#''why are you like this??? what is wrong with you? why is everything so hard??''

[surielstea]

Wrapping Wounds

1k celebration request

Pairing: Bodyguard!Azriel x Princess!Reader

Summary: Azriel gets hurt and reader feels guilty, so she visits his bedroom and doesn’t plan on leaving until he’s healed.

Warnings: mention of attempted kidnapping (it’s all fluff though)

1.8k words

My bodyguard was injured. Which is a surprisingly unusual occurrence. Azriel never got hurt, so it was a shock when I opened my bedroom door this morning only to find the grand hallway vacant, void of any brooding male guarding anyone from entering my bedroom. He was always there to greet me with a slight nod of his head, his shadows bringing me a cup of coffee before I could even mutter a word.

Instead, this morning I was met with an entirely different face, one I recognized but hadn't been expecting.

"Where's Azriel?" Is the first thing I say to Cassian, an equally intimidating male.

"He's injured at the moment, I'll be guarding you today." Cassian's words were dutiful and I can't help but frown. I loved Cass, sure, but I couldn't help but wonder why Azriel was hurt.

"So he's in the medical tents still healing?" I ask, stepping from my bedroom and closing the door behind me.

"I believe he's in his bedroom, but you're not allowed—" He starts but he doesn't get to finish before I winnow out of his sight and straight into Azriel's bedroom.

It was wrong to use my abilities against Cassian who was incapable of winnowing but it wasn't as if I was breaking any rules, just visiting an injured friend.

Azriel was sitting on his bed, currently rewrapping a wound on his abdomen.

"You can't be in here," Azriel stated without even taking a glance up at me, yet he still knew. I had to hold back from rolling my eyes at his absurd comment.

"I've been in a male's bedroom before," I scoff but he and I both knew that wasn't what he was talking about. We had been toeing the line of unspoken feelings for far too long now, mere inches away from being more than just professionals but he refused to cross that line and didn't want to drag me with him either.

I gather my skirts in my hands and close the distance between us, crouching down beside him and taking over his job of dressing his own wound, replacing his calloused, scarred hands with my manicured, delicate ones.

"You're not paid enough to get stabbed on my behalf," I grumble beneath my breath, my hair falling into my face as I focus on keeping pressure on the wound.

"Is everything about money to you, princess?" He teased and I just huffed, flicking my gaze up at him in a glare. He mirrors it with a quirk of his lip.

"Nevertheless, I'm making my brother give you a raise," I claim, looking back down to the gauze in my hands, deciding to look into his hazel eyes was too much to bear if I could not have them on me at all times. "Tell me what happened," I say, my words coming out more demanding than I anticipated but I was frustrated with myself for falling so damned hard for someone who was simply paid to be around me.

"So demanding," He grumbles, craning his neck to the side as if he needed to stretch, already tired from this conversation. "All you need to know is that some guys were trying to, take you last night," He gritted out like it was hard for him to stomach, but I brushed it off as the pain from his wound. "And I wasn't going to let them," He finished and I frowned, keeping my eyes pinned to the wrap in my hands as I tightly secured it with a clasp.

"It doesn't hurt too much, does it?" I say, looking up at him. He reaches towards me, his large calloused hand coming to my jaw and then pushing a lock of my hair away from my face.

"It's sweet that you're worried about me, but I’m kind of paid to be your bodyguard." He looks down at me with a stoic expression, a hint of devotion wandering behind his gaze.

“You don’t have to remind me,” I mumble, looking away from his gaze and down to his wound, the one that’s my fault. "If I was there, I would've offered myself rather than see you get hurt," I confess and his brows form a line, an angry frown pulling at his lips.

"Don't say that," He uttered. "No one will ever deserve you, no matter how good of a fight they put up." He claims and a comforting warmth blooms in the depths of my chest. I swallow, rising fully but still having to look up at him.

"I think you put up a pretty good fight," I shrug suggestively and he shakes his head.

"I'm protecting you because it's my job, it's just business princess." He claims and I roll my eyes and sling my arms over his shoulders, which he doesn't back away from.

"Nuh-uh, admit it, you like me," I taunt with a smile spreading over my lips, able to read him like an open book as the corner of his lip twitches downward, a clear indicator that he was debating if he should say something he knew he’d later regret.

"You're technically not working right now, we wouldn't be breaking any rules," I add and he only gazes down at me with a faux pitiful look in his eyes, like a rich man too selfish to donate to my charity.

"I don't think that's how it works." He blinks ever so slowly, taking all of this moment in.

"Az," I huff, walking my fingers down his bare chest.

"Princess," He mocks my tone, catching my wrist in his hand before it could get too low. "Cassian will be in here any second," He gestures for me to step backward with a jerk of his head. I wrap my hands around the back of his neck instead, rebelling his commands and doing the exact opposite. But he didn't push me away, and he didn't complain when I slowly situated myself over his lap.

"Please," I utter, begging was foreign to me but I'd do it if it meant he'd finally just let me love him.

"Please, what?" He plays dumb and this time I do actually roll my eyes, one of my hands going into his hair.

"Please, can you just stop being my bodyguard for five seconds and be my boyfriend?" I mumble and a smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

"It's kind of a package deal," He shrugs, his eyes glinting with amusement, silently laughing at my frustration.

"My gods, just kiss me already," I sigh and a rare grin grows over his features, revealing dimples.

"Always, so demanding," He muttered while leaning in, cupping my jaw in his large hand and pulling me into him.

Our lips connect like the last two pieces of a puzzle I've been working on for years, slotting together perfectly. His other hand was slipping up the slit in my pastel dress, resting at my upper thigh, gripping it occasionally and I can't help but smile at his lips at the action.

He slips his tongue into my mouth at the first opportunity he gets, craving to taste me further than just my lips. I wrap my arms tighter around the back of my neck, attempting to press myself as close as possible, needing the proximity of his warmth more than anything else.

He winced, biting slightly at my bottom lip in silent warning and I realized I pressed against his wound.

"Sorry," I murmur as he moves away from my lips and towards my jaw, kissing a trail down it all the way to my neck.

"We should probably stop," Azriel murmured as if he wasn't the one sucking hickeys to my neck and holding me down with his hand on my thigh.

"Probably," I say, slightly breathless as I recover from the pain of him pulling away from my lips. "I don't want to go," I sigh. "I'm safe in here with you, I don't need any other bodyguard," I explain and he smiles against my neck at my words, kissing the area softly.

A knock on the door makes me jump but he barely flinched, pulling away from my neck and looking at where he had been sucking, admiring the forming mark like an artist staring at their canvas.

"I have an idea, hide behind the door." He gestures to the door and I nod with a cheeky grin, scrambling off his lap and to where he told me to go.

"Az, you in there?" Cassian's voice was heard through the door.

Instead of replying, Azriel simply swung the door open with a tired smile. From my position, I could still see Azriel, but I was out of Cassian's line of sight— unless, of course, he decided to enter the room.

"Is the Princess in here?" I can hear the slight panic in Cassian's voice but Azriel doesn't falter when he replies.

"You already lost her?" The male scoffed, slightly amused.

"It's not my fault, she saw I wasn't you and winnowed away. I figured she'd be with you." I couldn't see the male but I knew his brows were bunched. I sort of felt bad for the male, I debated telling him I was going to stay with Azriel for the rest of the day so he should go far away unless he wanted to hear some things he shouldn't, but I didn't, I let Azriel handle it.

"Calm down, she's probably at the library. This castle is crawling with guards, she's safe here," Azriel reassured and Cassian must've nodded because there was no reply.

"I'm going back to bed, no more interruptions I'm trying to heal," Azriel shooed him away.

"Right, thanks Az," Cassian murmurs then a heavy pair of footsteps recede down the hall and Azriel closes the door, turning to me.

"Having affairs with your protectee and lying to your colleagues, how many rules are you going to break today?" I tease, lifting onto the tips of my toes and twining my arms around the back of his neck.

"I can always ask him to come back," He retorts and I frown, pecking his lips so quickly he barely had time to return the action.

"You wouldn't dare give me up so easily," I claim confidently, my fingers twining into his hair. "You like me too much."

"Way too much." He leans closer, his nose brushing mine. He looks at me for a moment, admiring my features from such a short distance, but as soon as his eyes flick down to my lips he can't help but lean in, our lips pressing together and somehow he made it feel like we've been doing this for decades it was all so natural.

"I'm staying in here all day, I hope you know that," I mumble and he pulls away a fraction to meet my gaze.

"But how will I ever get my rest to heal?" He sighs dramatically and I chuckle.

"I'll tell you what, you can sleep as long as you want, you just have to cuddle with me," I offer, and a soft grin forms on his lips.

"Sounds perfect to me." He closes the distance between us once more.

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[epiphainie]

why do you think bucktommy has been "hitting differently"? i love them don't get me wrong, but i don't think it's been written much differently than buck's previous love interests (yet)

Hi anon, 

I don't think I agree with you there. Well, first of all I think talking about all of Buck's previous romantic relationships as one thing is doing injustice to those different arcs and Buck's character journey. All served different purposes, all were written differently from each other. When I make the distinction that BuckTommy has been "hitting differently" what I mean is that it has what worked in those previous relationships as well as what was lacking. And I think the reason is twofold: the writers being intentional with their choices and how it's all been executed. 

Intention:

Just to be clear, I don't mean anyone has had endgame BuckTommy intentions. Tim has been very clear about how he doesn't plan that far ahead and it's hard to talk endgames with a procedural format like this. But we know they wrote the bi Buck arc with more care, hence being more intentional with their choices than some of his previous relationships. We know that their first kiss had taken multiple shapes before it ended up being this gentle, surprising but still mutual kiss. We know that they wanted to create a story where Buck felt connected to this guy but also safe and light. We know that they wanted to make Tommy a character who can be understanding and lead Buck as he stumbles. We know that Tim thought Lou's buy was important because he didn't want to repeat the same mistake of creating a LI who didn't fit with the rest of the cast etc.

Now you can say some of these fit previous LIs one way or another but it brings me to execution:

Many people talked about this before me, obviously, but I think the execution of everything they planned with Tommy has been great. I mean before their first kiss, this guy goes out of his way and shows up at Buck's to "clean the air" with this virtual stranger because he believes he caused bad blood between him and his friend. Not just that, he reassures Buck about his place in his friend's life and apologizes for making him feel excluded. Now as the audience we know Buck is the kid who'd get hurt on purpose so his dad would pay him attention, he's the guy who sued the fire department because he felt pushed out and isolated, but Tommy doesn't. I think an LI addressing one of Buck's core insecurities in such a direct and reassuring manner before even knowing him is a great way to set up why Buck would feel safe with and understood by him.

Another is that Tommy immediately meets Buck at that vulnerable place when he admits to being jealous of the 118's bond and Buck reassures him back. This for example, is something Abby had done with Buck imo but Buck back then didn't know himself enough to embrace his own insecurities and at a maturity level to address Abby's despite his best intentions. With Taylor, their whole issue was that they couldn't be honest and vulnerable with each other. BuckTommy in this aspect feels different because from the get-go as they're being honest and are on the same frequency when it comes to this.

Episode five, we see them on their failing date, then we see Buck being nervous that he fucked it up in the coffee scene. We've seen this Buck before, when he got into that anxious mode to make sure Abby knew he wasn't cheating on her. Obviously, the context and the stage of the relationship are very different and they both reassure Buck about it not being his fault. Great on both Tommy and Abby.

But then, the immediate follow-up in Abby's case is that she's leaving for abroad. I don't think Abby is being evil or mean with this decision (where I have a problem with is when she starts ghosting him and doesn't just end it, but that's another topic) but again knowing what we know about Buck as the audience, we know this is a big deal. We know this - and later Ali leaving - adds on his issues of feeling like he's not worth it, we know it leads to him basically trapping Taylor because he's so afraid she'll leave. Again, Tommy doesn't. But Tommy gives him a second chance and then shows up at the wedding.

You can say showing up on one date is not proof that Tommy will always be there for Buck, but I think the execution is so good in painting Tommy as very reliable concerning this. Because Tommy doesn't just show up. If the writers' only concern was to write Tommy out of the A plot of episode 6, he could just come to the ceremony and be like "my shift just ended". No, Tommy says he'll try his damnest to make it to the wedding and then he enters the hospital all rushed, haphazard, covered in soot, hair a mess. The dramatique of that entrance immediately validates in the audiences' mind that yeah this is a guy who will do his damnest to be there for Buck. It, again, addresses a core insecurity of Buck's.

Back half of the season doesn't do anything different but we again see Tommy notice Buck's emotional state, meet him in that vulnerable place, and also match his flirty vibe. They're comfortable; it feels earned even in such a short span because of the well execution of their initial arc. This to me what Buck said about Natalia when they thought the show wasn't coming back (and before that relationship was recontextualized as being a dud), about how he feels seen and comfortable etc. Only this time, there's intention, effort, and execution.

One final note in execution - and this is very ymmv because I've seen even from some BuckTommys that they wished they did this differently - I genuinely love how little BuckTommy there is in 7x03. More specifically, I love that Tommy's reintroduction to the series is not through being Buck's potential love interest. He's there in that episode for Hen, Chim, and Bobby. In 10 mins screentime he's quickly established with motives and personality quirks, is involved in the main plot, bounces off of other characters. Again, great execution of a thing Tim intended to do: a love interest who can fill more roles than just the love interest. This basically makes him in his own category in how purposeful and functional he can be as a character in the greater narrative. So yeah I think both as a person in-story and a character, Tommy has been hitting different.

[m-inluv]

KUROO TETSURO is a very busy man. being a sport promoter is a hard-working job in terms of schedule — having to find various endearing sport events and sponsors who will agree to take part and finance these social event — which consumes a lot of time and humain energy.

and while tetsuro is grateful for the way you support and understand that his work takes a lot of him he still feels guilty for leaving you alone most of the time — especially now that you’re six months pregnant with his son.

over the last couple of weeks your husband and his coworkers started working on a very special sporting event, the ‘FIVB Beach Volleyball World Championships’, the double-gender world championship of beach volleyball. despite this championship being in a bit more than a year it is by far the most important worldwide volleyball event happening in the following year.

which is why testuro has been working harder during the last few days, his schedule being filled with meetings to discuss with a bunch of different sponsors — on who gets to sponsor what.

so when tetsuro finds himself having a ten minutes break between two meeting he immediatly turns on his phone, checking for any texts or missed calls from you — to which he does find a few texts.

wifey ♡ babe babyyy testsuro !! pls reply as soon as you can :(

tetsu •ᴗ• sweetheart is everything okay  ? are you hurt ? fuck did you burn the house down ? wifey ♡ babyyyy yuh uh everything is fine !! and i only burnt homemade caramel once :( i just can’t write it over text… call me !!!

the raven-haired man stands up from his seat, excusing himself as he pushes the nearest door open with one hand, the fingers of his free hand swiftly tapping over his phone’s screen as he clicks on your contact id — dialing your number. he then places his phone over his ear, leaning his back against the wall behind him as he waits for you to pick up the phone.

as soon as tetsuro hears some shuffle from the other line of his phone he speaks up, not even letting you greet him properly. “sweetie, is there a problem ?” his tone is worried as he waits for your answer, hoping that everything is fine — that you’re alright.

