#made me realise how vulnerable you can be living alone

[mitamicah]

Whelp today I woke up so dizzy and disoriented I was worried I would faint. Luckily some panodils and taking things veeeery slow helped. I looked it up to be sure and it seems a side effect of hrt is noted to be headaches and sudden dizziness; hopefully it is a one time thing 😅

[loonylupinblack3]

Overprotective

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, intoxication, suggestions of violence occurring (nothing actually happens just very brief suggestion)

Summary: Going to the club and getting drunk without your overprotective boyfriend is never a good idea

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: posting bc of max's win in china

Max had always been protective of you. Since as long as you can remember Max had acted like your protector, stopping you from doing risky things and helping you when you did them anyway and hurt yourself.

You were childhood best friends, having known each other since you were five and he was six, brought together by a love of karting. As time passed and the two of you grew up, your relationship stayed strong, but changed. Feelings grew between the two of you, though it took until you were 21 before you two did anything about it.

So you were used to Max’s slightly overprotective tendencies. It was second nature to you, as familiar to you as breathing. However, that didn’t mean it didn’t get on your nerves from time to time, like tonight for instance. You were supposed to be going out with your girlfriends to a newly opened club, but Max was having some trouble letting you go.

He raised his eyebrows when he saw you enter the living room from his seat on the couch, eyes roaming your body. You were wearing a cliche club outfit; short black dress, heels, and bangles on your arm. You could see the appreciativeness in Max’s gaze, but also concern.

“You look nice,” he said, putting his phone down.

You smiled and gave a little spin. “Thank you. It’s the dress I got on Tuesday.”

Max stayed silent for a moment, considering what to say. “You look very beautiful, Schatz, don’t get me wrong…. But is that what you’re wearing out?”

“Is there something wrong with it?”

Max hesitated again. “It’s just… it’s not very restaurant friendly.”

You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth. You had wondered briefly why Max had been so calm about you going clubbing, but you’d brushed it off thinking he just didn’t mind it. Now you knew it was because he didn’t actually know.

“Well, Max, that’s because we’re going clubbing, not to a restaurant,” you say slowly, waiting with baited breath for his reaction.

Max blinked, surprised. “You’re what?”

“We’re going clubbing….”

Max opened his mouth then closed it, clearing his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged. “I thought you knew.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You thought I knew you were going clubbing? Even though I didn’t say anything about it? Or warn you about drinking too much?”

You grimaced. “I know how it sounds but I genuinely didn’t realise you didn’t know.”

Max sighed. “I know, I trust you. I just don’t know if going clubbing is a good idea.”

“But it’s already been decided. And I got dressed up.”

You pouted slightly and Max rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that look, you know I’m just worried about you.”

“I know, but I’ll be fine. Me and the girls have sorted everything out.”

Max started. “You mean it’s just going to be you girls alone? What about Izzy’s boyfriend Liam? Or Kate’s boyfriend? They’re not going?”

“It’s a girls night,” you reminded him. “No boys allowed.”

“Schatz….” Max warned. “I don’t feel comfortable letting you go to the club alone.”

“I’m not going to be alone-”

“You’ll be with a group of girls, all of you vulnerable and easy to prey on,” Max said sternly. “I’m not trying to be mean, but without a man around you there are certain people who will take that as an opportunity to try and hurt you.”

You sighed. “I know Max, but we’re fine. We know one of the bartenders and he’s promised to keep an eye out for us, plus Liam will be driving us home so we have a ride. Seriously, you don’t need to worry.”

Max frowned, looking at your face for any trace of doubt. “I always worry about you.”

“I know, but I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Max continued thinking before eventually conceding, walking up to you and wrapping you into a tight hug. “Be safe,” he murmured into your ear.

You returned the embrace. “I always am.”

You pulled back, still in Max’s arms, and he tugged down your dress with a slight scowl. “Too short.”

You rolled your eyes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Goodbye Max.”

“Don’t drink too much,” Max said, “and text me when you’re coming home.”

You nodded your head and hugged him goodbye once more before leaving the apartment and your boyfriend. You knew he was worried, knew he’d probably be worried for the rest of the night and wait up for you, which made you feel guilty. He hadn’t prepared for you to go out clubbing, completely different from a tame meal at some restaurant, and you knew he’d be agonising over it for the rest of the night.

All you could do was answer his texts and make sure he knew you were safe. 

Except things didn’t go to plan.

You arrived at the club and everything was fine. You looked around, taking pictures of the new place, and greeted your bartender friend. You ordered some drinks and stayed by the bar for a bit, talking and catching up, before one of your wilder friends, Lily, suggested shots and then dancing. You weren’t much of a shot person, mostly because you were a lightweight, and you hadn’t planned on getting too drunk tonight but everyone was egging you on, and you didn’t want to be left out so you agreed, the four of you slamming down tequila shots like you did in college.

Then it was off to the dance floor, you, Lily, Kate and Izzy forming your own circle, dancing and laughing with one another. And you were having fun. You were feeling happy, giddy, and the only thing that would make this night better would be to have Max by your side.

You stepped out of the dance circle, moving back to the bar as you took out your phone. Noticing the multiple texts from Max left unanswered you felt a pang of guilt, but it was distant compared to the excitement you felt.

y/n: maxieeeeeeee

maxie❤️: you okay?

y/n: im the bset y/n: i mss yoi y/n: u shoud come tothe club

maxie❤️: are you drunk??

y/n: jst a litttle bit

y/n: lily siad shots

maxie❤️: you did shots? are you okay?

y/n: im grate

y/n: u should cmoe hree

y/n: i wnna party wth yoou

maxie❤️: already on my way

If you were sober, you probably would have picked up on the annoyed/concerned tone Max’s text had, but you were not sober, so you texted him a ‘yaaaaayyyyy’ and turned your phone off, waiting for what you thought was going to be your party ready boyfriend.

Instead, after you’d had another shot with your friends and continued dancing, you found yourself face to face with your concerned and worried boyfriend.

“Maxie!” you slurred, throwing your arms around your boyfriend in a hug. “Come dance with me!”

Max chucked, trying not to show his concern, but his tight hold on your waist gave him away. You pulled back and looked at him. “You are going to dance with me, right?”

Max sighed, manoeuvring you so you were off the dance floor. You were almost too drunk to notice, just clinging onto your boyfriend. “I’m here to take you home.”

“But I don't want to go home. I’m happy here,” you whined like a child.

Max muttered under his breath, “did I or did I not tell you not to drink too much.”

You frowned at his bad attitude. “I just want to dance.”

He shot you a look. “You can dance at home where you're safe, not in a club full of strangers while drunk out of your mind.”

You pouted but your boyfriend had already made his decision, half dragging half carrying you to where he parked his car. You knew better than to fight Max when he was like this, even drunk, so you sat in the passenger seat with your arms crossed, glaring at the road ahead of you while silently cursing Max and his stupid overprotectiveness. 

Max glanced at you as he drove. “I can tell you’re upset with me.”

“I was having fun,” you complained, “and you took me away from it.”

Max sighed. “I’m sorry Schatz, I am, but I wasn’t comfortable letting you stay in a club full of strangers drunk without me.”

You pouted again. “So why didn’t you just stay at the club with me?”

Max laughed a bit. “Because I only enjoy clubs when I’m drunk, and the whole purpose of me being there would be watching you while you’re drunk, not the other way round.”

It made sense even to your drunk brain- sort of -so you dropped the subject, letting Max off the hook. Maybe you’d argue with him in the morning when you were sober and had a better grasp on reality, but as Max parked in your driveway and helped you out of the car, all you wanted to do was curl up with your boyfriend and go to sleep, which is exactly what you did.

Max helped you undress and got as much makeup off your face as he was able to with his limited skill set and then got you into bed, laying down beside you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest where you sighed into it, content.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair.

Even drunk and half asleep, you still managed to reply, “I love you too.

[talkdutchtome]

Glitch- chapter five

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / mason mount x reader )

summary . . . when mason mount finds out that his assistant has been harbouring feelings for him for years, he makes it clear he doesn't feel the same way. but once he sees her become closer with formula 1 world champion max verstappen, he realises he may have underestimated his feelings towards the girl he has now pushed into the arms of another )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . glitch- taylor swift )

series masterlist . . . available here )

The dim light in the cozy living room flickered as Y/N paced nervously. She turned to the figure on the couch, who had been quietly listening to her unravel her thoughts. "I'm sorry for coming so late, but I was just so confused. I didn't know what to do." 

The figure shifted, and a voice that was both comforting and familiar responded, "No need to apologize. Take a seat and tell me what's on your mind." 

