be.

Logan and you met eyes. You gave a small smile. Logan didn’t seem very interested, only letting out a small hum.

Wade turned to Vanessa, “You wanna join me in the bathroom to make sure everything is following state laws?”

Vanessa smiled, “Of course.”

The two lovers scurried away, giddy as if they were teenagers.

You sat a seat away from Logan. “Every time…” You muttered.

Logan didn’t say anything. He faced forward and drank his whiskey. A few minutes passed, the air around you two awkward.

“I was told you’re from a different timeline.” You said, breaking the unbearable silence. “How are adjusting to this new world?”

Logan shrugged. “Fine.”

The silence returned. You sat there awkwardly, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Are you… a mutant?” You asked nervously.

“We don’t have to talk, you know? We can sit here and wait for the others to finish, bub.”

You looked down at the bar counter. “Sorry…”

Logan sighed, “Sorry, kid. I didn’t mean for it to sound mean or anything.”

“Honestly, though… I get it. I’d be mean and angry all the time if I had to live with someone like Wade. Especially Wade.”

A small smile adorned Logan’s face. You smiled, feeling a sense of relief that you had lightened the mood.

“I’m convinced that he was dropped as a baby… multiple times.”

Logan chuckled. “He must keep getting dropped everyday if he’s this fucking annoying.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“How come you let Vanessa drag you here? It doesn’t seem like you want to be here.”

You thought for a moment.

“I think I just wanted something to distract me since I’ve been feeling shitty.” You shifted in your seat. “I got broken up with like half a year ago.”

“You’re still hung up on someone from half a year ago?” Logan raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

“I mean, I really liked the guy. We dated for a year and a half but things started falling apart when I wanted him to get more serious. I was putting my all into the relationship but he didn’t seem to want the same thing I did.”

“You look young, kid. How old are you?”

“I’m 24.”

“Guys your age are assholes. Those shitheads are like dogs. All they do is eat, shit, sleep, and go into heat.” He grumbled.

“Oh, trust me. I know.” You sighed. “I fucking hate dating guys my age. They always end up being immature and leave me with at least 10 different traumatic experiences.”

Silence once again fell upon you two.

“Holy fuck, those bastards are taking forever.” Logan said.

“Trust me, sometimes they’re gone for hours.”

“How’d you meet Vanessa?”

You blushed. You had started being a dancer at the tender age of 19. Freshly kicked out of your house, you felt like there was no other way. Luckily, you met Vanessa. An older sister figure who took care of you and even let you live with her for some time before you got up on your own two feet. You weren’t necessarily embarrassed about having been a dancer, you were more so annoyed by the constant comments that you “didn’t seem like the type”.

“I…” You toyed with your sleeves, “I met her when we were dancers at the same place. She took care of me and was there whenever I needed her.”

Logan hummed. “Cute.”

“Every time I tell people I used to be a dancer, I get told I don’t seem like the type. I don’t even know what they mean.”

Logan watches and listened to you ramble as you continued on about different things people have said over the years.

“Someone once told me I was too pretty to be a dancer! Like what kind of backhanded compliment is that?” You crossed your arms and rested them on the counter. “Fuck, I dunno.”

“You seem like a sweet girl, bub. I know a lot of dancers don’t do it because they wanted to, but because they needed the money. Was that the case?”

You nodded.

“Did you at least enjoy being one?”

“Fuck no. I hated all those people staring at me the way a hawk circles a critter. The things they’d say, do, and who knows what they thought.”

“I think you’re too sweet to be a dancer. Not saying you don’t or do seem like the type, but more so you didn’t deserve to do something you didn’t enjoy.”

You looked at Logan. He seemed sincere and understanding. A small smile formed on your lips.

“Thanks, Logan. Congrats on being the first outside person to not blame me.”

“Did you guys kiss yet?” A familiar voice asked as it got closer.

You and Logan turned, spotting Wade and Vanessa.

“Holy shit, did you guys survive a fucking bomb or something?” Logan noted how messy Vanessa’s hair was and how disheveled their clothes were.

“Oh we survived a fucking bomb, alright.” Wade smiled. “But seriously, have you two kissed yet?”

“Wade, don’t make me curb stomp you again.” You glared.

Logan turned to you. “You’ve curb stomped him before?”

“Oh yeah. Girl’s got some insane skills.” Vanessa laughed, finding the memory funny.

“You guys ready to go or should we let you guys use the bathroom too?” Wade wiggled his brows.

“I hope the dog shits on your bed.” Logan frowned.

The group exited the bar and parted ways for the time being. Wade continued prying Logan on what he thought of you. He would go on and on about his favorite memories with you like the many times you third wheeled for Vanessa and him, the time you got a new car and crashed it the following week, and the time you curb stomped him for one of the many times he almost got you killed.

Logan and you would frequently cross paths at Wade or Vanessa’s parties or while waiting for Wade and Vanessa to finish having sex somewhere like a restaurant or even the apartment bathroom.

To Logan’s dismay, he had grown very fond of you. You were sweet, smart, pretty, and weren’t afraid to speak your mind, especially when it came to Wade’s stupidity. Sometimes, he’d catch himself staring or hoping to see you or feeling a disgustingly fuzzy feeling in his chest at the thought of you. Wade and Vanessa could tell Logan and you had feelings for each other. The way you looked at each other and enjoyed each other’s company was endearing.

“I dunno how they can go on for so long.” You groaned as you and Logan stood outside in the hallway of the apartment.

“Surprised Al hasn’t kicked Wade out for it.” Logan leaned against the wall.

“Oh she’s tried.” You held Mary Puppins in your arms, not wanting her to bear witness to the sinful behavior taking place indoors.

Logan smiled, placing a hand on the dog’s head for a quick pet.

“Are you seeing anyone, Logan?”

Logan pauses. He stares off into the distance for a moment, contemplating whether or not to avoid the question.

“No. Are you?”

“No.”

An almost deafening silence encapsulates you both.

“Do you want to love someone?” You asked as you held and lightly squished the dog’s paw.

Logan months ago would have said no. Hell, he would have said never. But Logan felt his attachment to you getting the better of him.

“Love isn’t for me, bub. I don’t think I can handle losing someone anymore.”

“Well that’s why you have to find someone who can’t handle losing you either.”

Logan and you looked to each other. You were staring up at him like you were waiting for something.

“You’re the sweetest little thing I’ve met, Y/N.” Logan leaned in a little.

“Only to people I love having around.”

“You deserve someone who will love you and take care of you. Someone who will worship the ground you walk on.”

You smiled shyly.

“A pretty little thing like you needs to be told everyday how perfect you are.”

“Are you gonna kiss me or just stroke my ego?” You joked.

“Can I, sweetheart?” Logan asked, his face inches away.

“Mhm.” You hummed as you leaned upward.

Logan pressed his lips against yours. Your lips were soft and almost addictive. Strawberry flavor peppered along them. You smelled of a delicate perfume and a pleasantly scented shampoo he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Logan cupped your cheek with a cold calloused hand, bringing you closer to his face.

“You do this with all the girls you sweet talk?” You mumbled into the kiss.

“Only the sweet ones named Y/N that I’m fond of.” Logan brushed a strand of hair out of your face. “I’ve only ever been fond of one sweet Y/N.”

You smiled as you parted lips. You’re a little winded from how eagerly he kissed you. It had been like a starving man finding a buffet.

“I’d really like to take you out, sweetheart.” Logan said. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You placed a quick kiss on his lips. “Of course, Lo.”

The door to Wade’s apartment opened and he peeked into the hallway.

“Did you guys kiss yet?”

“Wade, go back inside before I turn your small intestine into a jump rope.” You snapped.

Wade smiled, “Oh you guys totally did.” He went back inside and closed the door, loudly informing Vanessa of his assumption.

“Can’t believe Mary Puppins was the witness to a real life rom-com.” You joked as you cradled the dog.

“More like a horror movie with Wade’s ugly fucking face.”

You, Logan, and Mary Puppins went back inside. You were immediately greeted with Vanessa and Wade smiling like crazy.

“What?” Logan asked.

“You guys kissed.” Wade replied.

“What?” Logan didn’t understand how Wade came to the conclusion. Sure he was right but how did he know?

“Oh don’t play coy with me, peanut. I see that lip gloss on you. You have never worn lip gloss and I doubt you ever will. You’re too afraid to ever serve cunt.”

You set down the dog and turned to Logan.

“Yeah… You do have some of my lip gloss. Sorry, Lo.” You said sheepishly, realizing you left evidence at the crime scene.

Vanessa giggled. “So you admit it!”

“Fucking finally. We didn’t know if you guys would end up even liking each other in that way. This took a lot of planning and a lot of coordination. Better than cupid.” Wade sounded proud of himself.

“You planned this?” Logan asked.

“Well, both of you seemed to want to love and be loved. You also had a common enemy of that being Wade. So Wade and I thought you two might be a good match.” Vanessa explained it with a huge smile that yelled ‘proud mother’.

“Whenever we left you two alone, he hoped you guys would do something. Anything!” Wade recalled.

“You guys weren’t leaving to have sex? You just hoped we’d flirt?” You asked, a little agitated for having to wait for them all those times.

“No. Most of the time, we actually did bang in a bathroom or car.”

“You guys are lucky your little scheme worked.” You crossed your arms and huffed.

“So when’s the wedding?”

“Wade!”

Logan took you out to a quaint little restaurant somewhere on the other side of the city. He paid for the meal despite you insisting you split the bill. He would hold your hand as you entered and exited the car as well as opening and closing the door. To say Logan was infatuated was a complete understatement.

“I don’t want to go back to that apartment with that annoying prick.” Logan complained as you sat in his car in the middle of an empty parking lot.

“We could go to my place.” You gave an alternative, hoping he would say yes.

“You sure, sweetheart?”

“Yeah! Just don’t mind my cat and you’re all good.”

“You have a cat?”

“Her name is Egg. She’s round like one.”

You and Logan drove to your small apartment in a small apartment building. The walls weren’t crumbling and the stairs weren’t on the verge of falling apart. Compared to Wade’s apartment building, this was luxurious.

“I’m home, Egg!” You greeted your feline as you walked through the door.

“Lock the door behind you, please.” You said as you set your things down.

Logan felt giant in your small apartment. It wasn’t that the ceiling was low or anything. He just felt so out of place in a cozy place where there were a few plants here and there, clean counters, and comfy furniture.

“This is Egg.” You picked up a white chubby feline with blue eyes. “She loves to sleep and is currently on a diet ‘cause the vet said she should stop being an egg.”

Logan smiled at her and reached his hand out to pet the cat. The cat seemed to just stare and move her head away from his hand.

“She’s not aggressive. She’s something worse… Judgmental.” You always found Egg’s reaction to people who weren’t you amusing.

You held one of Egg’s paws and playfully waved it, pretending that the cat was waving at Logan. You set the cat down and watched as she strutted away.

“Your cat has an attitude.”

You laughed, “She invented attitude. You should see her with Wade. Even she doesn’t like him to the point she tries clawing his face off.”

If staring was a competition, Logan would hold the world record for most staring at someone with heart eyes. Literally. His eyes were practically the shape of hearts.

“What? Is something on my face? Did I say something?” You asked, worried you may have embarrassed yourself in front of Logan.

Logan leaned down and kissed your lips. “Do you always have strawberry lip gloss on your lips?”

“I dunno, how about you find out and kiss me every time you see me.”

Logan seemed to really like the strawberry lip gloss you wore and almost started to devour your face. His hands found their way to your waist and pulled you closer. He was starting to let his hands wander.

“Not in front of my child.” You protested. “She’s 3! Not even old enough to start kindergarten.”

Logan couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss. “Alright, doll.”

[theonottsbxtch]

WHATS LEFT BEHIND PT.2 | MV1

an: guys my time off is coming to an end, i move to france next week and start my job the week after rip me but in the mean time enjoy this badboy i've been sitting on

summary: when max verstappen left his childhood girlfriend behind to face her career ending injury alone to chase his dreams of being the best bull rider the country has ever seen, he thought it would be easy. except it wasn't, he was back in town and they hated him, for one reason. they hurt their star barrel racer.

wc: 6k

part one

Max pushed open the door to The Rusty Wheel, the familiar creak of its hinges greeting him like an old memory. The low hum of country music drifted from the jukebox in the corner, and the faint smell of spilled beer and worn leather hung in the air. Not much had changed since the last time he’d stepped foot in here, years ago—except, maybe, for the fact that now every pair of eyes in the place was on him.

He ran a hand through his hair and walked over to the bar, pausing only long enough to hang his cowboy hat on one of the hooks by the door. He used to come here every weekend, same as the rest of them. He hadn’t expected the town to change much—but somehow, it felt smaller now. Tighter. Like it didn’t quite fit him anymore.

Before he could take a seat, the owner, Earl, stepped out from behind the bar. Earl was a grizzled old cowboy, his flannel shirt rolled up at the sleeves, a white beard flecked with grey. He stopped in his tracks, wiping his hands on a rag, and gave Max a once-over, his face creasing with disbelief.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Earl muttered, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t believe it when they told me.”

Max chuckled softly, not missing the edge in Earl’s voice. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“You actually back for good?” Earl asked, still eyeing him like he was trying to decide if he was a mirage.

Max shrugged. “Looks that way.”

Earl grunted, leaning his hands on the bar. “Guess we’ll see how that works out.”

Before Max could reply, a figure appeared beside him, sliding a bottle of beer across the counter. Max glanced up and saw Daniel—his best friend from back in the day—giving him a smirk as he set the beer down. Daniel was leaner now, with a few more lines around his eyes, but he still had the same mischievous glint that had gotten them into trouble as kids.

Daniel raised an eyebrow as he wiped down the bar. “Bold move, man,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean, really bold.”

Max took the beer, the cold glass sweating in his grip. “Figured it was time.”

Daniel leaned against the bar, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, well, half the people in this town think you’ve got some nerve coming back after what you did to her.”

Max’s stomach clenched, but he kept his face neutral. He knew it wouldn’t take long for that topic to come up. “And the other half?” he asked, taking a swig from the bottle.

Daniel snorted. “They’re just in awe of what you’ve done with your career. Hell, I’ll admit it—I followed your rides. Man, some of those bulls you took on… I thought you were insane, but you sure made a name for yourself.”

Max nodded, setting the bottle back down on the bar. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Daniel tilted his head, studying him. “That right? Because last time I checked, you were in all the magazines, got sponsors throwing money at you, and about a million followers watching your every move. That doesn’t sound like a bad deal.”

Max sighed, leaning his elbows on the bar. “It was great for a while. But the thing is, they don’t see the rest of it. The part where you wake up and don’t know where you are half the time. Or when you’re trying to remember which interviews you’ve already done or whose hand you shook at some event you didn’t even want to go to.” He shook his head, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. “Everyone thinks they want that life until they get it.”