“tetsu—” you start before letting out a laugh, which kinda helps your husband calm down for a bit. “i told you that everything is fine, you don’t have to worry”

on the other end of the phone you can’t help but smile at your husband’s worry for you, which doesn’t fail to make you remember how much he cares about — something that only increased as soon as the first symptoms of your pregnancy appeared. “what is it then ?” tetsuro’s booming voice immediatly brings you back to earth. “it’s just. . . i have a brilliant idea !” you joyfully tell him. the raven-haired man pauses at your exclamation, searching for any guesses of what that idea might be. . . until a grin appears on his face as he finally comes to realization. “is it another wild craving of yours, princess ?” he lets out a chuckle at your answer, laughing to himself as he hears you sigh from the other line of his phone. “my cravings aren’t weird !” you protest, the pout on your lips evident in your tone, which makes your husband’s grin even wider. “so, i’m craving nachos—” you say before the raven-haired man cuts your sentence mid-way. “oh, from which place do you want it babe ? i can get it delivered at home—”

“no ! i want sweet nachos.” you state, a huff leaving your lips.

your husband stands there, a dumbfounded expression written all over his face as he stares ahead of himself, his brain malfunctioning due to your words. any of his coworkers who would pass by would think that something is wrong with him, like he just heard one of the dumbest things on earth — which he kinda did. “sweet nachos— angel that’s not even a thing !”

“but it is a thing since i just invented it !" you exclaim, your voice full of confidence — as if you didn’t imagine the weirdest ‘dish’ in the whole word. "the base is made of chips — not any kind tho, only the original pringles — with a bunch of m&m’s, reese’s, chocolate syrup and whipped cream.” you say, taking the time to explain this whole snack of yours in details. "whipped cream as to be on top of the chips and in a small cup on the side, okay ?"

tetsuro licks his lips as he notes all of the needed ingredients in his minds, shrugging his shoulders before realizing that you can’t see him and speaking up. "yeah, sure. do i need to stop by the grocery store to get the ingredients or not ?" he asks, which you answer with a simple ‘yes’. He hangs up the phone a few seconds later — after kissing you goodbye through the phone of course — and steps back inside the building for his last meeting of the day.

when your husband finally exits his work building — by 8:45pm exactly — he walks to his car, a white Mercedes-Benz CLE 200 Cabriolet. he opens the front door for himself, dropping all of his papers on the passenger seat next to him. he turns on his car, pressing on a button — making the roof of the convertible disappear inside of the trunk.

after about twenty minutes — and a stop at the grocery store — tetsuro finally parks his car in front of your shared house. he steps out of the car, a brown paper bag in one hand and his stack of papers in the other, a sigh leaving his lips as he pushes onto the front door’s handle, entering your residence.

“i’m home, sweetheart !” your husband calls out to you, taking his shoes off and walking towards the living room.

he smiles as he sees you laying on the couch, your head propped on one of your arms as you watch ‘from up on poppy hill’. he chuckles softly at the sight in front of him, placing his papers on the coffee table and bending over to get a proper look at your face. you glance up at his face when you finally notice his presence. you immediatly lift you head off your arm, a smile making it’s way on your lips as you sit up on the couch, puckering your lips for the raven-haired man to kiss you, which he glady does.

“how was work, baby ?” you ask him, looking up at him while slightly tilting your head to the side. “there’s a some  oyakodon and rice in the kitchen that you can heat up in the microwave and the pan.”

“god, princess, i’m gonna wife you up again. . .” tetsuro mutters, resting his forehead against yours before placing a tender kiss on your lips.

he breaks up the kiss and stands up, affectionately flickering your forehead before walking back to the kitchen, turning the lights on. tetsuro notices the bowl of rice on the counter and grabs it, placing it next to the pan. he tears a bit of paper towel with his fingers, damping it with some water before placing it over the bowl. he turns on the microvage, putting the rice to reheat. your husband smiles when he sees the oyakodon heating in the pan on low heat before turning it higher.

he sighs, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt onto his biceps before turning to the paper bag with the groceries he did ealier. once all of your craving’s ingredients are — finally — placed in front of him, tetsuro can start preparing your snack.

he opens the tub of unflavored pringles before placing some chips onto a plate, some whipped cream on top along with chocolate syrup before scattering m&m’s and reese’s on top of everything. he grabs a small cup, pouring some whipped cream inside.

when the time alarm goes off your husband opens the microwage, carefully grabing the rice cowl — without burning himself — before taking the damp paper off the top of the bowl. He moves the pan off the heat, pouring the runny mixture on top of the white rice that he garnishes with green onion, sesame seeds and a bit of togarashi.

in a swift move tetsuro snatches a pair of chopsticks, placing them between his fingers before grabbing both his bowl and your plate, tuning the lights off before walking towards the living room.

“here you go, sweetheart.” he tells you, handing you your plate while you thank him, your bright smile making your eyes squint and your head tilt.

you slide off the couch, now sitting on the floor as you place a pillow under your ass and behind your back, putting your plate on the coffee table in front of you. tetsuro slips down on the floor next to you, slightly bending his upper-body above the table, gathering some of his food between his chopsticks and taking a bite out of it.

you squeal as you takes one of the chips between your fingers, shoving it inside of your mouth. you can’t help the sigh of contentement leaving your lips at the salty and sweet taste you’ve been craving all day. You take another one, doing a small dance of happiness.

“i gotta say, princess, your food taste was already strange, but now ?” tetsuro says, whistling, only for you to slap the back of his head, a huff leaving your lips as a pout tugs at your lips, only for it to be wiped away by your husband’s lips on yours, to which you gladly kiss him back.

[cookie-crumblr]

Chubby F! Housewife Reader X M!Yandere Streamer OC Jasper

Part 3!

Part 1 Here!

MINORS DNI

CW: fem! reader, reader referred to as she/her, ML! Masturbation, HJ, pet names for reader(pretty, gorgeous, talks of creampies, live streamed torture, blood, gore, murder,

He sat and watched you at first, just watched.

Just like he promised himself.

That thought was thrown out the window the moment you laid over that chaise lounge, what a gorgeous sight you were. Your perfectly voluptuous body wrapped in a silken night robe, why wasn’t this a painting in his bedroom— Hell why not a mural on his ceiling that he could see every single night.

His hand is already in his pants, pulling out his long, pierced cock. He’s teasing the tip and playing with his metal ring. He can’t help but wonder if you’ve ever been with a guy that has their dick pierced… If you’ll be shocked.

Oh just imagining your little innocent housewife reactions to things like that has heat racing in the jet stream of blood that’s rushing to his dick.

“Fuck, gorgeous,” He wishes so badly you were with him.

How he’d fuck you up against this window so hard, your bare tits pressed up against the glass. Instead of staring at you down there, he’d be seeing your husband; shocked at his chubby little wife with her pussy spread wide, sheathing a man that can take better care of her. Best of all her elated expression at everything about it.

That’s the part that has pre mixing in with the lubricant, your expression. He wonders what you’d look like, brows hiked up, biting your lip.

“Oh f-fuck pretty, you’re so gorgeous” He wants you underneath him. Looking up at him with your pretty eyes, your arms hooked around his neck, legs locked around his mid section. He’s gonna fill you up so good. All the way to the brim and over.

He has at least some restraint… Oh~ the second he does fuck you, he’s going to be so pent up, he almost laughs maniacally at what he’s doing; edging himself to a pretty thing he “can’t” have.

~

You’ve been there for a while, and he’s been there watching you. He’s starting to really notice that something is wrong, even without knowing you for very long, he can tell you aren’t just napping anymore.

Jasper leaves for just a minute to collect a camera and cables from another section of the home before returning and setting it up facing you. He labels that one ‘sun room’ in his phone, and then heads out to his very conspicuously inconspicuous white van.

He’s gonna check up on someone real quick…

The tracker he put in your husband’s car pings him at an office building, but when Jasper hacks the security system his office is empty up there… Hmm, how curious indeed.

He calls your husband’s receptionist, and he tells Jasper that he’s in a meeting at the moment.

When he looks at the cameras to confirm it’s funny that he’s just not in the building anywhere visible at least.

He’ll just make a copy of your husband’s phone later. He’s got a feeling… Not all bad. He’s in a state of slight turmoil, on one hand he’d be ecstatic to find out your husband’s cheating or something else terrible so that he could swoop in, but at the same time, he’d rather you not get hurt.

He muses his hair frustrated as he contemplates problems and how to solve them.

For right now, he’s late for a livestream.

~

The clone he made of your phone lights up next to him, and he sees you typing a message. Before he can read it, he watches you erase it, and then it dims once more.

“Hey Y/N! hope you’re alright, what’s been up?” He texts you… Gods, he really shouldn’t have right after… That’s so suspicious! But, he’s so deathly curious! He wants so badly to know what was on your mind, and what you almost shared with him.

His heart thumps, and his face reddens. He puts his hand onto his fist as he waits for a response, watching both phones…

Nothing.

~

It’s been days.

The gnawing boredom has almost fully made its comeback, when your phone clone lights up on a table behind him, he isn’t looking.

“Count backwards from one hundred, everyone~”

“100”

“Fuck him up!!!”

“Can i have his underwear?”

“99”

“99”

“98”

“Oh shit! First time here! i cant wait!”

“Welcome! i hope you enjoy your stay!” his chat is zooming by in front of him, but Jasper is still able to pick messages out and reply to them individually.

“Mmmf! mmmmmmf!!!!” A man with some socks stuffed in his mouth screams and writhes against barbed and razor wire restraints.

Jasper removes the leather strap that was wrapped and tied around the man’s mouth and hits the back of his head to get him to spit the socks out.

Guttural screams fill the van, and the docks they’re parked at. Birds in flocks fly off at the sound.

“Hey Jasper, you got a text from your other phone,” Issac bounds over, dropping them both into his (kind of full) hands.

“Howdy Jasper! sorry i went on a mini vacation! what have you been up to?”

He stares for a second thinking about how he’s been watching you through your windows for the past, oh, little over a week. You definitely did not go on a vacation. But he won’t ask, he doesn’t want to make you think about excuses.

Dev.In clears their throat, knowingly.

“I have to go.” is his answer as he slits the man’s throat and stops the livestream.

Jasper jumps into the driver seat and steps on the pedal.

In his van he’s going so fast the metal is rattling as he practically rolls over on every turn through suburb. Issac constantly “weeee!’s” in the back. In mere minutes he makes it home, and into the house before you can see him.

You arrive as he’s leaned up against the door, heart pounding in excitement making him almost dizzy! It’s exhilarating, he might have to have more torture streams just to give him that added bit of fun to his evenings when he has to feign innocence for you.

You knock on the door, and he answers it instantly. Shit. He’s so stupid, he thinks to himself, hopfully you don’t suspect anything.

Right away he notices that your eyelid is slightly more closed than usual and that you’re wearing a touch more makeup than usual in that spot making it more suspicious.

His mind instantly goes to your husband.

That might just be him pushing his own agenda onto you, so he doesn’t say anything yet.

However, it gets too hard not to when you’re walking away, and he almost desperately wants you to stay.

[hawkinsbnbg]

Everyone thought it was their little game, but it was more than what it appeared to be.

subspace, nonsexual dd/lb, daddy kink

Steve saved Eddie's number on his phone under 'Daddy'. And his contact on Eddie's phone was 'Baby'. Everyone thought it was their little game, but it was more than what it appeared to be.

After having dinner and doing the dishes together, they cuddled on the couch to watch some TV shows.

The night went on without much fanfare, but perhaps it was his long and stressful day at work, or perhaps it was Eddie's fingers combing through his hair; either way, Steve kind of had started drifting at some point without meaning to.

"Daddy?" he mumbled, not understanding why everything felt syrupy all of a sudden.

Eddie's eyes were on him in an instant, "What's wrong, baby?"

It was hard to think when he felt so warmth and safe at the moment.

Rubbing his cheek on the soft fabric of Eddie's hoodie, he glanced up to meet Eddie's patient gaze, "M'thirsty."

With a fond kiss pressed on his forehead, the older man stood up and tugged him gently until he rose to his feet.

"Let's go get you some water, yeah?"

Steve could only nod and trail after his boyfriend as a teary yawn broke out of him.

Once he was fed enough water to soothe his dry throat, Eddie booped his nose to gain his attention.

"What d'you want, baby?" Eddie tucked a stray hair behind his ear.

Sitting on the kitchen counter, Steve hooked his ankles behind Eddie's legs and shook his head with a pout, "Dunno, I-" Another yawn cut him off. "I just wanna be w'you," he admitted softly.

Eddie's face turned gooey at that, "Me too, sweetheart," and leaned in to give him a tender kiss, causing Steve to melt like ice cream under the golden sun.

By the time Eddie guided him upstairs and into their bedroom, Steve was floaty and sluggish—a combination that got him unable to do anything besides listening to his daddy.

As usual, Eddie helped him get ready for bed with gentle hands and practiced ease. From brushing his teeth to changing his clothes, Eddie did everything while Steve only had to follow his instructions.

They had talked about this a lot and been hesitant about whether they could make it work or not. Mostly, it was Steve who always based his value on his usefulness, and thought he needed to work hard to earn his boyfriend's affection.

But time and time again, Eddie had proved him wrong, that Steve deserved to be taken care of, and that Steve could trust the older man to love him unconditionally.

He had been wary at first, and yet, didn't expect it to be so easy to get under, to let himself fall into Eddie's loving arms.

Since then, it became just another special part of their relationship, a safe haven for Steve and even Eddie when life got a little too rough for them.

In a sense, the dynamic had helped them understand each other and also taught them to communicate better.

These days, Steve could let go of his self-control around Eddie without fearing the consequences. And likewise, Eddie could confine in him anything without worrying about being judged.

Steve was aware they were more than boyfriends at this point. That he could take a leap of faith and knew Eddie would always be there to catch him.

"Love you, daddy," Steve whispered once they slipped beneath the blanket with his head pillowed on Eddie's chest.

"Love you more, baby boy," Eddie planted soft kisses on his brow, eyelids, and finally the crown of his head. "Sweet dream, angel."

And just like that, Steve closed his eyes, knowing he was right where he wanted.

Home.

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream as the type of boyfriend to...

Mark Lee ; ride scary rides for you even though he doesn't like it. 

Mark's not a huge fan of scary ride while you're an adrenaline junkie. When you two decided to have an amusement park date, Mark knows that he is bound to ride those scary rides like viking, roller coaster, and space shuttle. You told him that it's okay if you two wouldn't ride those and just enjoy the rides that he can tolerate but Mark wants you to enjoy the date! (it's a waste of money too lol) that's why even if he can feel his soul leaving out his body, he'll be happy to join you in the fun, if it'll make you happy!

Huang Renjun ; carries all your necessities in his bag. 

In the relationship, Renjun's the big bag and you're the small purse. You always justify that all you need is your phone, wallet, and a small tinted balm. BUT Renjun knows that's not the case. So he brings all the necessities that you needed. It started raining? He has an umbrella. Oh, you feel so hot? He has a mini fan. You need a tissue? Yeah, he has a huge roll in his bag. His bag is like Doraemon's pouch, and although it's kinda heavy, he doesn't mind as long as he has everything that you need. <3

Lee Jeno ; brings you home whenever your energy is low during a gathering. 

"Do you want to go home?" is the first thing Jeno will say to you. Both being introverts, Jeno understands whenever your social battery deflates a few hours later in a gathering. While he can hold it further than you, Jeno wants to make sure that he's not the only one who's having fun. SO if he sees you tired, quiet, and on your phone, he knows that your energy is low. Even if it means cutting the gathering short, Jeno is fine with it. What matters is you. He'll bring you home even if you insist you're fine, but in the end, you'll thank your lover for bringing you home early.

Lee Donghyuck ; gives you space whenever you're having a hard time.

Haechan knows when you're in a bad mood. He knows it by the way you enter the apartment without greeting him, the way you removed your shoes aggressively, and going straight to your room and slamming the door loudly. Haechan doesn't get mad whenever you ignore him because he knows that your emotion is just all over your head and you don't want to vent your anger to him. That's why he'll give you space for you to cool down. Letting you inside your room or just giving you a quiet assurance that he's there. Once you're all calm down, you'll go to him and apologize for your behavior, but Haechan only hushes you with a hug and ask you what's wrong. 