Y/N sank into a nearby chair, her eyes searching for answers in the patterns of the rug. "It was going really well. He’s so nice, I really liked him. But then he started talking about taking me to Monaco and I panicked, I don’t even know why I..” She trailed off, unsure about how to even put into words what she was feeling. She had just ran away from a date with an incredible guy, a date that was actually going really well, and was now sat in her friend's living room at almost 11 o'clock at night. The man in front of her was patient, he let her into his home and was listening to every word she said, and that just made her feel so much worse.  

“I don’t know what to do Reece, I just ran away, he’s going to think I’m so weird. And you, we’ve only been real friends for five minutes and I’ve just turned up at your house and unloaded all of my crap onto you. Fucking hell, I’m such a mess.” 

Reece's gaze remained steady as Y/N bared her thoughts, her vulnerability evident in the dimly lit room. He listened attentively, offering a soft smile as she apologized once again. 

"Y/N, you don't have to apologize for coming here. That's what friends are for," Reece reassured her, his tone warm and understanding. "You're not a mess, and you're certainly not burdening me. I'm here for you, okay? I get why you wouldn’t want to talk to Mason about this too.”

She nodded, appreciating his kindness. "Thanks, Reece. I just don't want to mess things up. He's a great guy, and I ran away like an idiot." 

He smiled, his eyes reflecting genuine concern. "Look, I’m by no means an expert in this subject but from a guys perspective, maybe you should just tell him how you feel. Let him know that you like him but that you need things to go slowly. Honesty is key in these situations, and if he's as great as you say, he'll appreciate your openness." 

Y/N considered Reece's advice, a sense of clarity emerging. "You're right. I should talk to him. Thank you, Reece. I don't know what I would've done without you tonight." 

Reece chuckled softly, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "That's what friends are for, Y/N. Anytime you need someone to talk to, I'm here." 

Y/N expressed her thanks once again, her weariness evident in her grateful smile. "Thank you, Reece. I should get going." 

As she began gathering her belongings and preparing to leave, Reece, noticing the late hour and the weariness in her eyes, interjected gently. "Wait, Y/N. It's pretty late, and it's dark out. I wouldn't feel right letting you walk home alone now. Why don't you just crash here for the night? I've got a spare bedroom, and you can head out in the morning." 

Y/N's initial hesitance was palpable, her brows furrowing with concern. "Reece, I really don't want to impose on you any more than I already have." 

Reece shook his head, a warm and reassuring smile on his face. "Y/N, it's not an imposition. I'd prefer you stay here. I wouldn't feel comfortable letting you walk home alone at this hour." 

A brief moment of contemplation passed before Y/N nodded, gratitude softening her features. "Okay, thank you, Reece. I appreciate it." 

He guided her to the spare bedroom, its ambiance a mix of coziness and simplicity. He assured her to make herself at home, offering, "I've got training early tomorrow, so help yourself to anything you need in the morning. Sleep well." 

Y/N expressed her thanks once more, and as she stepped into the spare bedroom, the soft glow of a bedside lamp revealed a neatly arranged space. The comfortable bed beckoned her, and, feeling the weight of the night's emotional rollercoaster, Y/N surrendered to its embrace. 

She slipped under the covers, the softness of the pillows providing a welcomed comfort. The room held a serenity that seemed to embrace her, and as she closed her eyes, the gentle hum of Reece's home became a soothing lullaby. Sleep claimed her swiftly, offering a respite from the stress and confusion that had filled her evening. 

The morning light filtered through the curtains, gently waking Y/N as she stirred in the unfamiliar room. A soft murmur of voices reached her ears, and curiosity led her downstairs. As she descended, the voices became clearer, and she recognized Reece's calm tones along with another voice that sent a ripple of surprise through her. 

In the kitchen, Mason and Reece stood engaged in conversation, both sipping on protein shakes. Their conversation ceased as Y/N entered, her presence causing a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. Mason's eyes widened in shock as he registered her appearance, and Y/N could almost see the gears turning in his mind. 

"Hey," she greeted shyly, attempting to break the tension. 

Mason, still processing the unexpected scene before him, remained silent. His attempt at maintaining composure was evident, but a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. 

Reece, sensing the need to address the unspoken tension, interjected, "Morning, Y/N. We’re just getting a drink before we head to training" 

Mason's gaze shifted between Y/N and Reece, a myriad of thoughts swirling in his mind.  

“You-” Mason tried to speak but his voice got caught. “You stayed here last night?” He questioned. It was plain to see that he was freaking out but trying his hardest to remain nonchalant. 

Y/N, catching on to the unspoken assumptions, decided to clarify before things took a turn for the worse. 

"Oh, yeah I came round to chat last night, and then when it got late Reece offered up his spare room so I didn’t have to walk home in the dark," she explained, hoping to dispel any lingering doubts. 

Reece nodded in agreement, offering a reassuring smile. "Exactly. Just a friend helping a friend out." 

The tension in the room began to ease as the truth settled. Mason, still processing the information, managed a nod. "Right, got it." 

Reece, ever attuned to the lingering awkwardness, took the initiative to break the silence. "Well, I think we should probably head to training. You're welcome to stay here for as long as you need, Y/N. There's a spare key by the door; just use that and drop it back through the letterbox when you leave." 

Y/N nodded appreciatively, "Thanks, Reece. I appreciate it." 

As Reece and Mason made their way toward the door, the air still carried a hint of unease. Mason, however, seemed to have regained some composure and, looking at Y/N, asked, "Are we still having our movie night tonight?" 

Y/N smiled, relieved that the tension was slowly dissipating. "Absolutely. Come around at 7, and we'll get started." 

With that agreement, Reece and Mason headed out the door. As it closed behind them, Y/N caught a snippet of Mason's questioning tone directed at Reece, but the words were muffled by the closing door. She sighed, hoping that the newfound understanding she and Mason had reached would withstand this unexpected morning twist. 

  As the evening approached, Y/N found herself at home, thoughts swirling in her mind like a turbulent storm. She debated whether or not to reach out to Max, her anxiety growing with each passing moment. Eventually, fueled by a desire for clarity, she decided to make the call. 

Her fingers hesitated over the keys as she dialed Max's number. The phone rang, and with each passing second, her heartbeat quickened. Then, a familiar voice on the other end said, "Hello?" 

"Hi, Max," she greeted, her voice a mix of nerves and sincerity. 

Max responded warmly, "Hey Y/N, how are you?" 

Y/N took a deep breath before launching into an explanation. "I’m good thanks, just wanted to talk about yesterday, if this isn’t a bad time?" 

Max assured her, "Not at all. Go ahead." 

So, Y/N began to share her feelings, the whirlwind of emotions that led her to retreat so abruptly. Max listened attentively, responding with understanding and empathy. "I'm really sorry if I made you uncomfortable," he apologized sincerely. 

"No, no, Max. You don't need to apologize," Y/N reassured him. "I had a lovely time, honestly. I just got a bit overwhelmed, and my instincts took over. I'd like to see you again if you're not too weirded out by my disappearing act." 

Max chuckled gently. "Not weirded out at all. I was just worried I'd done something to upset you." 

Y/N smiled, grateful for his understanding. "You didn't, at all. 

“Thats good, I meant every word I said though Y/N, I do really like you, and if taking things slow is what makes you comfortable, then I'm all for it. I just want to see you again." 

Her heart warmed at his sincerity. "Thank you, Max. I appreciate that." 

Glancing at the clock, she realized Mason would be arriving soon. "I need to get going but we should plan something soon, okay?” 

"Absolutely," Max agreed. "Let me know when you're free, and we'll figure something out." 

Mason's knock on the door echoed through the room shortly after Y/N’s call to Max had ended, she welcomed him in, and they quickly settled into their familiar routine, though there was a noticeable shift. Instead of the usual cozy closeness on a single sofa, they each took their own, creating a subtle but tangible distance. 

Somethings however, never change; because the first thing they did was begin to argue about who gets to choose the first film. Y/N was advocating for her favourite film of all time, 10 things I hate about you, whereas Mason was advocating for Fight Club. Although it only took Y/N pouting at him with puppy dog eyes on full display for Mason to quicky relent and agree to whatever she wanted. He couldn’t help but to laugh to himself at just how easily Y/N could make him do whatever she wanted. 

As the opening scenes of the movie flickered across the screen, Mason couldn't help but steal glances at Y/N across from him. The room was dimly lit by the glow of the television, and he couldn't help but be captivated by the way Y/N visibly lit up with excitement when the familiar scenes unfolded. 

He found himself watching her more than the movie itself, contemplating how effortlessly beautiful she looked in that moment. The way her eyes sparkled with genuine enthusiasm as she absorbed every detail of the film, the soft movements of her lips as she quietly mouthed along to the well-known lines, and the sweet sound of her little giggles that escaped when a particularly humorous scene played out. 

In that moment, Mason realized the beauty he had overlooked before. It wasn't just about her physical features, although he found himself drawn to the soft curves of her face and the glint in her eyes. It was the genuine joy she radiated, the infectious energy that made her all the more enchanting. Yet, as he marvelled at these revelations, an inexplicable discomfort settled in the pit of Mason's stomach. It was a perplexing sensation, an unsettling awareness that something had shifted, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what. 