Daniel didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched him, the silence between them hanging heavy. Then, after a beat, he nodded. “So why’d you come back? You finally get sick of signing autographs?”

Max’s eyes drifted to the shelves of dusty bottles behind the bar, memories of a simpler life flooding back. The long nights in places like this, where the biggest problem he had was getting enough cash together to fill his tank. Where people knew him as Max, not Max Verstapppen, the famous bull rider plastered on posters across the country.

“Something like that,” he said quietly. “I was never cut out for that big city stuff. The lights, the cameras… all of it.” He paused, running a hand along the neck of the beer bottle, feeling the condensation slick against his skin. “I missed home. The quiet. The way things made sense out here.”

Daniel chuckled, shaking his head. “Home, huh?” He let out a slow breath. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m glad to see you. Always hoped you’d come back. But you know it’s not going to be easy. People here… they don’t forget.”

Max’s jaw tightened, his grip on the bottle a little firmer. “Yeah, I know.”

Daniel stared at him for a long moment, and then his expression softened, some of the teasing edge fading from his voice. “She’s still hurt, you know. Even if she doesn’t show it. You coming back… it’s gonna stir up a lot of things.”

“I figured that,” Max replied, his voice low, almost resigned. “But I had to come back anyway.”

Daniel nodded, his eyes softening. “Well, I hope you know what you’re doing. You’ve got a lot of work to do, man.”

Max took another swig of beer, the cool liquid doing nothing to settle the unease that had been bubbling in his gut since the moment he’d driven into town. “Trust me,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, “I know.”

The sound of the front door creaking open interrupted the conversation, and Max glanced over his shoulder to see a group of locals walking in, laughing and chatting as they made their way to a corner booth. He recognised some of them, faces he hadn’t seen in years, but he wasn’t ready for more conversations, more questions.

Turning back to Daniel, he nodded toward the bar. “Mind if I hang here for a while?”

Daniel smiled, a knowing glint in his eye. “Stay as long as you need. Just don’t expect the town to make it easy on you.”

Max nodded in appreciation, as he sipped his beer, letting the familiar hum of the bar settle around him. The chatter, the music, the faint clink of bottles—it all felt like a song from a time he thought he’d forgotten. But he hadn’t. Not really.

He’d been running from home for so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like to just stand still. And now that he was back, he wasn’t sure what hurt more—the memories of what he’d lost, or the fear of facing the woman he’d left behind.

______________________________________________________________

The next morning, Max stepped out of his truck, the early sun casting long shadows across the gravel driveway of High Ride Stables, Austin. The familiar scent of hay, leather, and horses filled the air, stirring memories he hadn’t thought of in years. It was a place he knew well—he’d worked here as a kid, mucking out stalls and helping with the horses. But today, the barn felt different, like the weight of his past was waiting for him inside.

He pushed open the large wooden door, the creak announcing his arrival. Inside, horses shuffled in their stalls, and the rhythmic thud of hooves echoed from deeper within. He glanced around, spotting the counter near the back where Leslie, the barn’s owner, was talking to one of the stable hands.

Leslie had been running this barn for as long as he could remember. She was tough as nails, with streaks of grey in her otherwise jet-black hair and a sharp gaze that could cut through any excuse. The stable hands called her “Les” when she wasn’t listening—if she caught them at it, they'd regret it.

When she saw him, her conversation trailed off, and her expression hardened. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the counter, eyeing him like he’d just tracked mud through her pristine barn.

“Well, look who the cat dragged in,” Leslie drawled, raising an eyebrow. “If it ain’t the hometown hero.”

Max tried to smile, but it fell flat. He took off his hat and held it in front of him. “Morning, Les.”

“Morning,” she replied, her tone flat. “What brings you here?”

“I’m lookin’ for work,” he said, stepping closer, but staying on the other side of the counter like it was a barrier between them. Which, in a way, it was.

Leslie’s eyes narrowed. “Work?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “After all that bull riding fame and fortune, you’re back here beggin’ for a job?”

“Not beggin’,” he muttered, his voice low. “Just askin’.”

She pushed herself off the counter, walking around it and standing toe-to-toe with him, hands on her hips. “Same difference.”

“Come on, Les,” he said, frustration creeping into his voice. “You know how it goes. The fame doesn’t last forever. Sponsors move on, injuries pile up… and the money—well, it dwindles. I can’t live off my bull riding winnings for the rest of my life.”

She crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. “Sounds like a ‘you’ problem, not a ‘me’ problem.”

Max sighed, glancing around the barn, trying to find the right words. “I grew up here, working in this barn. I know horses, I know the work. You know I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

Leslie tilted her head, considering him for a moment. “You really expect me to just hand you a job, after everything?”

He frowned, confused. “After everything?”

She shot him a knowing look. “Don’t play dumb with me, Max. You know who works here.”

His stomach sank, realising where this conversation was heading. Of course, she worked here—why wouldn’t she? It was her world. She’d never left it, never had a reason to. But that didn’t make this any easier.

“I’m not lookin’ to cause any trouble, Les. I just need work,” he said, his voice softening. “I’ll stay out of her way.”

Leslie raised an eyebrow. “Stay out of her way? You can’t just waltz back into this town, askin’ for a job, and think you can just avoid her. This is a small town, boy, not some city where you can hide from the people you’ve wronged.”

Max winced at the word “wronged.” It was blunt, but he couldn’t argue with it. He had wronged her. Maybe more than he even realised.

He took a deep breath, meeting Leslie’s gaze. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt her. But… I need this job, Les. Please.”

Leslie studied him for a long moment, her face unreadable. Then, she turned and walked back to the counter, rummaging through a drawer before pulling out a small notepad. She scribbled something down on it, then tore off the piece of paper and held it out to him.

“Here’s the deal,” she said, her voice cool and matter-of-fact. “I’ll give you a job if you go apologise to her. And not just any apology—she has to forgive you.”

Max stared at her, not taking the paper. His heart raced, a mixture of panic and disbelief. “Les, that’s impossible.”

Leslie crossed her arms again, looking at him with the same steel-eyed determination she always had. “Well, if you think it’s impossible, you don’t want this job bad enough.”

His eyes flicked to the paper in her hand, knowing exactly what was written on it. He didn’t need to look to know it was her address.

“You know she’s not gonna forgive me,” he said quietly, feeling the weight of the past like a stone in his gut.

Leslie gave him a half-smile, but there was no softness in it. “Well, you better get working, boy.”

Max finally took the paper from her hand, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should. He looked down at the address, familiar yet distant, as if it belonged to another lifetime.

“I’m serious,” Leslie said, her voice softening just a bit. “You want a job here? You’ve gotta make things right with her. I won’t have you causing more mess in this barn—or in this town. Either she forgives you, or you pack your bags and keep drivin’.”

Max swallowed hard, tucking the paper into his back pocket. He wanted to argue, to tell her that there was no way in hell she’d ever forgive him. But he knew Leslie well enough to know that there was no arguing with her.

He nodded once, stiffly. “Alright. I’ll… I’ll try.”

Leslie smirked, her eyes gleaming with something he couldn’t quite place. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

As he turned to leave, the barn door creaked open behind him, and for a split second, his heart froze. He half-expected to see her there, standing in the doorway, glaring at him like she had on that road. But it was just another worker, coming in to start the day.

Max let out a breath, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. It had been one thing to face her the first time, in the heat of the moment. But now… now he had to go, hat in hand, and ask her to forgive him. To admit he was wrong. To dig up all the things he’d been trying to bury for years.

He shoved his hat back on his head and walked out of the barn, the piece of paper burning a hole in his pocket. The road ahead of him felt longer than it had ever been.

The next day, Max stood at the front steps of the small house, nerves twisting in his stomach like a coiled rope. He stared at the chipped paint on the door, feeling the weight of years pressing down on him. This was the house he’d been avoiding ever since he set foot back in town. And now, here he was—about to knock.

He took a deep breath, raising his fist and rapping his knuckles on the door. The sound echoed in the still morning air, louder than it had any right to be. For a moment, he thought maybe she wouldn’t answer, maybe he could just turn around and—

The door swung open.

She stood in the doorway, her eyes narrowing the second she saw him. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she wore an old flannel shirt that he recognised—one she stole off of him when they were kids. She didn’t look surprised to see him. If anything, she looked like she’d been expecting him.

“Nope,” she said flatly, her hand already on the door, ready to slam it shut. “Not happening.”

“Wait,” Max said, holding up his hands. “Just… just hear me out for a minute.”

“I don’t think I need to,” she shot back, her voice cold. “I’ve already heard enough.”

“Darling, please—”

“Do not call me ‘darling,’” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut. Her eyes flashed with anger, and Max felt the sting of it, like a whip cracking against his skin. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

Max took a step back, raising his hands defensively. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean?” she interrupted, her voice rising, filled with a raw, seething rage that had been simmering for eight long years. “What, Max? You didn’t mean to leave me in a hospital bed without a word? You didn’t mean to disappear without so much as a goddamn goodbye?”

He swallowed hard, the guilt gnawing at him like it always did when he thought about that day. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to face you.”

She let out a bitter laugh, crossing her arms over her chest as if to protect herself from him. “So, you just ran? That’s your excuse?”

“I wasn’t running,” Max muttered, but the words felt hollow even to him. He’d been running for years—he knew it, and so did she.

“Bullshit,” she spat, her eyes blazing. “You’ve been running your whole damn life. When things get hard, you don’t face them—you just pack your bags and leave. That’s what you did to me, and that’s what you’ve been doing ever since.”

He opened his mouth to argue, to tell her that wasn’t true, but the words died in his throat. She wasn’t wrong. He had run. He’d run the second things got complicated, the second he felt like he was losing control.

“I thought I was doing what was best,” he said finally, his voice quieter, less sure. “I thought you’d hate me if I stayed.”

Her jaw clenched, and she took a step forward, her fists balled at her sides. “You really think I could’ve hated you?” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of years of hurt. “You think I wanted you to just leave me behind like I didn’t matter?”

“I didn’t think I was enough for you!” Max burst out, the frustration and regret spilling out of him. “You were laid up in a hospital bed because of that fall, and I was getting calls about sponsors and competitions. I was torn in two, and I didn’t know what to do! I thought if I stayed, you’d see me as some reminder of what you’d lost, of the future we’d been planning and couldn’t have anymore.”

Her eyes widened, and for a second, the anger flickered, replaced by something else—something rawer, more vulnerable. “So, what? You thought I’d hate you? That I wouldn’t want you anymore? Out of pity?” She shook her head, stepping back from him as if the very thought disgusted her. “Is that what you really think of me?”

Max dragged a hand through his hair, hating how badly this conversation was going. “It wasn’t like that,” he said, his voice pleading now. “I didn’t want to be a burden. You’d just lost everything, and I didn’t want to remind you of the future you couldn’t have anymore. You deserved better than a guy who was barely hanging on.”

“Barely hanging on?” She seethed, her fists trembling. “You didn’t give me the chance to decide that! You didn’t even try to talk to me, to ask me what I wanted. You made that choice for me.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing!” Max shouted back, his frustration boiling over. “I thought if I walked away, you’d move on. You’d be better off without me, and I could… I could disappear before you realised I wasn’t enough.”

She stared at him, her chest heaving, her eyes burning with a mixture of rage and heartbreak. “You think leaving was easier for me? You think watching you drive off without a word made me better off?”

“I wasn’t strong enough to stay,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I thought I’d hurt you more by sticking around. I thought you’d hate me, that you’d look at me and see someone who was staying out of pity.”

“God, Max,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You don’t even get it, do you?”

He swallowed hard, the weight of her words crushing him. “Then tell me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me what I didn’t see.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, her breath shaky as she tried to compose herself. When she opened them again, there was no anger left—just hurt. “You were everything to me. Everything. And you took that away because you were scared. You left me in that hospital bed, and you didn’t even let me fight for us. You made that choice, and I had to live with it.”

Max felt his chest tighten, the guilt and regret almost suffocating. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so damn sorry.”

Her lip trembled, and for a moment, she looked like she might break. But then, just as quickly, she straightened up, hardening herself again. “Sorry doesn’t fix eight years, Max. Sorry doesn’t undo the fact that you abandoned me when I needed you most.”

He took a step closer, desperate to bridge the distance between them. “I’m here now. I want to make it right.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “It’s not that easy. You don’t get to just walk back into my life and pretend like nothing happened.”

“I’m not asking you to forget,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I know I can’t fix what I did. But I want to try. Please, just give me a chance.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without another word, she stepped back inside and slammed the door in his face.

Max stood there, staring at the closed door, the sound of it still ringing in his ears. The weight of her words, the pain he’d caused, hung heavy in the air around him.

He slipped his hat back on, the brim casting a shadow over his eyes. As he turned and walked back to his truck, the gravel crunching beneath his boots, he realised something: he’d always been running. But for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure if he could ever stop.

That night, Max couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, the weight of her words pressing on his chest like a stone. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face—angry, hurt, and accusing. It had been easier when he thought he was protecting her by leaving. Now, after their argument, it was clear that all he’d done was rip open a wound neither of them had been able to heal.

With a frustrated groan, he threw off the blankets and sat up in bed. Sleep wasn’t coming—not tonight. He rubbed a hand over his face and glanced at the clock. It was just after midnight, but it felt like the hours were crawling by, leaving him trapped with his thoughts.

His mind wandered to the only place that ever brought him a sense of calm: the rodeo. The old training grounds on the outskirts of town where he’d spent countless nights like this, working out his frustrations with the one thing he understood—bull riding. He hadn’t been back there in years, but tonight, it felt like the only place he could go to clear his head.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and his boots, Max grabbed his jacket and slipped out of the house, the cool night air hitting his face as he headed to his truck.

The rodeo grounds were quiet when he pulled up, the faint glow of the moon casting long shadows over the empty bleachers. The scent of dirt and leather filled his lungs, familiar and comforting in a way that nothing else had been since he’d come back to town. He walked toward the arena, the sounds of his boots crunching on gravel the only thing breaking the silence.

As he got closer, something caught his eye. Movement in the arena. At first, he thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but then he saw her.

She was on horseback, weaving through the barrels in the dim moonlight, her movements graceful and precise. It was like watching a memory come to life. She moved with a fluidity that made it look effortless, but Max knew better. He’d seen the hours she used to put in, the work that went into every sharp turn, every quick burst of speed. She hadn’t lost her touch.

He stopped at the edge of the arena, standing just out of sight, not wanting to disturb her. For a moment, he just watched, his chest tightening as he remembered how much she loved this—how much they had loved this world together.

Then, it happened. As she rounded the last barrel, something went wrong. Maybe her horse misstepped, maybe she pushed too hard, but in an instant, she was thrown off, hitting the ground hard. Her horse skittered to the side, startled by the fall.

