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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)
♫ Summary: All of the distractions in the world couldn't keep you from worrying about the potential fallout from your web of untruths--until a bigger issue arose. (5.5k words)
♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, parental conflict, poverty, brief religious zealotry, insecurities, secret relationship, public displays of affection, sexual fantasies, idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)
A/N: This chapter contains a scene I had imagined in my head and became the catalyst for this series--what would happen if Eddie encountered one of the NYC street preachers?
♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult
chapter thirteen: street smarts
You were supposed to be doing something. Checking the guest log, organizing the bills by due date, making a list of repairs that still needed to be made…something. Anything besides just standing behind the desk, watching Eddie’s biceps flex as he hauled the overfilled trash bag out to the Dumpster.
At this point, it was all busy work. Taking out the garbage, changing light bulbs, dusting furniture…all scraps of chores to keep him here. The moment he felt like he was being pitied—or worse, like he was being a burden—he’d leave. His pride was too strong and too loud to allow him to stay if he wasn’t working, even if that work was as interesting as watching paint dry.
That’s what it was.
“I need you to spackle a hole in Room 9,” you told him as he walked back into the lobby. “The guy staying here last night punched the wall, and it looks like he won.”
Eddie grimaced, flexing his own hand like he could feel the man’s pain. “Jesus. Yeah, sure.” He slid a rubber band off of his wrist and tied back his hair. The sleeves of his t-shirt had been cut into a tank top, though you weren’t sure if he’d done it or the shirt had been designed that way. “Where do you keep the spackle?”
You jabbed your thumb towards the supply closet behind you. Eddie started in that direction, but made an abrupt turn towards you. His arms snaked around your waist, his lips easily finding the crook of your neck.
Instinctively, your shoulder jerked upwards, protecting you from any further tickling, but Eddie only doubled down. His kisses became less of a whisper and more of a shout, each punctuated with a smacking mwah!
“Ed-die!” Your giggles broke his name into its syllables. “Quit it!”
He paused for a moment and pretended to consider your plea before continuing his barrage of kisses. “Hmm, don’t think I will.” His words were muffled, the vibrations sending tingles through your bloodstream. “What’re you doing after your shift?”
You scoffed. “Um, curling up under the covers and passing out?”
“What if…” He moved his lips to the back of your neck. “You curled up under my covers?”
The suggestion garnered a dual sensation of desire and dread. You wanted that more than anything: the intimacy of laying next to him, his body curled around yours, the rhythm of his breathing lulling you to sleep. The first night he was here, he wore only boxer briefs. If you slept beside him, would he wear more? Less? If he awoke with that natural, involuntary stiffness between his legs, would you feel it?
But then, despite everything within you leaning towards being with Eddie, reality set in. Your room was the closest to the lobby; how could you possibly skip over it without Dad noticing? Even if he didn’t notice, how could you sneak out of Eddie’s room without Mom seeing? Dad might be oblivious in the way that fathers so often are, but Mom was like a hawk. She could probably sense that you were considering disobeying her orders to keep away from Eddie.
“I’d have to sneak through your window. And then sneak back through my own window in the morning,” you mused.
“Or,” Eddie countered, spinning you around so you were facing him, “you could tell your parents that you couldn’t resist the cute handyman’s charming advances.”
His brown eyes gleamed with mischief as his hands dipped lower, squeezing your ass through your jeans. It took all of your willpower not to change the sign to read “NO VACANCY”—despite your many empty rooms—and drag him into his bed by the worn collar of his t-shirt.
“I will.” You wrinkled your nose. “Well, maybe not in those exact terms, but I will tell them we’re…y’know.”
Eddie took a small step back and crossed his arms. “We’re…what?” His tone was somewhere between perplexed and demanding, like he couldn’t believe you wouldn’t define the relationship while also hoping you would define it for him.
You had no idea what the answer was. ‘Friends’ was far too casual for two people who had been sucking face in the middle of Flushing Meadows Park just last week. ‘Dating’ seemed too formal for only having been on two dates, the first of which hadn’t even been officially stated as a date from the onset. ‘Fooling around in the laundry room every chance we get’ was more accurate, if not a little wordy.
“We’re getting to know each other. Intimately.” You added that last word in an attempt to show him just how much you cared about him. Whatever relationship limbo you two were in would only be temporary.
“Hmm.” A smirk tugged at Eddie’s lips. “Just how intimately are we talking here?” He tucked his forefinger into your belt loop and pulled you towards him, so close that you could feel his belt buckle through your shirt.
Glancing around to ensure no one was walking by, you pressed a small kiss to his lips. “I’m gonna tell them. I promise. Just give me a little time.”
Your heart ached when his shoulders slumped. You wanted to fix it all now, to face your anxiety head-on and tell your parents about Eddie. Tell them that you were together and that it could be something serious—without holding your breath for their approval.
But then there was that knife twisting in your gut, the one that echoed the same statements time and time again:
You’re a bad daughter You’re disappointing them You’re negating every sacrifice they’ve made
But now a new one joined them, just as unwelcome as the others:
You’re going to lose Eddie if you keep being a coward.
Eddie held your gaze for another beat before he broke it. His head tilted to the side, a slight pout forming on his lips. “Well, if you promise…” In one swift motion, he swooped in and kissed your cheek. When he pulled back, you wrapped your arms around his lithe waist and drew him back in. “Is that a yes for sneaking through my window?”
You gave him a gentle, playful shove and rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the fluttering butterflies that came with the idea. “Go spackle the wall.”
“Yes, dear.” He started towards the supply closet once more, calling out over his shoulder, “what time are we leaving for that college thing tomorrow?”
Everything he said and everything he did encroached closer and closer into relationship territory. Going to Admitted Students’ Day with you was something a boyfriend would do.
But he hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend—not that it would make much of a difference. It wasn’t as though a label would suddenly afford you the freedom to show off your relationship. Besides your parents’ disapproval, that pesky news story about Death’s Echo’s new lead singer kept nagging at you. You technically had information about Eddie’s life that even he didn’t know, and you couldn’t figure out how to tell him.
“Noon at the latest.” You tried swallowing the lump in your throat, but it stayed put, so you just spoke above it. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I know school isn’t really your thing, so…”
Eddie poked his head out from the closet. “Noon it is.” When he emerged, he held the small spackle bucket and a wide putty knife. “By the way, I won’t, like, break out into hives or burst into flames if I go to a school.”
“I know.” Your body relaxed as his humor snaked through the crevices of your anxiety. “And I really do want to tell them about everything. About us, about NYU. It’s just…”
Goddamn the mist clouding your eyes. It was shameful, really, the pity party you were throwing for yourself. But how could you approach your parents and say, “Hey, by the way, I’m dating our de facto handyman. But don’t worry about the relationship affecting the business, because we’ll have to close the motel once I start graduate school in two months anyway. Also, I’m studying social work, not hospitality. Surprise!”
“Hey.” Eddie’s voice was soft, his thumb swiping over tears that fell despite your efforts to hold them back. “Look, if you don’t want me to go, just tell me.”
You shook your head. “I want you to go.” To emphasize your point, you kissed his cheek. The beginnings of stubble tickled your lips. “We can make a day of it. Grab some lunch or something.”
Eddie didn’t look wholly convinced, but he managed a smile. “And then I get to show off how smart you are.”
There was no point in arguing that everyone at Admitted Students’ Day was just as smart as you, if not smarter. Instead, you watched as he padded towards room nine.
What you wouldn’t give to cave to your desires and climb into his bed beside him. Whether you fell asleep immediately or spent the entire time with him firmly buried inside you was practically irrelevant. You were tempted to follow him right now and have sex with him in the vacant room.
But you didn’t want your first time together to be something you rushed through. Maybe it wouldn’t be the rose petals and naked guitar playing scenario that Ben and Nora had teasingly suggested, but you didn’t want to do it just to “get it over with.”
So you stayed put, drumming your fingers against the desk’s wood paneling, trying to ignore the heat pooling between your thighs. Someday, you promised yourself, Eddie would be the one to quell that need.
You left your room at noon the next day, armed with a smile and an alibi. Your usual excuse of running errands wouldn’t explain why you were wearing a black button-down dress and your Mary Jane heels.
The door to Eddie’s room creaked open as you passed by. Without wasting a moment, one tattooed arm darted through the gap and pulled you inside.
“Eddie!” You hissed at him, bringing one hand to your chest as your heart rate soared.
His lips were on yours before you could ask why he felt the urge to spike your already sky-high anxiety. Like a miracle elixir, the kiss blunted the day’s sharpness and turned your racing thoughts into drifting clouds.
Your hands found his biceps, fully on display in the t-shirt that had been altered to be a makeshift tank top. The same one, you realized, he’d been wearing last night. The pads of your fingertips were met with resistance at the muscle that was even more defined than it had been a month ago.
“Just needed to do that before we left.” His palms smoothed down the back of your dress, lingering for an extra moment on your ass. “Ready to go?”
“Y-Yeah,” you nodded. All of the air had been knocked from your lungs; from the scare or from the kiss, you were still unsure.
Eddie’s fingers brushed yours as the two of you left his room in a silent plea to hold your hand. You wanted to accept the offer, to proudly display your affection for him. You wanted it more than anything, so much so that you almost let your guard down. Almost took his hand in yours and paraded out into the lobby without a care in the world, subtly announcing that you were his and he was yours.
Almost.
A pang of anger flashed in your chest; not at the situation, but at Eddie himself. He knew you hadn’t told your parents yet. He knew you would face some consequences for dating a motel guest and for sneaking around behind their backs, especially if you brazenly flaunted the relationship without any notice.
Eddie huffed at your rejection. “Oh, right.” Was that disappointment or frustration? Or some lethal combination of both?
Dad immediately noticed the departure from your typical attire when you walked past; he’d already finished skimming the newspaper when you walked in. “Where are you off to?”
“Hanging out with Ben and Nora.” The lie rolled off of your tongue, just as you’d practiced in the mirror this morning.
“Double date?” Dad’s question was rhetorical, of course–he certainly wasn’t expecting you to actually go on a date with Eddie–but your breath still caught in your throat.
A cough, hopeful not too conspicuous to draw attention, delayed your response. “Uh, no. Just, uh, friend stuff.” Friend stuff? Christ, were you incapable of lying without extensive rehearsal?
He nodded, not even flinching. Thank God he was at the desk and not Mom, who definitely would have interrogated the truth out of you by now.
“Have fun, be safe, make sure to ask Ben how his parents are.”
You promised to do all three and dashed out the door before he had time to ask Eddie any questions.
You reached for Eddie’s hand the moment you were out of sight, relishing in the safety of his calluses and strong grasp.
“So, friend.” Despite his playful nature, hurt tinged Eddie’s tone. “You sure we’re in the clear? Maybe someone down the street will see us holding hands and report us to the authorities.”
His words formed a pit in your stomach, anchoring you to the sidewalk. “This isn’t just for me.” You face him and take his other hand, too, wrapping his arms around your waist. “If my parents want to, they can kick you out. I need to tell them in a way that keeps them from absolutely losing their minds.”
The lines at the corners of Eddie’s eyes softened. “I know,” he conceded, kissing the tip of your nose. “Was it like this with other guys you dated? Or is it just because I’m staying at the motel?”
Shame washed over you for the second time in as many minutes. “I’ve never actually told them about any guys I’ve dated,” you admitted. “I mean, I’ve been on dates and had some short-term…relationships, I guess you could call them. But nothing serious enough for me to tell my parents.”
Eddie let out an anxious breath before asking his next question. “What does that mean for us?”
There it was: us. One unit, something more substantial than being separate individuals who happened to share a space.
“Eddie…I really like you.” The confession was a weight off of your chest; you felt your body fall closer to his. “And if they know about us and they don’t approve, they’ll make sure to keep us apart. At least now, we can sneak around without them being suspicious.”
He looked like he wanted to say something else; if not to protest, then to ask for further clarification. But he swallowed his words, opting instead to kiss you.
His lips tasted like disappointment. You pretended not to notice.
The forty minute train ride to NYU eased some of the tension. With no seats available, Eddie kept one arm tight around your waist, the other hand wrapped around the overhead pole. His thumb caressed the small of your back, fingernail dragging over your cotton dress, as you leaned into him.
The subway car was hot, but neither you nor Eddie were deterred in the slightest. Not even as that first bead of sweat crept down the back of your neck and dipped below your dress collar.
If Eddie noticed the perspiration trickling down your spine, he didn’t comment on it.
The tip of his nose tickled your temple as he loudly whispered, ��I didn’t realize I was supposed to dress up for this.”
In addition to his tank top, Eddie wore black jeans ripped at both knees and his signature scuffed Reeboks. It was a stark contrast to your more professional attire—borrowed from Nora, of course—but you didn’t care. Couldn’t even bring yourself to care, not when…
“You look hot.” Your lips lingered on one exposed bicep, leaving a light lipstick print in their wake. “Ridiculously, unfairly hot.”
A bashful grin bloomed on his face. He stood up a bit taller, your compliment replenishing some of the confidence that had been lost. Eddie had certainly taken his share of ego bruising over the last few months: leaving Death’s Echo, the subsequent breakup with his girlfriend, sleeping in a struggling motel just to keep a roof over his head. And on top of it all, he was now with someone who refused to acknowledge the relationship in front of her own parents.
That settled it. You were going to tell your parents tonight. No more hiding or sneaking around. If they lectured you on their disappointment, you’d take it. You just couldn’t fathom bringing more insecurity into Eddie’s life. He deserved more than that.
He deserves more than you, that irritating voice snarled. It curled itself around your ear like a wispy smoke trail from one of Eddie’s cigarettes, but did not dissipate as quickly. It lingered even as Eddie pulled you in closer to kiss you.
Your response was to slip your hand into his back pocket and curving it around his ass. Admittedly, there wasn’t much to grab onto, but it still woke up something slumbering within you. Something that had remained dormant since you’d gotten caught during the picnic last week.
Longing stirred, carving out imagery of him atop you, your fingers grasping that sacred flesh without the burden of a denim barrier. You needed to know how he’d treat you in bed. Would he pounce like an animal capturing its elusive prey? Would he take his time and savor you like his last meal on Earth? Would he lovingly gaze into your eyes, or take you from behind to satisfy that primal need?
“What’s our stop again?” Eddie’s voice shook you from your lust-entrenched trance.
“Oh, uh…” You fought to keep your train of thought on a more productive track. “West Fourth Street.”
He nodded and gripped the pole tighter as the car screeched to a halt. “Then this is us.”
Thank God he was paying attention. You were embarrassed at the mere notion of missing your stop because you were too lost in the idea of having sex with him. How would you even explain that to him?
“Nervous?” He asked as you exited the train car.
You shook your head. Surprisingly, you weren’t nervous about meeting other admitted students. They’d be a group of people just like you, reaching out a hand to help those in need. A group of people like you and Nora who shared a common goal of being positive forces in a world desperate for kindness.
The climb from the platform up to the street level brought with it a burst of fresh air—fresher than in the station, at least. You and Eddie made your way down Waverly Place, fingers loosely intertwined. He let you guide him, a half-step ahead, your knowledge of the city far exceeding his.
You were only two blocks away from the school when you heard an obnoxious voice bleating through a megaphone.
“Repent now or face damnation! You are all sinners who will burn in the fires of Hell for eternity!”
A middle-aged man wearing an off-center toupee stood in the middle of the sidewalk, shouting at passersby.
“Revelations 21:8–But the cowardly, unbelieving, abominable, murderers, sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars shall have their part in the lake which burns with fire and brimstone, which is the second death.”
You kept walking and ignored the man’s incessant preaching, expecting Eddie to do the same.
That, you supposed, was naive on your part.
Before you could stop him, Eddie let go of your hand and whirled towards the offender. His forefingers pointed upwards in mock devil horns, and the noise that came out of his mouth resembled something from The Exorcist.
The preacher nearly keeled over at the sight of Eddie’s satanic display, sending you into a fit of cackling laughter.
“Eddie!” You managed to hiss through your giggling. “Let’s go!”
Eddie took your hand once more and let you whisk him away from the dumbfounded man, the megaphone now hanging limply at his side. There was no doubt he would once again be spewing vitriol soon enough, but witnessing his temporary stunned silence was delicious.
“I can’t believe you did that.”
He shrugged. “I told you—I single handedly caused Hawkins’ own Satanic Panic. It’s not my first rodeo with these fire-and-brimstone assholes.”
“C’mon.” You tugged him along, shaking your head. “Let’s get out of here before he sics his disciples on us.”
Admitted Students’ Day at NYU’s Silver School of Social Work wasn’t fancy; just some hors d'oeuvres spread out on a white tablecloth to give an air of elegance. Really, it was nothing more than a few fruit and vegetable platters, finger sandwiches, and some pigs in a blanket. You helped yourself to some strawberries and a cucumber sandwich, watching as Eddie piled the crescent-wrapped mini hot dogs onto a paper plate and topped them with a hearty spoonful of spicy mustard.
A chipper young woman wearing an NYU t-shirt welcomed you and Eddie, ushering you both towards a pile of stick-on name tags and permanent markers. You scrawled your name in blue ink and Eddie did the same, though he added “just here for the food” in smaller letters below his name.
“Okay, everyone!” The woman took to the microphone at the front of the small conference room. “Welcome to Admitted Students’ Day! My name is Ashley, and I’m a recent alumna of our wonderful MSW program.” She beamed and paused for the smattering of applause.
Ashley brushed a brunette curl from her eyes and continued. “We’ll get started in just a moment, but until then, please mingle and get to know one another.”
When you looked over at Eddie again, he was dabbing at his shirt with a paper napkin. “Dropped some mustard,” he mumbled. Sure enough, a dollop of yellow stained the black cotton fabric. “Guess we’ll need to make another trip to the laundry room tomorrow.”
You swatted at him, though you couldn’t deny having the same thought. “You also have some right here,” you lied, poking at his cheek. “Here, I’ll get it.” You leaned in and pressed a kiss to the spot you had just touched. His skin warmed beneath your lips, and it took all of your restraint not to kiss him again.
A second woman sporting a name tag made her way over to you, accompanied by a man dutifully trailing behind her.
“Hi!” The woman chirped, flashing a smile far more genuine than Ashley’s. “I’m Alexis, and this is my boyfriend, Peter.” She gestured to the man. “It’s nice to see another couple here.”
A couple. You and Eddie were a couple, recognized as such by other people in a relationship.
Peter pointed to the message on Eddie’s name tag. “I see you’re also here for moral support,” he said with a grin. “The things we do for them, huh?”
“Please.” Alexis rolled her eyes, though a playful smile suggested she wasn’t annoyed in the slightest. “I went with you to your boring grad school orientation last week.”
You perked up, latching onto the information so you wouldn’t perseverate on the notion of couplehood. “What are you studying?”
“Mechanical engineering,” Alexis answered for him. “He’s brilliant, but just listening to the course descriptions had me falling asleep.” She turned her attention to Eddie. “What do you study?”
The telltale hue of embarrassment bloomed on Eddie’s cheeks. “Oh, I, um…I didn’t. I mean, I went to high school–finished high school–but I didn’t do the whole college…thing.”
“He’s a musician,” you offered, if only to quiet his stammering voice. “A really talented one, too. He plays guitar and he sings.” You took his hand in yours in silent reassurance.
To her credit, Alexis didn’t let on that she’d picked up on his nervousness. She just smiled and asked him about the type of music he plays, swiftly shifting the conversation back on track.
The small talk continued for a few more minutes. You’d learned that Alexis and Peter had met in college; they’d both gone to Columbia, which was where Peter would be continuing his graduate studies. Alexis wanted a change of scenery and chose NYU, though Peter mentioned she’d also been accepted to their alma mater.