Caught in his own thoughts, Mason initially didn't register Y/N's attempts to engage in conversation. It took her repeating herself for him to snap back to the present. She asked about his training with Reece, and Mason, readjusting to the conversation, he replied, "It was alright, a bit boring." 

Casually, he segued into another question, the tone of his voice crafted to sound nonchalant. "By the way, since when were you so close with Reece anyway?" The query lingered in the air, carefully casual yet edged with an underlying curiosity 

Y/N shared with Mason that when he wasn't speaking to her, Reece had been incredibly supportive, and they naturally grew closer during that time. She braced herself for any potential discomfort on Mason's part, anticipating that he might be uneasy about her forming a bond with one of his friends and teammates. However, Mason's response surprised her 

"That's good. I'm glad you had someone when I was being a dick," he stated, a touch of sincerity in his voice. "I am really sorry for that again, by the way." 

Y/N reassured him, "You don't need to keep saying sorry, Mason, but thank you." 

As the conversation continued, Mason hesitated for a moment before asking, "How did you end up at Reece's house anyway, if you were seeing Max?" There was a subtle flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, as if he was unsure whether bringing up Max was the right move. And when he caught sight of Y/N shifting uncomfortably, he realized it may have been better if he avoided the subject altogether.  

“Oh, well umm, I just panicked a bit and needed someone to talk to talk it though with.” she spoke as concern flickered in Mason's eyes, and he asked, "What made you panic?" 

She sighed, "Well, he said he wanted to take me to Monaco." 

Mason slightly raised his eyebrows, contemplating her words. "Is that a bad thing?" he asked. 

Y/N clarified, "I don’t know, it just felt like everything was moving too fast. It was a bit overwhelming." 

“I get that, how did it go other than that though, think you’ll see him again?” he asked her, trying his best to remain as casual as possible.  

Y/N's demeanor carried a vague discomfort as she began to answer his question. Her eyes shifted uneasily, and she fidgeted with a loose thread on the edge of the sofa. 

“Uh yeah, it was really nice. He took me to the nicest restaurant I have ever seen in my life, then we went to this coffee shop he likes and we got a hot chocolate, I’m not sure when but we’re definitely going to do something again soon.” 

Mason just nodded, trying desperately to make a a concerted effort to be a good friend, despite the evident unease he felt about hearing the details of her date. His expression betrayed a subtle struggle, trying to maintain a supportive facade while grappling with his own emotions beneath the surface. 

As they turned their attention back to the TV, Y/N gradually eased into the familiar comfort of her favorite film. The initial unease began to subside, replaced by the warmth that usually accompanied movie nights with Mason. They finished watching her movie and then started the one that Mason had asked for.  

As the intense scenes of Fight Club unfolded on the screen, Mason couldn't shake the desire to be closer to Y/N, like they used to be. He missed the casual intimacy they once shared during movie nights, where they would end up cuddling on the sofa, wrapped up in each other's company. However, he recognized that those moments were no longer a given. 

He silently wished they could return to the easy closeness they had before everything became complicated. Yet, Mason understood that it wasn't fair to impose their old habits on Y/N. So, he stayed in his corner of the sofa, watching the movie, trying to pretend that he didn’t want to go over and hold his best friend.  

Not 20 minutes into the movie, Mason noticed the soft and rhythmic sounds of gentle snores coming from where Y/N lay on the sofa. He couldn't help but smile; it was such a typical Y/N thing to do, to fall asleep during a movie. Deciding not to disturb her peaceful slumber, Mason quietly approached and saw that she had dozed off. 

Softly chuckling, he carefully lifted Y/N into his arms, cradling her with the same tenderness he'd always shown. In the quiet of her bedroom, he gently placed her on the bed, arranging the covers around her. It was an instinct to climb in beside her, as they'd done countless times during movie nights at her place due to her not having a spare bedroom.  

However, Mason abruptly halted, the reality settling in that those intimate moments were no longer appropriate. A wistful look crossed his face as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head and whispered, "Goodnight, Y/N," before quietly leaving her room to head home.  

Tag list-

@nightlockcornucopia @jaydensluv @girlytots19 @formula1mount @alwaysclassyeagle @aundercover @sofifiia @dessxoxsworld @lpab @lorarri @thelovehypothesis @torrie421 @ironmaiden1313 @celesteblack08 @glow-ish @urfavouritef1girly @alwaysclassyeagle @barnestatic @simxican @formula1mount @charli123456789 @mac-daddy-210 @lazybot @imguce @azxulaa @mehrmonga @sunny44 @skepvids @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @chimchimjiminie16 @tyna-19 @hoely-maria @stevesworld9 @f1lov3r @elliegrey2803 @heyyhelloohii @landosgirlxoxo @skepvids @aundercover @andydrysdalerogers @illicitverstappen @bbygrlllllll @kageyamama-hinatatata @imagandom @bibissparkles @sofifiia @dark-night-sky-99 @viennakarma @tyna-19 @wcnorris

[bullet-prooflove]

The Necklace: Kimball Cho x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989@caitlinrosa@mcfriggingonagall@kniselle@aiko24k

Companion piece to Break

You still wear the necklace that Cho gave you. You keep it tucked under your blouse so no one else can see it. It’s a small gold medallion with a Korean character etched into the beaten surface. You developed a habit when the two of you were together, of toying with it, of rubbing your thumb over the engraving.

“It means protection.” He’d told you as he’d helped to fasten it around your neck. “I don’t believe in it but every little helps right?”

You’d caught a bullet the day before. The vest had held but it had scared the living hell out of him when he’d heard about from your partner. He’d come over to you place that night to see for himself, undressed you, loved you.

The bruising had been coming out by then, a purple blossom over the place where your heart resided. You’d fallen sleep wrapped up in his arms that night and he had stayed awake listening to the sound of your breathing, replaying how much he could have lost.

He gives you the necklace the next day because he’ll do anything to tip the odds in your favour, even something as ridiculous as a protection talisman.

It’s a year later and the two of you aren’t together anymore, you haven’t been since he ended things because it got a little too real, made him feel a little too vulnerable. He regrets that, that he chose to run when he should have stayed.

The two of you still work in the same building, different departments but he still has to live with that decision, he has to face the consequences of his actions every damn day.

Tonight it’s worse. It’s past midnight and he’s sitting at his desk finishing up reports because he doesn’t want to go back to an empty apartment when he glances up across the corridor and sees your desk light still on, your brow furrowed in concentration. A glimpse of gold captures the light and he realises your fingers are toying with the chain that’s looped around your throat. His breath catches in his throat because he realises it’s the pendant that he gave you, that you still wear it after all this time.

It gives him hope, hope that maybe one day you’ll forgive him, that he can make you understand it was never about you, it was his own demons he was contending with.

It's three in the morning when you bump into each other at the elevator, he’s finally decided to call it quits and you’re lagging, he can tell from the way you keep rubbing at your eyes. When the elevator arrives he gestures for you to step in first. The entire ride you stand beside each in silence, watching the floor numbers on the electronic panel as the elevator descends.  

It’s when you get to the parking lot that you realise the lights on the left side where you’ve parked your car are out. They’ve been having issues with flickering for a few days now.

“Let me walk you to your car.” Cho requests because he hates the thought of you alone in the dark. He’s worked too many cases that start with circumstances just like this and he won’t be one of those people you see crying on TV who say things like ‘If only…”

He expects you to fight him, to remind him you’re a trained CBI agent, one that carries a gun and teaches seminars on hand to hand combat but you don’t.

“Thank you.” You say to his immense surprise. “I’d appreciate it.”