Before he could stop himself, Max was moving. He vaulted over the fence and ran toward her, his heart pounding in his chest. She was sitting up by the time he reached her, dusting off her jeans with a wince.

“Who the fuck did I piss off in my past life for you to be the one to find me?” she muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she glanced up at him.

Max skidded to a halt, a little breathless, and held up his hands in surrender. “I was just passing by. You okay?”

She shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel. “Like you care.”

He didn’t argue, just crouched down beside her, unsure of what else to do. “How can I help?”

“Help?” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You really think you can help now, after everything?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, his voice softer than before. “But I’m trying.”

She rolled her eyes, but her usual fire seemed to be dimmed, just a little. “Doctor’s orders,” she said finally, wincing as she shifted her leg. “You wanna help? Raise my leg and keep it elevated for fifteen minutes.”

Max hesitated for a moment, unsure if she was messing with him or not. But the way she was holding her side, the tightness in her face, told him this was real.

He nodded and carefully slid his arm under her leg, lifting it gently and resting it on his knee. She didn’t protest, but she also didn’t look at him. They sat there in silence, the tension between them as thick as the night air.

The minutes dragged by, and Max could feel every second of it. He kept his gaze focused on the ground, resisting the urge to say something—anything—to break the silence. But she was the one who spoke first.

“You should’ve stayed gone,” she said quietly, her voice lacking the venom it usually held.

Max swallowed hard, his throat dry. “I couldn’t.”

“You mean you didn’t want to. Big difference.” She still wasn’t looking at him, her focus trained on the darkened arena ahead of them.

He shifted slightly, careful not to jostle her leg. “I missed this place,” he said after a long pause. “Missed the people. Missed… you.”

She scoffed, but there was less bite to it. “You missed me? Is that why you didn’t call for eight years? ‘Cause you missed me?”

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted, his voice low. “I thought you’d moved on. I thought it was easier for you if I wasn’t in the picture.”

“Easier?” She let out a humourless laugh. “Do you even hear yourself, Max? You just disappeared. You didn’t even give me the chance to move on, to deal with any of it. You just left, and I had to pick up the pieces.”

He clenched his jaw, the guilt settling deep in his chest. “I thought I was doing what was best.”

“Stop saying that,” she snapped, finally turning to look at him. Her eyes were filled with anger, but underneath it was something else—something softer, more vulnerable. “You keep saying that like it was some noble thing you did, but all you did was make a decision for both of us. You never even asked me what I wanted.”

Max opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She was right. He hadn’t asked. He’d just assumed.

They fell into silence again, the weight of the unspoken things between them pressing down like a heavy fog.

After what felt like forever, she sighed, leaning back against the fence, her leg still resting on his knee. “You know,” she said quietly, “there was a time when I would’ve given anything to hear you say you missed me. But now… I don’t even know what to do with that.”

Max looked at her, his chest tightening at the sight of her so close, yet so far away. “I’m trying,” he said softly. “I know I messed up. I know I can’t fix what I did, but I’m here now. I want to make it right.”

She didn’t respond, just stared out at the empty arena, her face unreadable.

The silence stretched between them, and Max could feel the weight of it settling in his bones. He wanted to say more, to tell her everything that had been building inside him for years. But the words felt too small, too insignificant for the damage he’d caused.

After a long while, she spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if it’s enough.”

Max’s heart clenched, but he nodded. “I get that,” he said quietly. “But I’m not going anywhere this time.”

She didn’t say anything else, and the two of them sat there in the quiet of the rodeo grounds, with nothing but the stars and the distant sounds of the horses to keep them company.

For the first time in years, it wasn’t the silence that felt unbearable. It was the hope buried somewhere beneath it.

She shifted slightly, wincing a bit as she adjusted her leg on his knee. Max kept his hold steady, though every muscle in him was tense. He was waiting, unsure if she’d kick him out of her life again or keep him suspended in this strange limbo they found themselves in.

“What was it like?” she asked suddenly, her voice soft but cutting through the stillness. She didn’t look at him, just kept her eyes trained on the horizon, as if the answer was out there somewhere in the night sky. “To make it big? To live that life?”

Max glanced at her, surprised by the question. For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to respond. His instinct was to downplay it, to gloss over the highs and lows like he had so many times before when people asked. But this wasn’t just anyone asking—it was her.

He took a deep breath. “It was everything I thought it’d be,” he started, his voice low. “At first, anyway. The crowds, the money, the fame… it was wild. Everything moved so fast. One minute I was just this kid from nowhere, the next I was on posters, doing interviews, getting invited to places I’d never even dreamed of.”

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as the memories flooded back. “The adrenaline—it’s like nothing else. Every ride, every victory, it felt like I was on top of the world. But the crashes… they’re just as big. Bigger, even.”

She listened quietly, her face unreadable. He wasn’t sure if she cared or if she was just being polite, but he kept going, needing to get it out.

“There were nights when I’d lie awake in a hotel room, hundreds of miles from home, and wonder what the hell I was doing,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “I was surrounded by people all the time, but I never felt more alone. It was like… like I was chasing something, and no matter how far I got, I couldn’t catch it. Every high came with a low, and after a while, the lows started outweighing everything else.”

She still didn’t say anything, her eyes fixed on the stars. He looked down at the ground, the dirt beneath his boots feeling more real than anything had in a long time.

“I got tired of it,” he confessed after a long pause. “Tired of the crowds, the noise, the pressure to be something I wasn’t sure I wanted to be anymore. I missed this place. I missed…” He trailed off, but she didn’t need him to finish the sentence. They both knew what he meant.

Finally, she turned her head slightly, her eyes finding his. “And you think you can just come back?” she asked, her voice steady but tinged with something bitter, something hurt. “After all of that? Just walk back into this life like nothing happened?”

Max swallowed hard. “No,” he said quietly. “I don’t think that. I know I can’t just… fix things. I’m not here to pretend that the past didn’t happen.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her gaze sharp, cutting through the quiet. “Why should I trust you?”

He didn’t flinch at the question. He’d been expecting it, waiting for it.

“You don’t have to,” he answered honestly, meeting her eyes. “I know I haven’t earned that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

Her jaw clenched, and she turned her gaze back to the arena. “You hurt me, Max. You didn’t just leave—you disappeared. Like I meant nothing.”

“I know,” he whispered, the words heavy with regret. “And I’m so damn sorry. If I could take it all back, I would.”

“Sorry isn’t enough,” she said, her voice trembling just slightly. “You don’t get to come back after eight years and expect me to forget what that felt like.”

He nodded, his throat tight. “I’m not asking you to forget. Or even to forgive me right away. I just want a chance to make things right. To prove that I’m not that guy anymore.”

She didn’t respond, just sat there in the silence, her leg still resting on his knee. It was a strange kind of intimacy—one built on years of unresolved hurt, but also on something deeper. Something neither of them wanted to name yet.

After a while, she sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Nothing ever changed here, you know,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. “While you were out there, living that big life, everything just… stayed the same. The same people, the same rodeos, the same barns. It was like I was stuck while you were off becoming someone else.”

Max’s chest tightened at her words. He couldn’t imagine what that must’ve felt like, to watch the world move on without her, to feel left behind. And worse, to know he was part of the reason she felt that way.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, the words feeling inadequate, but it was all he had. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to leave you stuck. I thought you’d move on. I thought you’d—”

“Stop thinking,” she cut in, her voice sharp again, though there was a weariness in her eyes. “You keep telling yourself you did what was best for me, but you never asked me what I wanted. You just decided for both of us.”

He nodded, taking the hit. She was right, and he wasn’t going to argue with that.

She shifted again, pulling her leg off his knee and standing up, brushing the dirt off her jeans. Max stood too, though he kept his distance, unsure of what to do next. The tension between them was still there, heavy and thick, but something had changed. There was a crack in the wall she’d built around herself, just a small one, but it was there.

“Look,” she said after a long pause, her voice softer now. “I don’t know what you expect to happen. I don’t know if I can ever trust you again. But… I don’t hate you. Not anymore. I thought I did, for a long time. But it’s just… it’s hard to hate someone you used to love that much.”

His heart stuttered in his chest at the word “love.” Even though it was in the past tense, it still felt like a lifeline.

“I don’t expect anything,” he said quietly. “I just want to be here. Whatever that looks like.”

She gave him a long look, her eyes searching his face as if she was trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. Finally, she nodded, just once. “We’ll see.”

It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t even close. But it was something.

She turned and started walking toward her truck, her steps slow, like she was still testing how much she could trust the ground beneath her.

Max watched her go, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, the weight of the past still pressing on him. But for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he had a chance.

And he wasn’t going to waste it.

part three

[0310s]

wiping something off their lips (jaehyun ver.) 𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

members: boynextdoor legal line x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, friends to lovers, they have a crush on u waaah >_<!!!

wc: 1.6k

a/n: this was supposed to be 600 words... something insane happened in my brain and i churned out 1.6k in an hour. let me know if you liked this <3

ᯓ★ 

as the #1 messiest eater in boynextdoor, this scenario is most likely to happen to him… have you seen the multiple videos of riwoo wiping food off his lips… also aside from being #1 messiest eater he is also #1 babiest baby boy of boynextdoor.

when you’re both walking along the streets of seoul and spot a vendor selling cream-filled pastries, jaehyun rushes forward to purchase two—one for him, and one for you. he’s so excited that he gobbles down his pastry and makes an entire mess. there’s cream all over his lips, and he looks like one of those happy babies with food smeared all over their mouth (although not to that extent… but almost lmfao)!!! he doesn’t notice the mess he’s made until you grip his chin and tell him to “stay still.” you pull out a wet wipe from your bag and carefully dab at his lips. 

with your eyes still trained on his mouth, jaehyun takes this moment to stare at you. he’s always known you were pretty, but something about you being this near him is making him feel utterly lightheaded. your perfume is sweet and comforting, and your fingers on his lips feel so gentle. whether it be your scent or your voice or your presence, he likes everything about you… wait, like?

“all done! you gotta be more careful next time,” you lament, disposing the wipe in a nearby trashcan. “anyway, those creampuffs were the best thing i’ve ever tasted since the tiramisu we ate last month…” at his lack of response, you realize jaehyun’s not walking beside you, and you swivel around to see him standing stock still in the middle of the street. his expression looks like he’s come to some sort of realization. “jaehyun?” you bound over to him and wave your hand in front of his face, and he snaps out of his little daze.

“yeah? no, yeah, sorry, i just… let’s go,” jaehyun starts walking, and you trail after him, confused. what was that about?

“so i actually like like them,” jaehyun announces back at the dorm. “i thought it was normal that i found them cute and everything, because anyone with eyes can see that! i didn’t think that it was deeper than that. but i realized that it wasn’t just about their looks… i just. really enjoy their presence and how i can be myself in front of them, like, really myself you know???” taesan and leehan share a look before shaking their heads in unison. “hey!” jaehyun protests. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“we know,” taesan bemoans. “you talk about them your every waking moment, and whenever you spend time with us, you always talk about how you wish they were here.”

“taesan’s right,” leehan adds. “you look at them like they hung the stars. i think it’s obvious to everyone except you, honestly. and them too, because they think you flirt like that with everyone.”

jaehyun groans in response, messing up his hair in frustration. “so… what am i gonna do? it’s not like they like me back. this is driving me crazy... how am i supposed to act around them now that i know i like them?!” his friends share another look. “don’t do that!”

“calm down, jaehyun.” leehan comfortingly pats his friend on the shoulder. “why don’t you treat them as a friend first while you’re unsure about what to do next? after all, you like them as a friend too. i’m sure your dynamic wouldn’t change that quickly.” jaehyun nods in agreement, swearing to do exactly that.

taesan laughs at this. “well, i think jaehyun’s going to fuck this up by being very awkward and obvious.” 

leehan shoots taesan a glare. “don’t mind him, jaehyun. we’re both on your side.” taesan huffs but doesn’t disagree. okay, jaehyun. just be normal. how difficult can it be? 

it proves to be extremely difficult, actually. the next time you hang out together, jaehyun thinks everything is going well, and both of you are talking and laughing like normal. half an hour later, you and jaehyun are snacking on bunggeopang on the side of the road. the streets are empty today save for a few high school students milling about. jaehyun, unaware of how messy an eater he is, is too enthusiastic about his pastry. he’s gesticulating wildly, reenacting a funny story that happened to him days ago, and doesn’t notice until you firmly grip his chin between your fingers. “jaehyun, stop moving for a second.” oh fuck. be normal, be normal, be normal…

expecting to feel cool cloth on his face, jaehyun all but freezes when you use your thumb instead to wipe off the pastry filling on the corner of his mouth. oh god. oh fuck. oh fuck fuck fucking god fuckity fuck fuck. “sorry, don’t have wipes with me this time,” your tone is regretful. jaehyun feels like his heart is about to jump out of his chest. he attempts to wriggle out of your hold, but you grip him even harder. “stay, jaehyun.” oh god, that made me feel some sort of way. fuck, wait! be normal, be normal, don’t say anything… “i’m not done. there’s still some on your…” 

to make it worse (or better, jaehyun can’t tell at this point), you trail your thumb over his bottom lip several times, nodding when you’re sure there are no more smears. “there! all clean,” you declare, finally letting go of jaehyun. he feels his knees go weak as you suck your thumb into your mouth, releasing it with a pop. you’re wearing a very pretty lip gloss. oh fuck. “ooh, custard filling, my favorite! i should have gotten that flavor… maybe next time,” you sigh forlornly. “anyway, jaehyun, should we get going?”

“uhhhhhhhhhhh,” is the only thing jaehyun can respond with. his brain is malfunctioning and he can’t do words anymore. “uhhhhhhhhhhh.” 

you frown in concern and put a hand on his shoulder. “jaehyun? is something wrong-”

jaehyun can’t do this anymore. “ilikeyousomuchihaveacrushonyou,” he blurts out all in one breath, hiding his face in his hands out of mortification. “i’m sorry. i thought i could pretend and act like things were normal between us, but ever since you wiped my mouth last week and you were so close to me, i couldn’t stop thinking about you. and how i feel so nervous around you now that my heart is just going insane. i just had to be honest with you, i don’t think i can keep it a secret. i tried but i failed and. i. i…” 

at your lack of response, jaehyun peeks at you through his fingers. you’re stone-still, and he can’t tell what you’re thinking. oh fuck. he suddenly recalls his promise with leehan and taesan to treat you as a friend first and realizes how badly he’s fucked up. a fresh wave of fear overcomes him, not just at the thought of you rejecting him, but at the notion of losing your friendship. oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck… 

jaehyun’s trying his best not to cry, but he feels so miserable. “i’m sorry, you can ignore that, i don’t want to lose our friendship, i promise that i won’t let my feelings affect our friendship, please, i still want us to be friends.” maybe if he rambles long enough, he thinks, he can suppress the impulse to wail like a little child. 