She went to an Ivy League university? The notion soured in your stomach. It was unrealistic to think that Alexis would be the only member of your cohort to hold a degree from an esteemed school; how would you be able to keep up with them? There was no way your meager city college education could even compare.
Mercifully, Ashley took to the microphone once again, this time with a gray-haired woman by her side, to begin the informational portion of the event. You and Eddie sat side-by-side, and you scooched closer when his arm instinctively draped over the back of your folding chair. The ease was a privilege; you could rest your head on his shoulder without being on alert. There was no threat of being caught, no guilt from sneaking around. The two of you were just another couple sitting in a sea of strangers. The idea was so enticing that you had to force yourself to focus on the course offerings and expected responsibilities.
You definitely wouldn’t be able to keep up with your peers if you couldn’t even pay attention during orientation.
Two hours passed before Eddie’s stomach audibly growled; apparently, consuming his weight in miniature hot dogs was not enough to satisfy his appetite. You were starting to get hungry, too, and you’d spent the last thirty minutes saving off your hunger pangs.
“Wanna grab something to eat?” You whispered.
He nodded emphatically. “You’d think that one of these snobby rich-people schools would splurge for more food,” he said, thankfully under his breath. If someone had overheard…
Not to mention you’d be attending that ��snobby rich-people school,’ and you were neither rich nor snobby. At least, you hoped you weren’t snobby. But did Eddie see you that way? Did he think you were keeping the relationship underwraps because of a deep-seated shame?
You bade your new friends goodbye, shot a shy smile at the professors who had spoken during the information session, and did your best to make an inconspicuous exit.
The nearest bodega was just down the block, its shelves stocked with soon-expiring candy and various snacks. Eddie perused the aisles and stared at his options. You were much faster in your decision-making, grabbing a Crunch bar and chowing down as soon as you paid the cashier.
With Eddie still glancing between a bag of barbecue potato chips and a stick of beef jerky, you plucked the latest copy of Star from the rotating magazine stand and leafed through it. There’s no earth-shattering news–stories published in the tabloids rarely are. The most exciting story was about the upcoming Spielberg flick, one where dinosaurs roam the Earth in some sort of prehistoric zoo. You can’t help but wonder if Eddie would take you to see the movie for your third date.
You were about to close the magazine and tell Eddie to hurry up–or just buy both, and you’d foot the bill–when the bolded words in the news briefs section caught your eye.
Caleb Dalton, the lead singer and guitarist of Death’s Echo, checked into rehab after various alcohol-fueled encounters with the law. The band’s management states that they “hope to proceed with the tour” next month, though there is no word about finding a replacement.
Your mouth went dry, and you started choking on the bite of milk chocolate that hadn’t yet melted onto your tongue. Eddie looked over at you, concern etched between his drawn brows at your sudden coughing outburst.
“Wrong pipe,” you managed, closing the magazine as nonchalantly as you could and placing it back on the rack. “You ready to go?”
“Yup.” Eddie fished a dollar bill from his pocket and placed it on the counter. He was already digging into the bag of chips, blissfully unaware of what you’d just read.
How would he react if he knew? Would he find it amusing that his replacement had already screwed up the tour? Infuriating that he’d been replaced by someone so unprofessional? Would it haunt him or would he consider it to be normal tabloid fodder?
A gut instinct told you to break the news to him—not here, but somewhere private. Somewhere he could process it without causing a public scene. The only thing worse than him finding out is him knowing that you already knew and hadn’t told him.
Tonight, during your shift. And you could follow it up by letting him know that you were ready to tell your parents the truth. Selfishly, you were glad to have some leverage on them: Eddie would already be upset by the band’s news, so they couldn’t add to that stress by kicking him out, right?
If only you could tell them about him accompanying you today, just to prove how serious this new relationship truly was.
One step at a time.
You savored every moment spent together on the trip. The beginning of rush hour had the train too crowded to find a seat and to hold onto the pole, so Eddie held you by your waist to keep you steady. You felt his lips on the back of your neck every so often, his way of reminding you that he was there amidst the chaos.
He trusted you, and he trusted you to trust him.
It had come innately, the way you had divulged your secret to him. Yes, he had grabbed your book and questioned your alleged hospitality studies, but you could have shut him out. Put up a wall and told him to mind his business or hit the road.
But you didn’t. And neither had he, choosing to divulge his saddest memories to you. Had given you a friendship and then something more. His presence was something you awaited at the start of every shift, the shared conversations now far more welcome than the quiet you once craved.
He always arrived at the desk by ten o’clock, sometimes getting there before you did. You’d find him making Mom laugh or listening to one of her many stories about the plethora of bizarre guests who stayed at the motel over the years. Mom liked him–you knew she did. All you needed to do was pivot her mindset in the right direction.
So tonight, when 10:25 rolled around and Eddie was nowhere to be found, your first instinct was to knock on his door and make sure he was all right. As soon as the thought popped into your head, you dismissed it as ridiculous. He was probably tired from schlepping through Manhattan and fell asleep. He’d probably planned to take a quick nap and promptly slept through his alarm, though you didn’t hear his clock radio bleating through the paper-thin walls.
Maybe this was a sign that you shouldn’t tell him about Death’s Echo and their troubled lead singer. You’d already kept quiet about the televised arrest that you watched at the bar; what was one more secret?
But that would sabotage your plan to pander to your parents with sympathy. You couldn’t exactly take the poor Eddie route without him knowing. Maybe you could–
Eddie’s door opened, yanking your attention from your running thoughts. Your heart beat double-time. This was it. You were going to tell him about Caleb Dalton’s rehab stint, tell him everything you knew.
But the voice you heard coming from his room wasn’t his. In fact, it wasn’t even a man’s.
“Promise me you’ll think about it?” A woman asked, a slight whine in her tone.
“Y-Yeah.” Though you couldn’t see him, you could tell from his hesitation that he wasn’t completely enthused about whatever he was supposed to be thinking about. “I promise.”
A soft mwah had you seeing red. It sounded like she’d only kissed his cheek, but maybe you were only fooling yourself. If she’d kissed his lips, those same lips that you’d been kissing earlier today…
“You’re the best, babe.” Jealousy raged in your core as she spoke, and you fought to keep it from exploding throughout your body. “We’ll get you out of this shithole in no time.” She punctuated her insult with a giggle. “Call me when you have your answer.”
“Mhm. Yeah.” And then his door closed.
Who was this woman? What was she doing here? Why didn’t Mom tell you that Eddie had brought someone to his room?
You got one answer once the mystery woman walked through the lobby, not even acknowledging your existence. She wasn’t wearing the heavy makeup that you’d seen in her photo, but there was no mistaking the owner of that blonde pixie cut, heart-shaped face, and piercing blue eyes.
They belonged to none other than Death Echo’s drummer.
Who also happened to be Eddie’s ex-girlfriend.
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#eddie munson#eddie x reader#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x female reader#eddie x you#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic#fanfic#eddie munson stranger things#stranger things#lam
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Halloween Decorating, Spencer Reid
I wanted to try and write something different, so this is my first piece using the second person point of view.
Skip if you don't celebrate or like Halloween, but if you're a Halloween lover like me, then I hope you enjoy 😊
Word count: 800~
So far, living with Spencer has felt like a dream for you. You and Spencer hardly got into disagreements when moving in, and when it came to combining each other's things, Spencer had no problem moving his things around to make room for yours. For someone who had never really lived with anyone else, this was a massive step for Spencer, but it wasn't hard for him to make that step for you.
Your combined furniture gave the place a unique look; now two couches in place of one, and two side tables next to them differing in height and shape. More than half of his closet was filled with your clothing, and most of his bathroom countertop was now covered in your various makeup and beauty products. The sight of this actually made him happy as it was a stark contrast to the lonely toothbrush and hairbrush usually adorning his counter.
However, that happiness only grew upon opening an unlabeled box filled with what looked to be pumpkins and other various decorations. Upon opening the other unmarked totes, Spencer found himself excited as if he were a child on Christmas. Five totes full of nothing but Halloween decorations, and Spencer couldn’t help but practically gush over everything.
When you are done with putting away all your kitchen stuff and other dishes, you walk in and find him already setting out the decorations as if they were year-round. Although, you can't help the smile on your face as you see all the other boxes open and ready to be emptied. Only then does he notice you, a grin taking over his face. "I know it's only the first of September," He explains, beginning to walk over to you. "but as long as you don't mind, maybe we can start putting up the decorations now?"
A few seconds pass before you chuckle and nod excitedly, happy to decorate for something you love so early.
After emptying every tote and decorating every surface, you two are left with a home that looks like it came straight out of Halloweentown. Skulls and ravens adorn every surface in the house, candy-corn-themed lights are strung along the walls, and the couches are filled with fall themed throw pillows and blankets. Even the kitchen didn't go untouched with various spooky hand-towels and oven mitts decorating the cabinets.
Finished, you two step back and gaze at everything with smiles stuck on your faces. Finding Spencer's hand, you give it a little squeeze to gain his attention which works. Looking at you, he swears he feels his heart skip a beat as the orange light surrounding you two frames your face in a soft glow. Meanwhile, you're busy thinking about the fact that you actually found someone who loves Halloween like you do.
Yes, you owned all of the decorations before you even met Spencer, but you never really put everything up at once like this. When you lived by yourself, it didn't seem worth it to decorate like that when no one else would be able to enjoy it besides you. Plus, you would have never thought to decorate certain things the way that Spencer did as his height gave him a bigger advantage with the leaf foliage and fake cobwebs.
"I love everything so mu-" you go to say a compliment, but Spencer cuts you off with a kiss. Granted, it wasn’t on purpose. It just happened to flow that way as Spencer felt himself leaning closer to you the more he thought of how far along you two had grown together.
Pulling away from each other's lips after a few seconds, a giggle escaped your lips at Spencer's sudden boldness, his arms now beginning to wrap themselves around your waist and hold you tight. You found yourself doing the same as you rested your head against his sweater-covered chest. As you held each other close, you could practically feel the both of you physically relax in your holds before leaning your head up at Spencer.
"Thank you for being my Halloween buddy," you gently murmur to him, careful not to dig your chin any further into his chest. At the same time, you could begin to feel Spencer’s heart beating faster in response. He had always loved Halloween, but to find someone who loved it just as much, if not more than him? He couldn’t have been happier.
"Thank you for being mine too," he replied, leaning down to connect your lips once more. For the rest of the night, the scary movie you had put on your laptop played in the background abandoned while your focus kept being diverted to one another rather than the TV. You and Spencer both loved Halloween, but as the night grew longer and the more you stayed in each other’s holds, you both realized you loved each other even more.
#spencer reid#spencer reid imagine#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid imagines#criminal minds imagines#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid criminal minds#spencer reid fluff#Spencer reid halloween#criminal minds fandom#bau#criminal minds oneshot#criminal minds smut#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction
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Teach Me Tonight - Part 7
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Deleted Scene] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] Part 7: [Deleted Scene] [Part 8]
Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)
Rating: Explicit (3k)
Tags: Smut, Set sometime after the opening of The Bear, Porn with a little plot, Virgin!Carmy, Fluff, Miscommunication, Angry Sex, Nightmares, Domesticity, Morning Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Both Carmy and Reader have a bit of a praise kink
Summary:
Glimpses of every day life and sharing an apartment with Carmy.
"I'm sorry, okay? I am! I won't use your ingredients without asking- just- please calm the fuck down!"
Your small argument from closing time had escalated on the way home to the point where you were screaming at each other by the time you slammed the apartment door behind you and followed Carmy to the bedroom. You had fought before, of course you had. But this was probably the worst one so far.
Carmy stood on the opposite corner of the room, hands on his hips, breathing heavily.
"Do you know how fucking expensive imported black garlic is?"
"I don't, but I have the feeling you're going to tell me," you spat, petty, the whole sentence leaving a bitter taste inside your mouth. You backtracked."I'm sorry. I'll pay for it, okay?" you tried to appease him even as your blood was boiling. "Listen, when I moved in, I was ready to make some compromises. I downsized my closet, I sold some furniture-"
"I didn't ask you to do any of that," Carmy interrupted you.
"Carm," you gave him a stern look. "I'm only saying that you could be more understanding about shit like this. We share the fridge and the pantry. I'm sorry I assumed I could use the stuff inside without asking, it will not happen again," you repeated, then inhaled deeply. "Just- I can't help feeling this isn't about that."
Carmy looked red in the face, angry like you had only seen him inside the kitchen, pacing and flexing his fingers. You couldn't believe he was actually losing his shit so severely over a steak and some garlic - even if it was a super expensive steak and black garlic.
He looked at the ceiling. "It is about you touching my shit without asking. It is about you leaving your things on the kitchen table when I need it to work-" he clenched his jaw. "I'm sick and tired of not knowing where anything is in my own fucking apartment!"
You had organized the closet to fit your stuff, and put Carmy's vintage denim and your bigger dresses in storage. You still had to get a desk for your sewing machine and work stuff, in the meantime it had stayed on the kitchen table, which, in your defense, had remained unused for most of your stay.
"Why didn't you say anything?" you asked in exasperation. "I've been living here for three weeks! You could have said something instead of bottling it up until it was-" you gestured vaguely in his direction, "whatever this is!"
"I like you being here, I didn't want to scare you off!" Carmy groaned.
"Carm, did you think I would leave if we didn't agree on where the shirts are supposed to go?"
He shrugged. "Dunno. Dunno!"
"You can tell me things, Carm!" you crossed the room until he was close enough to touch. His eyes looked like the sky before a storm. "You can tell me anything."
"Then why are you so fucking mad?" he said defiantly.
"Because I don't like when you yell at me like I'm just another chef in your fucking kitchen," you said, it was something you had been keeping quiet since your fight started. "I'm not getting paid to put up with this shit."
It struck Carmy completely quiet. And you regretted it the moment it left your lips. You had almost found some middle ground and you had trampled all over it. He took a step closer and stared at you, his eyes dark and angry, the space between you felt charged.
Before you knew what was going on, he grabbed you by the back of the neck and kissed you roughly, biting on your lips, mouth wide open. You pressed on his chest with your hands - you were still too mad at him. But his hands were strong and his tongue was relentless and you could feel yourself getting wet from the mixture of anger and lust - and who knew those two emotions were so close to each other?
"Fuck, I can stop," he said, barely separating his lips from yours, breathing hard. "You want that?"
You pulled on his shirt, bringing him towards you, kissing him back with just as much fervor. Then, using that same grasp, you moved him to the edge of the bed and pushed him hard, his curls bouncing as he fell on his back.
"I want you to fucking apologize, Carmen," you climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. You leaned over and trapped his wrists with your hands, above his head. Even putting all your strength into it, he could wiggle himself free at any moment, but he didn't; he stayed down and looked at you hungrily.
"I'm sorry," he said, a little too cocky for your taste, a smirk barely hidden on the side of his face.
You ground your hips against his, feeling his cock harden underneath you. He rolled his eyes and arched his neck. He looked beautiful, like a marble statue.
"What was that?" you asked, stopping your movement abruptly and getting close to his face.
He whined. "I'm sorry," and it sounded more truthful this time.
"Mhmm, that's more like it."
You kept holding both of Carmy's wrists with one hand, while the other moved downward, going underneath his shirt and playing with his nipple, massaging and pinching gently until he closed his eyes and hummed in bliss. Then you stopped.
"Fuck you," he said, letting out some leftover venom from your fight.
You smirked - why was this so hot?
You got your answer immediately after, when Carmy got free and turned you over, fast and aggressive, like he rarely was in the bedroom. He caged you with his arms and legs, all taut muscle and shaking breaths.
"What about you?" he said, his voice low.
"What about me?" you tilted your head. "I apologized like ten times, Carm. And I meant it."
"You said some fucked up things just now," his breath tickled your face as he studied you from every angle, like he was a wild animal and you were his prey.
"I did," you admitted. You arched your neck, trying to get close and... What? Kiss him? Bite him? You weren't sure. He put one hand on your throat, not quite a caress, closing his tattooed fingers around it. You squeezed your thighs together, blood flowing with need. "I meant some of that too."
"Which part?"
"That I don't like when you yell at me," you said honestly, the moment a little cheapened with how horny you sounded.
"That all?" Carmy's voice had turned hoarse from screaming and you wished you didn't find it so attractive.
"Yeah," you exhaled.
"Good," he said dryly and got up, freeing you, but you remained immobile.
Suddenly, he yanked hard on your jeans and underwear, leaving you bare in seconds.
"Fuck, Carmy."
You hated how needy you sounded, how wrecked you felt as he licked his hand and finally put his fingers inside you, how good he was at making you crumble... You let out a pleading and pathetic sound as he touched your clit roughly and finger fucked you a little too hard.
Then, he took his fingers out without a warning, leaving you empty and out of breath; his hands ghosted the insides of your thighs. You grabbed at his wrist, begging to be touched again. Carmy climbed on the bed instead, hovering above you, kissing you ferociously.
"Eager?" he teased when you started raising your hips to rub on his jeans.
"Impatient," you replied, trying to wind him up.
It worked - his eyes darkened again.
"Hands above your head," he ordered and you obeyed. He took your shirt off carelessly, your bra was almost spilling out with how forceful he was being but he didn't bother taking it off. The whole thing was angry, urgent, and so fucking hot. Carmy was undoing his belt and you used the pause to scoot backwards, just enough to reach your bedside table.
"Hurry the fuck up!" You threw a condom at him, hitting him square on the face.
Carmy gave you a look that was half exasperation, half amused lust. He unbuttoned his jeans just enough to take his cock out, then threw the empty wrapper back at you. He grabbed your legs and dragged you closer, forcefully, the duvet wrinkling underneath you.
"I swear I'm gonna-"
You didn't let him finish. You fisted the collar of his t-shirt and brought him down to kiss, biting on his lower lip, then soothing with your tongue. You opened your legs wide and tugged at the belt loops of his jeans - there was something arousing about him being almost completely clothed and you being almost naked.
"Fuck me, please, fuck me," you begged into his mouth, way past any sense of pride you had at the beginning of the fight. Carmy wasn't any better, rushing to obey the moment you said it.
"Fucking need it," he groaned as he entered you. It wasn't clear if he was talking about you or him - not that you had time to think about it before he started pounding into you. You felt every inch of Carmy's cock as it went in and out.
"So fucking good," you rasped to the side of his face. It spurred him on and made him go faster and harder - your moans got louder and louder. He covered your mouth with his hand.
"The fucking mouth on you," he mumbled low. You clenched your pussy in retaliation and watched as he rolled his eyes and lost his rhythm. "Holy shit, you're gonna kill me."
You ran your hands under his shirt, tracing the contour of his muscles, feeling them quiver and strain as Carmy tried his damnedest to keep going, one hand on the mattress and the other keeping you quiet. Part of you smiled in satisfaction knowing he was getting tired and wouldn't last.
"Shit. Fuck me," he whined and stopped for a moment, sweating and panting. He finally uncovered your mouth, conceding defeat.
"Want me to take over?" you asked with a chuckle.
Carmy sighed and fell on the mattress beside you. "Still mad at you," he said, the sound pitiful with how hard he was breathing.
"Good to know," you climbed on top of him, straddling, lowering yourself on his cock, making him arch his back with pleasure. "I'm still mad too."
You rode him mercilessly, your hips slamming against his, hands on his chest, his eyes marveling at the bounce of your breasts. You took him right to the edge and left him hanging, the veins of his neck bulging as he groaned in frustration.
You clicked your tongue, swaying gently. "Not coming until I do."
"Yeah?" he arched his eyebrows, taking the challenge for what it was.