Love Cho? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[littencloud9]

hi. have my current mtp thoughts.

the moriarty siblings genuinely devastate me what the fuck. albert, who’s ridden by remorse since the day he committed his ‘original sin’, who feels his mere existence burdens william, who sees their relationship as his selfish desire and thus remains guilty for years.

and then william, who tries to carry all their sins alone, for he doesn’t want to drag albert or louis with him, even though they’re a team. he is so kind, shockingly so when you compare it to the crimes he’s committed, and he carries his sins until he can’t bear it, and EVEN THEN!! even then he only lets albert see him like this because while they’re not blood brothers, they’re bonded by their shared crime. AND YET. and yet william sees his own vulnerability as a burden on albert’s shoulders, and thinks he should’ve kept it hidden, just to ease his conscience.

and thats not even mentioning LOUIS!! [head in hands] he stays in his brothers’ shadows this whole time, simply following their plans or taking care of the mansion. and yet he’s just as capable as his brothers. AND HE LOVES THEM SO MUCH. they protect him so much but all he wants is for them to take care of themselves, and he KNOWS they’re sinking under the weight of their responsibility but he isnt ever able to reach them. and when the final plan comes in, he can’t follow through. ARGH!!!

u know what. the group dynamic made me emo too. the way none of them wanted william to die, that all of them knew there was another way, but william felt that that was the only way he can atone to his sins. that it was his destiny set since the day he was born. and they all reacted so differently—louis and fred went to sherlock for help (and when you remember that louis was ready to eliminate sherlock the moment he was no longer useful to william, it makes that moment all the more better. because thats when you (and louis too) realise that sherlock isnt a pawn in the game, never was, and instead hes a friend. and a friend was who william needed at his lowest). there was moran who couldnt bear his own betrayal (it isnt betrayal. it was his heart.) and swore his life to carrying on william’s legacy. and albert who fell back into the shadows that he once was in before meeting the others.

do u ever think how william is so shrouded in darkness and his crimes and everything. and yet he was everyone’s light. how sherlock was london’s beacon of hope, but to the lord of crime group, it was william. to sherlock, it was william. to everyone who knew him well, william was their sunshine. HEAD IN HANDS

and sherliam’s dynamic. you werent just a pawn in my game, william says. you werent just a puzzle for me to solve, sherlock says. the words you’re a friend, you mean more to me than i ever thought, i want to save you, do you feel the same? go unsaid. the game of hide and chase throughout the story. how william’s entire plan, his whole DESTINY, was to die, and how when falling off the bridge together, sherlock tells him to live. let’s live together, he says. cling onto life, cling onto the people around you, we love you, don’t go. and that care is what surprised william the most—sherlock came as a friend, he feels the same.

the way sherliam are equals in every sense, yet different, yet the same. they have the same height and mind and kindness deep in their hearts. william is london’s darkness and sherlock is london’s light. yet william has light hair and sherlock has dark hair—there’s kindness in evil and evil in kindness.

the inherent intimacy of mr. holmes to sherlock to sherly, and professor moriarty to liam. and i think it’s interesting how sherlock skipped to the nickname stage so much faster than william. for it shows that he was more comfortable with the idea of getting close than william was. william remains more guarded, not wanting to drag sherlock into madness (i didnt think he’d kill a man this early), so only in his final moments does he say sherly. only then does he accept it.

anyway. im not even done with the manga LMAO. [on my knees] this story is so well-written and so hurtful and every arc was beautiful but the characters truly hooked me. every one of them and their dynamic is so lovely (i didnt touch on sherlock and john but i LOVE them and the scene of sherlock promising to take better care of himself for john was so great and also he never got to attend john’s wedding and im gonna go cry) and real. sorry if u read through my babbling mess. xoxo 💓

[flatoutin-eaurouge]

I don't want you to see me cry

Pairing: Mika Häkkinen x Michael Schumacher

"Are you... are you going back already? Are you leaving me here alone?"

Aila Häkkinen stared at her son's tear-stained face and swallowed against the bile rising in her throat. It was as if some invisible force had slammed a hammer against her heart, making it crack, making it shatter, then crumble to dust.

Her wounded heart ached for the crying boy in front of her. The boy that looked so pale and devastated, so unlike what he used to look like. Gone were the beaming blue eyes and the never wavering smile. He was so vulnerable and in pain. How could she ever leave her baby boy thousands of kilometers away from what they called "home".

She wished she could just quit her job and care for her son full time, but she couldn't.

"Mika, kultaseni. There is no other way. We can't stay here for many weeks to come. No one knows how long it will take for you to recover." She carded her fingers through his hair, while trying to fight against her own tears.

Mika didn't understand. His father had left days earlier for the same reason as his mother: their jobs. Mika had offered to pay for their expenses. His parents could both very well quit their jobs and still be financially stable. He lived in a Monaco pent-house for heaven's sake, he could do with a little less! But his mother had clasped his hands between her own and had kissed his palm. "You don't need to pay for us, kulta. You might need all of that for the future."

First Mika hadn't understand the meaning behind it, but he quite quickly realised what his mother had meant. And it made him nauseous. His parent's minds were two steps ahead. They wanted him to safeguard all his money in case he would end up paralyzed and disabled for good.

The reality of it had downed on him like a dark thundercloud. It had made him even more anxious and depressed. Even more afraid of the future.

"But I will have to be here for so long!" A big fat tear rolled down Mika's cheek.

Aila shook her head in sorrow. She knew how much difficulty Mika had with showing emotions openly in front of people he didn't know well. She was afraid he was going to surpress it all, which she believed was detrimental to his healing process.

"Mika, honey, I believe you are in good hands! They have saved your life and they know what they're doing. I will ask them to keep an extra eye on you."

She gathered her hurt son in her arms and kissed his brow, then tucked his blonde head under her chin. 

"We will miss you and we will throw you a big party when you are allowed to leave the hospital! We are going to call and write. We will visit you every oppertunity we get!"

Aila rocked Mika back and forth in her arms as if he was still her little baby from 1968. She tried to ignore the tremors running down his spine, afraid that it would make her stay with him. Afraid that she would indeed quit her job and live on the money that Mika might need very much in the future. No matter how much she wanted to stay, it wouldn't be a wise decision for that exact reason.

"Bye sweetheart. I know you can do it! You will walk and talk like never before! I know you will, my champ!"

With those words she let go off him. She slowly walked backwards to the door of his room, to the exit. She couldn't stop her tears from falling. She had to make this quick in order not to change her mind.

She blew him one more kiss, then shut the door of his room behind her, leaving her son alone like a lost and clueless puppy.

In the hallway of the hospital – on the floor Mika's room was located – his mother halted a nurse. There was one more thing she needed to do before she left to Finland. "Miss, could you please keep an extra eye on Mika? He is very lonely... maybe he needs a roommate at some point?"

As soon as his mother had left, Mika collapsed onto his bed in a boneless heap, taking shuddering breaths. He stared at the ceiling apathically as silent tears trickled down the corners of his eyes. He mourned the finality of it all... the shut door... his mother out of the country soon. It caused a painful lurch in the beating of his already sore heart. His hands coiled in the sheets and tugged at the soft material to distract his restless mind.

He was alone. Only him and his traitorous mind, that constantly reminded him how weak he was and in how much physical and emotional pain he was. Every twist and turn in the bedlinnen hurt, but if he laid still... for hours... his limbs screamed for movement.

The door only opened for relief and agony. Relief when nurses came in to refill his IV-bag with morphine. Agony when the same nurses came in to drag him from his room and have doctors use him as their lab rat for their medical tests.

The silence and the lack of distraction made that he experienced every sensory change tenfold. He could sense with every minute passing by how the effect of morphine lessened. Hell, he could write a scientific book on "morphine" based on his own empirical observations.

What if he did? It would be a welcome distraction. But at this point... could he properly write with a pen? Could he type coherent sentences on a laptop? Probably not. Both his fine motorskills and the creative left hemisphere of his brain had suffered great damage. At this moment he couldn't even stop his left eye from blinking out of sync with his right eye.

Every day his mind was consumed by darkness while in his room it was very much light. The neon tubes on the ceiling pestering him as he tried to find peace. Peace with himself and the situation he was in.

He hated that in the hospital he had nobody to talk to. Most nurses were very business-like. A few nurses wanted to coddle him like a baby. None of them could make him laugh. They were all very serious about the matter... of course they were! He had escaped death! But he knew that very well himself!

Mika believed that the only uplifting things he could gather would be from little chats with people. He was dissapointed in most of the topics of conversation people in the hospital initiated with him. It was always about pain elevation and homesickness. He knew they were only providing a sympathetic ear, but it didn't work for him. Although pain elevation was very much an interesting topic of conversation when his morphine was running out, because the pain was unbearable most of the time.

His head was throbbing all the time. The inside of his throat was sore because of the removed tracheotomy. He was going insane in his bed and his major daytime activity was trying to keep his mind sane. He wanted to cry but he didn't want anyone to see him cry. His progress was slow, although Mika counted himself lucky that there was progress at all.

He could walk down the entire corridor of the fifth floor without collapsing to his knees. His hearing got a little better. He slowly started regaining his smell and taste. These positive developments were the only anchor to his somber mind.

The progress also caused a new development.

"Mika, we have administered another patient to your room. You've made so much progress in the last couple of weeks, and you seem to be coping quite well emotionally. So you will be getting a roommate today."

The nurse changing his IV-bag smiled at him. "I hope you like it."

Mika froze in place. A roommate?! Coping quite well emotionally?! If that woman only knew... He was crying his eyes out when no one was looking. He didn't want a roommate who could witness how weak and desperate he was!

"Why?!"

"Your mother told us on the phone you are a bit lonely in here."

Mika frowned. "Yes, I am, but I don't need anyone in my room! Can't I suffer in privacy?"