“wait, jaehyun, i… you like like me?” he nods. “like, more than friends?” he nods again. “like… romantically?”

“yeah,” jaehyun lets out an exhale. “‘m sorry i confessed all of a sudden. i just. couldn’t keep it in anymore. i just have all these feelings for you that i didn’t know where to put them. but i swear,” he pleads, “we don’t have to talk about this. we can just move on from this and i won’t bother you with my feelings ever again. i, i really care for you and still want to be your friend…” 

“what if…” you whisper, “i don’t want to?” 

jaehyun’s face falls, and it takes everything in him not to sob. he’s never even considered the possibility you might not want to be friends anymore. “oh. i. i mean that’s totally understandable. i respect that, yeah. i must have made you uncomfortable. i’m sorry. i won’t bother you anymore.” don’t cry in front of them, jaehyun, don’t cry…

but before jaehyun can turn to leave, you grip his hand tightly so he can’t escape.“no, jaehyun. i mean… what if i didn’t want to move on? what if… i want us to be more than friends too?” 

jaehyun can’t believe what he’s hearing. “wait. are you serious?” a feeling akin to hope blooms inside him. 

you nod, your expression growing shyer by the minute. “you’re always so kind and attentive to me. you listen to me whether i’m feeling good or shitty, and you never mock me. and… you’re also really cute,” you giggle. “i honestly thought you saw me as a friend because you flirt with literally everyone… until you confessed, now. i really like you too, jaehyun, if you’ll have me…?” you still haven’t let go of his hand, and you’re idly playing with his fingers while waiting for his response. 

“OH MY GOD YES! i mean, yes! me too! please! i would. like. yes. i want. to be your boyfriend, oh my god, sorry, i keep stumbling over my words like an idiot,” jaehyun babbles. he feels his hand grow sweaty with nerves and tries to twist out of your grasp. instead, you beam, pull him in with your intertwined hands, and peck his cheek. oh my god, they just kissed me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“well… at least you can be my idiot. now let’s go!” you don’t let go of his hand, and jaehyun has a dopey, lovestruck grin on his face all the way back.

[miroana]

Elite moments in the Odyssey

A curated selection of my favorite details in this silly epic that changed storytelling forever. Homer is hilarious.

- Whenever anyone asks Odysseus where he’s from and he seizes the opportunity to lie continuously for several pages.

- Victims of his elaborate, entirely false backstories include: the cyclops, the suitors, the swineherd, the goddess Athena (who immediately calls bull), his son, his wife, and his father. Odysseus just loves lying

- Every time Athena makes Odysseus hotter and taller so he can rizz someone up

- His brilliant strategy to survive Charybdis’ whirlpool (cling to fig tree “like a bat”)

- When Telemachus casually drops that he is well aware that Mentor is actually Athena and she pretends not to hear and continues to act like she’s just some guy

- When Odysseus falls asleep while the Phoenicians give him a lift home, and instead of waking him when they reach Ithaca, the sailors just pick up the corners of his blankets to dump him on the shore and leave

- Odysseus subsequently waking on a random beach and spending several pages violently confused until Athena, slapping her forehead, has to appear to tell him what’s going on

- Penelope’s weaving and unweaving of the tapestry to get out of marrying the suitors. it’s so stupid that it’s brilliant

- When Odysseus goes to the land of the dead and Achilles and Patroclus appear together <3

- That time Odysseus and Athena sit down on a rock together to plot and scheme etc

- When the maid who raised Odysseus recognizes the gigantic scar he used to always brag about and he grabs her by the neck and tells her to shut the hell up. Elegant elegant man

- Odysseus’s dog who stayed alive for over 20 years so he could lay eyes on him before dying on the spot

- Every time someone says bro you’re kind of hot for a beggar and Odysseus says yeah I know right?

- When Circe was like oh dude I can’t kill you? Guess I’ll sleep with you

- “‘You bitch!’ retorted the ready-witted Odysseus”

- Penelope later calls this maid a bitch too

- When Odysseus avoids competing in the Phoenician games until one of the Phoenicians calls him weak and lazy. so he thoroughly wipes the floor with them

- The sheer number of boats Odysseus crashed

- The sheer number of times Odysseus started sobbing in public

- When one of the Suitors smacks beggar Odysseus with a stool and it takes everything in him to not go insane on them

- Every time Odysseus anonymously gasses Odysseus up

- And last, but not in any way least, the Trojan horse plan. We all know it. We all love it. But take a step back and think for a moment how delightfully absurd it is

[bunmurdock]

Hi I have mm thoughts like imagine having a kid with Matt and your worried how it will change your body but infact it just makes him love you more like your feeding your guys kid ? He wants to be there loves feeling you up even more need to pump for later ? He ain’t complaining

Also if it isn’t already taken I would love to be 🦋anon 😊

NEW EMOJI FRIEND! i believe someone has claimed 🦋, would you like to claim a different emoji (or multiple)? nicknames are ok as well!

maybe i'm ovulating, but you got me deep into dad!matt feels:

oh my god okay so imagine matt murdock as a husband and dad.

you're worried about how your body's changing, but to him? it just makes him fall in love with you more. you’re carrying his kid, feeding them—he’s in awe of it. he’ll rest his hand on your stomach, tracing his fingers over every little curve, whispering how incredible you are, how much stronger, more beautiful you've become.

and when you’re pumping? he’s right there. nothing but support, hands still gently resting on you, maybe teasing with that smirk of his. he’d joke about being jealous of the bottle but would also be dead serious about helping however he can. "don’t worry, sweetheart, i’ll take care of this later," in that playful yet sincere tone.

then there’s matt with the baby, lying on his chest, tiny hands tugging at his glasses while he chuckles, that crooked smile breaking through as his eyes soften. "guess they’re taking after me already, grabbing things they can’t see," he murmurs, voice thick with affection. he’s smiling the whole time, completely wrapped up in the little miracle you both created, his vulnerability showing in the way he holds them just a bit tighter, like he can hardly believe this is real.

he’s still matt murdock, though—always thinking ahead, always ready to protect, but softer now. he’s got one ear on the baby, the other on the world outside, but right there, in that moment? it’s all about you and them. just the three of you, and him never wanting to be anywhere else.

forget the baby monitor—matt is the baby monitor. he hears everything. every tiny breath, every little coo. you'll wake up in the middle of the night, maybe panicked that something's wrong, and he’ll already be halfway across the room, whispering, “they’re just stirring, sweetheart. go back to sleep.”

no need for gadgets when you’ve got matt murdock with those insane dad reflexes. you’ll be sitting on the couch, and suddenly, the baby tips over while trying to crawl, and before you can even react, matt’s already caught them mid-air, all casual like it’s no big deal. "gotcha, kiddo," he’ll say with that teasing grin, acting like he didn't have superhuman reflexes in that moment.

"how do you know they're about to cry?" you’ll ask one day with an eyebrow raised, and he’ll lean in close, smirking, "i can hear their heart race before the tears even come." or when you’re about to check if the baby’s too warm, he’ll casually slide in with, "not a fever, just working up to a diaper change."

and the baby? loves grabbing onto him. they’ll tug at his hair or smack at his chest, and he just lets them, totally patient, playful, letting them explore him like he's their favorite jungle gym. "strong hands," he’ll tease with a grin, "just like their mom." and you’ll gasp and swat at him.

and then there’s the moments where you’re not even aware, but matt? he’s got you both clocked—whether it’s catching the baby from rolling off the bed or knowing exactly when you need an extra hand without you having to say a word. "you know," he’ll say softly, wrapping an arm around you. "i hear you too, sweetheart. every breath, every heartbeat. i’ve got you—let me take care of both of you."

he’s so in tune with everything, it’s almost like magic. but it’s just matt—hyper-aware, always ahead of the game, being both the city's greatest protector and this ridiculously loving, protective dad who somehow knows what the baby needs before they even do. and you? he knows you just as well, maybe even better, appreciating every bit of who you are, body and soul.

masterlist | share your mm thoughts

[mingtinysworld]

Eternal Kisses

Pairing: choi jongho x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, comfort, established relationship

Word count: 825

A/n: this is super short but i thought id write something cute and sweet for Jongho hehe. I feel like he would be suchhh a comforting bf. And just kind of a pillar in a relationship ykwim?

Networks: @newworldnet

Jongho carefully unlocks the hotel door with his keycard, trying to be quiet as to not wake you. His meeting went much later than he anticipated and he didn’t get to see you when he promised he would. He felt sad that he let you down once again, making plans and having them not work out constantly.

He walks into the room and sees you sleeping peacefully. Your face is squished into the pillow, creating an adorable pout. He wants to poke your soft cheek but he resists, letting you sleep instead. He changes into his pajamas and tries to quietly get under the covers, next to your warm body.

“Mmh hi Jongie.” You mumble sleepily.

“Hi love, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you.” He gives you a soft kiss, sending tingles across your whole body.

“That’s ok, I’m just happy to see you.” You nuzzle into Jongho’s neck and inhale his comforting scent. After a few moments you can feel his shoulders shaking. You look up and see that he’s laughing.

“What are you laughing at?” You ask with a pout, brows scrunched cutely.

“I just can’t believe how utterly cute you are baby. I don’t think you’re real.” He expresses.

You also let out a laugh and blush profusely. “You’re right, I’m not real. I’m actually made up of your imagination.” Deciding to play along, you give him a quick kiss on the lips. His eyes widen in surprise and he lets out an adorable giggle.

“I’m not real, so that means you can’t feel it right?” You continue to peck all over his face, smiling cheekily. Jongho explodes into a fit of giggles, completely entertained by your shenanigans. He grabs your hands and pulls you off of him and returns your attack of kisses. He kisses every inch of your face until your stomach hurts from laughter.

“Did you get your assignments done today baby? I know you were all stressed out about them.” He asks in a hushed tone.

You groan in frustration, being reminded about your countless amounts of schoolwork. “Almost but not quite. It’s insane, I keep working and working, but I never end up finishing them all.”

He looks on with empathizing eyes, relating to your frustration. Jongho is also in school currently, knowing exactly what you’re going through. “I know it’s hard, but you’re also completely capable, I know it. And I’m also here to help you. Nothing is difficult for my babygirl.” He squeezes you and you let out a spluttering gasp.

“Jongho! Don’t squish me to death!!” He laughs loudly and nudges his nose into you like a puppy.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, failing to hide your loving smile. You’re forever grateful to Jongho for being there for you always, helping you through anything and everything.

"Ugh I missed you baby. I hate how busy you are." You speak in a hushed tone. Jongho grabs your hand in his and leaves a sweet kiss to your palm while speaking softly.

"I know baby. I wish I could just stay here with you all the time. But you know how much I love you, right? I could cuddle with you for the rest of my life." He looks at you with so much love, his eyes displaying the unconditional affection saved just for you.

You wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into his chest, and inhale deeply. His fresh body soap scent washes over you, soothing all your senses. As you melt into him he takes the opportunity to run his hand through your hair, brushing through the strands gently.

“Mmm you’re so comfy Jongie.” You murmur drowsily. He chuckles softly and holds you even closer. “Oh am I?” He asks with a fond smile.

You nod against his chest and let out a content exhale. “Will you tell me about your day?” You request.

“Of course sweetheart.” He shifts slightly to move you on top of him, making you lay your head against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. “Today was kind of lame to be honest. The meeting was sooo long, I was actually secretly texting San in the middle of it, about ready to go insane. They were talking about marketing strategies and I just tuned them out.”

You let out a grunt of acknowledgement, letting him know you’re listening. However, the steady hum of his sweet tone was slowly lulling you to sleep, and his voice seemed further away the longer he talked. You let out a final yawn and you went to sleep, letting the stress wash away from your body.

As Jongho realizes you’ve fallen asleep he stops talking and just looks at your peaceful form. Your breaths fall in a similar rhythm and he pulls the blanket up to cover your whole body. He kisses your forehead sweetly and now closes his own eyes to fall into a comfortable sleep.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

Can you write something where Joel is trying not to fuck you (maybe because of your age or something), and then he caves out of pure horniness. I seriously have a kink for always in control men - losing control.

Thank you for the message!! I hope you like this little story!

title: the babysitter

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x babysitter!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), age difference (21F and 36M), power imbalance dynamics, begging, pet names, oral sex (f receiving), kinda perv Joel, no use of y/n.

You’re asleep on the couch when Joel comes home from a night at the bar with Tommy. The TV casts a blue glow over your soft features. Your plush pink lips are slightly parted, and your tits remain barely covered by the tank top you wore over that evening to babysit Sarah.

You’ve been Sarah’s babysitter since you were eighteen and Joel was desperate to find a balance between being a single father and getting the chance to spend some time out with his friends and brother, usually at a dive bar shooting pool like they did tonight. His neighbor had recommended you, a sweet young girl who just graduated high school and worked as a babysitter for extra cash while attending the community college.

Now you were approaching twenty-one, a whole fifteen years his junior. Something Joel has to remind himself on nights like tonight, when his eyes greedily roam across your exposed skin and commit the view of your nipples straining against your tight tank top to memory.

He’s had a few drinks tonight. Nothing crazy, but he feels the buzz in his veins as he continues to watch you. You shift positions, turning more on your back and raising your arms up, the motion exposing a strip of stomach above the waistband of the shorts you’d worn.

Joel can normally tamp down the thoughts he has about you, sweeping them under a metaphorical rug to be ignored. But tonight, he lets himself drink his fill, storing it away for later.

Surely there’s no harm in that?

He needs to wake you up, needs to hand you the handful of twenties and walk you to your car, just like he does every other evening you babysit for him. He reaches a hand out to grip your shoulder, giving it a gentle shake. Your brow furrows, but you otherwise don’t stir. He lets his palm linger in your warm skin, swallowing down the urge to drag his hand lower, to cup your breast in his palm and see if a pinch of your nipple makes your back arch in ecstasy.

He tries another shake, followed by a murmur of your name. That has you blinking up at him, eyes heavy with sleep.

“Mr. Miller? What times’it?” You slur. He checks his watch.

“Just past 12,” he tells you. His hand is still on your shoulder.

“Oh. I’m sorry I fell asleep,” you tell him with a yawn. “Guess I didn’t realize how tired I was.”

You lick your lips, staring up at him. His brain is screaming at him to remove his hand, to take a step back and take a breath, to remind himself that you’re the babysitter.

But your head tilts, appraising him. Keen eyes stare back at him like you know exactly what he’s thinking.

“Mr. Miller?” You ask again, voice breathier. Joel’s fingers flex against your skin. You press your shoulders into the couch cushion, the movement causing his hand to drift lower, the tips of his fingers just grazing the flesh of your breast.