Na Jaemin ; brings his jacket so that you won't get cold. 

Jaemin's the warm person while you're the colder one. So the tendency is that you get cold easily! Just even the cold temperature of the night can give you shivers. That's why Jaemin always make sure that he has his jacket with him. Sometimes he wears it even though he's sweating under his shirt but most of the time, he just carries it by his hands. You probably had a collection of Jaemin's sweater and jacket in your closet because of the many times you brought it home but always forgetting to give it back to him. (He's okay with it fortunately.)

Zhong Chenle ; lets you do the silliest thing in public.

Chenle always puts a cool image in public. So casual with the shades and hands in his jeans pocket while you're just as unhinge as you can be. You tend to let your intrusive thoughts win that's why you always do the silliest things in public. Like doing a tiktok trend in public, although Chenle isn't the type to do it publicly, he'll be willing because you want to! Plus it's a couple tiktok trend so it's also a matter of him to flex you and your relationship with him! 

Park Jisung ; try to learn new things for you. 

Dates with Jisung is always composed of trying new things. That's how he shows his love for you! You wanted to try clay pottery? Jisung will find an affordable pottery session so that you two can try. You wanted to bake a cake? He doesn't know how but he's willing to research a recipe just so you can try it! He loves it too because he learns new things and hobbies that he may want to indulge furthermore. Plus, you two always rate the new things you two do and how doable it was. 

[valkyriexo]

Not sure if this is a hurt/comfort request but, I worked out too hard despite my body telling me to stop and ended up throwing up....if y/n did that, bff/bf SKZ would be so upset but probably comfort her right? That's what I'd like to think 🩶

They comfort you when you overwork yourself | OT8

ᑉ³pairing; Boyfriend!OT8 x Reader

ᑉ³genre;comfort, Headcannon

ᑉ³warnings; Implied female reader, nausea (not described just mentioned in Bin's and Seungmin's), fainting, mentions of food, mentions of pregnacy, mentions of anxiety, use of petnames.

ᑉ³authors note; I didnt know if you wanted this to be texts or a drabble so i did them as small drabbles/headcannons. i tried to make it short and sweet! Hope you enjoy :)

╰┈➤ Chan

BF!Chan comes home exhausted after a long day of endless schedules and responsibilities. All he wants now is to be home, to find comfort and peace in your arms. As he unlocked the door to your apartment, he expected to be greeted by your familiar sounds of your laughter or the soft hum of music playing in the background. He knows your always home at this time.

But instead, there was silence.

Frowning, Chan steps inside, immediately noticing the unusual quiet. "Y/N?" he calls out, his voice echoing in the stillness. He puts his stuff down, waiting for a response.

When he hears nothing, worry starts to eat at him. Concern grows as he searches the apartment, his heart pounding faster with each empty room. He checks the living room, the kitchen, and finally heads down the hallway. Then he finds you, huddled on the bathroom floor, your body curled in on itself as tears streamed down your cheeks.

"Y/N?" Chan's voice is full of concern as he knelt beside you, his hands trembling as he reached out to gently touch your shoulder. "What happened baby? Are you hurt?"

You looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, your face contorted in pain. "Chan," you choked out, your voice thick with tears.

Chan's heart races as he cups your face, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. "Hey, hey, it's okay baby. It's okay..." he coos. "Tell me what's wrong. Are you in pain?"

You shake your head weakly, trying to find the words. "I'm just... so tired. I pushed myself too hard, I think….."

His worry turns into a mix of panic and frustration. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well? I could have helped you," he says.

"You should have taken it easy." He scolds gently, his love for you clear in his eyes. "Why do you always try to handle everything alone? Ask me to help you. You don't have to do anything by yourself."

You flinch slightly at his words, and he immediately softens, guilt hitting him. "I'm sorry, love. I just... I can't stand seeing you like this."

Chan quickly helps you up, supporting your weight as he guides you to the bedroom. He lays you down gently, covering you with a blanket before sitting beside you, still holding your hand.

You look up at him, tears still in your eyes. "I didn't want to worry you. I thought... I thought I could handle it."

He sighs deeply, brushing your hair back from your face. "Your health is more important than anything baby. Please, promise me you'll take better care of yourself." As he speaks, he intertwines his fingers with yours, gently caressing your hand with his thumb.

You nod weakly, and he leans down to kiss your forehead. "I'm going to get you some water and medicine, yeah? Just rest, baby"

He returns with a tray delicately balanced in his hands, bearing not just water and medicine, but also crackers and a bowl of sliced fruits. Setting it down beside you, he arranges everything with care, making sure it's within your reach.

"Here, my love," he says softly, offering you the water and medicine first. "Take these, they'll help you feel better."

As you take them, he sets aside the tray and pulls off his shirt, revealing the warmth of his skin as he climbs into bed beside you. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, ready to snuggle and provide you with the comfort and warmth you deserve.

"I love you more than anything, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice filled with genuine tenderness. "Seeing you like this breaks my heart. All I want is for you to be happy and healthy. Please, let me take care of you. I'll do anything to make you feel better."

╰┈➤ Minho

BF!Minho whose heart raced as he practically ran to your apartment, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he approached your door. Without hesitation, he knocked urgently, the sound repeating through the quiet corridor.

You're taken aback by the forcefulness of the knocking, and hurried to open the door. Your eyes widened in surprise as they see Minho standing there, a mixture of relief and concern evident on his face.

"So, it is true. You went home early," he says, his voice filled with worry as he takes in your tired appearance. He steps closer, his hand gently lifting your chin so he can look into your eyes. His touch is gentle yet firm, as if trying to read your emotions and assess your well-being in that moment.

"Are you okay? What happened?" he asks softly.

You hesitate for a moment, but the concern in Minho's eyes prompts you to open up.

"I... I pushed myself too hard," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I got really dizzy during practice, and they sent me home."

Without a word, he steps into your house, causing you to stumble back a little. He turns to face you, his gaze gentle but firm. 

"Y/N," he begins, his voice stern, "I know you're passionate about what you do, but pushing yourself to the point of exhaustion isn't healthy. You need to take better care of yourself."

You lower your gaze, feeling guilty at Minho's gentle scolding.

"But I just wanted to be as good of a dancer as you," you admit softly, your voice filled with sincerity. "I see you always working so hard, and it's like I have to work twice as hard just to be as good as your mark."

Minho's expression softens at your words, his heart sinking lower and lower.

"Oh.. baby.." he says softly. "I never wanted you to feel like you have to measure up to anyone, especially not me. " He pulls you into a comforting embrace, holding you close as if to shield you from any further self-doubt or guilt.

"You know," he continues "I work so hard because I want to impress you, to be someone worthy of your love and admiration. But you, my love, you don't have to do anything. You just breathe, and I'm in awe."

As he holds you close, he brushes his lips against your forehead. "Besides… you're my favorite dancer, and nothing can change that," he murmurs softly.

"I'm sorry if I've ever made you feel like you're not enough," he adds. "Please don't ever feel like you have to prove yourself to anyone, especially not me. You're enough, more than enough, just as you are."

With a gentle smile, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Let me take care of you," he says softly, his voice warm and reassuring. "Why don't you rest while I cook something delicious for you? You deserve to be pampered, my love."

╰┈➤ Changbin

BF!Binnie whose eyes would light up with excitement whenever you mentioned joining him at the gym. He'd practically beam with joy as he eagerly planned out the workout session in his mind.

Eager to impress, you dive headfirst into each exercise, pushing your limits with fervor. Each movement was deliberate, fueled by the desire to match Binnie's pace. With every set, you pushed yourself further, determined to keep up with him. But as the intensity mounted, so did your breathlessness. Your heart raced, and a dizzying sensation began to cloud your focus.

Finally, as you finished another grueling round, he couldn't stay silent any longer.

"Hey, slow down," he said. "You're pushing yourself too hard." With a gentle touch, he placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch both comforting and grounding.

Despite his gentle urging, you stubbornly waved off his concern, convinced that you could handle the intensity of the workout. Ignoring the protests of your body, you pushed through each exercise, wanted to impress him and prove him wrong.

But as the minutes stretched into hours, the strain began to take its toll. Your muscles burned with exhaustion, and a dull ache settled in your joints.

Then, without warning, a wave of nausea hit you, causing your stomach to churn uncomfortably. With a sudden urgency, you broke away from the workout, stumbling towards the nearest bathroom.

Afterwards, You barely had a moment to collect yourself before you heard Bin's voice outside. "Y/N, are you okay?" he called out anxiously.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps as you leaned heavily against the bathroom sink, the cool porcelain providing a small measure of relief against the relentless churning in your stomach.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you managed to call out in a strained voice, "I'm... I'm okay, just... just need a minute." Each word felt like a struggle as you fought to maintain composure in the face of overwhelming nausea.

As the feeling began to subside, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the inevitable conversation awaiting you outside the bathroom. With shaky legs, you straightened up, using the sink for support as you prepared to face him.

As you opened the door, you were met with his concerned gaze, his brows furrowed with worry.

"I told you to slow down," he scolded. "Why didn't you listen?"

Your throat tightened with a surge of remorse as you struggled to find the right words. "I... I wanted to keep up with you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I could do it."

Bin's concern deepened at your admission, his eyes searching yours. But as you faltered under his gaze, his scolding took on a more urgent tone.

"What if you got hurt, Y/N?" he pressed, "You can't do that. You can't put yourself at risk like that."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant hum of the gym. "I really didn't mean to..."

His expression softened at your apology, his features relaxing as he wrapped his arms gently around you, pulling you close against his chest. He pressed soft kisses to your forehead, your temples, and your shoulders.

"I know you didn't," he murmured, his voice softening as time went on. "But please, don't ever do that again. I'm your boyfriend, Y/N. I'm supposed to protect you, but I can't do that if you don't listen."

Yet, beneath the worry, there was an unmistakable depth of love. His touch was gentle, his presence comforting as he held you close

"I just want to make sure you're safe and happy and okay," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "I love you so much, Y/N."

╰┈➤ Hyunjin

BF!Hyunjin who sat inside the dimly lit restaurant, the soft glow of the lights casting shadows across his tense features. He checked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time, his fingers tapping anxiously against the screen as he scrolled through his messages.

"Where are you?" he texted again, his words tinged with worry. "Are you on your way?"

After what felt like hours he sighed. With a heavy heart, he abandoned his seat at the restaurant and hailed a cab, his mind racing with a million questions and worst-case scenarios.

When he arrived at your doorstep, the knot of worry in his chest tightened. With trembling hands, he knocked on the door, his heart pounding in his ears as he waited for a response.

"Y/N? Are you here?" His voice echoed in the quiet stillness of the night. He knocked again, the sound repeating through the empty hallway. "We were supposed to meet for our date. Did you forget?" he said, his voice full of frustration. "You never forget..."

But there was no answer, only silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Hyunjin pushed open the door, his voice trembling as he called out to you.

"Y/N? Where are you?" Panic began to bubble up inside him as he stepped into the interior of your home. 

And then he saw you, lying on the couch, your face pale and drawn, your body shivering. Relief flooded through him at the sight of you, but it was quickly overshadowed by a surge of concern.

Hyunjin's heart leaped into his throat as he rushed to your side, his hands trembling. "Baby, what's wrong?" he exclaimed. "Are you okay? Are you not feeling well?"

His eyes scanned your pale face, taking in every detail with a frantic intensity. The sight of you lying there, vulnerable and unwell, sent a surge of worry coursing through him, drowning out any other thoughts or concerns.

"I'm sorry about our date," you whispered, your voice filled with remorse. "I didn't mean to ruin it..."

But Hyunjin shook his head, his expression softening with understanding. "Forget about the date," he insisted, his voice gentle yet firm. "What matters is if you're okay."

Hyunjin's hand gently cupped your cheek, his touch warm and reassuring as he looked into your eyes. With a shaky breath, you met his gaze, a silent plea for forgiveness shining in your eyes.

"I was working out and overdid it," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't listen to my body telling me to stop."

A crease formed between Hyunjin's brows as he absorbed your words, his concern deepening. "You should have known better than to overdo it like this." His tone softened slightly as he continued, "I care about you, Y/N, and seeing you like this worries me."

"Promise me you'll listen to your body next time," he implored. "I can't bear to see you hurting like this again."

"I promise," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity. 

With a tender expression, Hyunjin reached out and gently pulled you into his arms. "Come here, my pretty girl," he murmured softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

He gently wrapped a cozy blanket around the both of you, ensuring that you were snug and warm against the chill of the night. "There, that's better," he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

As you nestled closer to him, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you, you couldn't help but shiver involuntarily, the cold of the night still seeping through despite the blanket.

Feeling you tremble, he tightened his hold around you, his arms a comforting barrier against the chill. "I've got you, baby," he murmured softly, "It's okay, I've got you."

╰┈➤ Han

BF!Han who watched with growing concern as you attempted to eat the food he had brought over, only to see you struggle to keep it down. The worry lines deepened on his forehead as he observed your distress. 

"Y/N, what's happening?" he asked gently, his voice tinged with concern. "You can't keep anything down. Are you feeling sick?"

You shook your head, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips. "I don't know, Han," you admitted, feeling defeated. "I've been feeling off lately, but I thought some food might help..... I guess I was wrong."

His brows furrowed with anxiety as he took in your pale complexion and the way you wilted before him, your body clearly unable to keep down even a bite of food. "Are you in pain?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly with worry. "Do you need to see a doctor?"

When you didn't reply, he was even more concerned, his mind racing with worry for your well-being.

After a few moments of tense silence, his concern reached a breaking point, and without thinking, the words spilled out of him in a rush of worry.

"Are you pregnant?" he blurted out, regretting it seconds later.

The shock of his question reverberated through the room, your eyes widening in surprise at his unexpected question. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of his words sinking in.

"I... no, Han," you stammered, shaking your head in disbelief. "I'm not pregnant. I just... I've been overworking myself, that's all."

A mixture of relief and embarrassment washed over Han as he realized the gravity of his assumption. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to jump to conclusions. I just... I'm worried about you, Y/N."

Your heart softened at his genuine concern, and you reached out to gently place a hand on his arm. "It's okay, Hannie," you reassured him, offering a small smile. "Thank you for caring. But I promise, I'm okay. I'll take better care of myself from now on."

As you spoke, Han's concern only deepened, feeling a bit guilty for not being able to ease your discomfort or offer a solution to your distress.

"How can i help you baby?," he asked softly. "Seeing you like this... it hurts, Y/N. I hate feeling so powerless."You could hear the anguish in his voice, and your heart squeezed with empathy.

"Han," you said gently, "you being here for me means more than you know. Sometimes, just knowing that you care is enough."

His eyes met yours. "I do care, Y/N," he whispered, his voice laced with sincerity. "More than anything. I just want you to be okay."

Seeing the exhaustion in your eyes, he gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. "Maybe you should rest," he suggested softly. "I'll make you some tea."

He stood up and tucked the blanket more snugly around you, ensuring you were warm and comfortable. As he moved toward the kitchen, you could hear the quiet clinking of the kettle and the rustle of tea bags, his actions filled with tender care

╰┈➤ Felix

BF!Felix whos heart drops when he receives a text from you saying you wouldn't be able to make it tonight. Felix stared at his phone screen, reading and rereading your message, trying to make sense of it. His mind raced with confusion. He knew how much you had been looking forward to the evening. You had been expressing it to him all week, and now there was a sudden change of plans.

You had been the one eagerly counting down the days until tonight, talking animatedly about the plans and the fun you would have. Felix couldn't understand why you wouldn't want to go now, especially after all the anticipation.

After a moment of hesitation, he decided to give you a call, hoping to get some clarity on the situation.