"Oh Mika," the nurse pouted and caressed a strand of hair from his face. She was one of the 'coddling nurses'. "I thought you would like it. Don't worry, he will only be here for a few days. Your new roommate has a complicated leg fracture. He will have surgery today."

"But why would you put someone with a leg fracture in the same room as someone with a fucking skull fracture?" Mika said a bit disconcerted. "Do you think it looks pretty to see someone whine for more morphine?!"

"I've seen a lot of patients looking less pretty," the nurse flirted with him.

Mika glared at her. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave her the silent treatment.

"Sorry Mika, but he will be here in a few hours."

Mika had fallen asleep in the course of those few hours, being very much unaware of who was being wheeled inside his hospital room.

Michael Schumacher stared at the sleeping patient with the rosy cheeks and the angelic features. His skin however was paler than before, and had lost its previous glow of life and happiness. How did he end up in same room as Mika Häkkinen?! The poor guy had almost died! How is he allowed in his room? To see a sleeping Mika Häkkinen in this intimate setting made him blush. It felt illegal to witness it. Michael knew journalists had been lurking around the hospital walls to see a glimpse of the unfortunate boy.

Mika stirred in his sleep as if he could sense something was different.

Michael watched him from the corners of his eyes and couldn't help but be endeared by the sleeping Finn. His precense filled Michael with a sudden calm. It put into perspective how lucky he was to have only suffered a leg fracture from his most recent crash. Mika was here well over a month now, and he himself could leave in a few days.

He noticed the damp crimson spot on Mika's pillow and gasped, not aware that it was one of the long lasting complications of internal bleeding and tracheotomy removal. He watched as Mika accidently smeared his face and hair with the blood as he turned in his bed again. It caused his sleepy face to frown and his eyes to flutter.

Mika felt the warm sticky moisture on his face and cursed silently. "Not again. Perkele." He slowly opened his eyes and startled when he noticed Michael Schumacher's vibrant emerald eyes staring directly at him. What?!

Michael stared into the saphire blue eyes of Mika and could only mumble a: "I am sorry."

Mika's eyes blinked again, this time in confusion. He didn't want this. He didn't want Michael to see all this. He quickly turned around, facing away from the succesful F1-star, and burrowed his face in the blood-stained pillow.

Michael didn't know why he had said "I am sorry" because he had done nothing wrong, but it still felt like the right thing to do, especially since the Finn clearly didn't like his privacy being invaded.

"Mika?" he tried. "Are you okay? I am sorry for being here. And I understand if you don't want to talk."

Mika listened to Michael with tears shimmering in his eyes. He couldn't turn around to him and he couldn't reply. Michael would see him cry like a toddler and he didn't want him to see.

Michael sighed and sagged down into the pillows. He felt bad about the situation. Mika was ignoring him and his leg was throbbing like crazy. It really hurt and the bandages around it itched like hell. He really didn't know what to do. He could only wait for the the sutured skin tissue to heal after his surgery.

After a few minutes of silence, both their heads went up when a nurse entered the room.

She rushed to Mika's bed and gently lifted his head, reaching for his pillow. "Oh it happened again. The washing machine runs overtime with you as a patient".

She noticed Mika's teary eyes and immediately felt bad about her stupid joke. "Mika, I am so sorry! That wasn't funny at all!" She quickly grabbed a tissue to wipe at the tears and the bloody smudges on his face.

Michael saw it all happen in front of him. He startled to see Mika's shoulders shaking, a sniff followed by a whimper escaping his trembling lips. Though his face was partially turned away, Michael could see the glimmer of tears as they left a trail down his cheeks, plopping onto the blanket at a rapidly speeding pace.

Mika knew he couldn't hide his raw emotions for long. But to be exposed as a crybaby in only a matter of minutes saddened him even more. What would Michael think of him?

Michael was thinking many things, but thinking of Mika as a crybaby wasn't one of them. He wanted to walk to his bed to console the Finn, to tell him there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but he couldn't. His broken leg stopped him.

"Mika?" He tried again after the nurse had left.

Mika now did look at him. What did it matter now anyway? He has seen me cry. "Yes, Michael?"

"I don't know where to start. I have apologized to you already, but a I am really sorry for invading your privacy! You deserve a room for yourself alone."

Mika shook his head. "Please don't apologize for that, Michael. I have had a private room for more than a month. It's not your fault and I am terribly sorry to see you have broken your leg!"

"It's nothing, Mika! I can hardly say it's bad when you are lying here in bed for weeks on pain killers!"

Mika shook his head as more tears trickled down his cheeks. "Please don't say that!"

Michael swallowed against his own tears. Again, he didn't know what to do. He wanted to be close to his rival. He wanted to hold him and tell him everything will be alright. He wanted to tell him that he could foresee a trophy standing in his living room instead of a wheelchair.

"Mika, can you walk?

"Yes, but not too far. Why?"

"Could you please come over?" Michael bit his lip in anticipation. His caring nature urged him to console Mika. Michael knew Mika needed it, but the Finn probably didn't want to admit that he needed affection.

With hesitation in his eyes, Mika pushed himself upright in his bed and very slowly and inelegantly swung his legs over the bedframe.

He slowly strode towards Michael's bed with his face twisted in concentration. He couldn't wobble on his trembling legs, or worse... fall over in front of Michael.

He halted in front of his rival and gave him an awkward little smile. The best one he could muster with half of his face paralyzed.

Michael stared at him for a long time, taking him in from head to toe. Except for his adorable crooked smile, Michael barely noticed the paralysis. His rival was alive. Alive and walking, albeit slowly.

"What are you looking at?"

"I just realized how good it feels to see you doing so well."

"But, I am not doin-"

"Yes! Yes you are doing well," Michael interrupted him. "Have you never thought about how bad it was when you were rushed into ER here? Do you not realise how far you've come? All of us were told you were fighting for your life!"

Mika blinked at him in confusion. Why did he never think of that? People outside the hospital knew about his accident, but they didn't know a single thing about his healing process. And of course they were speculating... his McLaren seat was not on the market for next season yet... so something must be going on.

"Yes... I was... fighting for my life." Mika looked down at the pristine tiles of the hospital floor.

"But you aren't anymore!" Michael stretched out a hand and let it rest on Mika's back, motioning him to sit down on the edge of his bed.

Mika sat down, but didn't say a word. He stared at the cast around Michael's leg, wondering how even the best in the sport could end up in a hospital. His hand shot out in the direction of said leg, his fingers hovering over the cast, as if he wanted to heal the fracture with secret, invisible powers.

"We don't belong here."

"No, we don't."

Michael watched him with great intent as he felt his heart fill with a sudden warmth. His own hand reached out and started to caress the soft blonde locks of his rival. He was very careful, because he knew that underneath that mop of velvety hair Mika was hurting very badly.

Mika turned around to look at him. A blush spread across his pale cheeks as Michael continued to caress his hair. He grabbed Michael's hand gently and kept it in place on the side of his head. "It distracts from the constant throbbing."

His own hand moved down to stroke the unharmed upper part of Michael's broken leg. "I hope it does the same for you."

Michael sighed and stared into Mika's eyes with great adoration. "It does!"

They sat like that for over half an hour, talking about life at the hospital until Mika's morphine started to run out again.

The Finn squinted his eyes against the pain. He removed Michael's hand from where it was still resting against his head. Tears forced their way outward, their damp tracks making his cheeks glisten in the neon lights on the ceiling above them. And worst of all... Mika couldn't surpress a heart wrenching sob.

Michael saw how Mika's calm demeanor had changed into that of a pain tormented soul in a matter of minutes. He could understand Mika's negativity if pain struck like that and progress was so slow. A month into his healing process and Mika was still relient of pain killers.

Michael scooted a bit to the side, making room on his bed, and guided Mika to lie down next to him. He curled an arm around the Finn and pressed a hand against his sweat-matted brow.

"It's okay, Mika! Take deep breaths!"

"Every fucking day it happens twice! Every early morning and every late afternoon!"

Mika shook in agony. His fingers started tugging at the stands of his hair, causing small tufts of the blonde fluff to drift through the air. Michael stopped the action by taking both his rival's hands in his own.

"Don't do that! That won't help!"

Mika burrowed his face in the hollow of Michael's neck and wept quietly. Any embaressment he had had about crying in front of others was gone.

Michael gasped in pain when Mika curled against his side and accidently hit his hurt leg. He supressed a whine in order not to upset his rival. The Finn was already dealing with his own pain, which seemed to be constant. He could bump into his leg as much as he wanted if it meant he would be more comfortable on the bed.

When Mika began to shiver and his teeth began to chatter, Michael covered the both of them with his heavy blanket. His arms tightened around the shaking Finn, holding him impossibly close. Nothing strange about sharing some body warmth.

"I miss my mom," Mika sobbed.