His hand moved from gripping your hip to where your bodies connected, his thumb finding your clit and caressing it. Your legs shook involuntarily, a spark going through you.
He grinned.
"Oh, fuck you," you sighed, your neck arched, looking at the ceiling while you bounced on his cock. He knew just what he was doing - making you tremble and moan with every gentle touch.
"Come on," he urged you, meeting your thrusts, fucking into you, hitting your G spot almost by mistake.
"Fuck," you gasped, biting your lip to stop from screaming.
You rode him much faster, something desperate and feral taking over you. Carmy's eyes widened when your walls started fluttering around his cock.
"Are you-? Can I-?" he asked in a choked out voice.
"Yes, yes," you managed to say, squeezing the wrist of the hand that was touching your clit so deliciously as your orgasm started taking over every one of your senses. "Yes, Carmy."
He tensed underneath you, flushed all over, eyes closed, and his lips forming a beautiful 'O'. You stared, waiting patiently for him to open his eyes.
He looked up at you, soft, grateful, a smile curling his lips.
"C'mere," he beckoned you downwards, meeting you with relieved kisses, breathy laughter filling the space between you. He caressed your back, tugging on your bra straps until you were somewhat covered again. The tenderness of the gesture warmed you all over.
"You okay?" Carmy asked and you nodded, nuzzling your nose against his in the process. A pause. "Hey. I am sorry. I was angry and-"
"I know," you fixed his hair, all sweaty and sticking on his forehead. "I'm sorry too."
He kissed your shoulder lovingly.
"I like you being here," he said. "I just- I need time to figure it out. That okay?"
"Yeah," you traced the line of his nose with your finger. "We'll figure it out together, baby."
You kissed him sweetly and he rolled you over to your side.
"I'll go to the thrift store tomorrow," you said, cupping his face. "Buy a desk and shit."
Carmy smiled. "I'll fix the pantry. Put labels on my shit. Make room for your things."
"I think that's the most romantic thing you've said to me," you joked, giggling when he tickled your sides.
"Shut the fuck up!"
He laughed with you, leaving kisses on your face and throat.
~
You woke up to the sound of Carmy talking in his sleep. Most of it was gibberish, quiet mumbles as he thrashed on the bed, the one word you could make out was 'Mikey' - over and over. He winced and let out a pained sound. You got closer and held him, your arm across his chest.
You knew he had nightmares, you'd been there for a couple of them, but sleeping every night with him meant you saw much more of it. It broke your heart how many you had missed, how bad he hurt...
"It's okay, Carmy," you soothed softly. "I'm here, baby, it's okay."
He woke up with a startle, breathing fast.
"Fuck, sorry," he sat up and ran his hands over his face. "Bad dream."
"I know," you waited for him to settle, giving him space.
After a while, he laid back next to you. You moved slowly, gently, touching the side of his face and caressing his hair, calming him down.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Uh," Carmy looked up at the ceiling, blinking hard, "there was a fire. Just so much smoke," he cleared his throat. "And, uh, Mike was there." There was a long pause. "Did I ever tell you he planned to set the restaurant on fire?"
"What?" you froze.
He hummed. "To cash the insurance money, you know," he reached for your free hand, intertwining your fingers and bringing them close to his chest; his heart was pounding.
"I'm sorry, Carm," you waited for him to say something but he stayed silent, vacant. "It feels so weird that I never met him."
"Probably for the better, to be honest," he said dryly. There was something dark about the way he said it.
"Hey," you squeezed his hand, trying to ground him. "What'd you like about him?"
"About Mike?" he said looking at you. "Uh- He was warm. He told the best stories, took care of Nat and me, gave the best hugs... A real big brother, you know?"
You nodded.
"Started getting tattoos because of him," he said, flexing his hands to show the ink on them. "He was so cool, and I wanted to be that."
"I think you're pretty cool," you said sweetly, kissing his knuckles.
"Thanks," he said through a sad smile. "Richie says he was all wrong by the end of it..."
"Wrong how?"
"He wasn't warm anymore, he was, uh, like a fryer fire, I guess. His stories didn't make sense. Kept forgetting shit. A mess, you know?"
"Maybe that's why he pushed you away," you said softly. You knew Carmy felt guilty for his time in New York. "He wanted you to remember him like he was before."
"Maybe," he conceded, looking up at the ceiling.
You stayed like that for a while, caressing his arm, tracing lines on his skin.
"Would you-" he said, then stopped.
You turned to face him. "Yes?"
"Would you hold me?" Carmy asked, his blue eyes open and vulnerable.
"Of course," you smiled and shifted on the bed to spoon him, his back to your chest, your arms around him, leaving gentle kisses on his shoulder blade. You could feel his heartbeat settle as he went back to sleep.
"Love you, Carm," you said right before you drifted off.
~
You woke up to the feeling of Carmy kissing your face softly. You hummed, content. When you opened your eyes, the bright light of late morning was all over your bedroom.
"Didn't hear you coming in last night," you said, your voice raspy with sleep.
"Got in late. Bad day," he raised his hand to touch your hair, staring at the way it caught the light. "Nat forced me to take today off."
"That bad?" you asked, a little concerned.
Carmy moved his fingers to the worry lines on your face, soothing.
"Not really. Someone talked about work life balance in her last Al-family meeting and she's all about that shit right now," he smiled. You loved to see how he looked soft with sleep, relaxed for a little while.
"Have I told you I really like her?"
"You might have," he said playfully, then leaned over to kiss you. It was a gentle thing, his lips lazy on yours and his body flushed as he hugged you.
You took his shirt off, not out of lust, just wanting to get more warmth from his skin on yours. You slowly started kissing his tattoos. You liked the ones on his arms and hands; they were familiar, whenever you thought of Carmy it was the image you conjured. But you loved his other tattoos, the ones nobody else saw, the secrets he kept and only shared with you. You left kisses on his shoulder and his chest, running your fingers on the ink on his ribs and right above his hip bone.
"I've missed you, Carm," you confessed.
It had been a hectic couple of weeks. You had barely seen each other, mostly just sleeping on the same bed, saying good night and good morning before each of you left for work.
"Missed you too," he replied.
His hands roamed your body, tugging gently at the fabric of your sleep shirt, helping you out of it, all while kissing you. You melted in his arms, pliant as he rolled you over and started leaving pecks on your skin.
"Carmy," you sighed. His lips left imprints on your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, and your chest. He stayed there, kissing the top of your breasts, the side, the valley between them, and your nipples. Your pulse was racing and you wondered whether he could feel it with his mouth.
"You're so soft," he said, his exhale giving you goosebumps. "Smell so nice."
"You smell nice too, baby," you giggled. Carmy's hair still had a lavender-like scent from his night shower.
"Mmm..."
He kept kissing. Your belly, your hip, the wrinkle that formed between your mound and your thigh. There was something so like devotion in the way that he moved; it wasn't about filling some selfish need to get his dick wet, he wanted you to feel loved.
"C’mere," you called him back up, to kiss his lips fervently, your hands buried in his hair. When you parted, he smiled, his eyes were still sleepy. He looked so comfortable, so soft...
Your hand traced again that tattoo on his hip, then moved downward, to the hair on his navel, and lower, touching him over his boxers. He was half hard, his nose buried in your neck. When he groaned, his chest rumbled against yours.
"So nice," he said. "’m too fucking tired to fuck you like you deserve, though."
Your free hand caressed the back of Carmy's neck, holding him closer.
"Just want you to relax, make you feel good," you whispered, moving the hand on his cock back and forth, slow, loving.
He moaned, then shifted a little on the bed. You didn't realize why he was moving until his hand snaked its way inside your shorts.
"Oh," you squirmed a little at the feeling of his fingers.
"Too cold?" Carmy asked.
"No, it's okay," you leaned to kiss him. "It's okay," you repeated.
You kept on touching and kissing, everything in that sort of clumsy haze, one of your legs over his. You needed this: being with him without the rush of being late, no urgency, no fucking as fast as you could before Carmy had to run to the restaurant. You had all the time in the world - you could count the freckles on his face and stare at the blue in his eyes as he mumbled sweet nothings into the morning air.
His free hand touched your wrist, guiding it to the head of his cock, the sluggish rhythm you had set just enough to make him roll his eyes and kiss you hard, drowning a whine against your lips as he released.
"Love you so much," Carmy mumbled.
You kissed the side of his face. "I love you, I love you," your voice came out choked and high.
Without you noticing, the constant massaging between your folds had built up too. You came with a long exhale, closing your eyes for a moment, lightly squeezing his side.
"Wanna stay here forever," he said after a while of just looking at you and caressing your back.
"Just sleeping and fucking all day," you replied tiredly.
"I'd like that."
~
[Deleted Scene]
[Part 8]
~
@th3h0nkz @faephoria @wadupppp
#reader moves in with carmy; shenanigans ensue!#it's three separate days/nights in case it wasn't clear lol#carmy x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x you#carmy x you#carmy berzatto smut
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My dear lgbt+ kids,
You have heard it before: if you feel like your life sucks and you’ll never be truly happy - take a shower. Have a snack. Drink a glass of water. Stretch gently. Take a nap.
Basically, take care of your very basic physical needs and you may find that your emotional and mental well-being improves as well.
This definitely falls under the category of advice that sounds ridiculously oversimplified, especially when you are right in the middle of a bad mood - and of course it needs to come with the caveat that this won’t cure depression. But even if your low mood is a symptom of depression (or another mental illness), taking care of your physical needs will help stabilize your mood and is a good foundation for further treatment.
But in this letter, I don’t actually want to discuss that. There are already plenty great tumblr posts doing so. I just want to remind you of another basic need after water, food, sleep, movement and hygiene: Enrichment.
Enrichment means stimulation of the brain, and you may know this term in the context of people working with animals. Dog owners, zookeepers etc. try to stimulate the animal’s brain by offering them physical or mental exercise. For example, a dog may be encouraged to search for hidden treats!
You are not a dog, but your brain also needs stimulation. Being understimulated easily leads to feeing unfulfilled and unhappy!
A really easy way to provide enrichment for yourself is to just change something small about your daily environment or schedule, or try a new activity! Some simple ideas:
You don’t necessarily need to buy new furniture or even new decorations to change your environment. You could just switch around some pieces you already own!
You could take a different route home from school/work, go to a different grocery store or even just sit in a different place in your own home than you usually do
You could try a new recipe, prepare a favorite food in a different way or buy a snack you haven’t tried before
You could try to move in new ways. That could mean trying a new workout routine but also just doing a silly little dance to your favorite song in your own room!
These things sound too exhausting? That’s fully possible - being understimulated can, ironically, drastically lower your motivation! If that’s the case, remember that tiny baby steps still help! You don’t need to start with anything too exhausting. It can be something quick like:
change the lockscreen of your phone if yours has been the same for a long time
challenge yourself to read a random article on Wikipedia
listen to a song, but pick one from outside of “your” genres
Slowly working your way up to bigger changes can make it easier.
With all my love,
Your Tumblr Dad
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Ninja's Heartstrings
Summary:
Leo and Raph are in love with you, and they both show it in their own unique ways, sparking constant clashes that make Donnie and Mikey uncomfortable, causing conflicts within the group.
Beyond enjoying their attention, you begin to realize that you have strong feelings for both of them, and you find yourself torn between whom to choose. But one day, it dawns on you: Aren't brothers supposed to share everything?
WARNINGS: NSFW (suggestive) / part one of two of an eventual trio-smut / +18 MDNI / Leo and Raph are in their late twenties /
Master Splinter always said that a ninja must be observant. After so many years of hearing that statement, Leo noticed he applied that principle not only on the battlefield but also in his personal life, which sometimes left him wondering whether he had incorporated it as a part of his personality or if he simply couldn't help but scrutinize things in detail when it was about you.
He paid attention to the way your hair moved when you walked, to the glow in your eyes when you were happy. He noticed the way you frowned when displeased and sighed when disappointed. He marveled at how absolutely ravishing you looked no matter what you wore. It wasn't fair how you could weaken him without even trying.
Leo couldn't help the look of excitement in his eyes as they followed you when you entered the lair. And certainly, he couldn't stop his heart from pounding like crazy when you noticed and waved at him. However, it was Raphael who you approached.
He casually held you by the waist as you showed him the film you had brought for the usual movie night. It was only then that Raph darted a quick look at Leo across the room. A sly smirk came with it. Of course he knew. Leo understood right there that his feelings for you slipped through him like water through fingers. Whenever he looked at you, his gaze held such a depth of sentiment that it was impossible to conceal.
Of course, Raph knew, and he made it very clear that he felt the exact same way about you, and he wasn’t giving you up. It was evident in every protective move he made around you: casually placing his hand over the sharp edges of the furniture whenever you passed too close, serving you the largest slice of pizza, or giving you the bigger piece when splitting a piece of chocolate in half. He would take you home each night after your visits to the lair on his motorbike and come back smiling like a true fool.
Leo sighed, resigned. He loved his brother and would be more than happy to share his contentment at being with someone as wonderful as you. Yeah, maybe that was the right thing to do.
"Hey, aren't you coming?" you turned to ask.
You smiled at him as if your heart was physically calling for him. Ah, crap. He wouldn’t stand seeing you smile like that to anyone else. That day, the leader in blue set his mind on one thing and one thing only: he would fairly win you over. Leo grinned back at you with a dangerous glow in his eyes.
"Yeah, make some room for me."
*****.
“She’s gonna be here soon,” Mikey said as he arranged the cushions on the living room sofa. He had already cleaned up the empty pizza boxes and now Donnie was placing them in a black plastic bag along with other trash remains.
The gentle, yellow-tinged warmth light permeated through the grooves in the ceiling, barely kissing the furniture surface.
“Yeah, hope things don’t get weird again,” Donnie said.
He spoke in a somewhat whining tone, as he rolled his eyes. Mikey chuckled.
“Tell me about it. Which of them will snap first this time?”
“My bet is on Raph.”
“Hmm, I don’t know, Leo was this close last time!”
Mikey made a tiny gesture with his fingers as he giggled to the thought of Leo’s deep frown when you chose Raph to cuddle with while watching the movie the last time you were there.
“I was close to what?” the leader interjected, arms crossed. His gaze was skeptical as his tone curious.
“Oh, you know, demanding a duel combat with Raph owing to jealousy,” Donnie answered as he tied a knot in the black plastic bag.
Leonardo's expression darkened.
“What?”
Mikey gulped, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the abrupt change in the atmosphere, but he remained quiet.
“Come on, don’t play dumb. You know what I’m talking about.''
"Who's playin' dumb?"
Raphael entered the living room then, pop-corn on one hand, a soda can in the other. His voice was so glowy it made his good mood palpable.
“No one. Donatello is just overthinking stuff,” Leo deflected.
Raph let out a closed-mouthed chuckle. “When isn't he?”
Donnie gaped, offended.
“Excuse me?! I’m not overthinking anything. I’m just stating the facts.” Donatello whined while putting off the bag.
“Which are?” Raph asked while leaning on the opposite wall on which Leo was standing.
"You both need to cease displaying such—" he paused for a moment, attempting to pinpoint the precise words to encapsulate the entire situation. "Enticing behavior towards her!"
"What?" Raph managed to force out a scoffing chuckle to mask he had choked on his soda.
“Oh, please,” Donatello said sardonically.
Raph was about to retort but Mikey spoke first.
“Look, we’re just saying it’s obvious you’re both into her, and sometimes it’s uncomfortable to be trapped in the middle of—”
“Of whatever mating rituals you’re putting out to win her over,” Donatello finished, tired of feeling cringed every time you visited the lair.
The door swung open just then, before anyone else could utter another word. You strode to the room, and all heads turned in your direction.
"Hey, guys!" you greeted with a cheerful tone, but you couldn't ignore the heaviness in the atmosphere settling onto your shoulders. The four turtles exchanged a knowing look. "Did I miss something?"
“No! no, we were just having a… creative discussion” Mikey said quickly, smiling. His fingers fidgeted close to his plastron.
“Couldn’t decide which movie to watch tonight,” Leo said in a much more smooth tone. “Think you can help with that, doll?”
His voice was velvety as he addressed you. Rapahel rolled his eyes, and Donatello murmured something you didn’t quite catch.
“I could bring up some options, I guess.”
"Be my guest," Leo extended his hand to escort you to the sofa, but Raph swiftly slapped it away before you could grasp it.
"She knows the way. You're not a damn host," Raph growled under his breath.
"Oh my God, I can't take this anymore. I'm calling it quits for tonight," Donnie declared, turning to face you. "It's wonderful to see you, but I've got some lab work to wrap up. Enjoy the evening, and make yourself at home." Donnie bid you farewell with an apologetic smile. He shot his brothers a glare of frustration as he left.
“I’m off too… places to be, pizza to eat, you know!” Mikey let out a chuckle before vanishing from sight.
You stood there, utterly perplexed. After a few moments of processing how everyone had essentially fled the movie night, you shifted your attention to Leo and Raph, your expression demanding answers. Impatience grew with each passing second as your foot tapped the floor in rhythm.
"Well? What's going on?"
“They’re party poppers, don’t mind them. Now c'mon, sit with me.” Raph placed his arm around your shoulders casually, offering you popcorn with the other. Leo was about to make a comment but you spoke first.
“Actually…” you said slipping away from his hold smoothly, “I want to sit with Leo tonight.”
Raphael clenched his jaw, “Fine, whatever. What are we watching?”
You frowned at the sudden harsh tone, but didn’t really understand the problem. You had indeed sat beside him last time. Was he…?
“Come on Raph, don’t be a sore loser.”
"I ain't lost nothin' yet," he shot back, with a determined tone.
"Hey, uh, guys?" Your voice wavered with a mix of uncertainty and squeakiness.
They both shifted their attention to you, guilt flashing across their faces as they registered your puzzled expression. Raphael let out a sigh.
"Ya know? I actually gotta kick some butts tonight."
He handed you the popcorn bowl as he finished the soda, strolling toward the door.
“What?! you’re leaving too?” You asked, reaching out to him but Leo grasped your hand, stopping you in your tracks.
“Let him go, he needs to cool down,” the leader whispered to you.
"Sorry, sugar, catch ya next time... unless ya wanna swap flicks for somethin' more thrillin'," he smirked, taking a few steps back to get a good look at you. Raphael adored the way your eyes lit up at his words, but he wasn't thrilled about Leo's hand holding you in place.
“That’s tempting, but I really wanted to do something chill tonight. See you around Raph!''
He shrugged, seemingly dismissive. “Your loss.”
It wasn’t visible but the amount of self-control that took him to just go was huge. He would rather leave than seeing you glued to his brother's side all night and he knew better than trying to make you change your mind. Additionally, starting a fight could make matters worse, and he didn’t feel like falling from your good side.
“Now, what if you show me your favorite movie?” Leo smiled, but this time there was something more to his smile.
*IIII*
You both were sitting on the couch, his arm over your shoulders and your head leaned against his own. Outer-thighs barely touching. His breathing was even, plastron moving calmly. You hadn't really gotten used to watching it up close. It was pretty. Marked with small indentations which made it look like you could run your nails over them… and so you did, jolting him a bit, but Leo just glanced at you, flashing a smile before returning his eyes to the tv. He stood still despite his heart hammering loudly. Could you hear it? He tensed.
You were absorbed touching him, imagining –not for the first time– how would that part of him feel against your own. Bare skin to skin, your nipples rubbing on the hard surface of his chest. Your breath hitched. It wasn’t right to have this kind of fantasies when he was right beside you, yet you couldn’t help yourself. Your mind simply took life of its own and started to produce several indecorous images.
It was like that night with Rapahel, the other day.