With trembling fingers, he dialed your number, each ring feeling like an eternity as he waited for you to pick up. Finally, on the third ring, he heard your voice on the other end, though it sounded weary and subdued.

"Hey, it's me," Felix said softly, his concern evident in his voice. "I got your message… Is everything okay? I thought you were excited about tonight."

"Yeah, I'm just not feeling well," you explained.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Felix asked gently. There was a hesitant pause on the other end of the line before you responded, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I appreciate it, Felix," you replied softly, your words heavy. "I just... I don't want to ruin everyone's night"

Felix's heart ached at your words, realizing that you were trying to protect him and his friends from whatever was troubling you. He wished he could take away whatever was weighing on your mind and make everything better.

"You could never ruin anything," He reassured you. There was a long pause before you responded, and Felix held his breath, waiting anxiously. "Do you need me to bring you some soup, or maybe some medicine? Is it your head, or...?"

He was desperate to understand, his mind racing through all the possibilities. He couldn't stand the thought of you suffering alone.

Before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him, your voice barely above a whisper as you finally let your guard down. "I just... I overdid it today," you admitted, the words heavy with exhaustion and regret. "I'm sorry, Felix. I pushed myself too hard, and now I feel terrible."

Felix's heart ached at your confession, and he could hear the strain in your voice. "Oh, Y/N," he murmured softly, his concern deepening. "You should have told me sooner. I would've come to help you. Don't apologize, okay? Just focus on resting. I'll take care of everything."

He paused, then added with a gentle firmness, "I'm coming over with some soup and medicine. And I'm staying to make sure you get some rest. "

There was a hint of surprise in your voice as you responded, "You don't have to do that, Felix. Don’t cancel your plans. I know you were also excited to go."

But Felix wouldn't hear any of it. "I want to be there for you, my love," he insisted. "Nothing is more important to me than you. I'll be there soon."

Before you could protest further, Felix was already making arrangements, his mind set on ensuring you were taken care of. The thought of spending the evening out with friends paled in comparison to the need to be by your side.

╰┈➤ Seungmin

Bf!Seungmin who had been looking forward to his lunch break all morning, eager to spend some time with you and enjoy a meal together. But as he made his way to your workplace with lunch in hand, he was surprised to find your desk empty, your coworkers looking equally puzzled by your absence. Concern gnawed at Seungmin's mind as he approached your manager, hoping to find some answers.

"Excuse me," Seungmin began. "Do you happen to know where Y/N is? I brought her lunch, but she's not at her desk."

The manager's expression shifted as they replied, "I'm sorry, she called in sick today."

Seungmin's heart dropped at the news, his concern for you growing stronger by the second. Without another word, he hastily left the office, determined to find out what was going on.

His footsteps quickened as he rushed to your apartment. With each passing moment, his concern for you only grew stronger, and he couldn't shake off the feeling of dread that had settled in his chest.

When he arrived at your apartment, he was met with an empty space, devoid of any signs of your presence. Panic began to set in as Seungmin frantically searched every room, calling out your name in desperation.

But his efforts were in vain, and there was no trace of you to be found.

Pulling out his phone, he dialed your number repeatedly, each call going unanswered. He then decided to reach out to your friends, hoping that someone would have some answers.

One by one, he called each of your closest friends, his voice trembling as he asked if they had seen or heard from you. But each call yielded the same result;

No one knew where you were.

Just as he was starting to lose hope, a familiar voice answered the phone."Seungmin? Is everything okay?" the voice asked, " You dont usually call me."

Seungmin wasted no time in explaining the situation, his words tumbling out in a rush as he desperately sought answers.

"I... I don't know where Y/N is," he admitted. "I went to her work and her apartment, but she's not there. Do you know where she might be?"

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before your friend spoke up.

"I'm so sorry, Seungmin," they said softly. "Y/N was admitted into the hospital last night. She's was really sick."

Seungmin's heart stopped at the news. Without another word, he hung up the phone and rushed to the hospital,

He burst through the hospital doors, his eyes scanning the crowded lobby until they landed on the reception desk. He approached the receptionist, his voice urgent as he demanded to know where you were. The receptionist's expression softened at Seungmin's distress, and they quickly pulled up your information on their computer. With a sympathetic smile, they directed him to the room where you were being treated.

He wasted no time, his heart pounding in his ears as he made his way through the maze of corridors until he finally reached your room. With a deep breath, he pushed open the door, his eyes widening in shock at the sight before him.

There you were, lying in the hospital bed, pale and weak, but still undeniably beautiful. Seungmin's heart clenched at the sight, anger and concern hitting him as he took in your fragile state.

"Y/N, what the hell happened?" Seungmin demanded, his voice full of frustration and fear. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick? Why did you let me worry like this?" He's fighting the tears from falling form his eyes as he rushed to your side.

"I was so worried," Seungmin confessed, his voice breaking. "I thought... I thought I had lost you. No one knew where you were and i..i-i," he stuttered.

Your heart ached at the pain in his voice, and you reached out to him, pulling him into a gentle embrace. "I'm so sorry, Min," you whispered weakly, your own tears mingling with his.

He held you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you as he buried his face in your hair, breathing in your familiar scent. In that moment, all the anger and fear melted away, leaving only the overwhelming relief of having you safe and sound in his arms.

"I... I overworked myself," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "I pushed myself too hard, and I didn't take care of myself like I should have."

Seungmin listened attentively, his grip on you tightening as he absorbed your words.

"I was so stressed and exhausted," you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. "I ended up throwing up so much that I fainted, and... I woke up here."

He held you tighter, wanting to protect you from any more pain.

"They're giving me IV fluids and medication, and I already feel much better," you confessed, trying to ease how bad the situation w as. "But I'm so sorry for not telling you. I didn't realize it would worry you this much."

Seungmin's eyes softened as he pulled back to look at you. "Y/N, you never have to apologize for needing help or for being honest with me," he said gently. "I would rather know what you're going through, even if it's difficult, so that I can be there for you."

"I'm just glad you're okay," he continued "I don't ever want to go through something like this again. Please, promise me you'll always tell me when something's wrong."

You nodded against his chest, feeling the weight of his words settle in your heart. "I promise, baby. I'll never keep anything from you again."

╰┈➤ Jeongin

BF!Jeongin who's eyes widen when you text him a list of medications you need while hes out at the store. He immedicantly texts you back, concerned.

"Hey, Y/N," he said, tapping away at his phone, "why do you need all of this stuff? Are you feeling okay?"

Your response was slow to come, and when it did, it was vague and evasive. "I'm just not feeling great. Please, can you just grab everything on the list?"

Jeongin frowned, his worry growing with each passing moment. He knew you well enough to sense when something was off, and he wasn't about to let you brush off your health concerns so easily.

"I'm on my way," Jeongin replied firmly, determined to find out what was wrong.

But not before picking up what you need, of course.

When he arrived at your place, his arms were laden with bags filled with every type of medicine imaginable. He barged through the door, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you sitting on the couch, looking pale and tired.

"Y/N, what's going on?" Jeongin demanded. "Why do you need all of this stuff? Are you okay?"

You tried to brush off his questions with a weak smile, but Jeongin wasn't having any of it. He knelt down in front of you, his eyes searching yours for answers.

"I just feel... nauseous," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I feel sick."

Jeongin's brows furrowed deeper, his concern intensifying as he listened to your vague explanation. "But why, Y/N? What happened? Was it something you ate? Or do you think it's a stomach bug?"

Your evasion only seemed to frustrate Jeongin further. He had come prepared to help you, but your reluctance to share the full extent of your troubles was testing his patience.

"Y/N, please," Jeongin urged, getting more frustrated by the second. "I need to know what's going on so I can help you. You can't just brush this off like it's nothing."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you felt the weight of Jeongin's worry. You knew he only wanted what was best for you, but the thought of burdening him with your troubles felt overwhelming.

"I... I pushed myself too hard," you finally confessed, your voice barely audible, "and got sick."

"Y/N," he said gently, after a few minutes. "why did you push yourself so hard? You know you don't have to do everything alone, right?"

Tears fell from your eyes as you nodded. You knew he was right, but the pressure to succeed and meet expectations had driven you to ignore your own limits.

Jeongin reached out to gently wipe away your tears. "You don't have to be perfect, Y/N," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. "and it's okay to ask for help when you need it. That's what I'm here for baby. "

His arms enveloped you with a tenderness that was almost palpable. His touch was gentle, as if he feared even the slightest pressure might cause you discomfort. With infinite care, he cradled you against his chest. Feeling his lips against your skin, you couldn't help but close your eyes, savoring the moment of intimacy shared between you. 

With a soft sigh, Jeongin finally broke away, though his touch remained gentle and reassuring. He reached beside him, grabbing hold of a multitude of bags and packages, their contents carefully chosen with you in mind.

"I brought you this," he said softly, as he began to unpack the items he had brought. "And this... and this... and... well, a lot of things, really."

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of the array of items spread out before you. There were medications and remedies for your illness, carefully chosen to help ease your discomfort. But amidst the practical items, there were also thoughtful additions—a plush teddy bear, your favorite snacks, and a variety of drinks to keep you hydrated.

"Jeongin, you really didn't have to do all this," you murmured.

But Jeongin simply shook his head, his eyes filled with sincerity as he met your gaze. "I did it because I love you, Y/N," he said softly, his voice unwavering. "And I always want to make sure you're okay."

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[m1ckeyb3rry]

Hello,

I have a writing prompt for Michael Kaiser (Blue Lock): Kaiser gets into a pr relationship with an actress and they eventually bond and fall in love.

I think he would have a hard time because of his feelings of worthlessness, but this guy has so much potential, I swear, I love him so much.

If you want to go for a "dark side of Hollywood" type of concept, imagine: a young girl who was raised under the pressure of becoming "the perfect star" and surrounded by the chaos of the industry (Idk, the movie Black Swan comes to mind, or the typical representation of Marilyn's life, something along the lines). I think he could bond with someone who is in a similar mind space as him, but who externalizes it differently, remaining kind and such. He definitely needs someone who is empathetic and can see through his insecurities, and I really like the concept of two characters who are hurt helping each other heal.

If you don't want that much drama, scratch the idea of a hurt oc. Think about someone with an "entrepreneur" mindset: someone ambitious, confident, and level headed, who (again) is empathetic and would call him out and help him grow (I'm thinking about sae, but emotionally competent lol).

You don't really have to go for any of this though, it's just meant to get you inspired to write something for my boy Kaiser. I hope it's not too much. Also, there's no rush at all!!

Thank you in advance. I hope you have a good day 🩷

── THE INSTRUMENT

Synopsis: Michael Kaiser is like a rose, and you are the songbird he cannot bear to lose.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.8k

Content Warnings: fake dating trope, implied/referenced abuse, call me tabito karasu the way i assassinate kaiser’s character in this, open ending, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…

A/N: hiiii anon ty for requesting!! i hope that i wrote kaiser in a somewhat satisfactory way 😫 this is my first time writing for him so idk if i got him right 😓 also i have NO idea why but for some reason i decided to write this in the present tense which i literally have never done?? so if it sounds off that’s why 💔 i’m so sorry i really don’t know what possessed me SKDJFSHKL

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

It’s hot and like a bruise, your first phone call with Michael Kaiser. He’s that brand of aggravating and just shy of painful to speak with; morbidly, you wish for the conversation to manifest as some kind of actual injury, perhaps on your upper arm, so you can poke at it until it is tender and blooming. But of course, that sort of thing isn’t possible, so you amuse yourself by tapping your fingers against the counter and considering what you might eat for dinner.

“Did you hear me?” he snaps when you do not respond to his proposition immediately. He speaks with an accent, clipped and short, lending severity to his words even when he’s saying nothing of note. “Miss L/N. It’s in both of our best interests to cooperate.”

He’s not wrong about this. It’s the only reason you’ve stayed on the call for as long as you have — it’s in your best interest. It’s the same for him, too, and the thought almost makes you laugh, because who would’ve expected your interests and his to ever align?

“Of course I heard you,” you say, twisting open your bottle of water, taking a sip and idly wondering if he can hear an accent when you speak, too. It’s difficult for you to notice your own, but maybe to him, you sound as odd as he does to you. “You should learn patience, Mr. Kaiser. Such a heavy request you’re making of me, and yet you demand my answer immediately?”

He huffs. “It’s not something you need to dwell on.”

“It might be,” you say, though it’s not at all. Your mind was made up the moment he asked; everything after that has been nothing more than a ploy to irritate him. You’re good at that, at irritating people. Michael Kaiser is not an exception.

“Miss L/N,” he says again, something like a darker version of pleading creeping into his tone. “Your answer. Now.”

“Well, you already knew before you asked, didn’t you? Naturally, I’ll do it,” you say. “It’s a mutually beneficial partnership. Though I expect you to really try your best, Mr. Kaiser, or else it’ll all be for naught.”

“I could say the same to you,” he says.

“Between the two of us, who is the actress?” you say, chuckling when he is silent. “I am sure that I will be convincing. It’s you who I worry for. Hiding your true feelings has never been one of your strengths, has it? Or you wouldn’t be speaking to me at all.”

“Shut up,” he says after a moment has passed. “I doubt your acting skills are anything to brag about.”

“I know you’ve watched my movies,” you say, and when he doesn’t refute this, you beam. “Have you really?”

“Only because someone I know suggested I should,” he says. “If I want to love you, then I have to understand you. That’s what he told me.”

“And what did you think?” you say.

“I thought that I don’t plan to love you at all, and then I told him as much,” he says, the force of his eye roll transmitting even over the phone. You’re not sure if he’s acting deliberately obtuse or if he really thinks you care about this inane conversation he’s describing, but either way you sigh, because his answer is so telling of his personality.

“I was talking about my movies,” you say.

“I don’t prefer the genre,” he says, and then he’s hanging up with a promise to call you later, if he is so inclined. He doesn’t tell you not to call him, but you feel like he implies it, so you vow to set your phone aside and pay him no mind for the rest of your evening.

I’m dating Michael Kaiser, you type in the body of your email to your manager, who you are certain will be so delighted by this news that he will combust spontaneously upon hearing it. You want to type it again, this unbelievable turn of events, so you do. I’m dating Michael Kaiser. Then you delete the repetition, reverting it once again into a formal email, instead of a giddy celebration over an event which should not prompt giddiness or anything resembling it.

It’s a relationship meant to salvage his ruined reputation and boost your career in one fell swoop, and so it’s a relationship that can only work if it’s formed between you two in particular. He, who is a foul-mouthed soccer prodigy, known better for his crass treatment of others than any actual skills he may possess, and you, a rising star who will do anything to be famous and are already of a serviceable status to be seen with him.

Despite your burst of excitement, the prospect of dating Michael Kaiser isn’t actually a thrilling one. The rumors of his horrid demeanor aren’t rumors, and you know this well, albeit through secondhand accounts. Cruelty is the way that he operates, his so-to-speak basal mode, and because it is so intrinsic to his being, you do not fancy that he will deviate from that malicious rule, even for you.

But you are accustomed to a false existence. Donning a facade and masquerading as a person who you are not is the only thing you are good at, are good for, and this time is no different than every other. You will put on the mask of a woman who is loved by Michael Kaiser, who has tamed that mad emperor and turned him into her sweet pet, and you will once again fool the world into believing you.  

He’s doing an interview today. You’re only aware because he texts you right before and tells you to turn on the TV to a channel you’d never choose if you had a say in the matter. But you’re intrigued and he refuses to explain further, so you do as he commands and find yourself watching as he reclines back in a leather armchair and smirks at the host, who’s clearly nervous.