Michael realised that Mika must be delirious with pain, because all barriers he had put up around himself had crumbled to dust. Again, it felt illegal to witness this. Michael softly murmered in Mika's ear a promise that he would never tell anyone about this vulnerable moment.

[wysteria-clad]

The Space between us

paring: Jake Lockley x fem! reader; established relationship with the moon boys

a/n:

no plot, just vibes

wanted to write something angsty with papi, but not too much angst

genre: fluff but also bit angst

------

"I'm weak," he lies down on the bed, lying comfortably between your legs, resting his head on your tummy. He was tired. He was tired of being strong all the time. And wanting to put that shield down for a while, made him question his strength.

Why did you even love him anyway?

"Hey, wanting to rest is not weak," you stroke his hair, you feel him relax under your touch immediately.

He turns his head down, avoiding looking into your eyes.

"It's okay to want to live and not to be on survival mode all the time."

He avoids your intense gaze. You are right. But he didn't know how to live outside of the survival mindset. And that sent fear into his being.

"Baby, look at me," it wasn't a command, but your tone is firm, yet gentle enough to encourage him that meet your eyes. "You deserve to be happy too."

Before you came into the picture, he never realised he couldn't even fathom that he can live outside the protector role he assigned himself. But with you, he learned there is a better way to live, and not just simply exist. But he didn't want to voice his fear out loud, he was afraid of taking up space, to want things for himself, and not only do things for the sake of keeping the system safe.

"Just because you are strong enough to endure the pain doesn't mean you have to," you lift his head up gently making him meet your eyes.

How long was he waiting for someone to utter those words to him, especially by someone who genuinely cared about him? His vision becomes blurry with tears as blinks them away.

It was a simple truth, but hearing you say was everything to him.

The vulnerability he shows to you in that moment, makes your heart clench with love for this man.

He can rest for while, he can want gentleness and good things too. You loved him, all parts of him—the good, the bad and everything in between. He can experience and feel your love without guilt or pain gnawing at him.

"I love you," your lean down, your nose almost brushing his. You voice is soft. "It's my choice. I choose to love you," you stroke his cheek with your thumbs.

You didn't love him cause you took pity in him, like an unwanted, broken doll hidden and lost on a farthest shelf in a store. No, you choose to love him, you saw every broken lines in him and it didn't make you flinch.

Your confession sent a welcoming serenity to Jake's heart—it's quiet and puts his entire being into a warm and safe bubble of love.

He would always admire your patience, your gentleness with him. It was one of the things he loved about you. You provided him the safe space to be vulnerable, to be himself. He didn't put up a shield around you. He can just be himself and exist all in his beautiful, imperfect glory, and you loved him for it with your entire being.

Jake realised that even though he didn't know how to let his guard down, he had you. He doesn't have to do this alone. You are with him to show him how. And for now that was enough for him.

----

Taglist:

@twwcs @friendlyneighbourhood-parker @fayes-fics @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @devilish-mirage @syrma-sensei @gaymistakeboi @scarabgrant @mintpurplemnm @kittiesluvyou @luke-o-lophus @nana1000night @this-is-me1 @thatdummy-girl @vinsevena @hot-mess-express1 @hotbisexualmess @fandxmslxt69 @beaxtrice @ninebluehearts @moonknightwifey @i-still-dont-like-your-face @toracainz @damnzelsoul @bitchyglitterfox @21stcenturycirce

[nnightskiess]

everytime you leave, part six

₊° - 𝐲𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐠 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.

everytime you leave, masterlist

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3

Your new garments itched and frustration grew as you continued to adjust the blue linen dress each time it slipped off your shoulders. It seemed to be a hand-me-down since the other girls didn’t disappear in the size of their clothing. Perhaps they’d tailor it to your figure soon, but you wouldn’t put it past these people that such things would be seen as rewards for good behaviour, and you weren’t quite sure if you were going to play along to their rules just yet. You huffed as you adjusted the dress around you. At least it served as a task to keep you occupied as you waited for Aretuza’s rectoress, who had sent one of the other mages to fetch you and wake you from your slumber after the events of last night. Your eyes darted around her office, taking in all the little bits and bops that lined the walls and filled the shelves. You’d heard of mages from the folk tales. But people who could bend nature, control the mind and the senses and be as valuable as two hundred swordsmen, could only be seen as an abomination. Something not meant to exist... a statement you’d started to see reason in after what had happened to you. It’s what you’d been told your entire life. You were sure it had lots to do with how your region had fallen victim to an invasion and how the promised help of a mage had come too late. You wondered if that mage was long gone, or still walking among the vast lands of the Continent, but going by how old they could get, you suspected the latter. 

“To be a mage is a solitary life. But, to serve the Continent, is one of the greatest honours there is.” Her voice appeared from behind you as you watched her walk in with all her poise before she took a seat behind her desk, opposite you. “All girls here have been plucked from their old lives the second their conduit moment caused a ripple, a ripple I was able to sense here. Yours was more than a ripple. It was a wave big enough to flush away at least half of Skellige.” She knitted her fingers together and watched you intently, trying to gauge the impact of her words, “The use of Chaos always has consequences, but you have had to give a great sacrifice in order to be reborn. For that, I apologise.”

You felt your eyes burn as soon as she made you think of it again. You hated how the silent tears fell and left a taste of salt on your lips as they tickled down your skin. You didn’t want to show weakness or give her the satisfaction that you were alone, completely cut off, and truly nowhere without her, seeing as she’d saved you. But something was different. She was genuine, this time. Her kindness was a stark contrast to her harsh words the day she'd found you, but, ashamedly so, you realised that in your vulnerable state, you lapped her apology up and tried your best to help it mend some of the heartache. It could not, however.

She continued, “My promise will stand until the day I die, or until the day you betray me— I will guide you to control your Chaos, to never have to live another day in fear of losing it ever again.”

You quickly wiped at your cheeks, “I don’t want to use my magic if this is the other side of it.”

Tissaia smiled sympathetically, “It feels like a curse now, but trust me, you’ll want nothing more once you learn the depths of your capabilities. It can heal as much as it can cause destruction, it all depends on the language you’ll let it speak with.” She tilted her head, seeming to have a hard time stopping herself from getting lost in her thoughts, “Remember, you survived fire magic. No young mage ever has, let alone as their conduit moment.”

It hurt to sense her underlying praise at your actions, for those same actions had caused the demise of your loved ones as well. It fleetingly made you think of Yennefer, who'd had the same reaction, even if she didn't know what you'd done.

Tissaia stood up and walked around the desk, approaching you, “Which is why I want to press once more, that it is of utter importance to keep that knowledge between the two of us. We do not speak of it outside of this room, we do not think of it during the quiet hours of the night, we do not dwell on it during hard times, we do not let others in on it during a moment of weakness.”

“You want me to brush aside the fact I am a mass murderer? To live as if none of this is happening? You took me, you took everything from me!” It was piteous to blame her too, but it was better than taking all of the blame yourself and living with that guilt.

Tissaia leaned forward, her hand tightly cupping your chin, “You lost control of a power you were unaware you had, you cannot blame yourself for that.”

You hated how she was holding you in place, how she squeezed your chin when you tried to look away, how she was pulling your strings like a puppeteer. 

“Look at me. Don’t you dare look away.”

With tears prickling your eyes, both from hatred and sorrow, you were left with no other choice as you watched the white of Tissaia’s eyes go from a salmony, irritated pink, to a deep and disturbing shade of red within a matter of seconds. Your own eyes itched and they darkened in a blur, but you held off on brushing away that new set of tears, not wanting to give in to your weakness. Not in front of her. 

Finally, Tissaia nodded to herself and retreated, using her velvety maroon handkerchief to wipe at her eyes as she sat back down. As her back was turned to you, you quickly wiped away the irritating set of tears, only to hitch a breath as the back of your hand was smeared with a red substance… blood. Your blood.

“Very well-” Tissaia cleared her throat, her chest heaving. She took a deep breath in, then turned around. Her eyes turned to slits as she watched you examine your hand like you were some tropical bird, gazing at your reaction and examining all your little tells. The thick streak of blood dropped down your chin and onto your garment. The droplets that fell stood in stark contrast with the blue of your dress. 

You dialled down your panic by swallowing hard, “What did you do to me?!” 

She smiled gently at your, albeit panicked, curiosity, “I just saw all of you—your fears, the memories plaguing you both good and bad, your abilities and the extent of your control.”

Irked at the crossed boundary and wanting nothing but to wipe the smile off her face, you snarled, “And? Liked what you saw?”

The ghost of a smirk was trying to pull at her lips, entertained by your bark. This only proved her once again, that one’s chaos and capabilities always mirrored one’s true core. You'd lost control, because you'd never really had it in the first place.

“There’s lots of work to do.” She grabbed a small, thin and long candle in its holder and shoved it towards you across her desk. Its tiny flame danced in front of you as if to taunt you, “In order to gain complete control, we need to conquer your deepest fears first. Your fear of fire.” Tissaia addressed, watching you intently to gauge your reaction as you stared at the candle, seeing if it would react to you already.