Both of you were riding on his bike, he told you he wanted to show you one of his favorite spots to watch the city lights and you traveled hugging him from behind, chest against his shell. Scratches and marks of combat decorated his carapace. His muscly shoulders barely peeked from ahead and you would have given everything to just let your hands wander his entire back.
“Well, here we are,” he said, stopping the motorbike before he jumped off in one smooth movement.
“An abandoned building?” you said skeptically, following him to the creepy dark entrance.
“Scared?” he teased, looking back at you with a smirk.
“As if.”
It was indeed quite gloomy, Raph's presence dispelled your fears. Naturally, you'd rather meet your end than admit it out loud and inflate his ego to an even more dangerous extent.
He entered, and you trailed closely. The space resembled an abandoned hotel lobby, with wood marred by moss and the steel of the staircase corroding. A peculiar blend of natural light and the faint reflections of neon-glowing advertisements scarcely penetrated through the shattered windows. Somehow, you thought, it was something along with Rapahel aesthetics.
You two ascended the ladder, and with each step, your body pulsed with anxiety, the thought crossing your mind that perhaps the stairs wouldn't bear the weight of both of you since they creaked strangely with each step. But those were unfounded worries. Soon, you reached the top floor, and Raphael swung open the door that led to the roof. New York City at night, seen from the pinnacle of an abandoned building, offered a breathtaking view.
He perched on the edge and extended his hand to you. Without hesitation, you took it, settling beside him, your legs dangling over the cars bustling along the avenue below.
“Raph this is amazing!” you said, unable to repress a smile.
“I know” he hesitated before continuing, “I used to come here a lot… back then.”
You turned to him, his expression was deep, and you decided not to let go of his hand.
“When you were a merciless vigilante?” you tried to joke and he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Come one, I wasn’t ‘merciless’ I actually gave them many chances to withdraw.” he lied, jestingly “Guess they loved having their asses kicked.”
You laughed at that and this time he seemed more relaxed.
“Or maybe they stupidly thought they could defeat you”
"They should've known better. I'm faster and stronger than 'em. Always have been," he boasted with that air of superiority that you adored. "Besides, no one stands a chance against the Nightwatcher."
"Or big metal turtle, like Casey called it," you chuckled. "Man, I would've loved to see you in that armor," you mused absentmindedly after a couple of seconds, and he shot you a smirk.
"I still got it. I might wear it if you ask me real nice," he said smoothly, with that low tone that sent shivers down your spine and made your thighs clench. Yet, you didn't let it show.
"Ooh... please show me?" you said, offering him your most charming smile. Raph laughed, his voice raspy and deep.
"You'll have to do better than that."
"Come on, Raph, you want me to beg?" you protested, shifting carefully to avoid falling. His eyes sparkled, and his smirk grew wider.
"Fine," you whined, "could you please try on the armor for me?" Raphael scoffed.
"That was still kinda weak, but I suppose it'll have to do." He started to move as if to stand up, but you instinctively interlocked your fingers with his, not even thinking about it. His eyes flicked down to your hands and then back to you, questioning.
"Not tonight, though. I'm too comfy to move," you remarked. As you said that, you pressed your side against his, and he gently tightened his grip on your fingers. It felt wonderful to be close like that, in a peculiar kind of embrace amid the heights, incredibly intimate and heartwarming. A few seconds passed during which you both simply gazed at the city and how far the streets stretched. Then, he softly called your name, his hold on your hand trembling slightly.
"I've been meanin' to tell ya somethin'," he began, and you looked at him with a small smile.
"What?"
Raph moved closer, his eyes ensnaring yours with their intensity. There was something in them, a gaze concealing a sentiment he'd been bottling up until now, much like you had. He lowered his face, resting his forehead against yours, and your noses brushed against each other.
"You can tell me anything," your voice barely more than a longing whisper. Your mouth drew nearer to his with each passing moment, your half-closed eyes revealing your desire.
The high-pitched wail of a siren, accompanied by the flicker of red and blue lights, made Raph growl as he reluctantly tore himself away from you.
"Duty calls." He breathed with flushed cheeks before clearing his throat.
Something – someone – shocked your arm repeatedly, pulling you out of the sweet memory. Leo was gazing at you with a mix of amusement and doubt, as if he were anticipating something from you.
"I'm sorry, what?" you said, blinking a little.
"I asked if you'd like more popcorn." He gestured to the empty bowl, and you gasped. Had you devoured it all by yourself, lost in your own mental movie?
"Oh no! No, thank you." You felt heat burning the back of your neck as color crept to your cheeks when you realized that he might be asking because he was the one who wanted more, since you had selfishly eaten it all on your own. "B-but if you want more, I can go get some."
Leo chuckled at you before smiling sweetly. "It's fine, I'm good."
"You know, there's something I'll never understand about romantic comedies," you changed the subject as the movie continued. You couldn't quite keep quiet now, perhaps due to nervousness. "And it's why they only seem to make you yearn for a lover so perfect."
Leo raised a brow.
"How's that?" he asked, leaning closer, and you could feel his cheek resting on your head. You thought he must look cute, eyes still on the TV as your chest tightened with the desire to hug him.
Slut.
The thought came so fast and so forcefully, crashing onto you from the back of your head to your eyes, throbbing. Slut. Hadn't you just been remembering how you felt in Raph's arms a literal second ago? Then why? Why did what you were feeling right now seem so close to that, if not even the same...
"Well, th-the protagonist's romantic interest is always too stunning for real-life standards. There's no one that perfect," you continued the conversation, trying to block your own thoughts.
Leo shifted to look right into your eyes. "I wouldn't be so sure about that," he said, flashing you a charming smile. You blushed even harder this time.
"Oooh, don't tell me you think you've found the one," you teased, trying to escape the cringe of your own mind without realizing you were digging your own grave.
Leo kept his little grin and nodded. "I think I may have, yes."
"How's she like?" You knew he was talking about you; all of his body language screamed so. Leo seemed to think for a second.
"Too stunning for real-life standards," he said with a sly look, and you lightly smacked him on the arm with the back of your hand while chuckling. But then he added in a small whisper, "She doesn't seem to mind."
You frowned, "Mind what?"
Leo shrugged, his gaze suddenly fixed on the TV. You weren't supposed to hear that.
"Leo?" you prompted.
"We are ninjas," he started, "and we have acclimated to the idea of living forever banished in the shadows. Alone. Not only because of the secret oath to protect this city, but because of the way we look. Whenever we're together, she looks at me as if..." he locked his gaze on yours again, filled with deep yearning and adoration, "as if she doesn't mind.."
He wasn't talking only about appearances. You deserved someone who could spend time with you during the daytime too. You should get to be with a guy who's able to accompany you to family dinners, publicly celebrate your relatives' or friends' birthdays, heck, someone who could take you to your graduation dinner or job promotion celebrations. He couldn't do all of that, but you already knew, and you didn't seem to care.
"And when she's with me, I feel like I could actually be bold enough..." he leaned closer, eyes half-lidded in craving. His face was now just two inches away from yours, "to kiss her."
The glimmer of his gaze was drawing you into a warmer world, one in which you knew you'd be safe within his arms. Your past worries were now forgotten, lost in the midst of his shallow breaths.
"Yeah? So why don't you try it out?"
"I might just do that now."
"My son."
Both of you jolted back at the sound of Master Splinter's voice, followed by a throat clearing. You felt your whole body turn red with embarrassment. How long had he been there?!
Leo's expression was priceless, so startled despite his ninja skills. It was so funny that it almost made you forget your embarrassment.
"We were just watching a movie."
Despite his age, Leo still felt the need to explain himself but didn't move, and he didn't allow you to either. It was his way of acknowledging that he was a grown adult sharing a moment with... well, what were you to him? More importantly, what was he to you? The worries came back strongly, throbbing like a headache.
"A movie that has finished, I suppose?" his dad said, gesturing to the black screen. Leo flashed a look before you spoke.
"Yes, it was very entertaining. Thank you for having me here, Master Splinter," The mutant rat held a serene expression, apparently pleased with your words, "but it's getting late. I should take my leave."
Leo reflexively squeezed your body against his and let go as soon as he realized.
"You don't have to go, dear; my novel is about to start, and you both can stay and watch it with me," he said affably. However, upon noticing his son's expression, he quickly added in a sigh, "Or you can move your date to your room."
Date. The world seemed to strike a chord on you both.
"Actually, I do have some things to do at home. I'm sorry," Leonardo's disappointment was visible through every line of expression on his face. He straightened up, however, and gave you an understanding nod.
"I'll take you home," he told you, moving toward the part of the lair where they stored the turtle-van.
"No! I mean, no, thank you. I think it's better if I go by myself." Leo frowned, doing his best to hide the growing panic burning in his chest. Were you having regrets about the moment you shared just now?
"Thank you anyway, Leo. Goodnight, Master Splinter."
**IIII**
The sound of the rain falling over the roof of your place was exactly what you needed to calm your nerves. You lay on your bed, watching the little drops drip down the glass window. It had been three days since you were in the lair. During this time, you strategically ignored the calls of both Leonardo and Raphael.
You needed time to think about what to do. By this point, it was undeniable that you felt something very strong for both of them. It made no sense to avoid it or deny it. The only thing you had to do now was decide. You huffed, hating the fact you couldn't have both. And then it hit you: why can't you? Who says one must love only one person?
You grabbed your phone from your purse. If there was someone who could help you confess your feelings to both of them and somehow convince them a poly-relationship could work without causing a war, that was April.
#tmnt#tmnt x reader#tmnt leo x reader#tmnt raph x reader#tmnt leo#tmnt raph#tmnt 2007#tmnt 2k3#tmnt bayverse#tmnt raphael#tmnt donnie#tmnt mikey#tmnt donatello#leonardo hamato#rapahel hamato#leo and raph x reader#leo x reader x raph#tmnt 2012#tmnt 2016#tmnt 2k12#tmnt smut#donatello hamato#mikey
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Yan!husband x reader x Yan!ex
You and your dear husband have gained new interesting neighbours from your past. What will your former love say now that you’re promised to someone else?
————————-
“Phew, that’s the last one.” Arthur exhaled and finally allowed himself to take a breather. He reached his arms up and stretched his back, hearing satisfying cracks.
“Yes, now I can sleep.” You exclaimed bliss.
“Sorry, sweetheart. It’s dinner first, then you can sleep.” Your husband kissed you tenderly on the cheek and you groaned.
“No, it’s fine, I’m not even hungry.”
Arthur gently smiled with amusement, “Nice try, dear. But it won’t work on me.”
You huffed in frustration and crossed your arms in defiance for not being able to sway your husband, and said husband simply laughed at your failure.
You and Arthur had just come back from your honeymoon in the Maldives, which had been wonderful and deeply romantic. He had done everything to make it perfect for the two of you, always peppering you in his attention and affection. Never once did his mind stray to something else besides you. It seemed like he didn’t let you out of his sight, in the least.
It made you feel somewhat overwhelmed but you assumed every woman shared your notion. You had just married after all. It was normal. Completely normal.
Befor you flew on you honeymoon, you decided to buy a new beautiful house together. The apartment you lived in previously wasn’t bad in any way, tough you two wanted something fresh. Something that also came with a garden, of Arthur got to chose. Gardening was a hobby he’d picked up this year, he was capable of growing elegant blooms without struggle and it was something he took pride in. Some people-like you for example- clearly didn’t possess the green thumb like he did, you still tried to recreate some of his creations and failed miserably.
Luckily your then fiancé, didn’t judge people based on their ability to grow plants and didn’t kick you out.
“Honey, what do you feel like eating today?” Yelled Arthur from the kitchen to you, who sat in the living room.
The moving company had already placed your bigger furniture in the house, so you had something to sit on. It didn’t help the ugly view of the mountains of cardboard boxes laying spread out in the floor. The TV was also among the things to first be unpacked, you simply couldn’t live without it. Oh well, it it what it is.
“I dunno, pasta maybe?”
“Pasta it is.” He complied while opening a box that had ‘non-fridge food’ written on it, and grabbing a package of spaghetti. He knew exactly what dish to make and put on an apron.
Then he laid out the other ingredients needed and began boiling the water. As the man cut the vegetables, you approached him from behind and gave him a hug.
“Can I help?”
“I’d….rather not have you do that.” Arthur carefully admitted and turned to look at you with a sorry smile. “It’s better if you just go watch TV, and let me do the work.”
“But…” you began protesting, noticing the cutting board and the vegetables atop it. “I can help you cut the garlic and tomatoes.”
He pulled you back as soon as you prepared to grab the knife laying beside the board, and clasped your hand close to his chest, “Ah, darling! Don’t do that.” He blurted out.
“W-what, why?”
“Because I wouldn’t want my sweet wife to hurt herself.”
“I won’t, come on Arthur. It’s not like accidentally I’ll cut my finger off and then die.”
At your dreadful words, he hissed in response and quickly said, “Don’t say that.” And stared into your eyes with such determination and intensity that you almost forgot who you were and where.
“R-right, sorry.” You apologised for the gruesome picture you had painted in his mind and awkwardly turned your gaze to the ceramic tiles making up your floor.
“No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m keeping you from doing the things you want, I don’t deserve you. You shouldn’t have married me.” He explaned dejectedly and looked at the floor, him too.
“It’s fine, I promise.”
Arthur felt you softly caress his cheek and saw you smiling at him.
“I can go watch TV, no problem.”
You left him to his own devices in the cooking area and plopped down on the grey couch and scrolled through films you found uninteresting. Seeing you follow his advice, the man you call husband smiled in satisfaction and went back to cooking.
Throwing yourself on the couch, you groaned in contentment. You got to say that the food absolutely slapped and now your stomach demanded rest. Arthur was way to good at cooking, he seriously belonged in a culinary show or something. You had complimented him for his skills for years now and every time he brushed you off with a humble shrug, saying he isn’t all that and there are better out there.
“Ugh…”
“Don’t fall asleep on the sofa.” Arthur warned, preferring for you to go directly to bed instead of slouching off in the living room. Though if push came to shove, he would carry you.
“I’ll try…” you murmured and closed your eyes despite his words.
Seeing your drowsy form, he chuckled and continued doing the dishes. You on the other hand, struggled to keep yourself conscious and nearly fell to the grasp of sleep multiple times. When you felt yourself drifting off, you forced your eyes open, only to have them close again.
The sudden ring of the doorbell brought back energy, only enough to let you listen in. Arthur had went to the door when hearing it, and he wondered to who it could possibly be. Him and you were new here, so it couldn’t be a neighbour visiting for a friendly chat since no one knew you. He hadn’t ordered anything either and as far as he knew, you hadn’t either.
The man peeked outside through the peephole imbedded in the large piece of wood and saw an unfamiliar man-no older than himself- standing right outside. Compared to his own natural raven hair, the stranger had bleached blonde hair. Sadly it appeared someone hadn’t gotten the bleaching done properly for the strands had a yellow hue to it.
His clothes consisted of a harsh red t-shirt, quiet wrinkly Arthur had so admit. Perhaps did the man outdoors drop the bleach on his jeans as well, when changing hair colour. Because they too were stained with lighter colouration than other parts of them.
Deciding to ask him to what brought him to your home, Arthur graciously opened the door just as he noticed the blonde reaching for the bell a second time since no one had opened, and the lights were on which meant there was indeed someone home. What he didn’t know was that he had been scrutinised by a pair of grey eyes for quite some time.
“Yes, can I help you?” Said Arthur in a polite but firm tone, signaling he wanted no play and get right to it.
The stranger had stepped back a foot when the door abruptly swung open and a very tall-maybe annoyed- man stared down at him. Frankly, he wasn’t that much taller, but it still showed when standing so close to each other.
“Eh, hey.” He greeted, “I’m your new neighbour. Sorry to bother, but you don’t happen to have some eggs you don’t need?”
One of Arthur’s brows shot up at the question, “We do, in fact. Why? You want to borrow some.” The last sentence would have seemed like an inquiry, it clearly wasn’t, based on the tone he used. It was a statement.
The blonde gawkily nodded and laughed stiffly, “Yeah, sorry I get that you got here like today.”
“It’s fine.” Your husband sighed, “but don’t forget to pay us back.”
“Us?” The stranger said, slightly confused.
“Me and my wife.”
“Oh, sorry man. Thought you moved here alone.” He apologised.
Arthur didn’t wish to speak to this man longer than he had to. He would have preferred to slam the door in this rascals face and reject his request for eggs, but even he understood it was something that wouldn’t benefit you in the further. He had to make a good impression on neighbours in order to live without trouble, at least on a social level were you lived. It wasn’t fun to be at odds with your neighbour, you live in the same building after all.
Rolling his eyes, the black haired man left the blonde man at the house entrance to fetch some of the requested food.
While resting, you had listened to their entire conversation. And though you had no idea to who the stranger at the door could be, the voice did sound dreadfully familiar. You had defiantly heard that voice before, long ago. Getting up from your position, you followed your husband from behind and peered over his tall frame to spot a glimpse of the person.
When you saw them. You understood why the voice was so familiar.
Feeling your body stiffen and blood run cold, eyes widening you were only able to mumble, “…W-Weston..?”
Instantly when he heard your voice, the blonde man noticed you. And turned his attention on you with the speed of lightning, intensity burning. You gasped. His expression mirrored yours. The eggs he so wished to borrow splattered on the floor in a yellow goo.
“…(Y-Y/n)…..?” He uttered just as shocked as you currently felt. “What are you…?” Weston wandered off in the middle of his sentence.
As the exchange went on in stunned silence, your husband observed the scene with raised suspicion. Did you know this man?
Weston’s initial shock wore off and his features transformed into a supple smile, he stuttered as he tried to get his thoughts out. “I-it’s been so long….what a-are you doing here?” he heavily exhaled in amazement.
“I…I live here..” your answer was as stiff as a board and you glanced at Arthur, who was also looking perplexed at you.
As if he suddenly understood a hard math problem, Weston perked up, “Oh, are you visiting your sister and her husband? So you currently live with them? I know this is far from your childhood home.”
Damn, he had already began making assumptions. It would be very awkward to correct him now, but you couldn’t lie to him. It would just make things more confusing and complicated in the future when he wondered to why you hadn’t gone back to ‘your’ home.
Your husband reacted before you could, “No, she is not visiting. She lives here and is in fact my wife.” He spat, hating that he created theories on you relationship.
“W-what..?” He forcibly laughed as if he thought he heard wrong, “she’s your wife..?”
“Yes. Now who are you to be so familiar to my (Y/n)?”
“Me?” Weston scoffed, “I’m her boyfriend.”
Not wanting things to become more sour than it was, you hastily broke in, “Were, Weston. You were my boyfriend.” You reminded.
When you were 15 years old, you met Weston at your school. The two of you had been put in the same class and therefore had to work together on assignments, from time to time. Despite having gone to the same school since elementary, you had never properly spoken to each other. Simply overlooking the others existence unless you had to interact. Like, during a game of tag, for example. Those were circumstances you needed to talk, but didn’t further the relationship. Choosing to stay with your respective friend group.
The time you really started hitting it off were when you had a super important assignment that would determine a great deal of your grade that year. So that was when you really focused and took the task seriously, and spoke carefully about what would be a good idea and what wouldn’t. Compared to previous pair work, where you and Weston didn’t speak five sentences to each other, came to an agreement instead of ditching as soon as you could like you had done other times. So it wasn’t weird that you two started hanging out and chatting more now that you found out that the other party wasn’t all that bad, as you might’ve thought.
Aquintances turned to good friends, that became best friends, which eventually blossomed to romance.