She’s pretty, her hands shaking but her expression serious. You’ve never seen her before, which means she’s new. Of course, that’s not a surprise; only someone very inexperienced or very stupid would invite Michael Kaiser to their show, and she does not seem to be particularly stupid, so her affliction is the first. 

“Um, Mr. Kaiser, it’s a pleasure to have you with us,” she says, like she cannot quite believe that he is actually there, or like she is afraid of what he might take offense at, or some combination of the two.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he says, all roguish and self-assured, which is such a contrast to his typically surly demeanor that you have to commend the girl for keeping her composure.

They speak at length about his soccer career, throwing around words you do not understand and do not care to. It’s so boring you almost power down the television and tell him you think as much, but then the girl clears her throat, her face turning a comical shade of red as her fists clench the paper she’s been reading off of.

“This last question is from our viewers, but it’s personal, so if you don’t want to answer, then it’s not a problem,” she says, squirming in her chair, probably hoping he does not humiliate her. It will be bad for her career if he does, even if by now everyone knows what kind of person he is.

“Go on, then. I feel like we’ve built a rapport here, so I don’t mind it as much if it’s from you,” he says. It’s a perfectly packaged sentiment. His PR team must have tortured him into this new persona. You try to imagine it — it’s definitely a humorous thought, picturing the Bastard München representative slamming Michael Kaiser’s face into a bowl of water for every snarky comment he makes. Unrealistic, though. They would never risk compromising his performance like that.

“There’s rumors that you’re seeing Y/N L/N, the actress. A source who claims to be close to you both mentioned it online, and people can’t stop talking about the possibility. Neither you nor Miss L/N have addressed it, though, and our viewers were hoping you might…?” She cringes back, already preparing for one of his tirades, but he only smiles genially and winks at the camera. You remind yourself to tell him later that he’s laying it on too thick, even if you are enjoying this new character that he’s playing up for the sake of it.

“Y/N L/N? I’m shocked that you think I’m handsome enough to date someone like her,” he says. Your phone buzzes — it’s your manager, crowing about how impressed he is with your ‘boyfriend’ and his presence of mind. 

“So it’s a no?” the interviewer says, almost hopefully. He’s mysterious when he shrugs, mysterious and more than a little coy, as if she’s flattering him and he’s too shy to accept the praise.

“If Miss L/N ever deems me to be worthy of her, then it’s a yes in a heartbeat,” he says. It’s an excellent setup for his redemption, and the girl plays into it so beautifully that you tell your manager to send her flowers or some chocolate at the earliest possible opportunity.

“I think that you’ve shown yourself to be an excellent candidate today,” she says.

“Have I? I’ve really been trying to prove myself,” he says. Dreamy sighs ripple through the live studio audience. Someone whistles. It’s all very romantic and fairy-tale-esque, although he is far from being any kind of prince.

“You’re doing great,” the girl assures him. “I’m sure that, if Miss L/N is watching, she’ll have no choice but to be smitten.”

“If she’s watching? Oh, the thought didn’t even cross my mind,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. You shouldn’t have doubted him and his audacity; he’s fallen into the role as if he were born to play it. “How embarrassing. I’ve just confessed to her on live television without even knowing if she’s interested…”

He’s actually blushing. You are doubly awed — he’s a natural-born talent. It’s a shame that he’s devoted to soccer; he could make it out like a bandit in the acting industry.

“No, no, don’t be embarrassed. How could she ever reject someone like you?” she assures him. How, indeed! At the moment, you are so pleased that you could kiss him. He’s better than any co-star you’ve ever had to work with, in that he is making your job exponentially easier instead of exponentially more difficult.

“If she really is watching, then I can only pray she heard you say that part,” he says, waving in greeting, presumably at you. “Hello, Miss L/N. I really admire you, so if you find me at all agreeable, then I would quite like it if you would say yes to the date I’m going to ask you on.”

He’s made the world swoon and your social media mentions triple. People are begging you to say yes, to give him a chance, to see how he has changed. They want to live through you, and you will let them.

When he calls you, you tell him you were thrilled by his performance. This causes him to shoot back that he finds you insufferable and condescending, to which you say that it’s what makes you and him such a perfect pair. Then you recite an address, and he asks you what you’re going on about. You answer that it is the place where you will have your first date, and then you hang up before he can respond, just so that you can deny him the chance to do it to you first. 

Cameras flash in your faces as you enter the restaurant your manager has booked a reservation at. Michael Kaiser’s arm is wrapped around your waist, and it’s nauseatingly domestic, the kind of scene that would be the cover for one of those coming-of-age movies your agent loves booking for you. You wait for the frantic sound of camera shutters to slow, and then you tug on his sleeve.

“What is it?” he says. It’s quiet enough that no one else can hear, which is why it’s devoid of any warmth, but you are unruffled.

“Your tie,” you say. “It’s not crooked, but we will pretend that it is, and I’ll fix it so that there is something sweet to accompany the tabloid articles that will come out tomorrow.”

Your hands reach for his neck, and he does something you do not comprehend — flinching back, he shakes his head. When he realizes he’s done this, he grits his teeth, like the anger can make up for the temporary weakness. You do not press the issue, merely furrowing your brow and gazing up at him, doing your best to ensure that your eyes remain soft, so that the exchange is not misinterpreted by the parasites around you.

“No,” he says. “Do something else, but leave my tie alone.”

“Alright,” you say. It’s not sensible for you to argue, and anyways it doesn’t matter much what you are doing, as long as you are doing something. Humming to yourself, you adjust the lapels of his jacket. The cameras go off again. You pretend like you do not notice, like the world consists of only you two, and then you interlace your fingers with his, allowing him to drag you into the restaurant behind him.

It’s your turn to be interviewed. You’re wearing a dress, your legs crossed at the ankles — it’s demure and practical and prevents anyone from leering at you, so it’s been a habit of yours for quite a while. The interviewer is female, though, which calms you a bit. She’s older, around your mother’s age, and the wrinkles on her forehead remind you that you should call your parents and arrange for them to meet your doting boyfriend.

“Miss L/N, I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am to finally meet you!” the woman says. You think her name may be Anne, but she hasn’t introduced herself to you yet, so you’re not certain.

“You are too kind. If anything, it’s an honor for me to be here,” you say. The audience really likes that, when you are humble and shy and so darling. It’s palatable and easy for them to digest, or that’s what your manager tells you. 

“Tell us about your upcoming projects,” she says after giving you the appropriate amount of praise for your charming personality.

“I’m currently shooting a new romantic comedy, but I’m afraid it’s all very hush-hush, so I can’t say too much about it. I think you all will really enjoy it, though, and I’m looking forward to the day that we can discuss it at length,” you say. 

The conversation goes on like that for a bit, but you know she’s going through the motions because she has to, not because she wants to. There’s only one question she cares to ask, but if she just talks to you about your boyfriend and not your own accomplishments, then she’ll be blasted online as an anti-feminist. You hear quite frequently that this is akin to suicide in the world of marketing, so you can’t blame her.

That doesn’t stop you from having some fun. When she’s exhausted every possible avenue of questioning you about your future plans and past successes, you make as if you’re going to stand up and leave. Panic leaps across her face, and you snicker.

“We’ve spoken at such length about my acting career. You can’t possibly have any more questions about it, hm? You probably know more than my manager does!” Your attitude is balanced out by the joke. The audience laughs. It’s a fine line that you walk, but if you do not have the chance to act sharper every now and again, you believe you will die — internally if not externally — so you take such risks when you can justify them to yourself.

“You’re dating Michael Kaiser now, aren’t you?” she says. It’s a rancid curiosity she hides with a motherly type of concern. You brush off your legs, recross them, and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I am,” you say. You don’t have to play the games that he did; you both are established now. Official. A bona-fide couple. Anyways, it’s more appealing if you are outright with it.

“How has that been? You’ve really made a difference in that young man’s life, it seems,” she says.

The best way to lie is to tell the truth. “Yes, I suppose I have, but he has made an equal difference in mine. He is as good for me as I am for him; truly, I never understood what it meant when my parents called each other their ‘better halves’ until we met.”

In an hour, there will be thousands of posts online about this. If Y/N and Michael break up, then I don’t believe in love anymore! Maybe soulmates are real! Couple goals! These are the kinds of captions you are anticipating. The two of you will send screenshots to one another and laugh about how gullible the world is, and then you will strategically plan which comments to like and posts to favorite so that your message goes through. That’s the extent of your relationship with him, really, at least when the two of you are alone. The detachedness makes things much easier than they otherwise would be.

“There’s a popular theory going around that the two of you have had a secret wedding already. Is it true? Am I speaking to Mrs. Kaiser at the moment?” she says, eyes glittering like a vulture’s. She’s ready to pounce on any hesitation, any brief indecision that you might show, but you have spent more time in the spotlight than in your own parents’ home, so you don’t even waver.

“Marriage! I think we’re a bit too early in our relationship to be considering such things, and a bit too early in our lives to be rushing into major decisions like that,” you say. “If and when the time comes, you’ll be the first to know, but it won’t be for a while.”

It won’t be at all, actually. This relationship is not going to last for more than another month. Once the buzz surrounding you two dies, you and he will quietly split. It’ll be as if you never met in the first place.

Your phone rings as you’re leaving the studio. The caller ID says that it is Michael Kaiser, and the thought that he was watching your interview in the same way you watched his makes you feel odd.

“Hello?” you say.

“I’m not gonna marry you. Never-fucking-ever. If you’re expecting a ring, then put it out of your mind.”

“I wasn’t,” you say. “How else would you have liked me to answer that question?”

“Fuck if I know.”

Neither of you hang up on the other — you don’t think you can summon the wherewithal to, which is out of character for him but typical for you — though you both also don’t speak any further. He stays on the line while you drive home, breathing softly like he is sleeping, but you are sure that he is not. The point of it is lost on you, but then you drive into a tunnel and the call ends on its own, so it’s moot anyways. 

Your parents are excited to meet Michael Kaiser. They’ve read up on him extensively, watched all his interviews and even his game highlights. Your mother calls you the night before just so she can gush to you about how handsome he is, how you’ve really done well for yourself this time around. Her approval is nice to have, though superfluous, like a luxury soap or perfume. 

Your father is the one who suggests you all go golfing. You don’t know how to play, and neither does your mother, but you recognize it’s his attempt at connecting with who he thinks is your boyfriend, so you accept. You’re not sure if Michael Kaiser knows how to play golf, or really anything besides soccer, but he is game enough to come that you suppose he must.

It’s warm out, the sun beating down on your father’s brow as he lines up the ball with his club. Michael Kaiser stands on his left, and you think he’s somehow beautiful in this lighting. Not beautiful how your many attractive coworkers are, but in a manner which is distinctly him and therefore utterly irreproducible. His body is lean and graceful, his hair shaggy and gold, though he’s dyed the tips blue in what you’re sure is a statement. The shade matches his eyes, and also the inked roses on his neck. You have long ago come to the conclusion that the flowers are also a part of that same statement, but you have yet to discover what that statement might be. 

“He’s an improvement from that last boyfriend of yours,” your mother says, leaning back so that she can pour the last few drops of soda from her empty can into her throat. You and her are sitting together in the golf cart, seeking refuge in the shade of its plastic roof, sharing the drinks that your father had bought for himself and forgotten about the instant he stepped onto the golf course.

“He is,” you say. That’s not an exaggeration, nor is it something incredible. Your last boyfriend was an old classmate of yours who loved your celebrity more than he loved you. Michael Kaiser doesn’t love you, either, but he is honest about it, and you do not love him back, so there is no resentment between you and him.

“I like the way he looks at you,” your mother says. There’s a hiss as she opens a new can of soda. It’s a vice, but whenever you remind her of it, she dismisses you. She wants to have fun while she’s on this earth, apparently. Maybe drinking five cans of soda in one sitting means her life will be shorter, but life without soda isn’t worth living anyways, or something like that. The reasoning is stupid, but you know she is loyal to it, so you have to accept it. “It’s refreshing. So gentle. You’ll be talking to someone else, and he’ll just be staring at you like he can’t quite believe you’re his.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” you say. 

Your mother is about to say something else, but she is interrupted by a loud whoop. Michael Kaiser has hit a hole-in-one, and before you can tell him to stop embarrassing himself, your father is cheering, throwing his arms around him and calling him son.

“Your father likes him, too,” your mother said. 

“Oh, he needs to stop that! I can’t believe he’s making things so awkward,” you say, getting up to reprimand him before realizing that there is an entirely foreign sheen to Michael Kaiser’s eyes as he rests his chin on your father’s shoulder. He is not quite smiling, but it is a close approximation of the expression, and when your father ruffles his hair and says that it may have been beginner’s luck but he’s proud regardless, the curve of his lips becomes deeper.

You don’t understand, but you don’t need to. You may have facilitated it, but the moment belongs to him, and your presence is as unwanted as it is unnecessary.

You sit back down and take a sip of your mother’s soda. She grins knowingly and says that you look like you are in love, too. You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth, so you hum noncommittally and say that you might be.

You are growing fond of Michael Kaiser. It isn’t a slow realization — actually, it hits you very suddenly one day. He hands you a bouquet of flowers before opening the passenger door of his car for you. You ask him why he’s brought you peonies instead of roses, and he says it’s because he despises roses. It’s such an absurd answer and he says it with such a straight face that you have to cough in order to disguise your choked laughter. 

“Those must be some other kind of flower, then,” you say, pointing at but not touching his tattoos, at the delicate petals which fold over his pulse, azure and bright and silky. 

“No, those are roses,” he says, his knuckles growing white on the steering wheel. Normally, you wouldn’t ask further, but today you want to prod at his bruise of an existence, so you turn the music down and hug the peonies to your chest.

“But you despise roses,” you say.

“It’s a good reminder,” he says. “No flower lies quite as well as a rose does.”

That is when you are certain that you are partial to him. It is an unavoidable fact and also a treacherous one, but true notwithstanding. 

You put the peonies in a vase of water when you get home that night and hope they never die, although you know that they will be gone within the week. It’s how time works. The peonies will die and you two will break up and you’ll have nothing but a bare kitchen counter and thoughts of his intricacies to remember him by. 

There are no paparazzi around on the night when he wraps your hands around his throat. You are alone with him, sequestered away in the living room of his mansion, a bowl of popcorn shoved between the two of you while a movie plays in the background. This seclusion defeats the original purpose of the relationship entirely, but you sense that that original purpose is no longer fully applicable, so you do not refuse when he calls you and demands you come.

There’s a blanket tossed over your legs, the brilliant colors of his soccer club’s emblem faded from repeated washes. It’s warm, and if you were not busily eating most of the popcorn, you’d pull it up around your shoulders. As for Michael Kaiser, he’s facing the screen, his hair tied back in a knot, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and reflecting the visage of the lead actress as she laughs. You observe him as you snack. You’ve seen this movie before and didn’t really like it, so you’re not missing much. He’s more interesting by far.

“I know that woman,” you say, so that he has to acknowledge you.

“Hm,” he says.

“She’s a jerk,” you say. 

“Sounds like your kind of company,” he says. You scoff, because he’s not wrong. He keeps watching the movie, and you keep watching him, until a thought occurs to you.

“Can I call you Michael? Even when it’s just us two,” you ask. He purses his lips. The actress screams. Her character has just died, but the scene is poorly shot and even more poorly acted, so it’s not as heart-wrenching as it should be. You would’ve done better, but your agent doesn’t want you taking any gory roles, and your manager agrees. In his professional opinion, it’ll ruin the doll-like persona you’ve spent so long cultivating. He’s probably right. It’s hard to adore a doll once you’ve watched it die so gruesomely.

“You can do whatever you want,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, swallowing another mouthful of popcorn, the salt lingering on your tongue long after the popcorn itself is gone. “Michael.”

“Yes?” he says.

“Nothing,” you say. “I just wanted to say your name.”