Immediately, you shook your head, “No- I’m not doing this.”

“Sit… down.” Tissaia ordered quietly but venomously, as you were halfway into getting out of your chair, “Or do you want to blow up all your classmates during your first lesson here as well?”

She knew she was testing your patience, pushing all your buttons, but she had to insert her dominance over you before it was too late, like one would do with a stubborn cow in your village. It made you feel even more little.

You stood there, rage filling your chest at the woman who’d ruined your life and taken you to this hell. More and more you wished you’d died with your family. “No! Not before you answer my questions.”

Tissaia raised an eyebrow at your ultimatum, but liked the fiery gut you had that it took to stand your ground. She dipped her head— a confirmation for you to proceed. It was a fair request after the past few hours, and if she could persuade you this way, well, then she'd give in a little.

“You say that I am a hitch in the balance of magic… then why are you helping me? Won’t you get in danger for helping me if they find out? Are you not afraid of me ruining things? Or will you drop me the minute I do? You’ve said it yourself, I’m a danger, so why risk keeping me here when I am constantly one moment away from losing myself? What use am I to you to you here? And what’s in it for me?”

Tissaia listened to the questions you shot her way— reasonable ones, clever ones, some she could answer, others she wouldn’t… and then that last, cunning one, showing her you already belonged here more than you realised. 

“You may not trust me, and I understand the reason behind your uneasiness, but things will make sense one day. I am not truly as wicked as you see me now. I am willing to give you an honest and sincere chance to shape your rebirth and help you reach the full potential I just saw in you. To make sure you will never have to lose control again. So, take it.” She said it in a way that left no room for you to disagree. You tilted your head, not liking one bit how she hadn’t really answered any of your questions with a direct reply and how it had made another string of questions enter your mind.

It seems she sensed so, as she spoke, “It appears I need to tell you a little about our Brotherhood first. About Aretuza, the way of our Chaos, what it means to be a mage and how we serve as a balance in the Continent to make sure there’s peace and prosperity. How we use negativity only to stop the scales from tipping over to one side, to make sure there’s a little shade to unbearably bright days. Your distrust is valid, given the things you have gone through in the past few hours, but perhaps it can also be blamed on the unknown.” She sat back, testing the waters, “It's the uncertainty that accompanies fear like a loyal friend. Your fears are valid. You left your home, your familiarities, were placed here in the birthplace of the very things you are currently afraid of… Chaos, order, and fire.” Her eyes darted back to the tiny flame between the two of you, “I promise you that I would not have taken you here if I didn’t truly have to. Think about it, the entire village... burned to a crisp, but you sitting at the centre as proof of the destruction? Imagine what they would have done to you? And if they hadn’t found you, how would you have survived? With your wounds? Without a roof, without food… without a guardian?” She painted the picture for you and watched the bitterness in your eyes that signalled you still hadn’t warmed up to her, “I do not say this to spite you, to try and manipulate you to see reason in my explanation. I say this so that you will eventually see that you are here because your Chaos is needed. Hate me all you want, resent me, call me names, curse this place, but know that being here will help you more than it will harm you.” She gave you a moment, “But first, you will need to learn control.” She paused for a beat, “Are you ready now?”

There was truth in her words. They would have hung you if they so much as suspected you had been to blame. And if you’d managed to hide, you would’ve died from your injuries. The phantom feeling of shivers and torturous pain still clung to your body like an uncomfortable wet blanket, even if you were taking sips of the effective burn elixirs every few hours. You never wanted to be the cause of destruction again, you never again wanted to know what it would feel like to lose the one thing you loved in the entire Continent by your own actions. So, you answered with a curt nod.

Tissaia didn’t gloat and you were grateful for it. It was time to finally introduce you to her world. Your world.

“When in full control of our Chaos, the borders of our magic are vast. From elemental magic to using elixirs and spells. What all of them have in common, is that they won’t work if you don’t know your Chaos. If you don’t learn its language, its dances, what angers or weakens it. Though, I’d say, you have gained quite some knowledge regarding the last two recently. You lost all sense of your Chaos as soon as your loved ones were threatened. That is your pitfall— to link your emotions to your Chaos. It has left you rattled, but you cannot dwell on that feeling. I want you to challenge yourself. Find the borders of your tipping points again, but don’t give in to them. Stand above the emotions currently clouding your mind.”

You looked at her, intrigue now written across your face at how something you didn’t even know you had inside you, could be so aligned with what you’d valued most in your life, something you'd also always struggled with. Looking at it now, it started to dawn on you that each time you’d gotten in trouble in your life, it had started with your emotions being out of control. It had always affected you more than it should have. You absorbed emotions like a sponge, somehow refusing to let go of them even if you could feel it pull you down further and further. And it had always resulted in your days turning even more sour when things would happen. The beetroots you’d take home would go from perfect to rotten on your walk home, the bucket of the well would always get stuck while you used it, water would turn brown in your cup and little gashes on your hands from working on the fields would reopen and refuse to heal. All these little things. Then you remembered the bigger things... the wheels of your family's wooden cart breaking only ever when you used it to transport goods, the clasps of the horses in front of your cart suddenly snapping, the crops on your side of the field never big enough to harvest, leaving your family with so much less to sell. You dared to wonder if it had anything to do with your sense of Chaos. But could those incidents really be connected when they were deemed extremely innocent compared to the fire that had consumed you?

“I am not asking you to use fire magic.” Tissaia’s voice brought you back, as if she'd read your mind, “I am simply asking you to learn to control it. It might sound similar, but it isn’t. Each mage has a type of Chaos they find themselves more drawn to, it is chosen for you and cannot be hand-picked by preference, It so seems your Chaos has chosen the darker side of contributing to the Continent's balance. Be the boss of it, but don’t use it. Let it dance to your rhythm. Overpower it. Your Chaos is stronger than it all because Chaos creates fire.” She continued, sensing she had your attention, “I want you to stare into the flame. Each time you feel that it wants to latch onto you, you reset your focus. Each time your hands warm up from the fire it's vacuuming, you reset your focus. Each time your mind wanders to what hurts you, you think of something else. Be the one to control it, instead of the other way around. But whatever you do, you do not set your eyes off the candle.”

You nodded slowly, eyes flashing between Tissaia and the candle. You shifted in your seat, hands tightly clutched together, hoping that the harder you squeezed, the more difficult it was for the fire to find the tiniest bit of space to develop.

The flame flickered naturally, leaving a tiny cloudy string of smoke to travel upwards until it disappeared into the air. 

“Don’t be frightened, child. Your Chaos will listen to you if you talk to it. Feel it prickle beneath your skin, hear the ring in your ears. Feel what it does to your body. It will feel uncomfortable and all-consuming at first, but you will learn to appreciate its powerful presence.” 

Tissaia’s voice drowned out in the background as you kept your eyes locked on the candle in front of you. It whipped to the right sharply, then to the left, then dimmed slightly before you felt the tips of your fingers start to heat up. Tissaia noticed the sudden panic in your face.

“Do not keep your eyes off it.” She demanded, waiting a few seconds for you to regain the upper hand, “Do not let fear win. Tell your Chaos what it should do… to keep the flame swaying gently.”

“How?!” You muttered softly, squeezing your hands into fists and feeling your nails press crescent moons in your hands.

“Only you know how to communicate with your Chaos. You are Chaos. Do not be afraid of yourself.” 

The flame went out, leaving a string of smoke to swirl into the air. You gasped, afraid of where it had gone to seek its refuge now after you had denied it. Still, you kept your gaze locked onto the candle, too frightened that you’d see the fire appear in your hands if you looked down. 

Focus. Deep breaths. Feel the prickling, the rapid beating of your heart in your throat, the slow headache coming up between your eyebrows, the clenching of the muscles. Conquer it, tell it what to do. 

It was as if you could hear Tissaia's voice echo through your mind. It was silent for a long while, and before Tissaia could change her plan of approach, the flame reappeared, lighting with a sizzle, flickering all ways until it finally evened out to its normal sway. You didn’t dare to take your eyes off it, afraid it would run off again without you telling it to, but Tissaia blew it out with a puff of air.

She didn’t say anything for a while as she watched you eye your hands in fear.

“Good.” 

“But I let it escape.”

“No. You told your Chaos to latch onto the next best thing to find balance— the air around us.”

“I blew it out?”

Tissaia nodded, solemnly, “Then you told it to reappear. It listened to you. You told your Chaos to not let the flame get out of control, so your Chaos latched onto the element of air instead, using it to blow it out.” She explained the physics behind your subconscious actions, but before you could be impressed with yourself, she crushed your temporary relief and pride, “It was good, but not good enough. It is a start. You’ve only been here for a day. With proper training and determination, you won’t recognise the girl you once were in a few years time.”