Your breathing becomes rapid, but you remain still. Joel swallows harshly, his fingers inching the slightest bit lower. Your lashes flutter as he slips the tip of his pinky beneath the neckline of your tank top.

He takes a harsh breath, ready to withdraw his hand and chalk this up to a brief moment of insanity, but as he tries to move away, your hands grip his wrist.

“I can’t do this, honey,” Joel says. You whine, tilting your head back.

“Please?” You ask. Your hands release his wrist, and Joel knows he should hold strong.

But then your own hands are drifting down your body, caressing your curves before dipping beneath the waist of your shorts. Joel’s heart beats a mile a minute, a frantic pulsing in his chest as he watches you with unwavering focus.

Your hips jolt as your fingers swipe against your clit. His view is hindered by your shorts and he wants nothing more than to remove them and replace your fingers with his.

“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you say, eyes wide as you stare up at him. “You can touch me. I want it.”

“No,” Joel says, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. And you notice it, too.

“Please,” you beg. Your hips grind against your hand. “I’ll be such a good girl for you.”

Joel’s eyes flutter closed as he takes a deep, steadying breath. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

“You’re too young for me, darlin’,” he finally says. He lifts his hand from your shoulder and you give a sad little whine that has him grinding his teeth together.

“Why are you being so mean?” You accuse.

“You don’t know what mean is.”

“Why don’t you show me, then?”

You remove your hand from your shorts. Even in the dim light of the TV he can see the unmistakable shimmer of your slick coating your fingers. When you spread them, a thin thread stretches between your digits.

He watches it stretch to its limit before snapping. And much like that thread of fluid, the last of his control snaps, too.

“Take off your shorts,” Joel says. When you don’t move he snaps, “Don’t make me ask again.”

That gets you moving, your hips lifting from the cushions so that your hands can shove your shorts down to your ankles. You gaze up at him, waiting for instruction.

Joel moves your outer leg off the couch, your foot settling on the floor. He kneels between the new space and lets his hungry eyes consume you.

“Dirty girl,” he murmurs. He collects the saliva on his tongue, spitting it harshly against your pussy, your body jolting and your head dropping back with a moan. “Quiet. You gotta be quiet, okay.”

You nod your head quickly, teeth digging against your lip to make good on your promise. Satisfied, Joel leans down and licks a broad stripe through your slick folds, the tip of his tongue dipping into your entrance before he drags it up to circle your clit.

You’re writhing beneath him as he attends to your needy cunt, your whimpers such music to his ears that he doesn’t have the heart to tell you to be quiet again.

Your fingers grip his shoulders, the bite of your nails into the thick muscle making him groan against your center. He can feel your hole flutter against his tongue and takes the opportunity to slip a finger into your tight heat.

You gasp, back arching as you shatter around

him, cunt pulsing deliciously around his finger. He’d love nothing more than to feel you around his cock.

But this has already gone too far.

He withdraws his hand, reaching down to grab your shorts and pull them up your legs. Your brow furrows in confusion.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“It’s time you head home,” he says, not daring to meet your eyes. You’re still and quiet for so long he finally chances a glance.

To his surprise, your lips are tilted into a smirk. You shuffle onto your knees, bringing yourself face to face with him. You reach for his hand, keeping your eyes trained to his as you slip the finger coated in your release into your mouth.

You hum, and Joel has to fight the moan clawing its way up his throat. You release his finger with a slick pop before rising to stand.

“I’ll see you next week, Mr. Miller,” you say casually.

[imagine-darksiders]

Hear me out: Samael with a pregnant (from before they met) reader.

- Finding out the object of his obsession affection is pregnant dredges up some long-buried instinct in the demon prince, one that has him plagued by the urge to nestle you away somewhere until well after the baby is born.

- You, however, are decidedly against the idea of Samael squirrelling you off to goodness knows where, so you try to go into hiding.

- He’ll burn the word down to flush you out if you do though.

- When he has you, he’s nerve-wrackingly gentle with you. Uncharacteristically so. You can’t help but feel like you’re waking on eggshells around him, like at any moment, the other shoe is going to drop and he’ll throw you in a cage or tear you apart just for the Hell of it. But that never happens.

- Samael grows agitated because his human is stressed, and that feeds into his primal nature, telling him he’s doing an inadequate job of making you comfortable in the ‘nest’ he’s built you.

- Said nest consists of an insanely large bed with scarlet, satin sheets, the colour of freshly spilled blood. He puts you in his own private chambers, under lock and key and guard, and though he’s often absent to attend to his affairs, he always returns at night to gloat about his latest scheme or the enemy he’s just overthrown, all in a bid to impress you and make you realise he’s a strong, accomplished provider.

- There’s also the matter of the child’s existing father… Samael has several plans in place for the assassination of your old flame, a cold act to be sure but a necessary one that’ll secure himself more firmly in your mind as your sole caretaker.

- He really wishes you’d allow him to help you ease some of the pain in your abdomen that comes in the latter stages of pregnancy, but every time he makes a suggestive comment to see if you’re receptive to his unorthodox yet effective methods of pain relief, you end up curled in the corner furthest from him, a quivering wreck, and not in the way he intended. So he leaves it alone… reluctantly.

- He’s unaccustomed to someone rejecting his advances. You don’t even fall in line due to fear, which you have in spades.

- You won’t let him touch your belly, fiercely protective of the baby growing inside you. And it’s a funny concept to the demon, that you won’t ’let’ him. As if a Prince of Hell could be commanded to do anything… but… for you, he at least keeps up the pretence that he’ll comply. At night however, after you’ve fallen asleep, Samael lays his immense head down right beside you, chuffing warmly through his nostrils as he peels back the covers and rests the very tip of his forefinger on your swollen belly.

- He tells himself he only does it in defiance of your wishes. But in truth, he seeks reassurance that the tiny life inside you is still alive and healthy. Humans are notoriously fragile, their offspring even more so.

- Several times you try to escape, citing that he can’t really expect a baby to grow up in a fortress in Hell. He doesn’t see the problem. It’s perfectly safe here. Certainly safer than being left up on Earth where all manner of things could happen to you without his protection.

- He doesn’t want to have to chain you to a wall to keep you from trying to leave him, but if you keep pushing him, you won’t leave him with much choice. You belong to him, and the child inside you, though not sown by his own seed, is his as well. The sooner you come to terms with that, the happier you’ll be, he’s sure.

- He’s no threat to you or the baby, although you seem to have some preconceived notion that as soon as they’re born, he’ll hold them ransom to control you.

- Admittedly, the idea had occurred to him briefly. But he soon realised he didn’t want that. He didn’t want a mindless thrall who followed every order and complied with his every whim. He’s not her. He’d rather have your cooperation. He’d rather have your true affection, to know for himself that notorious affinity humans have to love. It has eluded him for eternity. He wants that.

[eternally-frozen]

Peek-a-boo i.

Unreliable synopsis: How many masks can you stack on one face?

Author note: I return with nothing but a self-indulgent post that might or might not be connected to an old fic <3 On another note, send me an ask containing your interest for a drabble event if you want to see one

Warning: Dottore. Kidnap mention. Bro is a bit weird but it's okay, I love him. No beta because I will cry. Author is insane and the writing might be too

The room pulses with an eerie silence, broken only by the faint hum of fluorescent lights flickering overhead. Crimson eyes, glossy and void of light, gaze through you. Two pale blue strands hang on either side of his face, one slightly longer than the other. The ends of which curl like an untamable wave. His shoulders are tense, and he seems absent while his body is present. 

The man in front of you is zoning out again. 

You’re unsure what goes on in the mind of your captor, but these moments are the ones you fear most. You never quite know which side of him appears when he wakes up from his stupor. 

Silence takes over the room. You don’t move, you don’t breathe. In this moment you are merely a spectator—the very thing he used to be in your life before he decided to take a more direct approach in the current experiment.

‘Dottore’ clutches the wooden frame of the chair in front of him. His knuckles turn white at the strength he uses but his expression remains blank and devoid of any emotion. 

And then as, quickly as it came, the moment passed. 

The eyebrows that were previously relaxed are pushed into an unforgiving frown. His lips are pursed, and he takes but a mere second to regain his awareness. 

“You.” he spits out.

It was reported to be the coldest winter in the past two decades when you first arrived in Snezhnaya. The first nights in the previously abandoned mansion had been insufferable. The walls are too thin, the sheets too light, and the doors too loose. Cold air creeps up from every corner, forcing you back into the arms of the person you despise most. 

“I thought you were exaggerating when you told me about the eternal winters of Snezhnaya.” You wrap your second blanket closer to your body. The side of your body is pressed against the decrepit sofa in a desperate attempt to cover your back from the air.

In direct contrast to you, Zandik sits comfortably with his legs crossed on the sofa across from you. He is wearing a chunky, cable-knit sweater in a deep navy blue colour. The crisp, white button-up shirt underneath compliments the otherwise darker colour. The collar is neatly pressed and peeks out from the sweater. 

Paired with the sweater, he wears a pair of slim-fitted trousers in a dark shade of grey. These, too, are neatly pressed and fall just above his polished black shoes. 

He had dressed this way on the rainier days in Sumeru. It sparks a sense of nostalgia when you look at him now. The outfit is a nearly identical replica of the clothes he wore during your first interactions in the Akademiya. The only thing that falls short is the incertitude and cold look on his face. 

He shifts in his position on the sofa, uncrossing his legs, and then crossing them again. He scoffs at your attempt at a conversation opener. “Surely you can’t expect to blame me for your lack of knowledge regarding the environmental habitats of Snezhnaya.”

“Part of you is to blame. I don’t recall you ever giving me the time to research it. Nor did you warn me about your decision to kidnap me.”

He is silent after that. 

The truth should hurt. Given the way he acted during the last days of being at the Akademiya and the way he carried himself during your travels, you expected asperity—anything but silence.

A shiver falls over you again, and you curl yourself up tighter. 

Your eyes fall upon the Zandik in front of you. It might be wishful thinking, but a spark of recognition, a small light, seems to have returned in his eyes. He feels less distant. Sure, he is far from the boy you first met, but you can’t deny that he seems softer.

It’s strange how abruptly he can change. Like the moon, he goes through phases where he comes off to be unwhole. Often, you don’t doubt he’s lost part of himself. In what? You’re not sure. But as soon as it comes, it passes, and he seems whole again. 

The tips of his fingers trace the fabric of the decaying sofa. His touch caressing what must be a mixture of dust and loose threads with the filling underneath being the sole foundation that keeps it from collapsing. 

You wonder how he came into possession of this large mansion, and why he had left it in the first place. You wonder why and how he ended up in the Akademiya. 

“I’m going to the library.” He says. 

Zandik stands up from the couch. The wall he had built between you and him stands as tall as he does. It towers over both of you, and you’re unsure whether this barrier protects or fails you. 

For the first time since he decided to sit in your company, his eyes find yours. There is a sense of urgency behind his next words. “Don’t follow me.”

You nod. The idea of following him has landed you in this situation. You long learnt that curiosity is what makes or breaks a man, and you’re not ready to gamble your life again to learn the secrets that Zandik hides.

Oblivion is bliss.

His footsteps echo through the bare room. Most of the furniture remains covered by linen cloths and aged by a layer of dust and untold history.

‘The library’. 

Oh, how you long to read.

To have the company of words instead of a man you've grown to despise.

[mythunderstorm]

Angie gets a mom | MS47

mick schumacher x fem!reader

word count: 980

summary: Mick loves you. Angie loves you. Time to make you her mom officially.

warnings: none?? maybe one swear word lol

masterlist

It is summer break for Formula 1 and after months you guys are finally visiting your parents in your hometown again.

The weather is currently not really summer-ish, it’s cloudy, not too hot and sometimes it rains a bit but you don’t mind. It reminded you of autumn, a season which you dearly loved so the combination of your favorite season and being able to spend lots of time with Mick was absolutely amazing.

You’re awoken by the sound of wind blowing, taking a look at the clock you realize it’s still early. Too early to get up, you decide, so you move closer to your boyfriend hugging him tight. Spending time with Mick is probably your favorite activity, no matter what you guys are doing. Soon, the second half of the season begins so you have to cherish every moment with your lovely boyfriend.

You’re almost back in the land of dreams, when suddenly you can feel soft tapping against your leg. Turning your head you spot Angie, trying to get your attention.

„Oh Angie, you wanna come cuddle?“ you say while making room for her to squeeze between you and Mick. „Good Girl, come here.“ You adored cuddling with Angie, she was just so soft and sweet.

„I think at this point she might love you more than she loves me.“ Mick suddenly says, after letting out a yawn.

„Oh sorry baby, did we wake you?“ you say, ignoring what Mick just said.

„No, it’s okay. I love waking up next to may favorite girls.“ he says, kissing you on the forehead. You only smile, enjoying this calm morning with your loved ones.

About half an hour later Angie gets a bit restless, a sign that it’s time for her morning walk. After brushing your teeth and changing your clothes into something that’s appropriate for the weather, you and Mick start walking to the small forest near your childhood home. Your parents were still sound asleep when you guys left, so you wrote them a note, telling where you and Mick went incase they wake up.

„I love this. I wish we could go on walks like this every morning.“ Mick suddenly says, making you lean more into his side.

„I‘d love that too baby, but you love your job aswell. And now walks like this are something special, so enjoy it and look forward to our next visit here“ you smile, kissing his cheek. Mick signs, he knows you’re right. He loves racing and he loves working for Mercedes but most importantly he loves you. So he only gives you a quick kiss on the lips, enjoying this moment like you said.

Angie enjoys it too, she’s running around, taking in all the different smells but is still staying close to you two. Her excitement makes you giggle.

„Anything funny sweetheart?“ Mick absolutely loves your laugh. It’s the sweetest sound he has ever heard.

„I‘m just happy that Angie is enjoying herself so much.“ you say in a gentle voice. „Sometimes i feel like she’s our firstborn, just my little baby which I want to be happy and pleased at all times.“

Mick can only stare at you. He loves you so much, it’s insane. Hearing you say that makes him even crazier about actually starting a family with you. And now is the perfect timing to do the first step.

He already asked your father. It was really important for Mick to have your dad’s blessing and after he said that it would make him the happiest dad ever to have Mick as his son in law, the young Schumacher thought everyday about the perfect moment to pop the question.

And now, seeing you so happy, enjoying this calm morning walk with Angie while holding his hand, rambling about nature and how much you love being here with him, he knew. He knew this was the moment.

You, being blissfully unaware about what’s going on in your boyfriends head, continued walking and rambling about everything that came to your mind until you realized that Mick stopped. Turning around you looked at him with a questioning look, tilting your head. „Everything okay, Micky?“

Mick just looked at you, his eyes being so full of love and adoration that you started to blush under this intense gaze. He took one step towards you, until he slowly started to get down on one knee.