Weston was your first boyfriend. He was your first everything, and you were his first as well. As you were so young back then, you stupidly believed you’d stay a couple forever. Reality proved your belief wrong as it does most of the time. When you got older, you wanted to peruse different things. The deduction to break up was mutual, though its reinforcement was mostly you and met with some resistance from Weston. However, it all ended anyway.
Hearing your defiance, Weston yielded. “Yeah….right.”
“You were..dating..” you heard Arthur mumble under his breath, not sure if he wanted an answer or not you still said.
“Yeah, back in high school and such. Sorry, I didn’t know he lived here, too.” The last part you murmured in his ear, quietly.
“Sooo…you’re married!” The blonde exclaimed an unnaturally cheerful voice. “I’m glad, hehe. You did always wish to get married, so that’s great.” He let out an equally strained laugh.
“Eh..yeah, hehe. I guess so.” You pretended that you didn’t remember that he was the one you had wanted to marry in your younger days. And now it was weird since you were indeed married, just not to him. “So you live next door?” Bending down, you collected to egg shells still covering the floor.
“Yeah, I do.” Weston copied your movement to help you clean up the mess he’d made but was stopped by your spouse, who sent him another one of his furious looks.
The tall, dark haired man couldn’t bear to see some pathetic lowlife from the past ruin things between you and him. Things had gone to perfectly smooth in the latest years, and no one-exactly no one- will he let destroy it.
Witnessing your husband aiding you in your job, he retracted his hands and stood there as still as whatever is the ‘still-est’
“Don’t worry, I’ll get some new ones for you.”
“No need, it’s not that urgent. I promise.” he reassuringly stated.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Shrugging, you went to the kitchen to throw away the discarded shells and grab a towel to wipe the egg yolks. When you came back with the paper, your surprise visitor was gone like the wind.
“Where’s Weston?” You asked Arthur, sending him a perturbed expression.
The man told you not to worry, “He’s gone home. It wasn’t urgent, like he said. He said to me he would simply make something else to eat.”
Thinking it was a bit rude to just rush off like that, you couldn’t blame him for it. This unexpected meeting was rather startling. The next time you’d run into him(which you’ll undoubtedly do), you’d try to be as nice as possible to him. Being enemies with neighbours was a freaking pain in the ass. No thanks.
“Okay, I’ll let him borrow things in the future if he’d so wish. “
“That sounds great, honey.” Arthur gazed at you as you closed and locked the front door after Weston’s departure. Then as you ventured back and up to the second floor, leaving Arthur alone in the the same position.
His smile had faded significantly and he muttered, “This can be a problem.”
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#bad relationships#male yandere#obsessed#oc#possesive#short story#toxic#yandere#yandere ex boyfriend#yandere ex#yandere husband#Arthur oc#neighbour#yandere neighbour#yandere oc#ex#bf#love#dark#move#new city#marrige#Arthur Campbell oc
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towards the end of your pregnancy, mick starts getting ready for the baby to arrive (installing the car seat, building furniture…) while you’re also nesting
Cw: reader's pregnant
You finished folding the last bodysuit you took from the dryer, closing the drawer and getting up to get yourself a snack from the kitchen. Mick had an interview over the phone, so he had to let you out of his sight, something he only did when he absolutely had to, no matter how many times you assured you would be fine.
"Something sweet, baby girl?", you asked as you rubbed your bump, looking at the snack cupboard before finding one of your favourite homemade biscuits your mother had dropped off a couple of days before. When you turned to the sink to wash your hands and look for your husband, you heard noise coming from the garage, following it until you saw Mick looking at instructions.
"Everything okay?", you asked, making your presence known as he looked up, smiling when he saw you standing there.
"Yes, just installing the ISOFIX for the carseat", he said as he moved to do so while you appreciated his handsome face as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing and what he read on the instructions, "I got it, I got it... I got it!", he said as he tested the apparatus, seemingly well enough since it did what it was supposed to.
"I was thinking of building the inside of the wardrobe, how does that sound?", he said as he tidied what he did, putting things back in the box and storing it in the room adjacent to the garage.
"That would be really nice, actually. I can finally put her dresses and coats in the hangers, thank you", you said, taking his hand and letting him take you to the nursery.
"You filled the drawers already?", he asked as he took all of the different pieces from the box, organising them by section, "I did, and before you come at me, my butt was sat on the chair so I wasn't putting too much strain on my body", you winked.
"How about we get this butt on there again?", he said, teasingly tapping your butt before he pushed the rocking chair so you could sit by him. Sitting down, you puckered your lips so he could kiss you before he started putting on the little pieces that would hold the shelves and the rails. "Don't put those too high, please", you requested, "I'll have to ask for your help every time I need to get something from there", you blushed.
"Then you'll come and get me so I can help", he reasoned, "or we could store things here than we won't use too often, like bedding and curtains? Spare stuff that's bigger", he wondered, "yes, that sounds good", you smiled, envisioning the whole lay-out.
"Do you think this is good here?", Mick asked you, showing you the position he wanted to put the rail on, "I don't know, I have to test it out", you mumbled, getting up and grabbing one of the hangers along with a winter coat you had left by the crib.
Mick took the opportunity to watch you waddle around the room, gathering the things you needed, not being able to contain the smile on his lips when he thought about you carrying his baby girl.
"Stop looking at me like that", you mumbled, feeling watched, "what? I can't look at my gorgeous, pregnant wife?", he wiggled his eyebrows, making room for you so you could test out your movements. His hands went to your waist, rubbing the skin under your t-shirt, "it's fine, but maybe a little bit closer to the wall, so no one hits their head on the hangers, and by no one, I mean you, because my head doesn't touch there", you snickered, setting the clothes and the hangers on the shelf before looking up at him, "can't have this handsome face bruised", you smiled, kissing his lips and enjoying the way his hands were massaging your hips and back, "how about I finish this here and we can go update the pregnancy book?", he mentioned the scrapbook you were creating ao you could document every step of the pregnancy, "sounds good to me, and to her too, it seems", you chuckled as you felt her kicks, your husband's hands moving to your bump, "Hi, babygirl, mama and papa are making sure everything is ready for when you join us".
(Thank you for your submission ✨️)
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Two Pizza's And A Lottery Ticket
Day 28 of flufftober and the prompt is Lucky Charm! I hope you all enjoy and you can read it on Ao3.
Maddie Buckley had always called Buck his own Lucky charm. When the kids at school had teased him about his birthmark, she had told him that they were jealous because he had been brushed by luck and everyone could see how lucky he was.
When Buck was released from the hospital after being struck by lightning, the first thing he did was order himself two pizzas.
Maddie jokingly bought him a lottery ticket.
Buck didn’t think much of it, not until he was waking up in the morning to the sound of Maddie making him breakfast below and his phone buzzing with a new message. The ticket sat on his bedside table and when Buck was finished checking his messages, he went online to check the winning numbers.
The same numbers that matched his ticket.
~*~
“I thought your parents were going to buy you a couch?” Eddie frowned as he, Buck and Christopher crossed the carpark towards the furniture show room. They were walking slowly, not in any rush. Eddie was just basking in the moment that he could do with this Buck. A week ago, it hadn’t seemed like it would it possible.
“And while I appreciate the gesture,” Buck said, his shoulder bumping into Eddie’s as they walked. “I have a feeling my mum is going for style rather than comfort. That’s not the couch I want.”
“You know what you want?” Eddie asked.
“Yeah,” Buck said softly, shoulder pressing harder into Eddie, his gaze fixed on Christopher who is just ahead of them. “I do.”
Eddie grinned, his heart flopping in his chest as he reached up to wrap an arm around Buck’s shoulders, dragging him closer. “Then let’s go get it.”
Buck’s smile was dazzling as he flashes it at Eddie.
There are only a few other people in the store as they make their way around the couches. Buck followed Christopher around, nodding seriously as Chris talked about each couch. Eddie is more than happy to trail behind the two of them, sitting on the couches when instructed too and offering an opinion when asked.
“This one,” Chris says decisively, settling back into the royal blue cushions.
Eddie wondered if his son has a future in selling furniture because he has chosen a ridiculously comfortable couch. It’s a touch bigger than the one back at the Diaz home and fits the three of them comfortably. It reminded Eddie of the couch at the fire station – one that he and Buck had taken many naps on during their time at the 118. The colour is the same as the one at home, but Eddie can’t feel the broken spring underneath him or the bar that holds everything together. Eddie found himself sinking into the cushions, content.
“Oh yeah,” Eddie sighed, tilting his head back. “This is a good couch.”
“You like it?” Buck asked.
Eddie titled his head to look at Buck. His best friend was watching him, a happy smile on his face. He looked like he belonged, arm draped over Chris shoulders, fingers a hair breath away from Eddie’s shoulder. He could picture many nights on this couch with Chris and Buck.
“Do you?” Eddie asked instead of answering.
Buck’s smile only grew. “Yeah. I love it.”
Eddie smiled back, holding Buck’s gaze. Buck’s fingers stretched a little further, gently running down the column of Eddie’s neck.
“Me too.”
“I’m glad you like it,” The salesperson spoke.
Eddie had sort of forgotten that they were there. He pulled his gaze from Buck but didn’t move an inch, letting Buck’s fingers still gently brush up and down his skin. He could feel the heat radiating from him, knowing his cheeks were probably pink.
“What kind of price are we looking at?” Eddie asked, partly to distract the way Buck’s touch was sending shivers down his spine.
Eddie stared at the salesperson as they rattled off a number. Not only was Eddie raising a condiment snob but also a couch snob.
“I can give a good deal if you take the delivery options,” the salesperson said.
“Great. We’re going to take it,” Buck said before Eddie could open his mouth.
“Excellent,” the salesperson beamed. “Let me see if we have one in stock for you today. I’ll be back. Feel free to take a look around. I’ll come find you.”
“Do you think we need some cushions, Chris?” Buck asked, shifting to sit up a little straighter. He ran his fingers down Eddie’s neck one more time before he pulled away, leaving Eddie feeling a little lightheaded.
“Yeah,” Chris said, shuffling to the edge of the couch. Buck handed Chris his crutches when he was on his feet. Chris slipped them on and twisted his head back and forth. “Where are they?”
“Uh,” Buck blinked, looking very much like Chris as he got to his feet and twisted his head back and forth.
Eddie got to his feet and took pity on his boys. “I’d say they are in decorations. That way.”
Chris took lead again and Buck and Eddie followed behind him. Eddie could only watch with fond amusement as they tested every cushion they came across. Buck and Eddie carried the ones Chris had chosen back to the couch so they could see if they were a perfect fit. On the way back, Chris spotted a blanket too.
“It’s so soft,” Chris looked up at Buck, a smile lighting up his face.
Buck reached out, running his hands over it. “Whoa! It’s really soft.”
“Can we get it?” Chris asked, looking at Buck hopefully.
Eddie reached out; the fabric soft under his fingers as he reached for the tag. His eyes widened at the price of the – was this cashmere? – blanket. “Uh, I think this a little bit out of our price range, Buddie.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Buck said, lifting the blanket off the couch it was draped over and he tossed it over his shoulder. “Come one, let’s see if these cushions match our couch.”
Eddie stared at Buck as they made their way back to the couch. “Did you even come in here with a budget?”
Buck chuckled. “Not really.”
“Buck,” Eddie sighed, giving his head a little shake.
“I’m not going to go overboard,” Buck promised. “Besides, it’s cheaper than the couch my mum was looking at.”
Eddie wondered where exactly Margret Buckley had been looking for a couch.
The cushions matched perfectly, and Eddie had to admit, the blanket was the softest thing he had ever felt. That’s how the salesperson found them, spread out on the couch, the blanket draped over their laps.
“You guys look cosy,” the salesperson beamed. “I have good news. We have this couch in stock and would be able to have it delivered by the end of the week.”
Chris let out a little cheer, his legs kicking out under the blankets.
“If you follow me, we can get the paperwork started.”
It took a bit of coaxing to get Chris out of the blanket but eventually he got back to his feet. Eddie steered him to the table where Buck and the salesperson were already filling out the paperwork.
Eddie peeked over Buck’s shoulder, reading over what he had filled out. Since waking up from his coma, reading had been difficult. It gave him a headache, as did the computer and watching TV. It was no wonder that Buck had been begging to be released from the hospital as soon as possible, board out of his mind.
“Wait,” Eddie said, making Buck pause. “That’s my address.”
“I know.”
Eddie stared at Buck, confusion pulling his brows into a furrow. Why would Buck put Eddie’s address? Unless…
“Buck, you are not buying me a new couch,” Eddie said sternly.
“I’m not,” Buck said, turning to face Eddie fully. He took a deep breath, a nervous, sheepish look crossing his features. “I’m buying us a couch. You, me, and Christopher.”
Eddie inhaled sharply. He stared at Buck, taking in the delicate flush that filled his cheeks and the hopeful look in his eyes. Looking back, Eddie should have picked up on it sooner. It’s not as if Buck had been being subtle. Not once had he called it his couch but their couch. He had invited Eddie and Christopher to pick it out.
And hadn’t this been where they were headed. Sure, they had taken some wrong turns and a mountain of therapy to get to the heart of it all, but it was a deniable fact. Buck was Eddie’s and Eddie was Buck’s. And hadn’t Buck been Chris’s second parent since basically the day they met? This was their family and Buck had died. For three minutes and seventeen seconds Buck had been dead.
Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone is what Eddie had once told Chimney and Eddie was tired of denying himself Buck.
And it seemed so was Eddie.
“If -if that’s what you want too,” Buck said, sounding uncertain now.
Eddie reached out, taking the hand that wasn’t holding the pen and linked their fingers together. “Yeah, I want the couch.”
And Eddie’s heart stumbled in his chest when Buck smiled at him, bright and so wonderfully happy. He squeezed Eddie’s hand tightly before he went back to filling out the paperwork. When it was done and paid for, the cushions and the rug tucked away into bags that Eddie carried, they made their way back to the car.
“Wait,” Eddie said as they were a few feet from the car. “Is this a date? Did you take me furniture shopping for a first date?”
“I took us,” Buck said, waving a hand at Christopher who was ahead of them, trying to pull open the door to Eddie’s truck. “And now we are going to get some early lunch with milkshakes.” He looked at Eddie, looking a little unsure. “Uh, if – if you would like that? Otherwise, I can think of something else.”
“Buck,” Eddie said, and he could feel how fond his expression was. “You took our kid with us on a first date. How could I not like that?”
Buck shoulder’s relaxed and the nervous look slid away. “I want to do this right. You, me, and Chris. That’s what I want Eddie.”
“That’s what I want too,” Eddie promised. He stopped, making Buck pause to. He dropped the bags to the ground and cupped Buck’s face. His thumb traced over Buck’s jaw twice before he was pulling Buck into a kiss.
Eddie never expected their first kiss to be in a parking lot of a furniture show room but as Buck’s lips pressed to his, Buck’s arms wrapped around Eddie’s shoulders to pull him closer, he knew nothing else would be as perfect as this.
“Dad! Buck! Come on!” Chris whined.
Eddie chuckled against Buck’s lips, kissing them once, twice, three time before pulling away and stepping out of Buck’s grip. He turned to look at their kid, who was grinning at them brightly, wiggling in a way that Eddie knew that it meant he was ecstatic.
“Alright, mijo, we’re coming,” Eddie said, bending to pick up the bags again. He turned to Buck. “You get him in the car, and I’ll put these in the back.”
“Okay,” Buck said, his lips a little shiny and his eyes alight with happiness.
Eddie grinned, something in his chest slotting into place. Yeah, this was the couch he wanted and how lucky was he.
#flufftober2024#flufftober#ao3 fanfic#buddie#9-1-1 fanfiction#evan buckley#9-1-1#eddie diaz#christopher diaz
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May I please request #6 from the 3 word sentences with Rafael Barba? Thank you!
Rafael knew it had been coming. You'd been cagey around him, and he was wondering if you wanted to break it off with him.
Last week alone, you had mentioned wanting to find ways to spend more time together, but all he had done was continue working, leaving no spare room to see each other.
And now, you asked him to dinner Friday night, telling him that you both had a big decision to make.
This was it, he told himself. This was the night you'd give him the ultimatum; you or work. And you both knew he couldn't choose you.
He had his stomach tied in knots all damn day before making his way to the place you had your first date. How poetic.
His heart was in his throat as he entered, and there you were. You wore your best dress, and it hung on your body perfectly. This is what you're giving up, the dress screamed at him.
After he took your hand, brushing his lips to your knuckles, he led you to a table. The waiter was there instantly, and Rafael ordered a bottle of wine he knew you both liked. Once food orders were in and wine was presented, he looked to you.
"Rafael--" you started, but he cut you off.
"Be gentle, please." His voice was more strained that he hoped, but he didn't want to lose you.
You quirked an eyebrow at him before pushing on. "I'm tired of not being able to spend much time with you."
Here it comes....
"So, I was wondering if you'd like to move in together?"
There was a ringing in Rafael's ears, and he was sure he had misheard. "What?" he practically blurted.
"I know. I feel weird basically asking to move into your place--it's bigger and most my stuff is there, anyways--but I really think we're at that point in the relationship."
Your words were coming out fast, and he realized how nervous you must've been to ask. But it still wasn't computing in his brain.
"You...want to move in together? With me?"
"Well, yeah--who else?" You gave a nervous little laugh. "I mean, I love you, Rafael."
He was getting a second chance with you, a second chance to hold on and never let go. A second chance to show you how much he loved you, too.
"I'd--I think that would be wonderful," he replied, smiling as your eyes lit up.
"Really?! Because I've always wanted to wake up to you in bed, and sleep next to you, and have dinner with you, and rearrange furniture with you--"
He let you talk yourself into excitement, smiling and thanking his stars that you weren't breaking up with him.
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Congrats on 3k!! You deserve it sooo much💌
If you have the time (and only if you have the time!) I would like to request a sort of a short bullet point fic. Or more so just your thoughts on the following: moving in with seventeen. Who is the one that labels every box? Who will live out of moving boxes for the next year. And yeah, just overall the vibes of new beginnings and promises😶🌫️
Pls only do write something if any of this inspires anything, if not pls don't feel burdened to write anyway!