“Okay,” he says. “Y/N?”

He’s never called you that in private. Of course, when you’re out and about, he must refer to you with such familiarity, but in private you’ve never been anything but Miss L/N. It’s a change but a good one. You don’t want to ever be Miss L/N again. Not to him.

“Yes?” you say.

“I’m trying to watch this movie,” he says. “It has high ratings, so be quiet and allow me to finish.”

“It’s shitty,” you say, yawning and leaning back against the mountain of pillows you’ve created for yourself. “Overly gratuitous with its use of fake blood.”

“Right, because that’s a cardinal sin,” he says dryly.

“Sorry, but it’s hard to enjoy films when you know how they’re made,” you say. He picks up the remote and pauses the movie. You blink, because that’s about the last thing you expected from him. Then he turns the TV off entirely and you realize you’ll probably never be able to predict what he does next, so you should stop trying already.

“I know how movies are made,” he says.

“Did you have a secret acting career you never told me about?” you say. It’s a joke, but you also wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. He’s taken to performing like a fish takes to water, and every day you tell him he should quit soccer and devote his life to cinema because of this uncanny skill.

“Not me, but my mother was an actress, and my father was a director,” he says. 

“Was?” you say.

“Maybe they still are,” he says. “I don’t know. We’re not on speaking terms.”

“Why not?” you say. He takes your hands in between his, and you can make out immediately that his instinct is to hurt you, to press his fingertips into your wrists so hard that they leave marks. It’s to his credit that he fights back the urge, fights it back and arranges your palms against his carotid arteries. His jaw clenches and his pupils dilate as he waits for you to realize; when you do, you rip your hands away for fear of wounding him further.

“Don’t pity me,” he instructs you, unpausing the movie like nothing happened. “And don’t ever bring it up again.” 

Now that you have his permission to refer to him only by his name, you develop a strange fascination with saying it. He’s amused by your new fixation, answering you in a lilting tone every time you call for him.

According to him, you are like a small nightingale, always warbling, always happy, fluttering around beside him and changing his mood for the better. Well, if you are like a nightingale, then he is like a dog, and you tell him as much when you are sitting across from him at a coffee shop.

“A dog?” he repeats, his face pinching. He’s just taken a swig of the black coffee he always orders, but you know his disgusted expression isn’t a symptom of the beverage’s bitterness. “Take that back.”

“Not in a bad way,” you say. Your own drink is sweet, so you sip on it slowly to prevent a stomach ache. “I’m not calling you pathetic. I just mean that you are amiable and lively. It’s a compliment.”

“It’s not who I really am,” he says. “Have I deceived even you? Amiable? Lively? Remember why this entire scam began in the first place — because I am neither of those things.”

“Right,” you say. “A peacock, then. Terribly vain and entirely alluring.”

He relaxes and raises his cup to his mouth again. He’ll be up late tonight, he always is when he has coffee, but it never stops him from drinking it. “That’s better.”

The reminder that whatever you have with him is not real stings more than it should. You throw away your drink almost untouched, which does cause him to raise an eyebrow, but thankfully he refrains from commenting. It’s a relief, because you don’t even know how to explain it to yourself, let alone him.

He walks you to your front porch and waits with crossed arms as you fish for the key in your purse, shoving it in the lock once you have it in your grasp. His farewell when you open the door is stilted and abnormal, so you stop him with a hand on his arm before he can go.

“Michael,” you say. You’ve never said his name like this before. It comes from a place raw and deep within you, a place that you are certain is purple and black like a wound. You say it like you love him, and you think it must be because you do.

“Yes?” he says. It’s the way he always responds to you, his voice like a song, a small smile on his ordinarily strict face — though today, he is not smiling. Instead, he is frowning, like he has come to an understanding that he would have rather not reached.

“Never mind,” you say. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he says. He drives away, his car disappearing around the corner, leaving you standing alone in the still-open doorway and wondering how you will survive the day when he disappears permanently. 

You’re not sure what it is about him that makes pretending difficult, but suddenly, it’s a struggle for you to maintain your aloof front. You find it disconcerting, that he has taken this aspect of your identity and rendered it entirely null and void; it’s even more disconcerting that he has done it unwittingly and unsympathetically. If you loved him any less, you would hate him, because he has stolen who you are and left you blind and fumbling, but you fell for him, and the way you landed broke something fundamental, so that it is impossible for you to get back up. 

“I think that I love you,” you say. You are on his couch again, and there is a movie playing again, which is all too similar to a past scenario that you think about when you are lonely. Tonight, it’s some soccer documentary that you find so tedious you are driven to irrationality. 

He drops the glass of water in his hands; you reach out and catch it before it can spill, setting it on the table in front of you. 

“What?” he says. You shrug.

“I love you,” you say again, and you’re flippant about it because you’re not telling him in the hopes he loves you, too. In fact, you know that he does not, so you are using him as a confessional; after all, the minimum he owes you is sharing the burden of this sin.

“There’s no one around,” he says. “You don’t have to lie. It won’t gain us anything.”

“It hasn’t gained us anything in a long while,” you say. It’s true — your relationship isn’t trending anymore, and most of your dates are in locations where you will not be recognized. 

He stands up. The documentary continues as he paces, and a referee blows a whistle while he tangles his fingers in his hair and pulls. You stay on the couch, your eyes following his erratic movements, your hands folded in your lap.

“No, you don’t,” he says.

“I don’t what?” you say.

“You don’t love me,” he says. He wants to sound callous, you are sure of it, but the effect is lost on you. He sounds more lost than anything.

“But I do,” you respond. “Who are you to tell me I don’t?”

“Don’t,” he says. “Stop it. This instant.”

You laugh incredulously. “Do you think it’s that easy? I wouldn’t feel like this in the first place if it was.”

“Why?” he says. He’s still pacing. It’s like watching a tiger in a zoo. You want to study him, but he demands your attention in a different way. “Y/N. Why me? Why at all?”

“The reasons don’t matter, do they? I can tell you, but they won’t change anything,” you say, shrugging. “If you find yourself in the kitchen, bring water back for me. I’m thirsty.”

“Drink mine,” he says, pointing at the cup you had narrowly saved from disaster. “And quit your avoidance. Tell it to me plainly. Why?”

“Because you are you,” you say once you have drained half of his glass and your tongue is not quite as papery. “It’s a series of things; there’s not just one concrete reason. You hate roses and only drink black coffee. My mother thinks you’re handsome and my father is convinced you’re a golfing genius. You are a dog but also a peacock and then again an emperor. Don’t ask ridiculous questions and expect me to answer them when I cannot.”

“I’ll hurt you,” he says. “I’ll hurt you, Y/N, and I don’t — I don’t want to. You’re the only one who I don’t want to hurt, so just give up. It’s for the better if you do.”

“You won’t,” you say. “I don’t think you can.”

“Of course I can,” he says. “It’s the one thing I’m capable of. The only way I know how to love someone is by hurting them. I’ll do the same to you if you let me, and if you’re telling the truth, then you will let me.”

“Because I love you?” you say. “You think I’ll let you hurt me because I love you? For shame, Michael. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Please,” he says. It’s a word he’s never said, not to you and not in his life. Its weight hangs before you, pulsating in the air like it’s tangible. “If I love you, I’ll destroy you. And then you’ll leave, and it’ll destroy me.”

It’s a selfless desire that he’s disguising as a selfish one. You’re good at pretending, but you’re not good at telling when others are. That much is obvious, because if you had any talent at the latter then you would’ve seen that he’s loved you for as long as you have loved him, maybe longer. He loves you and so he’s urging you to flee, to destroy him before he can do it to you first.

“Damned if I do and damned if I don’t, huh?” you say, exhaling and finishing off the rest of his water. “Listen to me.”

“No,” he says. His obstinance is endearing, but you throw a pillow at him instead of cooing like you want to. He catches it and tosses it back. It lands beside you with a thump. You pat it for emphasis.

“Yes,” you say. “I love you.”

He plugs his ears with his fingers. “Nope.”

“I love you, I love you — hey, I know you can hear me!” you say.

“La la la,” he shouts over your voice, sticking his tongue out petulantly. “I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you!”

“You’re cruel,” you say. “I won’t deny it. I know who you really are, Michael Kaiser. You possess cruelty in spades, but it’s in the way that a rose does. You have grown malice like thorns so that no one may come near your heart, and you think these thorns will tear me apart when I extend my hand past them. What you aren’t accounting for is that I have done so already. I have reached your heart and still I am intact. Now, what is there to cause me harm — a mere flower? But a flower can’t cause anyone harm, least of all a person such as myself. You can’t, or more importantly you won’t. I believe that you won’t.”

He stares at you. The soccer team in the documentary still playing behind him scores, and the crowd roars in approval. You stare back at him and wait.

“I hate roses,” he finally says. “I hate them a lot. They’re the worst kind of flower.”

“I don’t know about that,” you say. “I quite fancy them.”

“They prick your fingers,” he says.

“Not if you are gentle,” you say. “Not if you understand them.”

He buries his face in his hands. “Go home, Y/N.”

You do as you are told, flagging a taxi and shivering while you wait for it. You wish for things to be different, but the amount of unfulfilled wishes you’ve made outnumber the stars in the sky, so you add this one to the list and vow to move on.

You have no desire to leave your bed the next morning, but you are also hungry, and your hunger wins out over your despair. You muster up the energy to roll out of your sheets and trudge downstairs, but you are miserable as you do so. You are utterly miserable, and the fact that you are only worsens the feeling, trapping you in an endless kind of loop.

When you enter your kitchen, you are surprised to see a pot of flowers sitting innocently on your counter. You didn’t put them there, so you should feel afraid, but they’re roses, and they’re the same arresting shade as the sky, so you don’t. You only grin, slowly and then all at once as you begin to giggle helplessly.

There isn’t a card or an explanation provided, but you don’t need either. You already know who they are from.

[starringthesturniolos]

bite me (part 2)- matt sturniolo

part one, part 2

summary- matt has always hated your guts, but everything changes when he wakes up and finds out your his mate.

contains- vampire!matt x reader, enemies to lovers, smut (not in this part), themes of death, dark themes, high school au! (18 yrs old)

——————————————————————————

your pov:

i woke up with a massive headache, my chest heaving. the first thing i think of is matt.

what the fuck, why is he on my mind on a saturday morning.

i shudder at my own actions and throw my covers over my head as a phantom chill runs down my spine.“cant stay in bed forever” i sigh to myself, while throwing the covers off my body almost immediately after putting them back on. I march to my closet and change into my favorite running shorts. as soon as i step foot out of my house, i start to jog, the melodic tempo lulling me out of my morning funk. my peace is disrupted tho because out the corner of my eye, i see my neighbor walk out his house into his driveway. his eyes bore into mine before they rake up and down my body. my heart beat picks up slightly, and it’s not from the exercise.

my neighbor, kit, has been weirdly obsessed with me ever since he and his girlfriend broke up. about a week ago, i caught him snooping around our house at night, trying to get a peek into my room. after that i’ve been trying to avoid crossing paths, and i wasn’t planning on crossing them today. its fine, hes probably taking out the trash, i think, desperately trying to reassure myself. i speed up from a light jog to a full on sprint because i know that once hes out my sight, i will feel more comfortable. i sigh in relief when i round the corner to the next street in my subdivision, happy that i got away from him.

slap slap slap

his feet pound against the ground as he sprints to catch up with me. i whirl around once i hear the footsteps, and lock eyes with him. the accidental eye contact was enough to spur him to go even faster than his long legs were taking him before. my heart to drops and i turn back around, running on pure adrenaline and fear.

“Y/n, stop running and come talk to me!” kit yells angrily but i’m running far too hard to form a proper sentence. even if i wanted to respond to him i wouldn’t have the breath to do so.

“STOP PLAYING HARD TO GET. YOU KNOW YOU WANT ME Y/N. COME HERE AND ADMIT IT” he screams even louder. my head starts to pound and my mind reels trying to come up with a plan. i can’t run forever. i gather the little breath i have in me to muster up a scream in hopes someone will come help me, only for the air to be knocked out of me. i ran straight into something, no,

someone.

“get. the fuck. away from her.” the mystery man growls.

kit takes one look at him and slowly backs away in fear. “who the hell are you?” out of curiosity, i look up to see who i’ve run into and freeze.

matt?

no it can’t be. it looks just like him but his eyes are dark red, and dark black veins swirl under his pale skin like they have a mind of their own. “who are you?” i cringe as i repeat the same question kit did moments before, both our tones lacking a single ounce of courage. fear was all consuming as we stared at the monster in front us.

“you know who i am, y/n. get behind me. now. im gonna deal with him” he says gruffly while looking behind me at kit. kit whimpers at the sight of matts deadly stare.

i ignore what matt says, opting to look him up and down instead in a manner that screams “what the fuck is wrong with you”. but then, i try to think rationally for a moment, this is still matt after all. he may not like me but hes not gonna hurt me. right?

“what happened to you, matt?”i question breathlessly.

“you.” matt deadpans in a voice much deeper than his normal one, taking a step closer to me. he reaches his hand out to grab me. to take me.

“y/n get away from him!!” kit interjects and pulls me too him in hopes of trying to help me get away from matt. and for once, i’m actually glad kits here.

wrong move.

matt is in front of me in a flash. he snarles as he pushes kit with bone crushing force. his body goes flying, hitting a pole a couple of yards away with a loud thud, knocked out on impact. i shriek, terror filling my veins. as if sensing my strong distress, matt turns to me slowly. his arms out in front of him, in what is supposed to be a peaceful gesture.

hard to be comforting when your veins are as dark as your tattoos.

“y/n, we need to talk” the stranger, deeper version of matts voice says.

why can’t i move. im frozen in time as he takes slow steps towards me.

“you need to come with me, y/n.” he breathes out, his dark red eyes wide and crazed. he takes another step closer. my legs feel like jelly but i finally manage to take one step back. whatever matt is, it can’t be human. humans can’t throw each other several yards. their veins aren’t as black as midnight, and their eyes sure as hell don’t change to a deep red on command. so what does he, no, it, want from me.

“w- why do i need to come with you? ”

“because you’re mine” he growls, finally deciding to close the gap between us, faster than my eyes can process. he bends down and run his nose along the hot spot on my neck. he inhales deeply and moans in relief his black veins disappearing. i scream and try to push him off but its useless. he grabs my arm in a vice grip and pure horror spreads through my body for what feels like the 100th time today. i try to let out another scream but no sound comes out. my vision clouds and my head is spinning. then everything is black.

@bbernard-03

@sturnthepot

@hoeformatt

@sturtriple16

@faygo-frog

@sturniol0s

@fratbrochrisgf

@mattslolita

[hitlikehammers]

Steve Harrington: The Boy Who Never Belonged Anywhere

🖤steddie🖤 — and yeah okay it does kinda start out w a little emotional whump (also please let me emphasize the TEMPORARY character death that MIGHT NOT EVEN BE REAL IN THE FIRST PLACE 👀)

To say Steve’s never felt like he belonged, like he ever really fit anywhere, would be inaccurate.

Because he’d have to know what it meant to fit somewhere at all, in order to know that he was failing at it, like, specifically.

Failure in general, though: that Steve is more than accustomed to. That is all his in fucking spades—and not for lack of trying for better. He watches the other kids at the piano recitals; he cannot perform sufficiently to escape his mother’s exasperation. He listens to his classmates, the ones from families his parents approve of, tries to learn their phrasings, their flippance, their disdain for things Steve doesn’t understand as deserving of the hate his parents show: still his father rages, still Steve weathers his disappointment as a rule. So he does try: less to fit, maybe, and more to blend. To be inoffensive. To maybe just…be forgotten. To fade into the backdrop.