„Oh my god…“ you mumble, tears starting to form in your eyes.

Mick smiles. „Darling, you’re my home“, he starts. „I love you more than life itself and I can’t believe that I managed to get a girl like you. You are absolutely perfect, perfect for me. I don’t deserve the love you give me everyday but I am willing to show you for the rest of our lives how much I love and appreciate you. You‘re the perfect mom for Angie and the perfect wife for me. Soo..“ Mick clears his throat briefly, the tears that formed in his eyes are now rolling freely over his cheeks. „y/n/n, will you marry me?“ your boyfriend (for now) asks, fishing a dark blue velvet box from his pocket, showing you the most beautiful ring you‘ve ever seen.

You are absolutely baffled. You would have never expected this to happen today, maybe someday, but not today. But you know your answer, you knew you wanted to marry Mick two month into your relationship.

Happily you throw yourself into his arms, kissing him all over his face while mumbling „yes, yes, yes“ between kisses. Mick laughs, hugging you close. „I love you Micky, oh my god I- fuck I‘m speechless!“ you giggle, while more tears are streaming down both your faces.

„Now you’re going to be Angies Mom officially“ Mick quips, making you even happier.

You’re going to marry the love of your life.

[silentscrying]

🏀 buzzer beater | chapter TEN.

nba!gojo x manager!reader

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

warnings: language, implied sexual content, maybe breaking the law just a liiittle, fluff! cheese!, prius slander, too many italics || sfw. 6.1k words.

“WHAT THE FUCK did you do?” Ieiri demands, standing beside you on the sidelines. She doesn’t look at you when she says it, both of you unable to tear your eyes away from what’s happening on the court.

Going into the fourth game of the series, the Samurai had two wins to the Sorcerers’ one. There is not a bone in your body that isn’t confident your team will make a comeback now.

The disjointed team from the last game is nowhere to be found. These guys play like they came out of the womb with basketballs in hand. It’s fucking insane, and you can tell the rest of them are also wondering what changed, because they seem as shocked as Ieiri.

Except for Megumi, who looks at you only once and gives you a firm, approving nod.

“Later,” you tell Ieiri, because too much happened last night to explain right now. Now she does turn to face you, gaze calculating.

“Rephrase,” she says slowly. “Who the fuck did you do?” But the teasing lilt to her tone means she is very much aware already.

“Ieiri!” Your face flushes red and you stare resolutely at the court, avoiding her gaze. It doesn’t help, because instead you find yourself watching Satoru, grinning as he dunks and hangs on the hoop for a second just to show off. He turns to find you on the sideline and gives you a goofy smirk, and you can’t help smiling back.

God, you can never tell Ieiri what happened in your office last night.

You both wound up at your apartment eventually, and he asked you first why your walls weren’t decorated with posters of him and second if this was more than a one-night stand.

“What do you think?” you asked, and he looked more hesitant than you’d ever seen him before.

“I think I want to be able to kiss you every day for the rest of my life,” he said.

The words have been on a loop in your mind ever since.

Honestly, you thought finally doing something about the tension between you and Satoru would snap it, eliminate the amount of irrational headspace he was taking up, but it hasn’t. It’s just made you spend every waking moment thinking about the feeling of his lips on your skin, your name in his mouth.

And now that you’ve aired out the unspoken feelings, it’s like you don’t want to spend a second away from him—not just in the physical sense, but talking to him, teasing him, having actual, genuine conversations. How did he worm his way into your life so fast?

It wasn’t that fast, you realize belatedly. It maybe took five years.

You may owe Kasumi an apology. Or not, because she’s going to have a god complex when she finds out.

Finds out what, though? That you slept with him? That you don’t hate him? What is he, your boyfriend? You don’t really know where to go from here.

The Sorcerers beat the Samurai by a solid twenty-two, and as the players shake hands and do that weird bro-hug-back-slap thing in the aftermath, Nobara appears in front of you.

“Was I right?” she asks. “Or was I right?” Her self-satisfied smirk would annoy you if there wasn’t so much warmth in her eyes, like she’s happy you finally figured this out, or at least happy that the team is back on track. You roll your eyes and wave her off, and she and Ieiri start stage whispering about you as if you’re not standing right there.

“Miss Managerrrr,” Satoru calls as he bounds over to you. “Hey.”

You feel like you’re supposed to compliment him or something, but his ego also doesn’t need to be any bigger than it already is, so you smirk at him and say, “Can’t believe you just stood and there and watched Yuji make the last dunk.”

His jaw drops, and he bends over himself like you’ve punched him in the gut. “I can never make you proud,” he gripes, and you snort and ruffle his hair while his head is within your reach.

“Dumbass,” you say fondly. He looks up and smiles like he’s finally won your praise.

“Hey,” he says after a minute, glancing around to make sure Ieiri and Nobara aren’t prying anymore. “Let me take you out tonight.”

Just like that, your heart’s stuttering and stumbling over itself like it was last night. “On a date?”

“No, on a guided walking tour,” Satoru says. “Yes, a date.”

You raise a brow as if considering. “We have a flight in the morning.”

“I do not see the problem.”

The thing is, you really don’t know what to expect out of an actual date with Satoru. The heated, physical release of the tension between you was one thing. Romance is another.

But you can’t deny that you want to see him tonight. The alternative is going home to your lonely apartment and crashing early before your morning flight.

“Fine,” you say, and then Kento calls for Satoru to get a move on, and he’s sprinting down the hall, leaving you flustered in his wake.

“Office. Now,” Ieiri says, crossing her arms over her chest and leveling you with a glare that says you can’t argue. Nobara stands knowingly beside her, and you sigh, resigning to yourself to an explanation.

But being in your office again makes you think of what you spent last night doing, and you find yourself unable to meet Ieiri’s gaze as you tell her and Nobara what Yaga told you, that Satoru got you the job, and that you’d found him in the gym and shot hoops with him and eventually wound up making out with him against a wall and yes, fine, you got laid.

“Your place or his?” Nobara asks, and you hesitate two seconds too long. Her face goes white and she makes an ungodly screeching noise and squeals, “Here? Did you do it in here? Oh my god! You desecrated this place of work—”

You tune out her rambling, planting your forehead on your desk as the heat floods your cheeks, and then you realize Ieiri is actually just straight-up cackling.

“You live,” she gasps between fits of laughter, “not ten minutes away. You couldn’t just—” And she’s gone again, bent over herself and clutching her stomach as she wheezes. “Oh my god.”

“We did,” you mumble, avoiding eye contact. “After.”

This sets Ieiri off again, and Nobara looks one more sentence away from passing out.

“So are you… friends with benefits? Or what is this?” she finally asks. “Are you dating?”

You shrug. “He’s… taking me out tonight,” you admit. Just like that, Nobara seems to forget all about her crisis about the office and starts barraging you with questions about when and where is he taking you and what are you wearing and do you think he’s a romantic and you’re repeatedly telling her you don’t know the answer to any of her questions, because you don’t.

It feels like hours that they keep you there, grilling you about the finer details of how you and Satoru ended up together last night, and then your phone finally buzzes and rescues you from the conversation.

six: imma come get you at 7

You show Nobara so she at least has one answer and then type out a response.

you: where are we going?

six: who do you take me for? a fool?

six: i’m not telling you shit

six: women love surprises

“Women love surprises,” Nobara mocks, lowering her voice in a horrible impression of Satoru. “Who’s women? The entire female population? The whole of the dating pool? I hate surprises.”

“I’ll let him know,” you say, and before she can stop you, you’ve sent:

you: nobara would like you to know this is not true of all women

six: WHAT

six: are these messages being screened by the council

six: hello kugisaki. hello shoko. my intentions are pure

“Tell him I’ll shovel talk him later,” Ieiri says, looking over your shoulder. “With an actual shovel. I’m coming prepared.”

You haven’t felt like this in a long time, talking about boys with your friends, showing them your messages, hypothesizing about a date. Spilling the details about a kiss. And then a lot more than a kiss.

“Go,” Ieiri shoos you off a while later, when it becomes clear you’re itching to get home and ready for wherever the hell Satoru’s taking you tonight.

You grab your bag and head toward the door, Ieiri and Nobara making no move to follow. “Are you gonna stay in here and talk shit?”

“Yes,” Nobara says sweetly. “Yes, we are.”

—

You've never been in Satoru’s car before. You knew he drove some expensive ass sports car, but right now you’re particularly glad it’s not a Prius, because you could never kiss him again if it was.

It’s a sleek, white Audi. “R8,” he says proudly, like you give a shit. He doesn’t tell you where he’s taking you. He wears a light blue button-down that makes his eyes look criminally good.

“You look nice,” he tells you, and you can’t fight the smile. You’re not wearing anything fancy, just jeans and a cute black shirt, but the way Satoru did a double-take when he showed up at your door tells you he means it.

“Eyes on the road, Six,” you tease. As he navigates the familiar intersections and streets of the city, you try to guess where you’re going, but keep coming up short. Eventually, he pulls into a dark parking lot and makes a questioning humming sound, and you turn in your seat to look at him.

He’s looking at the gates of the place he’s taken you, and the fact that they’re very obviously closed. You squint in the darkness to make out the sign illuminated by a single floodlight.

The botanical gardens close at four. Every day.

It appears Satoru was not aware.

“So, how good are you at hopping fences?” he asks innocently, and your laugh bubbles unbidden past your lips, short and surprised.

“You brought me on a date to commit crime,” you say.

“In my defense,” Satoru says, holding up a finger, “I did not know they were closed. Because I did not look it up.”

“Very thorough,” you say, looking up at the fence. “Are you for real, though?”

He shrugs. “It’s just a fence. They should know it wouldn’t keep me out. It’s their fault, really.”

“Yes, because the landscape engineers of a botanical garden were primarily thinking of what an NBA player would do after hours.”

“Exactly.”

You get out of the car and follow Satoru to the front gate. It’s taller than he is, but the fence a few yards down becomes shorter.

He scales the fence like it’s nothing, landing on the other side and giving you a grin that looks like a challenge.

“Showoff,” you mutter, taking a step back. You give yourself a running start and grab the top of the fence with both hands, using the momentum to swing your legs over and land beside Satoru. The landing has you stumbling back a bit, and suddenly his hands are on your waist, steadying you.

“Thanks,” you mutter sheepishly.

“We’d make great spies.”

“That will never be true.” You grin at his dramatic frown and take his hand in yours. “Lead the way, since you’re such a great date planner.”

He obliges, heading off between two tall hedges to the right, saying, “I feel like that was sarcasm.”

The moon is high and near-full, casting the hedges and flowers in a silvery halo. Neither of you have any idea where you’re going, so you breathe in the beauty as you wander. His hand is warm in yours and eventually he drops it to wrap his arm around your shoulders, sending a shiver down your spine.

“So, Miss Alley-oop, D1 baller and manager supreme.” You snort at the titles. “Tell me about you.”

“What?”

“Tell me about you,” he says again. “I know you played in college. I know about your career. I know you would probably choose Megumi’s dogs over me. But what else?”

Something warm takes root inside of you, like it did when he said he wanted to see you in one of his shirts. It’s something trilling and bright, that knowledge that he wants to understand you, that he actually cares to listen.

So you tell him. You tell him about growing up, about college, about your friends, the move from San Diego, your family, your favorite color and your music taste and how grateful you are to have Ieiri and Nobara here. And he tells you about himself, too, about his stupid-rich family and his basketball scouting and high school with Geto and Utahime.

You don’t know how long the two of you walk around, just talking. You make your way around the dark gardens, weaving around groves of small trees and colorful flower beds and small koi ponds.

“I think I am a great date planner,” Satoru says eventually. “This is way more romantic when it’s illegal.”

You snort. “Is that gonna be a trend?”

“In our innumerable future dates, is that what you’re saying?”

Your laugh is soft, floating through the night-tinged air. “I suppose,” you say. “What’s that mean, then? What is this?”

The two of you come to a stop in a circular clearing with a fountain in the center, softly gurgling while the coins on the bottom make murky, circular patterns. You perch on the edge of it and preemptively decide to warn Satoru, “If you push me in I’ll actually steal your car and leave you here.”

He grins, which means the thought definitely crossed his mind.

When he sits down beside you something in the air shifts, and he turns to you with uncharacteristically solemn eyes. “What is this,” he echoes. “I guess… whatever you want it to be?”

But you think about what he told you, about how he pushes people away. About how he makes it easy to hate him. You want to know if he’ll back out. “I want to know what you want it to be.”

“I think,” he says after a while, not breaking eye contact, “I would really like to be your boyfriend, if that’s something that won’t destroy your resume.”

You snort. “I’m not putting you on my resume.”

“I am now reconsidering.”

You grin and lean into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of whatever purple flowers are dotted around the edges of this clearing. “I would like that,” you say.

“Oh, thank god,” Satoru breathes, and you laugh again. He makes you laugh more than you usually do. “Because when you didn’t immediately say yes I almost threw myself into the fountain.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Do you want out?”

“Satoru.” You swat at him and sit back, putting your hands on his shoulders and forcing him to look at you. “If I wanted out, I wouldn’t be here. And I’m not gonna keep telling you that, so get it through that thick skull of yours now. I want you.”

He grins, slow and wide. “You can’t just say shit like that. It makes me wanna make out with you.”

“What’s stopping you?” You trail your fingers down his arm, lacing your fingers together. You lean in and whisper in the shell of his ear, “Do I make you nervous?”

“For real?” Satoru asks, huffing out a laugh. He squeezes your hand. “You are… so wildly out of my league that I didn’t even think you would—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

“What?”

You blink. “You’re serious!”

“Wh—yes, I’m serious! What, I try to be romantic and you—”

You grab the collar of his shirt and pull him toward you, shutting him up by pressing your lips to his.

“Oh,” he says, stupidly, when you let him go.

“Yeah, oh.”

You wait a beat. “I’m not out of your league. We quite literally work for the same league, actually.”

“Oh. My god.”

“Now. Why did you take me to a forbidden garden if you weren’t gonna kiss me senseless?”

“I fucking love the way you think,” he mutters, and he pulls you to your feet and leads you toward the bench on the opposite side of the small clearing. Before you can really register what’s happening, you’re leaning back on the bench and he’s straddling you with his knees, pulling you into a deep kiss that has your breath stuttering in the back of your throat.

Shit. You feel like you could do this forever.

You slide your hands up his back until you reach his neck and pull him in closer, teeth clashing, and when you pull back to breathe all you can focus on is the way the moon outlines Satoru’s hair and face in silvery-white and god, he’s attractive.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, like it’s a secret.

“You—”

“Hey!” The both of you stand up ramrod straight like scolded schoolchildren as a flashlight beam pins you in place, and you clap a hand over your mouth. There’s a night security guard standing between the hedges and the fountain, looking mildly irritated but mostly just exhausted.