I love your writing, so once again: congrats on the succes💗
seungcheol thinks it's one huge adventure. yes, he will be the person lifting the stupidly heavy boxes at the store. yes, he will make it a competition to build furniture as fast as possible (and race to take it all apart when you discover the desk legs are all different lengths because someone thought he could figure it out without the manual). even among the graveyard of boxes and bubble wrap and those huge styrofoam slabs he keeps chasing you with, seungcheol is happiest to lay with you on your bare, naked mattress (because he forgot to order sheets). he's planning what pictures of the two of you he wants to put on the walls. this is the first time he's owned a welcome mat and he's not even mad about it. it's all yours, together, and there's no bigger adventure than that.
his walk-in closet. bowls the perfect size for a portion of ramen, plus an egg. the lego taj mahal with two pieces missing that he insists will turn up sometime. these are some of the things jeonghan's not sure he can bring to your new apartment. it's not that he doesn't want to move in with you--he just doesn't know if he can. hell, you kissed him for the first time on the tiny futon in his living room, and he just learned it's too small for your new place. it's not until he watches you, later that day, play jenga with the toiletries on his bathroom counter because there's never been enough space for the two of you, that he realizes maybe it isn't such a bad thing to try something new. he imagines leaning you against a new sink, with that carrara marble you've been talking about, and he might even say he's looking forward to it.
you don't think there's a day you haven't seen joshua on zillow. look at my pinterest board, he'd say, and you wouldn't have it in you to ask how the hell you're affording that couch or if you really need a salt lamp that badly. you've lost count of the times your thursday nights consisted of a: your favorite chinese takeout and b: watching celebrity architectural digest videos. but joshua can't help it--to him, there's really nothing that would make him happier than waking up next to you in a bed you picked together. now if it was a midcentury modern canopy bed? even better. he can't wait to use his fancy little espresso machine to make your morning latte and grab your coat from the rack you got from that shop in LA before he kisses you before you head off to work. but they're all just things (pretty, shiny ones, albeit)--more ways he can show you the love you deserve.
junhui loves a good open house. early on in your relationship, you would dress to the nines before pretending to shop for a mansion you could never afford. junhui would comment on the door handles and the crown molding like he was a property brother, and then you'd finish the night off making out in the mcdonald's drive-thru. things are a little different now that you actually can afford a home. what if you end up not liking it? will you get tired of the wallpaper? will the closet be big enough? but surprisingly, none of this seems to matter when you walk into the house. (what's on your mind? you ask him. n-nothing, he says.) but he's really thinking about feeding you in that kitchen and spending the morning looking out those bay windows. how beautiful you'll look greeting him from that front door. needless to say, he's sold.
you find soonyoung hiding in the kitchen at your housewarming party. just an hour earlier, he was dumping cans of sparkling water in the jungle juice to make it more "adult" (as if it would erase the fact that an entire bottle of everclear had already disappeared into the mix). the hour before that, he was cleaning like a madman despite there not being much to clean yet. he held the duster the wrong way and you think he got more windex on the ceiling than on the windows. darling, what's wrong? you ask. his little, drunken hands wrap around yours so he can bring them to his cheeks. i just realized this is all ours. like, all of it, he wails, teary, and you realize he is far too many drinks down. it's only after you've sent him to bed with a water and a kiss that you really think about what he said. the hardwood floors, the duvet, the misshapen tiger plushie on the couch, him--all ours.
wonwoo is not an easy person to live with. the first three things he unpacked were, in order, his table, his first monitor, then his second monitor. then he ruined your perfectly curated aesthetic with his neon red keyboard and a gaming chair that would make any interior designer cry. the final straw is when wonwoo manages to kill the one and only houseplant you have, the single thing holding your home decor together. but he's trying, he really is. he's bought a silly little throw blanket for your couch (aren't the tassels fun? he says, wiggling the fabric between his hands). his ugly lamp has been replaced by a strange glowing cat light and there's a sticker on his computer tower. he buys a succulent and you have a little naming ceremony in your kitchen. and it lives, against all odds!
jihoon doesn't know the difference between a chaise and a sectional. cherry and mahogany look the same to him. and god forbid you ask him to choose between terrazzo and subway tile because he really thinks both of them look good and, no, he's not just saying that to make your life harder. jihoon isn't good at the hgtv stuff, but he's happy to move all the boxes. it's only when he's unpacking said boxes that he finally gets it. (the vase that came with the first bouquet of flowers he bought you. the record player you got him for your first anniversary, now fingerprinted, well-loved. matching valentine's day teddy bears, worn and baby pink.) you're standing on a stool stacked on top of another stool trying to hang a poster, and this is what home looks like.
seokmin wants to live in the ikea showrooms. you can't blame him--sometimes, when there's nothing better to do, you'll spend your afternoon in a bedroom that's not yours. seokmin will try on the lumpy blazer from the closet, and you'll beckon him to your sprawling king size bed, the one sat next to the painted on windows and floating shelves. honey, come to dinner, you'd say. he'll peek over your shoulder, arms wrapped around your middle, and you open the lid to a big, steaming pot of nothing. micke or lagkapten? you ask, completely unseriously. but he's thinking about it, really thinking about it. in his mind, he's building a home together, silly furniture piece by piece, counting down to the days when you really can agonize over plants and how many drawers you want in a desk.
when you got the keys to your new place, mingyu insisted you eat jajangmyeon to commemorate move-in day. unfortunately, he failed to account for the series of delays that led to you having absolutely no furniture to move in on said move-in day. but mingyu is nothing if not a man with a plan, so he runs to the store and buys the cheapest assortment of kitchen tools and ingredients for the world's most unlikely dinner. we really don't have to do this, you laugh, the backs of your legs cold on the kitchen counter. but i want to, he insists, holding out a spoon for you to taste. we have to christen the apartment. you eventually do christen it the right way (involving: lots of tongue, even more laughter), but you might prefer, just a tiny bit, the night you sat on the empty kitchen floor and fed mingyu out of a pan.
minghao has rearranged the living room four times now. every time you walk in, it feels like you've entered someone else's house. it doesn't look right, he says, hands on his hips like his life depended on it. you don't know how to tell him they all look right, every single version. in the first version, all cardboard furniture and plastic wrap, you gave up on deciphering the wifi setup and built a fort instead. the second involved an ottoman in the walkway, which you almost immediately stubbed your toe on (and laughed so hard you cried). in the third, the couch faced away from the adjoining room, and you accidentally spooked minghao so badly he almost broke his knitting needles. but it's all perfect, every iteration, because you're doing it together--a hypothesis he's more willing to believe when you shut him up with a kiss.
don't look now, but seungkwan is buying another doodad at your local sunday swap meet. it's a small painted figurine of a bear in a nightcap, which he simply points to and says that's me. you don't have it in you to mention the fact that you're currently unpacking his seemingly never-ending assortment of doodads and you couldn't possibly know where one more would go. it's only when you're getting ready for bed that you catch the little bear in the glow of the alarm clock light. there's already a turtle with a hat in the medicine cabinet (jeju, last summer). on top of the fridge, a woodcarving that says EAT. (tj maxx, 2 years ago. it still makes you laugh). even though you just moved, all these little seungkwan-isms make home a little more home.
you wouldn't call vernon a planner. his version of housewarming is watching you play the sims. but real life doesn't have nearly as much poolside drama or five story houses--just packing peanuts and 50 page appliance manuals. aren't boxes just drawers? vernon asked you one day. no, but that's how it always starts. two weeks after move-in, vernon cooks you breakfast with a pan procured from a cardboard box. by three weeks, you know the exact box everything is in. (you still haven't been able to find vernon's avril lavigne let go album, though.) it's only when you're eating dinner on top of the box that your dining table is in when you say, vernon, baby, i think we need to actually move in. he takes one look at you, who's wearing mismatched socks and his boxers because your shorts are underneath the tv box, and his smile nearly splits his cheeks. yeah, i think so too.
if you had asked chan what his dream house looked like, he would say it had a wraparound porch, a white picket fence, and a pool. your new apartment has none of those things. the length of your bedroom is a little more than one and a half times the length of his body and he's not even that tall. if he looks out the window he can see right into his neighbor's apartment (three cats and no bitches. almost like he's living next to wonwoo). and his feet stick out of the tub. but he's learning how to live in small spaces. he likes the squeeze of your bathroom, how you have to sit on the counter if you want to both brush your teeth together. he likes the bump of your elbows when you wash the dishes together. most of all, he likes falling asleep with you slotted to his side--even in your tiny bed, he wouldn't mind having you a little closer.
#sorry this took forever it got stupidly long#thank you for asking!!!!#ask#anon#mine#seventeen x you#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines#svt fluff#svt imagines#seventeen scenarios#svt scenarios#svt x you#svt x reader#3k celebration
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introduction to my waiting room! — PART I .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚
this is part I of my very in depth showcase of my wr which is a luxurious penthouse in ny. i believe you can get a feel of the overall aesthetic so try to keep that in mind as you take in the visuals as they all do not reflect the same style.
this wr is like any wr, to relax in and whatnot. however i am catering mine towards my drself (criminal minds) which is reflected in part II.
if anyone has questions or further ideas please let me know! now…
「 ✦ welcome to mir’s
waiting room ✦ 」
| part II
weather
i have the ability to keep and or change the time of day and weather. although, a very soothing dim rainy weather would be constant more often than not. the temperature inside will always be kept nice and cold.
companion
the most recent addition to my wr: connor, an android from the game detroit become human. he’s company and sort of a helper. connor can help with absolutely anything— he has tons of capabilities in addition to what i personally added to him. he can do a number of things such as help in redesigning the penthouse, give advice, help with scripting, etc,. although i will say his purpose isn’t to solely act as a strict servant or android per se. mmm, almost like a roommate? like how androids become “alive” in the game. hope that makes enough sense. side note: i did not finish the game, i just can’t
bedroom
my bed is huge and so incredibly comfortable, it’s serene really. this also moves over to temperature, it never gets uncomfortably hot— the apartment as a whole is at a very crisp cold temperature. i have fluffy pillows that never go flat and support me amazingly. the bed also has the softest, fluffiest, plush blankets— my bed is literal heaven. the sides of my bed have these nightstands as you can see, consisting of all my little necessities; phone, headphones, etc,. everything will always be well kept and never change in condition; always pristine. if i ever want a drink or food, whatever i may want, it’ll appear on the nightstand. as for the rest of the room, it’s all pretty basic furniture.
closet
it’s huge, i mean huge. it literally has an upstairs but i couldn’t find a picture good enough but trust, it looks great. it has everything i have in my pinterest, all of my wardrobes. it’s organized by the type of clothing and color. another feature is any desired clothing i find while on my phone or any other way, will just show up there neatly organized for me. i can also do automatic alterations to pieces that don’t fit me like how i want them to, useful huh?
kitchen
my kitchen is pretty big and has literally everything i could ever want from food to all the necessary dishes; pots and pans, glasses, etc., i can think of a snack or food i want and it’ll just appear there but sometimes i want to cook, you know? don’t know if that’s an unpopular opinion or whatever but i definitely want to cook myself sometimes. i want to have the option to mess around and actually make food, bake and all that— i think it can be quite helpful and i find it therapeutic. although the mess that occurs always cleans itself up or connor can help me (bc fuck all that). everything will always keep clean; no dust, no mess, no mopping or anything and will always smell good with whatever scent i want lingering!!
bathroom
these pictures are good examples but don’t do it justice, it’s bigger and has a few more elaborate details. the hot water will never run out, any wash for body or hair, bathbombs, essential oils, etc etc,. all that would be ready in the cupboards or wherever i want it. this also goes for cosmetics and whatnot. the whole space is such a vibe.
i finallyyy made this post, its been sitting in my drafts since i damn near made this blog. i’m trying to open up more and not be so shy on my blog about my dr’s ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! but at the same time i could go on and on forever about them — finally putting this together was very fun and motivating!!
as lengthy as this guide is, i didn’t go in complete detail about every. single. thing. but just enough to explain the main features and rooms and to also give some scripting ideas to you guys too— i could go on forever but i will spare you all. if anyone has questions or further ideas to give me about my wr please let me know! (。> ᴗ ☆。) ‧₊˚
#— mir’s reality: shifting diary! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧#shiftblr#shifting community#reality shifting#desired reality#shifting realities#shifting blog#reality shifter#shifting motivation#criminal minds shifter#shifting script#shifting advice#shifting diary#i have to organize my personal tags omfg
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Nobody sent me a prompt but I've still got images in my head that want out. Consider this my writerly equivalent to those sketch dump posts artists make about a specific AU without particularly intending to make anything bigger with it x)
"And this door leads to the private quarters. You shouldn't need to use it until Mr. Payne is done building your room, but should you need either of us, he's on the left and I'm on the right."
Curious, Crystal waits for Mr. Rowland to move on to the sparse washroom and hidden bed they keep for clients in need of protection, and opens the private door. It leads to a small-ish antechamber with a low ceiling, no windows, and one door on either side. The one on the left is a solid slate of pale grey wood, the silvered handle carved in the shape of a quill, Mr. Payne's tastes decidedly different from that of the wizards she'd met before. On the right side, Mr. Rowland's door is a pointed arch, made of a much darker, sort of reddish wood. The wood panels surrounding it are carved, intricate geometrical shapes sending shadows playing across the wood.
Behind her, Mr. Rowland clears his throat.
"Sorry," Crystal says, not quite as sorry as her expression makes it look. "I got curious."
"Can't really blame you for that," Mr. Rowland says easily, "Mr. Payne is very skilled with his enchantments."
He must be, Crystal thinks. She's a sorcerer, that much they determined, which means her magic is probably a lot more chaotic than Mr. Payne's, and she probably couldn't replicate what he did to this place. On the flip side though, it means she doesn't need her memories to realize this entire place is absolutely soaked in magic. Screw the innocent little cottage look: every knick knack, every piece of furniture, even the windows and the changing stained glass around their frames: everything make her skin tingle with magic, and the most surprising part is that almost none of it seems to have a practical purpose.
She didn't spend a lot of time with Mr. Payne: as soon as Mr. Rowland brought her in, the wizard took one look at her and went "Really, Mr. Rowland? Weren't you the one who requested a holiday?" And then he listened to Crystal's explanation for about five minutes before he made some noise about needing some proper research material and set off for the Grey Wake academy. That, as far as Crystal is concerned, was enough to establish his type: bookish, serious, blunt to the point of rudeness, and extremely disdainful of anything he seems irrelevant. Not the type, or so she thought, who would enchant a bookshelf so it plays harpsichord notes when you tap it with your fingers, or makes sure the tiny animals in his window panes can move on it like they're a field.
"How long have the two of you been working together?"
"Exactly?" Mr. Rowland asks, looking up at the ceiling as if in question.
He's not a bad looking man. Too old for Crystal, who looks and feels like a teenager, but a good looking adult nonetheless. In his... What, thirties? Forties? She gets the impression it's hard to guess with adventuring types. Too much healing magic, probably. Anyway, the point is, Mr. Rowland is looking up at the ceiling with a pensive expression, dark eyes shining with the hint of a smile, one hand on his hip and the other on the saber that doesn't seem to leave his side, and if he were about half the age he is Crystal would seriously consider making a move on him.
"About twenty years," he says at last. "Depending on how you count."
That is the weirdest way he could have worded it, Crystal thinks. But then again, she supposes after twenty years with the same weird wizard, the man was bound to be a little weird himself.
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Short Hilson fic where House plays the piano, mayhaps? 😍
sure thing! it takes a bit to get to the piano part, sorry 'bout that, haha! I hope you enjoy<3
lmk if you have any more requests!
———
1,072 words
Wilson has trouble sleeping, and House knows how to help him
———
Fifth night in a row. God dammit.
Wilson stared at the ceiling with a frown. He was crashing at House's place, hoping that a change of air would help him sleep. It didn't.
For some unknown reason, the last four nights he wasn't able to sleep. This night appeared to be the same.
It was becoming a problem. He tried everything that helped in the past: Jogging until feeling extremely tired, taking a long steamy bath, reading the most boring documents he could find, taking melanin... Nothing. Zero. Nada.
He got up, irritated, and went to the kitchen and opened the cabinet looking for a glass, grabbing the tallest one he could find. He closed the pannel a little aggressively, and then opened the fridge with the same force. After analyzing the liquids avaliable, he opted for some orange juice and, again, closed the door with more aggression than needed. He poured the drink on his glass until it was about to spill, and drank it in one go, but before he could put the glass down he heard a familiar voice.
"Don't you dare break my glass. I think you already broke all other furniture you touched tonight" House entered the kitchen and went past him, eyeing the fridge as to see if there was any damage.
Wilson could only sigh. "Sorry. Did I wake you?" He put the glass down, very carefully now that he was aware of the force he put into his actions before. He glanced at House half looking for approval and half looking for forgiveness.
"No, my sixth sense warned me that if I didn't go to the kitchen right this instant, I would have one less glass in my arsenal." He said this while looking for box of cookies in pantry, side-eying him before actually finding the box. Wilson chuckled at the comment.
"Thank God for the supernatural" He said with a tinge of playfulness in his tone, before switching to a more exasperated one. "I'm just frustrated. I–"
"Still can't sleep" House said with his mouth filled with chocolate chip cookies, raising an eyebrow at him. His attention was now fully on his friend, when he wasn't taking another bite of his sweet snack.
"I've tried everything!" He shook his hands in the air, voice raising an octave. "I don't know what else to do! I feel like I'm going insane!" He turned to look at his friend, who was observing his outburst, almost puzzled. "I going to go crazy if I don't sleep tonight" this last part was almost a plea, as if House could do anything about it. His look changed from pensive to a little annoyed.
"And it's going to be my problem if you don't" Wilson hoped it meant what he thought it did. That House had a solution. That the solution was very, very simple, and that House knew it. If he was lucky, House would even share it.
Wilson took a few wary steps, as if aproaching a wild animal that he didn't want escaping. He didn't dare make a sound, just waited until House said something, hoping it would be useful. He stared, staying very still.
Then House rolled his eyes. "You should go back to the couch. My couch, by the way. You should be thankful i haven't invited some hooker and let her sleep there" He grabbed his cane and marched past Wilson, leaving the cookies behind.
He sighed. Of course he wouldn't help him. He had to pay some bigger price, like 100 Clinic Hours, or Unlimited Chinese Food For a Year. He rubbed his face with his hands and let out another sigh, thinking what he was willing to sacrifice for some sleep. Squeezing his eyes shut, he came up with a few ideas. But his train of thought was interrupted by something that came from the living room.
He opened his eyes and looked up. That... was House playing the piano? Was he playing for him?
He almost didn't dare to move. Then he thought about it, and if he didn't move House would probably shout at him and stop playing. So he slowly went to the living room, stopping as soon as House was in his range of view.
He really was playing. Wilson didn't know what, exactly, he never was one for classical music. But it was beautiful. It was calm yet not slow. And the way House was playing... He feels that if he heard another man play it, it wouldn't be as good.
Swallowing a bit, he took courage to lay on the couch. He tried to make as little sound as possible, and layed in a comfortable position where he could look at the piano.
He couldn't look at House's face, but he supposed it was better. That way he couldn't make fun at him later for making shocked expression with a touch of adoration. Instead, he was looking at his hands.
They looked so rough. They were lanky and long, with calluses from playing the guitar and messing with chemicals every once in a while. And they played marvelously. They went from one side of the piano to the other, swaying and not missing a single note.
The melody was a bit cheery, and the pace wasn't exactly fast, but was not at all slow. He smiled, and chuckled a bit. House took notice, because he turned his head a bit and gave a side-eye. Luckily Wilson was still looking at his hands.
House stopped playing. A beat. Dammit, Wilson had ruined it. He closed his eyes shut. Dammit. But before he could spiral, House started again.
This time it was a very calm melody. Sweet. Tender. Slow, but not boring. Again, it was beautiful. And House was playing it. For him.
He took a deep breath, and let it out, tension leaving his body. He didn't care if he had to pay a thousand dollars in cash tomorrow, it was worth it. He loved this. It was amazing, and almost didn't want to fall asleep just to keep hearing his friend play.
But his worries slowly flew away, leaving him with nothing but a tired body and an exhausted mind. He let the notes enter his body and invade his mind with the same words he used earlier: Calm. Sweet. Tender. Slow. Beautiful. House.
He fell asleep with a smile plastered on his face.
#hilson#house md#house x wilson#james wilson#gregory house#hatecrimes md#house md fanfiction#thanks for the request!!! it was really fun to write!#at first it started with house + wilson binging General Hospital but i couldn't fit the piano stuff#might use that some other time thooo#Bunny requests#reqs open#fic request
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Treasure: An ATEEZ Fantasy!AU
Chapter 1: Temperance
ATEEZ Fantasy!AU, Non-Idol!AU
Word count: 5.5k
Overview: Eight boys live together in their cottage, supporting each other in their mundane lives. All is calm and usual until their youngest friend comes back home recounting a frightening tale that will change their future together.
Card meaning, Temperance: Represents balance, patience, and harmony. Inner peace has been found and you are moving smoothly in your everyday life. It encourages you to stay calm in difficult situations, and to be in charge of your emotions in these trying times.