Everything in his life, really, he does to this end: match them. Be like them. Be good but not too good. Don’t draw attention. Fit in, finally, if you’re lucky—someday.

Don���t aim to belong, lest you set yourself up for disappointment.

He knows enough of disappointment; he’s not interested in making any more.

So Steve swims where he stays in a lane, and he dribbles a ball in the confines of a court. Shoots it even, though he’s not always sure why it matters, but he chalks it up to the truth of ‘most things’: he doesn’t understand it because he doesn’t quite fit, and that’s probably explanation enough.

He sits at the table at lunch with the people from the families with names his parents don’t frown at. He makes his hair look like the actors in the magazines, the ones that enough people seem to like to merit a place on the cover, to earn the right to make money for a company because money is important—another thing Steve doesn’t wholly comprehend, but his father screams less when there is more money and screams a lot more when even a little bit of it is lost so Steve adds it to the list of things he’ll never understand because he doesn’t fit.

He dates, because that’s what everyone else does. It isn’t unpleasant. It’s more just a thing. He dates Nancy Wheeler because his father mentioned once that a prize hard won was a prize tripled in worth and Steve wants to do things that are worth something. Steve thinks maybe enough worth will mould him into the right shape. To fit.

He’s wrong, in the end.

But it ends up with him being confused instead, in gradual steps in the middle: he ends up being confused by wanting to protect.

He’s never really felt that urge before but it feels natural, and it feels stronger than other feelings do; than other ones have. Stronger than winning. Stronger than dating. Stronger than pleasure. Stronger than wanting.

He wonders—only briefly, but he does wonder—if this is what they mean when they talk about ‘fit’. If this is just another word for ‘belonging’. Like a…a cinnamonym. Or whatever it’s called.

It isn’t, he does ultimately realize, but it fills something in him anyway. It doesn’t make him fit everywhere, but it moulds him like Play-Doh, or silly putty, to fit…here. Maybe not perfectly. Maybe not as he’d dreamed or hoped. Maybe not like he imagined from all the stories and movies and shit. But.

It’s a kind of fit. Protecting is a type of belonging, he thinks. Yeah

It’s good. It’s a good thing.

But it really does cement the simple fact that everything in Steve’s life—whether it landed him closer or farther away from the idea of belonging in any of it, of being able maybe to live itself at all: but everything he chooses, everything he tries, everything he does and makes of himself, brings into being as proof that he’s here?

Is only ever for anything and anyone but himself.

He considers the kids as anomalies, as proof against the rule: they provide no social clout—in reality they damage his standing with the people his parents deem worth courting for opinion. They fill up Steve’s chest, though, but: it’s protection, first and foremost. The belonging of keeping safe.

Then there’s Robin, and she’s the closest he’s even known to something that could be other, something that could be new. Sometimes it feels like her cells are made of the same ill-fitting star-stuff that Steve’s cursed with but no part of Robin is a curse, Robin Buckley is only a gift and that makes it confusing, so confusing—

He still needs to protect her, above nearly all things, but the way she doesn’t merely fill his chest but comes to live inside it? That is new. And maybe Steve still doesn’t fit, or belong, but: Robin fits under his ribs, and he belongs inside hers just the same and…that might not be what anyone wanted from him. But it’s something.

And yeah, maybe circumstance chooses it for him first, but: he holds on of his own volition. It’s his own whole-ass choice to never ever let her go.

So it’s something.

Though: after—not long, but still after, long enough after that Steve knows a little what he’s looking for, the full-feeling that makes his ribs like a breastplate, that…that he protects with all that he is but maybe for the first time, also protects him. Make an armor of his chest and holds him close, makes him laugh and feel light, and see colors he didn’t know existed; makes him feel weightless like the ground’s no longer beneath his feet.

It’s this…undeniable taste of what it means to belong, and he knows that for reasons he cannot point toward or give a name to. But he knows. This is belonging.

Belonging, inside the one and only thing in Steve’s whole life that he has ever chosen for himself: the beautiful man with eyes beyond nighttime, elusive and enchanting, selling him something that might take the edge off, the sting of still failing to fit.

When he finds, over days, and then weeks, is that fit is exactly the word for how he falls into Eddie Muson’s arms, how his dick disappears between Eddie Munson’s lips, how Eddie’s slicked-up cock slides between the cleft of Steve’s ass—close, close but not yet, baby, not yet, let’s savor the journey there; this.

This is what it means to belong, with absolutely no reasons pushing him toward it, toward them; in fact maybe more reasons pull him back, even, because Eddie Munson is the opposite of the family names his parents approve of, Eddie Munson is the opposite of maybe anything that anyoneapproves of, at least among the people who care about approving at all and that’s…that’s maybe the most amazing thing Steve’s ever learned and found, this freedom, this beauty, this man and the soul of him like champagne if it were soda pop, common maybe but only on the surface, hidden from view and so so sweet, so so rich in ways that really matter but bubbling always, a constant carbonated effervescence in Steve’s heart and his lungs and his bones and his veins, it is something—

It’s one of the best and most incredible somethings Steve could possibly imagine.

And Steve chose it all for himself. Steve clings to it, savors it just like he’s asked—loves inside it, all for himself.

He thinks he wants to offer his heart to Eddie. He’s already lost it, he’s pretty sure of that, but…he thinks there’s something in giving it, in finding a tiny break in the fullness of his ribs to reach inside and cradle it like an offering.

And then the universe, or whatever makes certain that his world, his life, is shaped not-to-fit as a rule: it reminds him.

Because Eddie sees a cheerleader snapped in half. And Eddie’s on the run, but not into Steve’s arms. And Eddie’s separated from him, for no good fucking reason when his soul’s hurting, aching for in; when his heart’s ready to be offered, Steve found the crack, he’s reached in and he’s reaching out with it cupped in his hands, just, just please—

And then Eddie’s gone. Eddie’s dead. And nothing belongs. Nothing fits. Moving’s not made for here. Breathing’s anathema.

Steve’s heart falls to the ground, untended. Insignificant.

And when it’s all said and done, Steve looks at the sky, knows that’s not where the cause of any of this lies if there’s a cause to it at all, but he blinks, and he cannot cry because he’s drowning in the tears on the inside but they don’t fit here either, so all he can do at all is blink and he lets go: of the wanting. Of the trying. Of the pushing to be anything but what he is, and was always meant to be. Will never be anything other than.

I get it. I see it. This world is not for me. I will never find my place. I tried, I asked for more and I lost. I understand.

I won’t make the same mistake again.

Secretly, though, where he drowns in his tears inside the breastplate of ribs still so full even if the protection’s turned rusted, leant into decay: secretly—

He cannot let go of Eddie Munson. He may be lost, and he may be as much the provenance of soil and dust, of the creatures there begging to consume without any care or concept of all that he meant; all that he means: Eddie may be no more than bound to the same fate as the heart Steve dropped to that same dirt, let it get ground into the earth to decay with his beloved, to be there with him always the only way that’s left, but—

Steve does not fit, will never belong, yet despite everything: he cannot let go of Eddie Munson.

He can’t yet comprehend that might be for a reason, let alone a reason that might just fit.

...part 2? 🧚‍♂️

For @vthx, who requested a fusion of 'Character-Has-Powers / Changelings' and A Dustland Fairytale—The Killers at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher

divider credits here

💫 ao3 link here

[thigholstercas]

So I wanted to have all these parts of scripts that I love with destiel moments that were erased, changed, or added context in one place. Bare in mind that there are some that are Production Drafts and others Writer's Drafts, and so on.

4x02 - Are you there, God? It's me, Dean Winchester

Oh honey, he's gonna be your husband

Honestly, I'm just putting this here because I love this scene.

5x04 - The End

Cas received the order to follow Dean's commands once, and he sticked to it up 'til the end of everything.

7x17 - Born again identity

Just remember, this was after everything that happened in season 6 and widow!dean arc 1.0

Forward to Cas' speech in 15x18, yes the parallels.

Swear this is a whole Dean thesis. If we go back to what started this whole thing in tmwwbk. Dean tells Cas, we can fix this. And he never stopped wanting to fix it.

8x17 - Goodby Stranger

Like, I know they established that it didn't make sense for Dean to say I love you here, which fair, and we ended up which I need you (somehow worse).

But if we look at this as a whole, what Dean might understand is that saying I love you makes people leave him. Fastforward to the part when Dean takes the sigils so Cas can find him and Naomi visits and tells him that Cas doesn't return his feelings. Fastforward again to the You didn't trust me because even if we get to know that it was hard for Cas to leave with the tablet, away from Dean, Dean doesn't. For Dean, he left him, without even acknowledging that he loves/needs him, ignored him, and didn't trust him. Imagine you say I love you and you are left feeling abandoned, betrayed, and angry.

8x19 - Taxi Driver

This in the middle of I love you, and You didn't trust me is something

8x22 - Clip show

The one guy that's always had your back.

9x22 - Stairway to Heaven

Don't know what they smoked to write this, but I want some

10x23 - Brother's Keeper

You'll see the word shattered used a lot. This very much both destiel and drowley imo.

Season 12 is weirdly filled with these, so here are special mentions (because the max of pictures is 30 and there are too many moments). Most likely, it has to do with the market research by the end of 2016, which is why from 12-15, these scenes are more emotionally charged.

Mary saying Good friend when Dean and Cas hug in 12x01

Cas told Mary I promised (Dean) when they were talking outside the barn before going in to help Dean save Sam in 12x02

Dean telling Mary Get him outta here! when Cas was wounded in 12x12. And of course, when Cas says the things they have shared changed him (but that's on screen)

Cas texts? from 12x16

Dean is a worried husband on 12x18.

Dean explaining that no matter how much Cas messed up, did the wrong thing, or every dumb move he got it in 12x20. Cas was always Cas.

12x10 - Lily Sunder has some regrets

Dean telling Cas he has changed, and it has all been for the good. Again, forward to 15x18.

12x19 - The Future

This whole episode is charged with scenes from Dean and Cas. Like you have the angry Welcome home from Dean when Cas returns from Heaven. Dean calls Cas a super strong dude in a trenchcoat. The mixtape scene with the That was a gift. To keep. And Dean softening a bit even if he's angry because he's more worried.

But I think the biggest one is this one. The destiel sex scene (jk)

And after this, even though it is said in the show. There is more insistence from Dean to not let go of Cas -> We're not gonna let you just walk away. Not again. Not happening.

12x23 - All Along the Watchtower

The word shattered is mentioned a lot in the scripts. This is every part that describes Dean's reactions after losing Cas. Forward to 15x18.

13x06 - Tombstone

This is one of the best things that never happened in the show. You have Dean choking down his emotions saying he's much better now and Cas who fought with the empty with everything he had in 13x04 to return to Dean, coming to a meadow near a windmill because Dean thought he'd like it.

13x14 - Good Intentions

Forget about the in love part. They are best friends, and we didn´t get this.

13x20 - Unfinished Business

He lost Cas and it damn near broke him. Not we lost Cas, I.

14x12 - Prophet and Loss

Losing Dean was unacceptable. Cas said that losing Dean was unacceptable. And Dean got emotional. And then forward to 15x18, Cas just goes no, Dean can't die because that'd be unacceptable to me, so i'll sacrifice. And then, Dean gets emotional. Again. But for Dean, the unacceptable happened.

15x09 - The Trap

Forward to 15x20. In this future that Chuck showed Sam that he lost Dean the second Cas was gone.

Have I said how much they used the word shattered. Anyway, Dean wanted Cas to stay. That's his best friend.

He's amazing.

15x18 - Despair

This is not that different from what it was filmed, it is just that seeing it described makes it different. Especially when you get things as Still beautiful, still Dean Winchester, Dean is emotional, stunned, shocked. And have I said how much they used the word shattered. Also, you can see how it starts as a confession because Cas is confessing that he made a deal, but then it ends as a declaration, a declaration of love. Which makes testament such a good word for it.

15x19 - Inherit the Earth

The fact that Dean couldn't say Cas was gone

He's not the ultimate killer. He's not daddy's blunt instrument. He's someone who raised his little brother for love, who fought for the world for love and the most caring man on Earth

15x20 - Carry On

We don't talk about this episode because the script has way too many [omitted] but this is exactly what happened in 15x09 when Chuck showed their future to Sam if they followed the road they were taking.

Okay, that was it. Probably missed some, but for me, these are the parts that stand out.

[r0-boat]

Hello there (general kenobi)

SO! I was wondering if i could request the kings reacting to Kings, MC having mental breakdown or like crying all alone somewhere but suddenly hide it (at least try to) when they discover the crying

I just had a good cry so i got curious later to how they would React

Thank you! Luv u ! And love your writing! 💕😍😍

Whb Kings reaction to:

Mc having a mental breakdown and crying

Cw: angst, hurt/comfort

Intro

The memories of Gabriel killing your best friend playing your head You had been so strong up to this moment... Why... Why now?

Nonetheless seeing a murder in front of you would be hard on any human especially one who had lost their parents in a homicide.

You try to tell yourself that he's okay and you will be okay. But it's hard to believe when the same angel is hunting you down and his mark shows crystal clear on your skin, a mark you try desperately to wash off. Soon everything came crashing down being being ripped from your home to an unfamiliar place the smell of blood and bodies angel and devil on the streets of Gehenna. You locked yourself into your room unable to hold back your emotion.

Satan

He practically ripped the door off its hinges. Even though you have the door locked he can sense you are in distress locked door or not you are in danger and he is not going to let it stop him.

You weren't in danger no angel has broken in, You are not hurt You are not bleeding but you still cry, scooping you into his arms It doesn't matter what you were crying about You are still crying, You are still hurting, And he will cradle you into his arms until those tears dry. Put the soft voice he'll ask you what's wrong He knows he cannot use his normal voice because he'll just scare you. Through your broken sobs He knows you're talking about Gabriel and the war. He clutches his teeth anger is bubbling inside him but he keeps it down. He swears that he will protect you and that the lives lost will not be in vain.

Those angels will pay. Gabriel will pay.

Mammon

He immediately cradles you holding you close your small frame against his large chest. He picks you up carrying you to his bedroom laying you down on soft silk he lays next to you. A sad human must be pampered.

Mammon is not a good talker but he knows how to take care of the things he loves. If you need your alone time he understands he'll make sure your treatment today will be of utmost importance. If you want he will stay with you being there to be a big teddy bear for you to hold and cry and an ear to listen. You'll be bathed in his bathroom tonight You will have all of your favorites prepared and delivered. You will not leave his room You will not leave his side.

Leviathan

He walks in your room more like barges into your room. Locks do not exist in his castle. Only for him to freeze his eyes going wide when he sees you crawled up crying. He feels his heart sink into a pit in his stomach.

He feels like shrinking into a puddle He knows part of this was his fault. But he doesn't know how to talk to people. He doesn't know how to console you He doesn't know how to help!!

He leaves the room ordering his servants to do anything to make you feel better or else they'll get hanged. To hell with his jealousy, you come first in times like these!

Beel

You know what makes him feel better? Going out and having fun. However sometimes that doesn't work with certain people. As his nobles do what they can to console you. He barrels through the door. loads of snacks in his arms (He didn't know which one you wanted so he just got everything)

Sometimes some people rather just be left alone during that time but feels about just can't knowing that you're on the other side of the door hurting. Knocking at your door constantly checking in on you. He's just worried.

Once you calm down he will listen to everything you have to say while the two of you eat snacks.

Lucifer

Lucifer is not well versed in mental health of humans So whatever he does he goes by the book whatever his books on human say he does. Being the extremely direct demon he is He will directly ask you if something is wrong and what has you so sad. However since he is not well versed in human mental health he is kind of scrambling, He is trying everything trying to stay calm. In the end he sits next to you petting your head until you calm down.

He does not like when you shed your tears in sorrow, They do not feel as good as when you shut them not of anger or pleasure or fear.