“Oh, shit,”you mutter.

“Hey there,” Satoru calls, striding over to the security guy like they’re old friends. “So sorry to bother you. How’s your evening been?”

The guy looks up at him for a long moment, somewhere between I don’t get paid enough for this shit and I’m going to call the cops just because you’re being a dick about this. And then his jaw slackens as recognition flashes across his face.

“Holy shit,” the guy says. “You’re Satoru Gojo.”

“Ah, a fan!” Satoru grins, and waves you over. It feels like a walk of shame. You can’t believe he’s being so chill about this.

Actually, yes you can.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say honestly. “We really weren’t doing anything cra—”

“This is my girlfriend,” Satoru interrupts, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and the word dissolves the rest of the sentence before it can leave your mouth. You kind of love when he says it. This is my girlfriend. “She’s also the top-notch manager of the Sorcerers.” He glances down at you, and you immediately realize where he’s going with this.

“I’m sure between the two of us, we can fix you up with some home game tickets for your trouble,” you offer, and the guard’s face lights up. He looks relatively young, probably taking the night shift for some easy cash, but all of his exhaustion vanishes the moment you say tickets.

“Are you serious?”

“Of course!” Satoru says, clapping the guy on the back. “I don’t lie.”

“That’s not true,” you say, but fondly. “Yeah, just give me your name and email and I’ll hook you up.” You hand over your phone, open to the notes app, and the guy excitedly types in his information and hands it back to you.

“Well, that wound up being a lot less trouble than I’d hoped,” he says, sighing. “Thanks. Uh—I do need to escort you guys out, though.”

Satoru grins. “No problem.”

For the silent walk to the front gates, you’re torn between keeling over dead from embarrassment or bursting out laughing. This is insane. This is unreal.

At the gate, the security guard smiles hesitantly at the two of you as he undoes the lock and swings it open, gesturing as if to say after you.

“Thanks, pal,” Satoru says, and you sigh, long-suffering. You fix the guard with what you hope is a warm smile and thank him, promising again that you’ll send the tickets his way.

As soon as he’s closed the gates and turned his back, you and Satoru run back to his car, giggling like kids. You feel like a teenager sneaking out at night, high on the adrenaline of getting caught and not punished, and you collapse into Satoru’s passenger seat in a heap of disbelief and laughter.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, when you can finally breathe. “Jesus.”

Satoru starts the car and takes a moment to press his forehead to the steering wheel, still losing it. “I’m such a good date planner. We should always commit crime on dates.”

“No,” you say loudly, shoving at his shoulders, and he lifts his head and grins at you before pulling you into another deep kiss.

“Come over,” he whispers when he pulls back, lips inches from yours.

You have a flight in the morning.

You find you don’t particularly care.

“Okay.”

—

You wake up late.

Granted, late today means 5:30 in the morning, but you have to be at the airport soon. Luckily, you had the foresight to grab your packed bag from your place last night before crashing at Satoru’s.

Well, other things came before the crashing part.

“Satoru!” You shake him by the shoulders, interrupting his snoring. “Get the fuck up. We have to go.”

He groans, flipping over and burying his face in the pillow. “Don’t wanna.” You have no idea how he manages to get himself out the door on time on his own.

“Well, guess I’m driving the Audi.”

That has him shooting out of bed, scrambling for a change of clothes and his keys. “I’m awake,” he says, but it sounds more like m’wake, and he looks like he might fall asleep standing up.

“Get a move on,” you say, and swat him on the shoulder before making your way to the kitchen.

Satoru’s apartment is nice, and surprisingly homey—you’d expect a disorganized guy who travels so much to have a pretty minimalistic setup, maybe with dirty clothes all over the place, but it’s actually pretty cozy. On the coffee table there’s a framed picture of Megumi and Tsumiki with the dogs, and he even has a cactus on the windowsill.

“From Tsumiki,” he explains as he finally makes it out to the kitchen and follows your line of sight. “She said even I can’t kill it.”

You hum, pulling him in for a kiss, and then say, “I think she’s underestimating you.”

His sleep-addled brain takes a moment for him to realize it was an insult, and when he does he groans dramatically and says, “You hate me.”

“Yeah.”

But he picks up your bag where you left it by the door and carries it as the two of you bolt out to the car.

You arrive at the private hangar with two minutes to spare, and the rest of the team is already there.

“I was just about to call you,” Ieiri says when you get out of Satoru’s car. And then she processes the fact that you just got out of Satoru’s car. She snickers, and you give her a glare that says shut up and she gives you a look that says I will not.

The team is gathered in front of the jet making idle morning conversation (except for Ino and Toge, who both look two seconds away from sleep), but they still when you and Satoru approach with Ieiri.

Oh. You really didn’t consider this.

“Hard launch, I guess,” you mutter, and Ieiri smirks.

Kento’s eyes widen ever so slightly, which is probably the most surprised you’ve ever seen him. He’s a fairly stoic person—that subtle change of expression might as well equate to the absolute squawk that comes out of Nobara’s mouth.

“Oh my god,” she says, practically jumping up and down. “Oh my god. I knew it!” And then Yuji is joining her, bouncing off the nonexistent walls, but his response is less of an I knew it and more of a holy shit I did not see this coming in a million years. You wonder how he and Megumi ever became a thing. Yuji might be the single most oblivious person you’ve ever met.

Megumi grabs him by his bright red hood until he stops jumping. You make eye contact with him across the haphazard circle the team has formed, and he gives you the smallest smile. His gaze locks onto your shirt, and you look down and realize it's Satoru's. You threw it on with leggings and a loose zip-up in the chaos of this morning.

Megumi catches Satoru’s eye, and they have some convoluted conversation with their expressions that you can’t decipher, but they both seem satisfied by the end of it.

“Hey, okay,” Hakari says, narrowing his eyes and pointing between the two of you. “What the fuck is that? Are you a thing?” He looks at Satoru. “Did you pull?” In response, Satoru wraps his arm around you, and when you don’t protest, Hakari’s lips part soundlessly in disbelief. “Okay, damn.” He turns to you. “You’re not under duress?”

“Excuse you,” Satoru says, and you laugh and shake your head. On your left, Yuta and Toge exchange a loaded glance that you’re pretty sure means they’ve placed bets on this before.

Hakari shrugs. “Well. Okay, then. Whatever.”

Junpei’s mouth has formed a small O. At Kento’s shoulder, Ino is now wide awake, tapping him frantically on the arm like he isn’t seeing the exact same thing. Yaga is utterly unfazed. And Kusakabe, for his part, just gives you a once-over and then asks Yaga, “Is that an HR issue or are we fine?”

“Okay,” you say loudly, checking your watch. “On the jet. Let’s go. Places to be.” The team obediently files up the stairs and Ieiri ruffles your hair teasingly before following suit. As Ino ascends the steps, he turns and flashes both of you two thumbs up with the biggest goofy smile.

“That went well,” Satoru says. But the team’s reactions have you thinking about the utter rage that you know Utahime will be in when she sees, and that makes you think of something else.

“I don’t think we should be obvious about this in Savannah,” you say slyly. “Like—okay. Think about this. They know us well enough to figure it out, and it’ll be fine, and they’re not gonna go blabbing about it. But publicly, we wait until San Diego, and then we have some horrible public display of affection right in front of Geto, just to shove it in his face that his shit didn’t work.”

“Oh my god,” Satoru says slowly, as the two of you enter the cabin of the jet. “You are a fucking menace.” He grins. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

It’s a short flight, and before you know it the game is in full swing on the Samurai’s home court. Ten minutes in, things are going well for the Sorcerers. The game is evenly matched, but you’ve managed to pull ahead by a few.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out to read a text from a number you don’t recognize.

unknown number: hi!! this is tsumiki! megumi gave me your number, i hope you don’t mind

unknown number: i just wanted to let you know i heard about you and satoru and i’m THRILLED and if he ever hurts you i promise i’ll sick the dogs on him

You chuckle and add her to your contacts, then shoot a quick text back saying you appreciate it and she can text you anytime she wants, especially if she has embarrassing stories about Satoru and Megumi.

Nobara sidles up to you as the first quarter reaches its final minute. “I can’t fucking believe you,” she says. “Pulling up together with no warning.” She swats you on the shoulder playfully. “I have half a mind to start making edits of you and posting them on the official account.”

“I’ll actually enter the witness protection program.”

“You will not,” Nobara says as the both of you watch Todo almost knock Ino over. “Oh, god. Are his dramatics already rubbing off on you?” The buzzer goes off and the Sorcerers are in the lead. As Satoru makes his way off the court, he catches your eye over Kento’s shoulder and winks. You feel the heat rising unbidden to your cheeks and Nobara cackles.

Then Nitta texts you. From right across the court.

nitta: WHAT WAS THAT

nitta: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ALLEY

nitta: !#)$##&#$#!

Nobara grabs your phone before you can respond, and despite your protests she starts texting Nitta. You watch your friend react live across the court, her jaw dropping, and then she turns to Utahime and whispers in her ear. Oh, here we go, you think.

Her entire face goes bright red in two seconds flat, and she gapes at you, and then at Satoru, and then she yanks Nitta’s phone out of her hands and starts texting you—or Nobara, really. You look at Nitta and shrug helplessly. God knows what they’re saying to each other right now.

“Tell her to keep it quiet for now,” you murmur to Nobara, and then relay your plan to her. She grins.

“That’s evil,” she says proudly. “I love it.”

In the second quarter, Megumi manages to dunk right over Haibara, sending the fans reeling. A few minutes later, Satoru makes a free throw and solidifies the lead.

After that, the game goes on without any particularly unusual events, the score mostly staying within ten points the entire time. But the Sorcerers win by seven, and now they’re 3-2.

One more win at home and the conference title is yours.

—

The two days leading up to the home game are go, go, go, but the business side of things is checkered with periodic updates from Akari about the Samurai’s response to your new relationship.

nitta: haibara said he feels like he missed 4 seasons of a tv show

nitta: he can’t believe gojo has a gf he was like ‘i need to sit down’

nitta: i think ijichi has just given up on practice being productive. they’re too gossipy

nitta: gakuganji doesn’t remember you are but tbh i don’t think he remembers who i am so

You honestly forgot Gakuganji’s name, so that’s fair. You’ve formed a bad habit of referring to him in your head as the old fart, and you’re scared one day you might say it out loud in front of his team.

Utahime found you after the game and practically fell to her knees asking why in god’s name you’d ever get with Gojo, and you told her you’re just fulfilling your duties as an Anti-Gojo Club member by taking him down from the inside. She knew you were lying, but when she watched the way he bounded up to you in the hall and ruffled your hair, she must’ve seen something in him that put her slightly more at ease.

Not that she’s happy about this turn of events. But she doesn’t hate you by proxy, at least.

nitta: DOES KASUMI KNOW

you: NO. DO NOT TELL HER

nitta: PLEASE LET ME TELL HER

you: AKARI. NO

“We’re hot news,” Satoru says over your shoulder, and you flick him on the forehead.

“Don’t hover,” you say.

He frowns. “But I’m so good at it.”

You swipe out of your thread with Akari and sigh. Geto hasn’t reached out since that initial text—most of you is thankful, but part of you is worried this means he’ll approach you in person again.

“No Suguru,” Gojo notes, and you nod, turning around and facing him, tucking your phone in your back pocket.

“Nope.”

“Can’t wait to make out with you in front of him.” You swat at him. “It was your plan!”

“Yeah, but it sounds obnoxious when you say it like that. And we don’t need to make out.”

“Ew,” he says in his lilting, teasing voice. “You want to have sex on the court? That’s kind of perverted—”

“I hate you,” you groan.

“Gojo!” Megumi shouts from down the hall, and you shove him away.

“Go do your job, dipshit.”

“I love when you call me pet names.” He plants a kiss on your temple and books it to the locker room, and you’re left standing in the center of your office, flushed and a little lightheaded from the affection.

You hear Nobara and Ieiri talking as they approach your office, so you clear your throat, flick off the lights, and meet them on their way to the gym.

“What do you think?” Nobara loops you into the conversation immediately. “We winning the series today?”

“With Gojo on his girlfriend high, yeah we are,” Ieiri says, and you snort.

Nobara’s still looking at you expectantly as the three of you enter the gym, and you catch sight of Satoru across the gym and admit, “Probably.”

Nitta sticks her tongue out at you from across the court and you wave happily. You tug the headset on and tune into Zenin’s updates.

“With the Sorcerers on an absolutely powerful win streak, these conference finals are looking close to an end,” she says in your ear. “On the other end of the bracket, we’ve got the Curses leading the Foxes series three to two. If they win tomorrow, they’ll face the winner of this series in the championships.”

“If not, we’ve got a lengthy rest of the series for the Foxes to make a comeback. Either way, we’re looking at an intense matchup for our final round,” Panda chimes in.

You grin. It’s not that you want to come face to face with your old team again, but you want to watch the Sorcerers destroy them. You want to see the look on Geto’s face when he realizes his plan backfired. You want your team to take the championship title. And you know they can.

The game launches into play and Satoru wins the tip-off against Noritoshi. A quick pass to Ino has the Sorcerers leading by two, and then Kento makes a fantastic block against Choso.

“Lookin’ good,” Ieiri comments, and you can’t take your eyes off the court. On the other side of the gym, Ijichi is talking frantically to Gakuganji, who looks like he’s about to fall asleep.

“A great three-pointer from number zero, Megumi Fushiguro,” Zenin remarks, and Yuji whoops as he runs over to high-five Megumi for his shot. “Seven minutes into the quarter with the Sorcerers leading by five.”

Yaga and Kusakabe are murmuring urgently under their breaths to each other, still watching play on the court, and then Kusakabe smirks, the two of them seemingly having come to a decision.

When the first quarter ends, Yaga whispers something to Junpei and claps him on the back. The kid’s eyes are wide, and you realize he’s subbing him on for Ino without a substantial lead.

“You got it,” Kento tells Junpei firmly. “Don’t sweat it.”

Nobara raises a brow your way, like you understand the inner workings of Yaga’s mind, which you don’t. But with the rest of the starters on the court, Junpei doesn’t have to pick up anybody’s slack—and he plays really well, getting a good seven points in himself. By halftime, he’s stumbling off the court with a huge grin and thanking the coaches profusely while they wave him off, stifling their smiles.

Yuta, Toge, and Hakari all go on after the half and kick ass. Satoru subs out halfway through the third and sprays water directly in his face, panting. The water drips down the curve of his jawline and onto his shirt, and you watch his shoulders heave before you realize you’re staring and abruptly look away.

But looking away means you look right at Ieiri, and she thinks this is hilarious.

“Shut up,” you mutter, willing the red away from your cheeks.