A/N: This is the first chapter of my ATEEZ Fantasy!AU, hope you enjoy! I would like to thank @kpop-s-akura for being my beta reader and giving me guidance for this piece, without you this wouldn't be a thing, I love you :3 <3 Please give her love and support on her stuff as well!! :D!!
Sunlight peeked through the foliage of an oak tree a thousand years their senior. Warm light danced on the skin of the eight boys resting under the tree. They laid against the trunk and curling roots, basking in the golden hour on the horizon. As they admired the dazzling scene, a faint bell began to chime. They turned towards the sound in awe. The scene slowly began to fade into the setting sun as Yeosang shook himself awake from his recollection of last night’s dream.
A customer just walked into the store, looking around for any human life.
“Welcome to Tea Leaves!” Chirped Yeosang, the customer saw him behind the check-out counter and smiled as they began to look around the store.
Yeosang continued to price the gemstone bracelets that came in that morning. He turned the bracelet around in his hand, admiring the way the clear beads reflected the store's soft lights.
Clear quartz? He thought to himself. Sannie would like this.
The customer came to the register with three packets of chamomile tea leaves and a tower of selenite. Yeosang gave the usual small talk with the customer, asking about their day and any plans they had for that week.
“Well if you aren’t busy tomorrow,” he grabbed a flyer inked with bold red lettering and a picture of a young man holding a microphone. “Our maknae is having his first professional performance at a bar in downtown Seoul, please come and support him!”
The customer nodded, saying they would stop by and see the show. They folded the paper into their bag and walked out of the store.
“Our first customer in hours…” Groaned Mingi as he peeked his head out of a colorful beaded curtain separating the store from a small room for his divination services, “Jongho better bring some service in soon with this performance; if not, we are screwed.”
“Eh, we should be okay,” Yeosang paused for a second, “Hopefully.”
Mingi retreated back into the closed-off room, Yeosang followed, pushing the curtain aside. The smell of burning incense and a burnt-out blunt floated through the room making him a little light headed. The room was small, a stained glass bay window shined colorful specks of hues into the space making the room feel bigger in size. An oak bookcase and a wooden table were the only furniture in the room. An old pack of tarot cards, empty birth chart pages, and a bamboo stash box rested on the table.
Inside the box were little baggies of fresh buds, a grinder, and joint wraps. Mingi took out one that was pre-wrapped and handed it to Yeosang.
You want some? Mingi’s voice asked inside of Yeosang’s head. The latter shook his head, denying the offer.
Mingi shrugged, Suit yourself.
He placed the object in between his lips, digging in his pockets for a lighter. After taking the first hit of the blunt a bell chimed faintly in the front room. Yeosang peaked his head between the beaded curtain to welcome the customer, but instead he saw his oldest hyung coming home from work, his arms full with grocery bags.
“Welcome home, Seonghwa-hyung!” Said Yeosang as he headed over to help with the bags of groceries.
“Hi, Sangie! Any luck with customers today?”
“Only five customers so far, hyung,” Mingi said between the burning blunt in his lips. He grabbed a couple of grocery bags as well to help his two brothers bring the groceries into the house. They made their way to the back of the store where a cedar door separated their business and their home. A security system — courtesy of Yunho — accompanied with a hand reader and a security pin was near the doorknob. Yeosang placed his left hand on the scanner, typing in the security pin with his right.
1024, the day all eight friends met each other.
The system was disarmed. They opened the door into a large living room with comfortable couches, chairs, and a television above a brick fireplace. A winding staircase with black iron bars led up to the second floor. There were the living quarters: four bedrooms and four bathrooms. The four rooms had two people each residing in them; Seonghwa and Hongjoong, Yunho and Jongho, Yeosang and Wooyoung, and finally San and Mingi.
The trio made their way to the kitchen on the first floor, passing the living room and going through the dining room that was decorated with a simple hanging lamp and a wooden table that seats eight people. Beside the kitchen was a small study, mostly occupied by Hongjoong so he could have a separate space to practice his occult work. They placed the groceries on the island counter. It was a calming place to be, and that's how Seonghwa liked it. The walls were a light yellow, the cabinets painted a creme white, and the countertops remained their original hickory wood. A wire metal rack on the ceiling suspended their pots and pans in mid-air. Mingi headed back to the store to keep watch for customers while the other two put away the groceries.
When they were done, Yeosang washed his hands, while looking outside the window above the sink. Tall trees stretched for miles behind their house, encapsulating them in the hands of Mother Nature. Their little cottage wasn’t entirely off the beaten path, as customers stopped by every now and then. But it was easy to miss since it was difficult to navigate in the woods. He began to daze back into his dream of last night when Seonghwa asked him a question.
“Hm?”
“Can you get Wooyoung for me, please?” Seonghwa repeated, “I am going to go into the garden to get some ingredients for dinner and I would like his help.”
Yeosang agreed, turning off the sink and drying his hands. He headed to the back door attached to the kitchen. Stepping outside, he was greeted by their luscious garden. A variety of vegetables and fruits grew here, being utilized either for food or herbal potions Seonghwa or Wooyoung would make. He walked into the woods, listening to fallen branches and leaves crunch under his feet. Birds chirped above him in the tree, he turned his head up to watch the flying creatures.
“Woo!” Yeosang called, “Wooyoung!”
He could faintly hear more chirps and skitters as he continued walking into the woodland. Finally, he was greeted by a sight only seen in princess movies: Wooyoung was laying against a trunk of a tree, birds and squirrels surrounded him as he mumbled quietly to them. The tree’s branches, adorned with emerald leaves and moss, stretched down to create a makeshift curtain for the young boy.
“Well don’t you look beautiful,” said Yeosang with a sly smile.
Wooyoung looked at him through the leaves, and then back to a squirrel beside him. He whispered something to the creature to which it chittered and ran up to Yeosang. It hesitantly approached the human, quickly wrapping its small body around his leg, before running back to Wooyoung who was giggling.
“What was that?” Asked Yeosang as he ducked under the curtain and sat down beside his friend.
“I told it to give you a hug, duh.”
Yeosang smiled and rested his head against the younger’s shoulder, enjoying the quiet sounds of the woodland surrounding them. The two boys watched the animals play and squabble with each other.
“How are they doing?” Questioned the older boy.
“Mm, they are a bit worried — more in a frenzy than usual.” Answered Wooyoung. “Probably because of the upcoming full moon, they aren’t the biggest fan of that, ya know.”
Yeosang nodded, adjusting himself by wrapping an arm around Wooyoung who drew closer to him. The two boys have been friends for over a decade, finding comfort in each other’s presence. His soft voice tumbled into his mind as he listened to Wooyoung’s thoughts, his words were clear as crystal. They stayed like this for a few more minutes when a realization crossed Yeosang’s mind.
“Ah, Seonghwa-hyung wants your help in the garden; do you want to help him?”
Wooyoung’s joy infected Yeosang’s mind as he perked up and smiled, Seonghwa-hyung is home! He never hid who his favorite hyung was.
Yeosang stood up, dusting the dirt off of his clothes. He then offered a hand to help his friend up. After making sure that he was also dirt-free, they bid their goodbyes to the birds and squirrels. The tree that was shading them slowly began to lift itself back up into its original form, stretching out its branches to pierce into the sky. They walked back to their cottage, talking to each other about their uneventful day. The garden came into sight once again. There, a crouched figure existed among the patches of flora and vegetation.
“Seonghwa-hyung!”
“Hwa!” The boys yelled.
Seonghwa looked up from the bushes and waved, standing up to his full height. Wooyoung ran over to unlock the wooden fence, sprinting over to greet his beloved hyung. Yeosang smiled, observing the two working together. He went around the side of their cottage to the front where the store was, a cobblestone path laid its way from the main road to the entrance. Opening the door, a bell chimed signaling his entrance. The storefront was cozy and bright, windows on both sides of the space. A tapestry hung from the ceiling — potentially a fire hazard, but they would figure that out when the time came. The cloth was a light brown, faded by age. There was the sun, moon and Earth that was stitched in black thread. Each celestial body had a smiling, feminine face sewed on it, casting their gaze down onto the customers. Hanging plants floated from every corner of the room, strewing their foliage around anything within reach. Under a window to the left was a bookcase with a variety of tarot cards, oracles cards, and books full of other worldly wonders. On top were small bowls full of tumbled gemstones and towers of selenite, amethyst, and a variety of other stones.
On the right side of the room, slatwall was plastered. It stretched from the right of the entrance and ended to the left side of the window. On this wall are packets of tea leaves as well as dried herbal medicines that hung from hooks and were nestled in baskets; all of them made by Seonghwa and Wooyoung. Beside the window draped the rainbow beaded curtain of Mingi’s divination services. As you walk into the store, a path of painted leaves guides the way to the register. A two-tier rotating display rests on top of the check-out counter, holding handmade gemstone bracelets, pendulums, and other jewelry. Behind the counter was Mingi, himself, continuing to price the bracelets that Yeosang had started earlier.
“Welcome to Tea Leaves,” he greeted, looking up from his task. He realized the customer was Yeosang and gave him a grin, going on with his work.
Yeosang checked his phone, the time was almost 4 p.m. Hongjoong, Yunho, and San were going to make their way home soon.
“Do you want to close up shop for today?” Mingi nodded. The two swiftly completed their closing chores, a sigh escaping Yeosang when he finished counting the register’s cash till.
“What’s wrong, Yeo?” Mingi asked, looking up from sweeping.
“Guess how much we made today?”
$100?
“Much lower than that.”
A swore sounded in Yeosang’s head.
“Maybe we should raise our prices?” suggested Mingi.
The older boy shook his head, “We can’t fall victim to capitalism. Besides, it’s not like this is our only source of income.”
Mingi shrugged and they finished closing. When they were done, they shut the window’s blinds and locked the front door. Since everyone had a key to the store, they weren’t worried about the others being locked out. They went through the back door and were welcomed by the aroma of sauteing vegetables as they entered the house, following the smell into the kitchen where Seonghwa was cooking and instructing Wooyoung how to properly saute the food.
“Smells good y’all,” Mingi rested his head on Seonghwa’s shoulder, “Would be a shame if someone snags a bite…”
Wooyoung barked — literally — at Mingi, “Not yet!”
The boys smiled, beginning to chit-chat and talk about one another’s day. While Seonghwa and Wooyoung cooked, Yeosang and Mingi rested against the island counter.
“Honey!” Called a voice from the living room, “We are home!”
Hongjoong, Yunho, and San had come home from work. Yunho coming back from a shift at the police station, Hongjoong returning from teaching Religious Studies with a focus in Witchcraft and the Dark Arts at a university in Seoul, and San arriving back from teaching Astronomy at the same university. Seonghwa stayed in the kitchen, watching over the food and the three younger boys greeting the others.
“People are so stupid…” Yunho lamented, flopping on his back onto the couch.
“You’re telling me,” sighed Hongjoong, “I honestly wonder how some people were able to pass the entrance exam and get into our university.”
San hit the other’s chest at this statement, but the others laughed amusedly. The oldest chimed in from the kitchen, responding to the noise, “Dinner is gonna be ready in a few, does anyone wanna set the table?”
“I’ll help hyung!” said Yeosang.
“Me too!” San volunteered afterwards.
The two of them went into the kitchen to gather cutlery and placemats, while the other four men remained in the living room.
“Where is Jongho?” Hongjoong questioned, “I haven’t seen him yet.”
“I actually saw him when I was on patrol,” said Yunho, still resting face-up on the couch, “He had a crowd surrounding him as they watched him perform.”
“That’s good, hopefully he doesn’t come home too late,” Mingi commented as he spun the rings adorning his hand, a sign of nervousness.
“He should be okay, he knows his curfew,” replied Yunho. He undid his uniform tie and unbuttoned his shirt mid-chest. Wooyoung observed him, an eyebrow quirking up a little. He got up from his seat on the floor and laid on top of his hyung.
“Ya, it’s too hot to be cuddling, Woo,” Yunho whined as he gently pushed his younger friend, who just laughed.
“But you look so handsome in your uniform — I can’t help it!” he nuzzled himself into Yunho’s neck, who eventually embraced the younger, and wrapped his arms around his smaller frame. Hongjoong smiled at the scene, reminiscing on the day all eight friends met. The small cafe that Mingi owned was present in his mind. The day they met was a chance of fate and wonder. As they all continued to meet up, they realized they all had something in common: they were different from regular society. Something out of this world, like a rare moon crystal making its presence after being hidden for a thousand decades.
“Dinner is ready!” Seonghwa called from the kitchen.
They all got up from their place of rest and headed over to where the food was, making their plates. While eating together in the dining room, there was a sense of loss lingering above the dinner in regards to Jongho’s empty chair.
“Another dinner he missed,” San said quietly in response to the vibe in the room. Once they were all finished with their meal and Jongho was still a no-show, Hongjoong grabbed the maknae’s plate and placed it in the microwave so he could eat later whenever he did come home.
To see who would wash the dishes, they played a game of rock, paper, scissors; Seonghwa and Wooyoung were exempt from the game since they cooked. After a lot of excited yelling and bickering, Mingi and Yunho were chosen. The younger of the duo whined at the chore, Yunho patting his shoulder and assuring him it wouldn’t take too long. In the end, the system became Yunho washing the dishes and Mingi drying them off before putting them back into their respective spots in the cabinets and drawers.
Hongjoong retired to his study where he would grade exam papers from earlier that week. Yeosang decided to join him to read in a quiet place since the others wanted to play video games. The other boys set up San’s Nintendo Switch, connecting it to the TV, deciding on what to play when the front door flew open abruptly. A figure ran into the room with haste, slamming the door behind them, panting heavily.
“Jongho!” Gasped Yunho. He jumped up from the chair he was lounging in and ran to the boy, the others following suit to check up on the youngest.
“Are you okay?” Mingi asked.
“What’s wrong?” Added San.
Questions and worries flooded Jongho, who shook them off, “It’s okay, I’m fine, really it’s okay,” he said in between pants. “Just…something happened.”
“Well obviously!” Seonghwa said as he guided Jongho to sit down on the couch, the game they were going to play was completely forgotten as they all turned their attention to their friend.
“What happened?” Yunho asked, taking a seat beside Jongho.
The latter took off his beanie, shaking his head and resting it in the palms of his hands, “A girl followed me home.”
The boys shot up, “What?!” They yelled in unison. Hongjoong and Yeosang came out of the study in response, asking what was happening.
“Some weird ass chick followed Jongho home!” Mingi answered in obvious distress.
“What?!” Hongjoong and Yeosang exclaimed.
“Yes, we already reached that reaction,” said Wooyoung, who received a nudge from Seonghwa.
“Where is she? Is she near here?” Yunho interrogated.
“I don’t know,” said Jongho, “I was able to make it inside the shop before she got to the door, but I could hear her banging at the door when I made it in here.”
Yunho and Hongjoong darted to the entrance of their cottage, unlocking the door and running into their store front. It was dark and eerie, no sound was present in the store. Yunho, with his hand near his side pocket, quietly stepped towards the door. He grabbed the doorknob and pulled it roughly, drawing out an iron dagger. The dagger pierced the pitch black ink of the empty landing.
Yunho hesitantly stepped out, eyes scanning intently for the girl, “Seoul Metropolitan Police!” He called into the darkness, “You are trespassing on private property, leave immediately!”
His call was met by silence. A faint wind rustled the woods surrounding them.
“Hongjoong-hyung,” Yunho whispered, the shorter male coming to his side, “Ask San and Mingi to check the back of the house, you come back to cover me. Okay?”
The oldest nodded, running back inside. As San and Mingi made their way to Yunho’s requested area, Seonghwa, Yeosang, and Wooyoung stayed to comfort Jongho. Hongjoong went back to Yunho, the two scanning the perimeter.
“She was watching me perform on the street,” recalled Jongho. “When I was done, she came up to me saying how wonderful of a performer I was. She also said I was handsome, which I didn’t mind at first, but she just became too pushy — wanting to get to know me some more, inviting me out for a drink. But to be honest, I didn’t really care for her.”
Wooyoung stifled a laugh in regards to Jongho’s bluntness.
“At this point, I just wanted her to leave me alone. So I left and was going towards the train station. Then when I looked behind me, I saw she was following. I ran through the station and was able to get onto a train that was about to leave. But as I sat down, I saw her come on, too.”
Jongho’s breathing hitched and Seonghwa grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly.
“I don’t even know how she got onto the train!” He said in confusion, “But she just stood on the other end of the train cart, staring at me the entire ride. When I got off at the station, I ran as fast as I could. But she kept up, chasing after me all the way here…”
“Jongho…” the three men wrapped their arms around the younger, engulfing him in a hug, their touch calming his raging nerves.
“I know she wasn’t human,” Jongho blurted suddenly, “I could feel it, I just…” The image of her chasing him filled his head. She seemed ordinary, but her eyes were unworldly: red and pulsating, as if shaking out of her sockets. He shivered at the recollection.
“We can’t find her, Jongho,” Yunho announced as those who were searching for the girl came back into the house, “She must have run off.”
“Thank you for looking, guys. I just wish this didn’t happen before my big show tomorrow.” Jongho said sullenly. For the past six months, he has been performing on the streets of Seoul to build his name as a performer. After one of his performances, an owner of a bar reached out to him asking if he could play a gig one night. This was Jongho’s chance to be recognized formally as a performer and to hopefully be spotted by entertainment scouts who are looking for an up-and-coming idol.
“It’s okay, Baby Bear!” San smiled as he ruffled the maknae’s hair, “You are still going to do great tomorrow, and all of your brothers are going to be there so we can protect you, okay? No weirdo is going to get our Jongho.”
Everyone nodded and Jongho smiled. He had such loving brothers, a family he never had before. He knew he would be safe with the guidance of his friends, “Thank you guys, and thank you for supporting me in my silly dreams of being an idol.”
“It’s not silly at all!” Hongjoong reassured, “You need to do what you love to be happy in life, and this is what you love. And as long as you are happy, then we are happy for you too. Understand?”
Jongho nodded. After telling his brothers thank you once again, he went upstairs to wash up and head onto bed. After Yunho drew protective runes around every entrance of the cottage, windows and all, the other men retired to their rooms as well — except for Hongjoong and Yeosang, who went back into the study. Bidding each other goodnight, they tried to forget the scene of this evening and just looked forward to the day they will have together tomorrow.
The study was lit by Hongjoong’s faint desk lamp and a standing lamp by Yeosang’s chair. The room smelt of old books, leather, and faintly of black currant. Yeosang sat in a plush leather chair trying to read a book, but the images of Jongho’s terrifying recollection plagued his concentration. As the younger male recalled his experience, Yeosang could see the scene vividly: the sound of the girl chasing after Jongho resounded in his ears. The fear of being at the hands of this mysterious woman weighed down on his body, making him feel sick. His hands shook, unable to move as if he experienced the terror for himself. He took a deep breath, sinking his body fully into the chair, trying to clear his mind of Jongho’s memories. He tried to tune his mind into anything other than the terrifying scene, focusing himself onto the other male in the room: Hongjoong who was grading exam papers. Maybe something funny would come up in his train of thought that would make Yeosang laugh and ease the fear in his heart.
Yeosang listened and focused intently onto the older man’s mind, but only white noise pulsated through his head.
“Hyung.”
“Hm?” Hongjoong peered over his black rimmed glasses.
“How come I can’t hear your mind? I’ve known you for so long, I should be able to hear you like the others — but all I get is white noise, as if you are a stranger to me.” This wasn’t Yeosang’s first time trying to read Hongjoong’s mind either. Countless times he has tried listening to his older friend’s thoughts, but nothing has come as a result in comparison to the others who he hears clearly.