Oh boy if he hears what Gabriel did He will personally deal with his brother himself. Lucifer does not take kindly to angels or devils that hurt his beloved one move over Satan Lucifer needs a 'family reunion' with his brother.

[junislqve]

⟡ stay in my memories

when you had finally started to accept your past, it comes back to haunt you

pairs ex!jake + reader content angst kissing jake being toxic wordcount 1404 — find my other works

note ending is highkey rushed and was supposed to be happy, but this is self indulgent, so! i also listened to memories an ungodly amount while writing this

YOU HUFFED AS YOUR DOORBELL RANG FOR THE SECOND TIME. it was 11pm. a few minutes ago, your friend had just left after picking up her cat from the week-long vacation she had with her boyfriend. you had sensed she’d forgotten something.

when it rang once more, you begrudgingly stood up dragging your legs to the front door. the lights to your small living room was already off save for one that was only enough to illuminate the front door.

you sigh as the door click open, “you really need to stop forget-” 

“hi, babyy” 

your heart dropped. not because of how the man in front of you accidentally stumbled and now practically has his boy weight supported by you, and also somehow not because of how his hands circle your body and rest on your waist like how it used to.

it was his voice that did. 

his voice that you swore on everything you would never want to hear again. hating how it sounded so much you’d bail on any man that sounded similar to him or had his accent.

how could you not when only a few simple words uttered with that voice had your mind reeling? repeating the same heart wrenching sentence in your head over and over again, it engraved itself.

it was pouring outside. you’ve been very stuffed with schoolwork and your finals coming up. papers spread out everywhere on your table and books scattered on your bedsides and floor. 

you felt a tickle on your ankle and watched as your dog rubbed its side on your body, begging for attention. you chuckle, dropping your pen and bending down to pick her up. sitting her on your lap as you rubbed its back. 

“i’m sorry, i just need to finish this paper and i’ll promise i’ll give you some attention, okay?” you coo at her, it hung her head low but complied, laying her head on your lap. 

a moment later, your phone lit up. you stared at the caller and with no hesitation immediately picked it up, a smile growing on your face, “hi, babe-”

“let’s break up”

you stopped. the pouring rain seemed to have hushed in a matter of seconds, the air around you felt constricted. your dog stayed silent, looking up at you in confusion.

“what?” 

“it’s just going to be hard keeping up our relationship in the long run. i’m graduating and you still have two years” 

“so?”

“so i don’t want to hold each other back” he sounded frustrated. 

“so that’s it?” you ask, voice heavy. “you’re going to leave me because you don’t want to wait two years for me?”

“you’re twisting my words”

“that’s exactly what you said, jake” 

“i’m sorry”

no he’s not. 

“no, you’re not” you say, you wait for a second too long before hanging up. you damn well know he’s not, because if he was you wouldn’t be crying as hard as you are right now. your chest wouldn’t have felt as painful as it does.

there was nothing but confusion that clouded your mind the following days. you were trying to reason with yourself why he’d ever break up with you. 

your boyfriend is the sweetest yet most comforting guy you’ve ever known. or at least, was. you thought there must be something wrong with you.

everything reminded you of him. back then, you thought you hit the lottery when he landed as your first love as well as your first boyfriend. you never doubted your relationship, he was always there for you whenever you needed him and you never turned him down if he needed a shoulder. 

every waking moment after the breakup felt plain to you. habits and hobbies turned more of a chore, some of the things you did were picked up from his habits.

you were quiet about your breakup. it took a total of 13 days until anyone found out. your friends having to fish it out of you when they felt how quiet and more zoned out you’ve become.

for three months, jake’s name was not allowed to be uttered. it was a rule your friend made. she knew anything correlated to him could tip you off, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. 

she didn’t know that you’d still visit his old album from time to time just to feel something. to remember all the ways he loved you and all the ways he wasn’t there to, anymore.

you can’t let go the feeling of how he would hug you, all the times he would kiss you giggles filling out every corner of the room. the moments he’d lay on the bed with you, whispering sweet nothings lulling you to sleep.

you still can feel all of that, a ghost of the past you were never willing to let go.

you wished time could heal all of you completely. because now when you swore you have finally started to move on, he has his body slumped on yours, breath fanning your neck.

“jake?” you curse yourself from how quiet it came out. your voice wavering, your breath shallow before you slowly walk in, his body still slumped on yours.

he hummed, “i missed you” he dug his head deeper into your neck, making you physically sick.

you tug him off, stabling him by his shoulders and you wished you didn’t. you could see his state now. his hair was all messed up, face tinted red from drinking and he had that pout. his eyes attempting to blink itself awake as he looks at you through sleepy eyes.

“jake” you say again, finding your voice. that pout of his grew at your tone.

“don’t you miss me?” he asks, voice so soft you almost gave in. his hands still hover on your waist and you’d lie if you said you weren’t fully aware of it. 

“i’ll grab you some water” you say, walking out of his reach. the heat from his body slowly seeping away as you walk to grab a glass of water.

you turn back to see him sat on the couch, his head laying on the arm rest, legs sprawled sideways. tapping him on the shoulder, his eyes crease open along with that smile of his. your heart clenched.

he grabs the cup and downs it in one gulp, “thank you” he says quietly.

when you were about to grab it and walk back to the kitchen, jake had tugged your shirt causing you to topple on top of him on the couch. 

“you haven’t said you missed me back” he said, head buried in your hair, breathing you in. 

you gathered all of you to push against him and stand up, “jake, stop”

“i know you’re sober”

it barely showed, but you could see the slight waver of his smile.

“i miss you” he says for the third time tonight, eyes open but still slightly glazed.

“you’re being selfish” tears start to well up. it’s overwhelming to say the least. how could he just show up at your doorstep months later giving you false hope? after everything he’s made you go through.

“i know” he starts, sitting up slightly, “and i know i have no right to come back here begging for you to come back. but i miss you”

“you should leave” you look away.

“please”

“jake”

“i’m sorry” he says, “but i’ll do better this time”

maybe it was those eyes that convinced you, or the sliver of sincerity you pretended to see in his eyes or maybe once again it was that voice that allured you. but you gave in. 

he brought you in for a kiss. one that you’ve undoubtedly miss all these months of being apart. jake just knew how to bring you back into his arms. he held you all night long and between the kiss and the cuddling, you dozed into a sleep you haven’t felt for months.

you shifted, you peek at the light hitting your eyes from the slip of the curtains. 

you rolled over, the space beside you, cold. 

you sat up, the blanket falling off your body as you looked around the living room. trying to grasp at the hazy memory of last night.

the table in front of the couch is neat. when your eyes focused there was a scrap of paper placed on it.

‘i don’t deserve you, i’m sorry

-love, j’

© junislqve 2024. liking, commenting, and rebloging are appreciated.

[mattatouilletkachuk]

John Marino prompt option #1 fits him so well to me

An Anxious Heart and Steady Arms || John Marino

Prompt: 1. B wrapping their arms around A’s waist and pulling them close, whispering in A's ear: "Stay close to me."

WC: 1k+

a/n: I’m trying to finish all of the requests I have before posting my new prompt list. Also sorry to whoever requested this because this took so long.

Summary: This was your first event you were attending since you and John had made things official. It sounded exciting when he first brought it up but actually attending felt like a whole other beast.

The Sweep the Deck Gala was your first event since you and John made things official. When he first asked you to attend the event with him and the days leading up to it, you weren’t nervous. Why should you be? You knew most of his teammates and their wives and girlfriends. It was an odd sort of benefit that came with nearly a year of you and John dancing around your feelings and not facing any commitment issues head-on.

For a year you and John talked nearly every day, went on dates when he wasn’t practicing or playing, and slept together and at each other’s apartments. It wasn’t until two months ago, when he came back from a roadie that the two of you finally sat down and made things official.

Since then, everything has been going well. Your relationship hadn’t changed much, if at all. The only thing new was him asking you to come with him to events the Devils held. Not only were you not nervous but you were also excited. You had never attended an event like this before and were curious to see everything in person.

When the two of you first arrived the place wasn’t packed yet. You had time to take in all of the decorations and events that were set up. You looked at the tables that held signed memorabilia and toward the empty area where the curling would be taking place a little bit later. When you saw more of John’s teammates at their partners and kids arrive you smiled and waved at them.

However, that entire time John was by your side. It was hard to let your mind wander when your boyfriend was brushing his arm against yours or holding his hand against the small of your back. It wasn’t until Nicole had come up to you that John was finally pulled away. You watched from the corner of your eye as he slowly left your field of vision with Nate.

It was then that you started to feel a little ball of anxiety spark up in your belly. You couldn’t help but wonder if Nicole had picked up on it because she stayed and talked with you for at least an hour. You enjoyed her company and felt lonelier when she eventually walked off with Jesper. You understood, though, that you couldn’t monopolize her time and that she had a boyfriend and other friends that she wanted to talk to.

You were torn between staying where you were and wandering around. You couldn’t help but feel like everyone was watching you. You knew it was your anxiety that made you feel like that. Everyone was too wrapped up in socializing and having fun. That didn’t stop you from critiquing every little movement you made. So you decided to walk around, thinking it was better to seem like you were doing something rather than standing in the same place for too long.

You were looking at the tables filled with memorabilia when someone came over the loudspeaker to announce that the curling event would be taking place. People were instructed to find a place to stand around the area to watch as their favorite players would soon be partaking in the game.

That was when you felt arms wrap around you from behind. You startled and snapped your head back to see who was touching you but before you saw him you felt his deep chuckle as he pulled you against his chest. John. John had finally found his way back to you.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned. His voice was low, only meant for your ears only.

“Who says anything is wrong?” You respond quickly, your shoulders tense at the thought that you were so easy to read. If John could see how out of place you felt and probably looked, that meant other people probably thought so too.

He leaned down to kiss your sweater-covered shoulder before replying, “I know you too well. I saw you from across the room and could see how nervous you looked.”

“I’m not nervous,” you lied and crossed your arms. Refusing to melt into your boyfriend's arms.

“Baby, it’s okay. This is your first hockey event that isn’t a game. It’s loud and there are a lot of people.” John said, his voice still calm despite the edge in your own. “I was nervous for my first Gala. Hell, I was nervous for every event I had to attend my rookie year.”

You were quiet as you took in what he said. The new information made your shoulders relax and you uncross your arms.

“How did you get over the nerves? Because even though I know I’m not someone everyone is looking at I can’t help but feel like every move I make is being watched.

“You find your people,” he said as if it was the most simple thing in the world. His arms tightened around your waist and brought you impossibly closer to him. Once again he leaned down and this time his mouth was by your ear as he whispered, “Just stay close to me and you’ll be fine.”

It felt like his words had control over you because as he said them you finally let yourself melt into his arms. The two of you stayed like that for a while, watching his teammates try their hand at curling.

When people came up to John, whether it was journalists, teammates, or people from the foundation, he never let go of you and even introduced you to the people you hadn’t met and didn’t know. Everyone was smiling and sincere and by the time John had to leave you and go on stage with the rest of his team, you didn’t feel so out of place anymore. Some of the other player’s girlfriends and wives had found you and stood with you as the team talked on stage.

By the end of the night, as you were leaving, with a Devil’s red scarf wrapped around you and your hand in John’s, you realized that despite the small speed bump you had earlier, you actually enjoyed the night and maybe, you thought, you might actually have found the place you were meant to be.

[bitethedevil]

What about a softer Raphael? Like maybe you’re having a terrible day and he doesn’t know why/cant comprehend why but tries to make you feel better anyway? Maybe he does some teasing to figure out what’s wrong and makes you smile? Idk. Not having a good day and the thought sounded nice. I have a hard time communicating feelings but I feel like Raphael would get me talking lol

(I’ll start out with saying that Soft!Raphael isn’t reaaaally my thing. I like reading it but I never really write it, so I’ll try my best while still adhering to my interpretation of Raphael. I’m so sorry to hear that you’ve had a rough day ♥️)

Raphael Cheering You Up

- I feel like he is an absolute master at reading people and I think he’d know immediately if something is wrong. He has also has an eternity to learn to understand mortals, so even though he might not feel the same way as us, I think he understands better than one might think.

- Despite him being a professional yapper, I also think he can be a great listener when he wants to. I think he’d even be able to physically comfort someone as well. He’d have his chin on your head and running his fingers through your hair, making you feel safe as you explain everything to him.

- He’d try to figure out if anyone is responsible, and if they are, he might just pay them a little visit without telling you. There’s no need for you to worry about what he’ll do to them…

- I think in general he would never mention it if he did something to solve your problems or cheer you up. He has a reputation to uphold, after all. That gift that arrived at your door? He has no idea what you’re talking about. You miraculously got a new job at that place you keep talking about after you got fired? Good for you, but he didn’t do anything…

- This man’s memory is like glue. He remembers everything, I’m sure of it. If you tell him about something you like or you tell him about something that makes you happy, he remembers it. He will gift you stuff that you didn’t even remember telling him that you liked or wanted.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Welcome back ! Would it be ok if I request Yan Luffy for the yandere alphabet? Y , X , S , N , M please 💗

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

No, not at all. This man is very open and proud about who he is. The Luffy that you see vs. the Luffy that everyone else sees is the same exact person. He has no shame about what he's doing, nor does he think it's wrong, so he doesn't care to hide anything from other people.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

I've touched on this in a different post discussing the Straw Hats punishing a darling, but his go to method is isolation. Luffy hates being alone and knows how painful it is, and while he isn't happy about it, he knows that this will work to get his point across. Oh, you want to be left alone despite having such a loving boyfriend and crew? Alright, let's see how much you like it after having several days of seeing no one. It takes a lot to push him to this point, but once he's there, there is no amount of backpedaling that you can do to get out of the punishment. After you're out, you'll be so desperate for human interaction that you'll eagerly soak up every bit of attention that he gives you.

That's the only big thing that he does, everything else he does mainly boils down to exposure therapy and ignoring your behavior. If you try to run, he just grabs and yanks you back without even looking up from what he was doing. If you try to escape his affection, he's coiling around you like a damn snake. If you try to vocalize that you don't like what's happening, he shoves some food in your mouth to shut you up. It's possible to get him to hit you, but he strictly only does that in retaliation of you hitting him first. He'll only hit you as hard as you hit him, so you won't have to worry about getting the same treatment the people he seriously fights get. Afterwards, he won't apologize until you apologize for hitting him first.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Oh, it was 100% his childhood. Between being abandoned by his entire biological family and his crippling fear of loneliness, it really isn't surprising that he's so extreme about keeping a significant other around. He doesn't want to be alone or abandoned again, and he'll do anything to make sure that you can't do that to him. All of his behavior feels normal and justified to him. In this world, you have to fight for what you care about. Why wouldn't he do that for his darling?

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He loves you dearly and would do anything for you, but I wouldn't necessarily call what he does worship. His obsession for you makes him extremely loyal and supportive. No matter what, he's got your back, and he'll go through hell to keep you safe and happy. Same goes for your goals in life, he wants to do everything he can to help you achieve them. You're on the same level as anyone else in the Straw Hat crew, you just get extra affection and kissed sometimes.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

It's a combination of fast and slow, if that makes sense. His initial interest in you happens quickly. You do something the piques his interest and makes him want you on his crew, and you will be before the end of the day. At that point, he's already yandere for you, but only platonically. As time goes by, the romantic feelings very slowly start to grow. He starts seeking you out more than the other Straw Hats and is even more touchy than usual.

It doesn't click for him that he's in love until someone else points it out to him. Then he goes back to moving very fast. Once he gets it, he gets excited. This is like a new adventure to him, and he's eager to explore every facet of it. I wouldn't really call it snapping, he just suddenly starts suffocating you in his love.