“I didn’t say anything!” she protests.

The lead never exceeds ten points, but the Sorcerers take the win, and for a moment after the buzzer the gym is oddly still, like nobody has really processed what this means. And then Zenin shouts right in your ear, “The Sorcerers take their spot in the finals!” and all hell breaks loose.

“Yes!” Nobara screeches, and whips out her phone to film the team colliding in the center of the court, ecstatic.

And the thing is, it’s not just them. The Samurai swarm the team huddle, exhausted and sweaty and smiling, and Choso claps Yuji on the back, and Haibara’s laughing, and Todo’s grinning proudly, and you can’t fight your own smile at the sheer joy rippling across the gym.

The championship series.

You tear the headset off and Nobara drags you by the elbow out to the center court and into the huddle of hyped-up, sweaty players, and you’re laughing as you practically fall into the center of it, half-deaf on the exhilaration of the guys and the fans.

Satoru grabs you by the shoulders, and in the mass of people you aren’t worried about the cameras catching it, but honestly—you don’t even care if they do.

“We did it!” he shouts, and you grin, laughing out loud.

They did it. Your team did it.

directory. || prev.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro

[throneofsapphics]

Hi omg sorry yes Cassian x Azriel x Reader, poly dark because you do it so so so well 😭😭😭😭😭😭🙈🙈🙈🙈💕💕💕💕

time is running out

Azriel x Reader x Cassian

Summary: Maybe she shouldn’t have ignored the warning signs, because a familiar nightmare appeared in front of her. 

Warnings: dark/possessive cassian and azriel (they are a bit unhinged), stalking, violence, threats of violence

A/N: thank you for requesting it! I might do a part two

She felt them constantly, and would always spot shadows that seemed to be acting strange, that’s the only way she could describe it. 

Everyone probably thought she was insane for turning them down the first time they approached her. Maybe that was her mistake, because they seemed to delight in showing up in places she least expected. The chase was probably enough for them and they stalked her everywhere. Not a day went by when she didn’t see them, or have a note appear in her kitchen or pinned to her door. Places they shouldn’t have been able to get to, and a reminder of her vulnerability. Over the last few months, she’d moved houses no less than four times. Even leaving Velaris for a secluded city in the far north of the Night Court - a largely populated one, a place she was hoping she could slip under the radar. If she could leave for another Court, she would have but it was nearly impossible. 

The first time she’d gone out in her new home, a week after moving there, she found a nightclub - somewhere to drink and forget about her current situation, she let a male dance with her, even kissed him in a dark corner. The next morning, a drawing was on her kitchen table. One of his likenesses, and a particularly ominous note. 

Next time you let someone touch you, it won’t be a drawing - we’ll leave their head on your table. She sprinted to the restroom and threw up everything from the previous day. The worst part is she believed them, and couldn’t have any deaths on her conscience. 

A week later, apparently they grew tired of waiting for her to agree.

Work hadn’t been too difficult to find and she was employed in a bookstore. She would open every morning, avoiding any dark hours. Nights were spent locked up in her apartment, sleep evading her and nightmares of heads lined up on her counter filling every sleeping moment. Tonics did little, she would always wake up with the image in her mind - as if it slipped in right when the medicine wore off. She would have to wean herself off soon, it wouldn’t do to have an addiction to them. Y/n never understood how people became addicted to them in the first place, but now she did. 

She was lost in her thoughts as she walked the familiar path back home on muscle memory. 

Danger, danger, danger, pricked the back of her mind - on repeat like a familiar record or melody. Then again, it was always present no matter the situation. It haunted her day in and out and she was skittish at the best of times. Always armed, even if she would be useless against the two warriors. 

Maybe she shouldn’t have ignored the warning signs, because a familiar nightmare appeared in front of her, grabbed her before she could react and winnowed her to some location she didn’t know, right into a room where Cassian was waiting. 

With an ear-piercing scream, y/n shrugged him off and ran to the door, jiggling the handle. Locked. She cursed under her breath before taking a deep breath in and turning to them. 

“What the hell?” Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the furniture. Azriel was a few feet away from her, Cassian a pace or two behind him. 

“Welcome home.” The smile on Cassian’s face was genuine. Home? Absolutely not. 

“You’re both insane.” She hissed at them. Azriel gripped her chin harshly, anger flaring in him. She flinched, but couldn’t move, not with the tight grip he had on her. Shadow wrapped around her wrists. They didn’t restrain her, but only reminded her she was at his mercy, at both of theirs. If they truly wanted her there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Maybe they’d grow tired of her one day and toss her to the side. She’d never been particularly religious but she prayed for it. 

Y/n thought of the last note left pinned to her door with a knife, just yesterday. 

Time is running out love, you’ll be coming home soon. 

There had been similar threats before, telling her she was testing their patience. 

“Care to repeat that?” Azriel raised his brows, taunting and daring her. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Oh you will,” Cassian’s voice floated over her shoulder, and the resounding smirk on Azriel’s face pissed her off. Enough that she tried to do something absolutely stupid. Y/n spit directly in his face. He didn’t react immediately, but she saw the drops glisten on his face, the sun hitting them directly like an omen. 

Instead, he laughed. He fucking laughed. “I knew you had fire in you.” 

The shadows disappeared, and so did his grip. He turned his back to her, moving closer towards Cassian. Probably discussing what the hell to do with her. The door was still locked, but there was a window. They made three mistakes. 

One, underestimating her. 

Two, turning their backs to her. 

Three, not taking her knives off of her. 

She palmed the fighting knives - two of them. Enough to cause a distraction and maybe hit them if she’s lucky. Y/n didn’t really want to kill them, maybe she’d get to that point one day. The knives launched towards non-lethal spots, and her magic shattered the glass window. She didn’t hesitate to leap out, even on the second story, 

“What the fuck?” Cassian’s voice roared from inside. 

Her feet hit the ground, her knees impacting, and she sprinted for the gate, leaping over obstacles, a shield behind her, and as soon as she was out of range, she winnowed - throwing her middle finger up behind her. 

-

They heard the whoosh and reacted quickly enough the knives didn’t hit them, but they couldn’t stop her as the glass broke and she sprinted. 

Maybe they could’ve caught up with her but Cassian was still shocked at her pure nerve. She’d never shown that she had any magic beyond the normal Fae kind. 

Azriel was staring at the spot she disappeared from, his eyes narrowed. 

His filter disappeared as he muttered the words, “are you turned on as well?” 

The other male shot him a look that said ‘are you serious?’ But didn’t confirm or deny it.

[jimcornflake]

Asa Emory X SEXYNERD!Reader

A/N: Listen, an academic genius who is also a sexy nerd is my favorite archetype. Hitting the books while getting high, big stupid glasses, and a button up shirt that’s one button too much. I know you college baddies get me.

🎀

- How do you do that? Study from the moment you wake up to the moment you go out at night, party like you have a terminal illness, go home and sleep for an hour or two, and then do it all again?

- Asa, who is a regular patron of the local library, sees you there often. Your nose is always buried deep in a book, ranging from classic literary masterpieces to How To Fold A Paper Airplane.

- You always walk in and out with an armful of books, placing them on the table next to the return slots and then carefully sliding each one in the correct category.

- You pretend to be so oblivious to the intentions of the men you surround yourself with and then exploit them for their resources (notes, help, even plagiarizing when you need to scrape by and can’t do your own work in time to pass) when they have their guard down.

- At worst, you’re a bit whorish. At best… you were a genius. Maybe even a little bit of a sociopath.

- Then Asa has you in his class and sees how dedicated you are to soaking up as much information as possible. Funny, he had expected you to immediately make a move on him and maybe even doubted how attractive he’d considered himself when you didn’t.

- You sit in the front row, but you don’t ask questions and rarely talk. You pay attention when he talks, but you look away after a polite amount of eye contact. You don’t even blush if you happen to stick around to ask questions after class.

- When you walked through the door, you had nothing backing your entomology knowledge but basic information about biology. In a month, you’d made connections that your other classmates hadn’t.

- Your pinning skills are immaculate. Your ability to focus that deeply is uncanny. He realized how pressured you felt for the first time because he was standing right over your shoulder to watch as you pinned your first specimen.

- It’s right before Winter break that he catches an opportunity to get closer to you. You were at the campus bookshop, buying a stack of new (used) books for yourself. You were the only person in the store, right before closing, and the employee was wearing a look of thinly veiled annoyance. They tapped their finger on the countertop as you rifled through your purse, bags under your hazy eyes.

- “Put it on my tab,” he says. He doesn’t realize how utterly insane it is that he has a personal tab at the local college’s bookstore, but he appreciates the thankful and amused smile that crosses your face.

- “Y/N,” he says, telling you to follow him with a nonchalant nod of his head. “Come. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

- And you gather up your books and like an eager puppy, you follow him, glancing up every few seconds. “What’s up, Doc? Sorry. Inappropriate. What can I do for you?”

- He actually snorts a bit at your horrible, awful pun on his doctorate. He quickly shakes it off and turns toward the parking lot outside that part of campus.

- He hates to crush you right now, especially when you’re acting so stupidly adorable, but it is for the greater good. As you approach the only two vehicles in the lot, yours and Asa’s, he stops and turns to you.

- “I know that last assignment wasn’t your work,” his expression is almost scarily indifferent. “I have a no-cheating policy in my class, Y/N.”

- He waits to see what you’ll do. Will you break down and cry and beg for his forgiveness? Will you double-down on your lie?

- You simply accepted it with a tired sigh and a defeated nod. “I understand. I’m sorry, Dr. Emory, really, for what it’s worth. I really enjoyed my time in your class. You’re a very knowledgeable man.”

- Asa blinked. He couldn’t believe that his heart was about to explode like he was seventeen about to see boobs (in real life) for the first time.

- He gripped your jaw firmly and swooped down in to kiss you. It was forceful and demanding and maybe even a little inexperienced. You did not object, opting to lean in to his hands, tilting your head to the side as you pressed your lips back against his.

- As he pulled away to look at you, he saw the huge sly grin that took over your entire face and the deep pink blush across your cheeks as you batted your eyelashes up at him,

- “Y’know,” you said, stepping toward the breathless man. “I think I’d really like to learn more from you… is there some way we can arrange that, Asa?”

- You little bastard, he thought to himself as he found himself surrendering to your pleading Bambi eyes, you did it again.

🎀

Hi! Did you like this? If so, please check out my other works! Thank you and have a beautiful day! 🩷

[disasterbuck]

end on a song

Buddie | T | 850 words

Slamming the front door, Buck stalked over to stand in front of where Eddie was seated on the couch. Eddie, a moment ago simply staring glassy-eyed at the TV, now blinked up at him and smiled.

"Hey, Buck."

"So here's the thing – It's all your fault." Buck began pacing back and forth in front of him, visibly agitated. His voice rose slightly with each word. "I can't stop thinking about you and it's making me insane. I mean, I was fine yesterday, right? Completely fine! But then today it's just been one thing after another ever since this morning when you walked into work with your stupid messy hair and the stupid sun shining on you and your stupid perfect eyes which took my breath away.

"And I know you must've noticed how clumsy I was after that. I hit my head on the ceiling beam twice. I tripped over my own bag for fuck's sake!And then I gave you the wrong equipment four times, Eddie! Seriously, I'm never that bad at my job!"

"Uh, what…?" Eddie blinked rapidly, extremely startled.

"I'm not finished. This is your fault because if you weren't so gorgeous I'd still be completely in control of all my faculties! But you are gorgeous so I'm completely losing my mind. I can't stop thinking about you, ever. I wanna run my fingers through your hair and stare into your eyes and grab your hips and pull you close. I wanna—"

"You what!?"

"—your mouth and hear you moan. I wanna rip your clothes off and get my hands all over you so I can map every inch of your body and get to know it even better than I know my own. I want—" Buck's voice cracked slightly and he closed his eyes, taking a moment to swallow past the lump in his throat before continuing, "I wanna wake up next to you every day and cook your favourite meals whenever you want them and I wanna take you on the most romantics dates you've ever had and hold your hand and take your last name."

Sucking in a deep breath, Buck slowly let it out and opened his eyes again, fixing them on the TV in the corner. He could feels tears welling up in his eyes and tried to blink them away before Eddie would see them.

Eddie was silent.

After what felt like an eternity, Buck forced himself to look away from the TV and over to where Eddie was still sitting on the couch.

He looked like he'd just seen a ghost. Eddie's face was pale and his eyes were wide, staring in disbelief. Buck felt his heart race fearfully in his chest and suddenly his mind was full of oh god oh no I shouldn't have said anything I've ruined it all and he's never gonna be able to look me in the eye ever again fuck I should've kept my mouth shut I should've—

Eddie opened his mouth to speak, let out an embarrassing squeak, and went bright red.

Buck wished he'd retained at least one brain cell that could've told him this was a bad idea before making it to Eddie's house and spilling all his feelings into the air between them.

He was just trying to gather his thoughts into a semblance of an apology when Eddie abruptly stood and closed the distance between them with a single step. Buck's breath caught in his throat; Eddie's hands lifted to his face and cupped his burning cheeks.

Soft. That was Buck's first thought as their lips met. And then he had no thoughts – or at least none that were capable of being put into words. His skin was on fire, his fears were silenced, and he found himself with fistfuls of Eddie's shirt in his hands.

Time blurred as they kissed. It lasted a lifetime; it lasted a second.

Then Eddie pulled back and Buck stumbled, reality crashing down upon him as he clung to the front of his best friend's shirt and stared into those gorgeous brown eyes that could make him forget his own name.

"That was… um." Eddie swallowed nervously and let his hands slip down to rest on Buck's neck. "I mean… You rambled a lot. But… Were you trying to say that, uh, you're in love with me?"

"Didn't I say that?" Buck asked.

"No." Eddie shook his head. "You said a lot, but you didn't actually say—"

"I'm in love with you," Buck interrupted. He felt Eddie's fingers flex against his skin. "I saw you this morning and you were so fucking beautiful it just hit me. I'm in love with you. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you."

Eddie's eyes shone, brimming with emotion.

"Good," he said after quietly clearing his throat. "Because I'm in love with you too."

Heart singing inside his chest, Buck shifted his hands to Eddie's hips and pulled him close. Their bodies fit together like one entity, thrumming in time with each other, and neither of them knew who initiated the second kiss.

-

Tags: (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

@dluoser @taketheplanspinitsideways @loudenthusiastic @wallywise @mxrcjqckspnchqsc

@i-am-married-to-my-fandom @therosesaredying @stillfuckingtired @classtrialguru @speggle

@awesome-igi @natnuszsstuff @olliesrants @crazyfangirlallert @delirium1995

@brah3280 @meanceclosetohell @anythingeverythingallofthetime @izzysbeans @jesuiscenseedormir

@darkrose6578