Hongjoong smiled wryly, “Well maybe you should get to know me better?”
“I know your birthday, your favorite meal, your likes and dislikes — I even met your parents! What else is there not to know about you?” Yeosang questioned with a pout.
Hongjoong laughed, “Why do you want to know what’s going on up in there, anyways? You think I’m hiding a secret from you or something?”
Yeosang shook his head vehemently, “No, I know you aren’t like that. I just want reassurance we are close. That’s all, really.”
Hongjoong turned his attention to an oval-shaped table in the middle of the room. On the table was a stone orb stand supporting a rounded crystal, it shined faintly in the study’s dim lighting.
“I think that is all you need for reassurance, don’t you think?” Hongjoong said with a soft look in his eyes.
With a faint grin, Yeosang recalled the mysterious appearance of the crystal. The land where they resided was once a vacant plot, the eight of them all having pitched in their share of money to build their cottage together; a dream of eight men, different from regular society to come together under one roof. The day when the cottage and their storefront was complete, the crystal appeared at the front stoop of the building. Some of the boys wanted to sell it in the shop, thinking they could make a fortune out of the mystifying crystal. However, Hongjoong decided they were going to keep the crystal safe inside their home as a token of their friendship and the chance meeting between them. Now it resides in the walls of the study, safe from passersby and onlookers — only to be seen by the eight friends.
“Yeah,” said Yeosang, “I guess you are right.”
The young man sat at the wide desk, his hands raking through his hair. It was some hours past midnight, but his brain was wired awake. He grazed his hand on the side of his wooden desk, reaching at the top drawer and pulling it open to show a black obsidian pendulum. He curled the chain around his left hand, decorating his fingers in the shining metal.
“Show me ‘Yes.’” he asked the pendulum as he held his hand stagnant. The black stone swung side to side on the chain.
“Show me ‘No.’” This time the stone spun in a circle.
“Am I contacting a spirit right now?” He asked.
The pendulum swung side to side.
“Do you have any malicious intent?”
It was still for a moment and then spun around in a circle.
The man scoffed, “Show yourself to me.”
The pendulum began to spin once again, growing in speed with each turn before it became a blur of black and silver. Smoke began to rise from the stone, spiraling around the chain adorning the young man’s fingers. It crept up his arm like a black serpent of smoke, slinking its way up the young man’s body, entering itself through his ears with a whisper.
“Find the treasure…” it hissed.
The man shivered as he felt the black substance taking reign of his body. It stiffened, as if filled with lead and stone.
“No…” he groaned, helplessly trying to tear away from the pendulum now cemented to his hand.
“FIND THE TREASURE!” The smoke bellowed in his soul, shaking his insides. He could feel his entire body hardening like a rock, his movements stilled, his ember eyes rolled to the back of his head, now replaced by stone marbles. The last flickering image of his sight was an aged picture of eight men being burned to cinders.
“NO!” Hongjoong cried out as he jolted out of bed. His chest was rising and falling, sweat decorating his skin. He touched his hand, trying to find anything out of place. To see if the pendulum was still present in his hand. It was nowhere to be seen. He looked around in the darkness of his room, panic stricken. There, he saw a tall shadow looming over the side of his bed. Hongjoong screamed as he tried to push the figure and run away, but was blinded by a bright light, turning his vision white.
“Hongjoong!” spoke Seonghwa frantically, turning on the bedside lamp.
He grabbed his friend’s wrists and held them to his chest.
“Hongjoong, look at me, it’s okay,” Seonghwa said calmly.
Hongjoong looked up, his pupils dilated, tears trickling down his face. He was shaking, heaves shattering his ribs.
“Hongjoong, it’s okay. Let’s breathe, hm?” Seonghwa got down to his knees, peering at the distraught man on the bed.
Seonghwa inhaled and exhaled slowly. Hongjoong tried to do the same, following Seonghwa’s guidance. After a minute or two, his breathing stabilized, the tears stopped and only sniffles remained. Seonghwa got up and grabbed a tissue box from their shared nightstand, handing the box to his friend who carefully took some to blow his nose and wipe his eyes. Seonghwa sat on the edge of Hongjoong’s bed, waiting for his friend to speak about what just happened.
Hongjoong was going to throw away his tissues when Seonghwa stopped him, keeping the other from moving too much. He grabbed the tissues and threw them away himself, sanitizing his hands right after.
Hongjoong remained silent as Seonghwa sat back on the bed, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Hongjoong was hesitant for a second but stayed closed-lipped. Seonghwa sighed, he knew he wasn’t going to open up to his scene of panic, but he still wanted to provide comfort to his oldest little brother. Seonghwa lifted his arm and draped it over Hongjoong’s shoulder, the latter embracing the touch and resting his head on his shoulder.
The two were quiet for a bit, Seonghwa eyeing Hongjoong hesitantly as he remained mute.
“Do you want me to heal you?” Seonghwa proposed to the silence.
Finally Hongjoong spoke, “I am fine, hyung, seriously.”
Seonghwa removed his arm and looked his brother in the eyes, “With a reaction like that, I don’t think anyone would be fine.” Hongjoong never wanted to admit to any weakness in front of any of his friends. He wanted to maintain his image of being capable, selfless and strong — a barrier that stood in the way of him admitting any vulnerability. He was stubborn, but he wasn’t foolish, he knew when to give in.
“Seonghwa-hyung,” Hongjoong’s voice was hoarse, “Can you heal me, please?”
Seonghwa smiled. He was proud of his friend for admitting that he wasn’t in a good place at the moment, and for allowing him to care for him; it was one step closer to knocking down his rigid barrier. Hongjoong shifted over slightly to allow Seonghwa further onto the bed. The elder got under the bed’s covers and lifted his arm up to allow the other to wrap himself around his body. Hongjoong wasn’t one for physical touch — one could say he hated it — but he knew he needed his friends’ aid and comfort at a time like this.
A shimmering glow began to surround Seonghwa, warmth rose through his body and coursed through his veins. The golden aura inundated Hongjoong, closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel the comfort of Seonghwa’s powers flowing over him.
“What happened, Hongjoong?” Seonghwa asked again, combing his fingers through Hongjoong’s hair in a calming manner.
“It was a nightmare,” mumbled Hongjoong in his now dreary state caused by Seonghwa’s power, “A spirit I contacted took over my body; it wanted me to find something…”
“What was it?”
Hongjoong was silent, “I don’t know.”
He lied, this wasn’t the first time he has heard cursed spirits telling him to find a mysterious treasure. And he knew it would hardly be the last time as well.
“I don’t know what it wanted me to find…” Hongjoong muttered as he felt himself slipping further into Seonghwa’s golden glow.
“Maybe you should stop practicing this occult stuff, it’s taking a lot out of you,” said Seonghwa, “Maybe you should practice something else? Like divination or potion making. How does that sound?”
Hongjoong didn’t say anything in return.
Seonghwa gazed down at the younger. He could hear his breathing dying down, his chest slowly rising and falling. The older closed his eyes, focusing on exerting his energy towards the man in his arms to heal him from the fright of his dream. He cared for Hongjoong, the one who brought them all together as a family. He wanted him to be careful in his occult practices, but he knew he would never stop. Even if his work shredded him to every fiber and tendon of his body, he would still practice his craft and passion. He was fueled to pursue this, as if destined by the celestial bodies. Hongjoong would continue this soul-sucking crucifixion ‘til the day he would become one of the fateful spirits who would be summoned by another passionate soul of the Dark Arts.
#ateez fanfic#ateez#ateez au#non idol au#witchcraft#magic#seonghwa#park seonghwa#hongjoong#kim hongjoong#yunho#jeong yunho#yeosang#kang yeosang#san#choi san#mingi#song mingi#wooyoung#jung wooyoung#jongho#choi jongho#writers on tumblr
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So, I thought I'd make a little compilation of visual stuff for my fan fiction series “Shadows Of Our Past, Present, And (possible) Future”
This needs to be two posts, because tumblr only allows 30 images per post (I think). Please don't steal the images. It took me ages to build the apartment in an interior design/architecture program (Planner 5D). If you want to use them, feel free to ask :)
Tumblr may screw with the quality of the images. Maybe it helps if you click/tap on them to view them in full-screen mode.
Shota's (and Yoru's) small apartment in the prequel:
The main room — kitchen, entryway, living room Details: The guitars, Shota's bike helmet (and a kid's motorbike helmet), Yoru's little house slippers and her little yellow coat, the black coat on the right side of the rack is supposed to be Shota's hero costume, and the gray thing next to it (under Yoru's yellow coat) is his scarf. The furniture is mismatched. Aizawa truly doesn't give a shit and was tight on money. As long as it's functional, there's no need for furniture to go well together.
The bathroom: Details: it's small and functional. There's a little duck for Yoru to play with while she's having her bath, as well as a shark on top of the shelf.
Shota's room: Details: none — purely functional. Completely Shota Aizawa
Yoru's room: Details: the complete opposite of Shota's room. Hizashi and Nemuri (Present Mic and Midnight) helped him (forced him) to get most of it and prepare it the way it is now. They also paid for pretty much all of it. The string lights are important — they're always turned on during the night (Yoru hates sleeping in the dark, already did when she was still little — probably even more back then), Uni the Unicorn plushie: Shota gifted it to her when he found her in the back alley. It's magical and its horn can glow. The room is completely cramped with everything and more a four-year-old child could need (it's so full that the window is hidden behind the little play-tent-thingy).
The balcony: Details: Shota is a secret smoker (not very often and always makes sure that Yoru doesn't notice), the cherry tree: he got it for her the day she officially moved in. He prepared with a lot of parenting books once the adoption was approved (because, of course, he did) and one of them mentioned how some parents plant a tree the day their child is born, so they can grow (strong) together. Alas, he doesn't have a garden, so the little cherry tree sapling on the balcony has to do.
The complete layout of the apartment:
Shota's and Yoru's new, big loft apartment in the canon story:
So, after starting at U.A. (which pays very well, I mean… it's Japan's most prestigious (hero) school) and with Shota earning more money, they moved places when Yoru was ten. It's an old building that used to be open-office spaces and the plumbing doesn't always work, but it's home. Money was still sort of tight (it's a big apartment, therefore expensive and needed some major renovating and furnishing), so Hizashi and Nemuri, once more, chipped in. They have enough money, you know — being public pro heroes with multiple jobs and business deals, so it didn't really hurt them. Don't worry, Shota paid it all back by now, though. Hizashi and Nemuri paying for a lot of it also meant that they had a lot to say regarding decoration and what to get, though. Shota himself would have been happy with half of the stuff, feeling as if it's a lot of things people don't need. He likes it though — it's comfy, but I'm not sure he'd ever admit it.
We'll start with the layout this time because the place is a whole lot bigger.
Layout: Details: a little bit like their old apartment, meaing it has a very open floored plan.
Balcony: Details: Almost the whole ceiling-high-window area opposite the entryway opens up. The sunlight, especially when the sun sets, is absolutely beautiful. It's what made Shota and Yoru choose the apartment. The cats are allowed to go outside to the balcony — they know they're not allowed to jump up on the railings. They enjoy hunting little birds and small bugs there, often bringing their dead prey inside as gifts for their humans, who in return have to clean up feathers and other messes. The cherry tree is, of course, there, too. It's the big one opposite of the sitting area. It's started to become too big for all its pots and Shota makes sure to replant it annually so it can continue to grow and expand its roots. He's about to hit the maximum pot size, though. He doesn't know that he will, however. Yoru, her Dad, Hizashi, and Nemuri (the latter two often inviting themselves over to the Aizawa household) often spend their evenings outside in the sitting area if the temperature allows it. Shota's keeping a secret (he thinks it's secret) ashtray behind the big climbing support for the pipe wines close to the outdoor sitting area. On the left, in the corner (almost cut off from the image) is a little training equipment thing (can't remember the name of it).
The main area — entryway, side-genkan, guest bathroom, kitchen, dinner area, reading area, living room, Shota's work desk: Details: The cats have their food/water area on the floor in front of a kitchen counter. The big, unoccupied space between the kitchen/the entry area and the shelf with the green moss piece above it, is used for their workout/yoga/hand-to-hand combat training at home. There are a few trophies on the shelf — those are some of Yoru's trophies she won for dancing/ballet with her solos or her group. The chairs closest to the kitchen are deceiving: they only hold the weight of cats. Shota keeps on repairing them, but if a human sits on them — they break. They still serve a function, though (the cats can sit on them), so Shota sees absolutely no reason why they need to be repaired or replaced. It's not rational. Their guitars on the wall, next to the fireplace (which they barely ever use). The wall panels/boards on the wall opposite the couch and in the corner of Shota's work desk are for the cats to play on them. Shota took his video game console from the old apartment and brought it to the new one. Toshi and Yoru sometimes play on it, but Shota rarely has time anymore.
Main bathroom:
Details: Important — Do NOT flush the toilet without turning on the faucet first. While the toilet will flush and everything will… go away, new water will continue to come in while the water in the toilet bowl itself will not drain. It will overflow. As mentioned previously, the plumping in the building is old and doesn't always work. Yoru hates this and had to clean up clean toilet water more often than she can count. There's a fix, though: One of the tiles over the toilet can be removed. Behind it, is a very MacGyver-esque contraption: a plastic bottle held up with hemp strings and the pipes for the fresh toilet water. They need to be meddled with while flushing the toilet three times. Simultaneously, the faucet needs to run. It's a two-man job, which means Yoru can't secretly screw up the toilet and has to ask her Dad for help. He's not happy about the amount of times Yoru fucks it up, but helps nonetheless. Again, same with the chairs in the dining area: if used correctly, it's functional. So Shota doesn't see a need to fancy-fix it or call and pay a plumber to do it. He's still very frugal, and it's illogical to fix something that technically isn't broken if used correctly. Yoru strongly disagrees with her Dad's mindset here.
So, that's Part 1 of the post. I hit the 30 image file limit that tumblr allows. We're still missing Yoru's and Shota's room — they'll be up in a moment.
#interior design#interiors#home design#fan fiction#fanfics#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#archive of our own#ao3#ao3 author#ao3 link#fanfic#mha#my hero academia#mha aizawa#mha fanart#mha fanfiction#mha headcanons#mha x reader#mha x you#bnha#bnha fanart#fan fiction fanart#fanfiction#bnha fanfic#bnha fanfiction#fanfiction author#bnha fic#bnha x reader#bnha x you
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Just To See You Smile (harry’s angel au)
pairing: harry styles x female reader (angel)
summary: harry’s only been gone a few hours and it’s proving to take a bigger toll on you than you thought
warnings: slight angst, some tears, harry being the fluffiest and sweetest<3
a/n: my life is literally so frustrating right now; i feel lost, alone and lately trying to throw myself into writing because it feels like the only thing i’m good at: even tho most of the time i h8 my writing lol this was written in my phone and not edited yet<3
The soft fabric of the cashmere duvet was your biggest comfort as you lay in bed, unmoving from the spot you usually shared with Harry. He’d left a few hours ago to continue his tour in Belgium and yes I suppose you could call yourself dramatic, but being as pregnant as you were, the sudden disruption to your routine was throwing you off kilter more than it usually would. Despite your pleas and begging, your doctor and midwives told you travelling for the next week and a bit was not recommended, they’d noticed some concerns at your last scan which had instilled panic between both you and Harry at the time.
It hadn’t been an easy pregnancy once you’d hit 5 months along, and now you were even more on edge and anxious, your brain spinning through every possibility and every scenario that could happen to you or your daughter. In a way having Harry with you and touring with him had grounded you and allowed you time to escape the nagging your brain had been doing to you. Of course Gemma and Anne were set to arrive in a few hours to spend the next week and a bit with you, that would help, but nothing could fill that spot Harry did when he was gone.
Your eyes were tired and bloodshot, nose stuffed from the tears you’d been shedding on and off all morning, baby bee not making life any easier with her sharp kicks and rolling around she was doing. It wasn’t until your phone went off that your eyes moved from the laundry basket in the corner of the room to the screen that lit up; a photo of you and Harry at your still secret maternity shoot your newest background. Swiping to answer the facetime call, your heart clenched seeing Harry’s face, a sad smile on his face when he saw you
“My angel…”
“H-Hi”
He frowned, tears slowly lining your eyes yet again, almost in an annoying way at this point
“I’m sorry this is so hard on you baby, breaks my heart to see you so sad…how are you feeling? She not causing you too much trouble I hope?”
“I just m-miss you…don’t like being a-away from you, even if it’s only b-been a few hours…”
Sniffling you paused to wipe your eyes
“Still not feeling very well, she’s been kicking and moving a lot, i’m too tired to move though…s’like she’s sucking the energy right out of me”
It wasn’t as if you were trying to make Harry feel guilty for needing to work but you knew he’d find out how you were really feeling eventually if you lied to him, so there was no point in beating around the bush
“I wish I could snap m’fingers and make you feel better, I know this is getting harder on you, fucking sucks I can’t still be home with you right now..”
“I know…but you’re working hard and so many people are so excited to see you, guess i’m just used to touring with you that I don’t k-know what to do when I’m not”
He nodded, listening to everything you had to say, little noises of agreements or soft praises escaping every so often, anything to try and see his angel smile, that was the goal of any facetime call the two of you shared
“Mum and Gem are coming over soon right? What are you ladies gonna get up too?”
Shrugging you thought about it
“I think we’re gonna plan the nursery together, look at furniture and paint colours and work on some wedding things which I think will be a good distraction”
“That sounds fun baby, I know whatever you come up with will be amazing, you’ve got a good eye for that stuff”
“Not as good as you”
“I beg to differ”
A small smile pulled at the edge of your lips, Harry’s eyes lighting up at the sight of that
“There’s my favourite smile, love seeing you smile darling, my favourite thing in the world”
“Hard when you’re not here sometimes”
He nodded
“I know but even if i’m a country or a timezone away I’ll always make sure to see that smile, even if I have to dance around ridiculously, making you happen is my goal you know that”
Allowing another smile to appear on your face, this time bigger than the last, was enough to have Harry cheering, loudly at that
“You’re so silly…s’just a smile H”
“Yes, but it’s my favourite smile…besides I was hoping to take you on a tour around Belgium with me…maybe that will keep that pretty smile on that beautiful face of yours”
“It might…”
Harry laughed shaking his head while he brought you with him as he changed, showing you the hotel room and the view from the balcony, your eyes catching the bright colours of the city below him. He kept notice of your mood shifting, your eyes brightening the more he showed you, honestly when Jeff asked why he wanted to wait to rehearse until later, he should have known it would have something to do with you.
“Want to go see the city a bit? I’ll show you some of the cute little tea and coffee shops we spotted earlier?”
“Yes please H…love you so much you know that?”
He nodded, bringing the phone to his lips so he could press a kiss to the camera, albeit very dramatically which earned a laugh from you
“I love you more m’angel, i’d do anything for you, always”
You may not have been able to attend the next few love on tour shows, but that wouldn’t stop Harry from calling tou in every city he visited until you’d be reunited, just so he could show you the sights, the sounds and make you feel like you were with him every step of the way, even if you were stuck in London, counting down the days until you’d be back together. One day at a time, he’d tell you, and you couldn’t wait until that day you were able to rejoin him and experience the world with your own eyes again…
#harry’s angel au🦋❤️🔥#harry’s angel🦋❤️🔥#harry’s angel headcannons🦋❤️🔥#harry styles & angel 🦋#asks with harry and angel🦋#harry styles x angel 🦋#harry styles#harry styles au#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles x female reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x pregnant!reader#harry styles x girlfriend reader#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles angst#rueswrites#ruesanswers#ruesanons<3#ruesasks#ruesfriends💙
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