“I don’t want to forget who I was.” Your voice was quiet, low, and Tissaia almost let her expression soften at the fear hidden between the lines.

“You won’t have to, not unless you let Chaos consume you, or let it talk for you instead of being the one to make it talk. Magic is a tricky thing, but so is living with power. For today, this is enough. You need to rest. We shall break fast in the centre hall soon.” She noticed the sullen look in your eyes, the bags underneath them, the colour that had drained from your face. You’d used your Chaos enough during the past few days. It was time to recharge now.

Her look made it clear that this lesson or test, or whatever it had been, was over.

“Now, one more thing— you do not lie to me again, not even to take the fall for someone else, because I will know when you do.”  Tissaia watched as you widened your eyes at the revelation, hinting at how you'd taken the blame for Yennefer the night before.

Her eyes on you made you uneasy, especially because she looked at you in a way she hadn't done before. She tried to funnel through your thoughts, all the way to your core, to where Chaos was known to have its roots. However hard Tissaia tried, she could not decipher how two of her newest students had managed to combine their Chaos together, and what had spurred it on. It was as if you had managed to seal off your thoughts before even knowing how to. Granted, she had just told you to lock away your emotions to control your Chaos. It reminded her, “And stay in control of your Chaos. Don’t let anyone else attach to yours because then, having to control it, will be a much greater challenge, as you have seen when you tore up that room together.”

Tissaia stood up, posture straight as she looked down at you, watching how what she had just unveiled hit you.

“Anything said and done in this room, stays between these walls. Just as much as anything that you say to me, will remain for my ears only. Remember, I will know when you break your promise.”

"And do not forget," she took in a deep breath, "-you've already shown great control once, or the incident would have killed you along with it, no doubt. You emit as much as you can draw. Meaning you controlled the fire that you think was your defeat."

With a look of finality, she practically made you rise out of your seat. You looked over your shoulder before exiting her office and watched how a single bloody tear fell out of her eye.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

For a place that was meant to become your new home, it sure felt hostile the second you walked up to the central hall. You had followed the cacophony of whispers, cutlery touching plates, soft music and the occasional giggle. You stood back, shielded by the curtains of the see-through alcove to watch the T-shaped room before daring to enter it. The light fell through the tall stained-glass windows which almost reached the tops of the columns that supported the ceiling. The ceiling was so high it was difficult for your eyes to make out the frescoes decorating it, but they took in the mainly nude statues nonetheless. It looked warm in there, but you still felt the slight drought send a shiver up your spine. There were rows upon rows of tables, but only the first few rows were occupied, and not even fully. On your left, girls clad in the same horrid garments as yourself sat behind plates, quietly taking bites of their food. Your eyes then raked further up ahead, where a longer table stood, occupied by women wearing fancy dresses and hairpieces— your teachers, you presumed, as you saw Tissaia de Vries among them.

Chandeliers hung above their heads every few meters, lighting the room in a warm orange glow. Velvety cloths decorated the tables and the cups and plates shone even brighter than should be possible, but perhaps that had come forth from magic as well. It was then that the intense smell of freshly prepared food wafted into your nostrils. It smelt so rich, so not like the stale and common food you'd eaten year in and year out.

For a room so warmly decorated, it sure felt ice cold the second you stepped into the hall, having let your gurgling stomach win the fight.

The hall went quiet, and you wanted to run out again. What were you supposed to do now? Where would you sit? Would there be a plate waiting for you or did you have to ask for one? And who did you have to ask? Were you supposed to say something? Introduce yourself while ignoring the icy stares and curious looks?

You didn't want to look across the room and meet all those eyes while doing so, but you had to if you wanted to know what to do next. Your gaze gravitated towards the right, where it met violet eyes already boring into yours.

Yennefer sat with two other girls, hunched over her plate and quickly averting her gaze when she realised you were looking at her. You got the message that went behind that gesture loud and clear and decided to sit on the other side of the hall from her, at a table behind a gossiping flock of girls. You hoped you could disappear behind them, since they seemed so busy, but they turned to face you the second you sat down, and a plate of food was put in front of you as soon as you did. A cupbearer was filling your glass before you could even blink. It overwhelmed you. It all did. You weren't used to... whatever weird treatment this was. How could this place and these people make you feel so low while treating you like you were royalty?

Two girls even went as far as to pick up their plates and sit beside you, but as soon as you saw the look in their eyes, you knew they had only done so because you were the new and shiny toy.

"We're Johannah and Abigail. You won't have any classes with us, we've been here for a while, but that's exactly why we can tell you all about Aretuza." One of them awed at you, plucking at your dress to readjust it.

The other played with the honey-drizzled pastry on her plate while her eyes took you in, "We heard what happened, we're so sorry! You shouldn't feel bad, we've all done silly things before we knew of our Chaos."

You gave a tightlipped smile to them, not liking their use of silly when it came to your conduit moment. But you knew the promise you'd made with Tissaia, knew she had probably started a rumour to take away from what had really happened as your conduit moment. But, you liked their giggles even less. They made you feel lower than low, even if they seemed to try and coddle you.

Abigail prodded at your clothing again, "You'll get new ones as soon as they realise you're not disappearing on them."

Johannah nodded, "A lot of girls disappear during the first month."

"Why is that?" You dared to ask, suddenly remembering how Yennefer had mentioned the death of a girl. You still didn't know if it had only been a jest or not.

"You should ask how, not why."

The familiar icy voice and the plate that was dropped onto the table made you flinch. Yennefer sat down, glaring at Johannah and Abigail from beneath her lashes.

She continued, "Aretuza was built as a prison to keep us in, did you know?" Her eyes flitted to yours for a second, "They won't teach us that part of its history, of course."

She pricked a piece of fruit on her fork and put it in her mouth and chewed, still glaring at the two girls who were in clear disgust at her sudden arrival. Yennefer mindlessly waved her fork around,

"The fact they need to trap whatever mage or sorcerer they can get their hands on says enough about the entire Brotherhood."

It wasn't an odd sight to see Yennefer take the opportunity to voice her disgust against Aretuza, but the fact she sat in front of you, of you, filled you with confusion. Why now? After she'd clearly not wanted you to sit at her table mere moments before?

"Uh," Johannah started from your right, "Maybe you should go back to the shadows you came from."

"It'll be better for all of us," Abigail said with a sweet smile, eyes shamelessly going over Yennefer's deformities.

"Why would you say such a thing?" You spoke in clear disgust, your head going from left to right, making sure they knew you were talking to them.

"She's used to it. Look at her, don't tell me that she wasn't her village's laughing stock." Johannah giggled, hand supporting her chin as she smiled wickedly and watched how Yennefer grew quiet.

"Be serious, that thing probably lived in a cave with-"

You jumped in your seat when Yennefer's balled fists slammed against the table. Everyone fell silent and all eyes in the hall went to your table.

Her violet eyes were dark now, sullen and filled with angry hot tears as she looked down.

You stood up, abruptly, grabbed your plate and stepped away from the table. You walked around it, standing next to Yennefer to show whose side you'd taken.

"All these classes to teach you spells and courtly intrigues but none of them can teach you the manners of a good heart." Your voice sounded through the hall when you huffed. You pulled at Yennefer's arm to get her to stand up, to get you far away from these hags, but Yennefer brushed you off and shot up. Her chest heaved as she leaned forward,

"One thing about me," She grumbled, hiding how weak she felt and swallowing hard to will her wobbly voice away, "I always get the last laugh."

And as she loomed over the two girls with her deformed posture, licking her lips and tensing her crooked jaw, you could see they retreated, uneasy and maybe even at the brim of feeling worried.

Yennefer turned her back and walked out of Aretuza's central hall. You watched the curtains of the entrance dance lightly in the wind she'd left behind.

Tissaia brought her cup to her lips from her place at the elevated table, intrigued and hesitant all the same at what this could mean.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3

[thronesforkings]

The Little Things (5+1)

Req?: No

Genre: Fluff

Characters: (Name) x Sanzu; Bonten

TW/CW: Pet names (My Prince, Love), bad brother Takeomi, you are short, mean Ran, mentions of drugs

Word Count: 2,172 

It was common knowledge at Bonten that Rika (Name) was to be left alone and treated as an executive. He didn’t even work there, though he was Sanzu’s boyfriend. He tried to stop by at least once a day since the pink haired male didn’t get home until late normally. 

With (Name) coming in everyday, the others started to notice small things about the couple that probably would’ve gone unnoticed if (Name) was at the offices everyday. 

Mikey

Mikey was the first to notice the change in his second in command when his lover was with them. Sanzu didn’t change into a whole new person when (Name) was there, though he let his guard down around the others and showed his true self. 

“Here you go Sano-San! Haru mentioned how you like taiyaki so I made some extras for you.” (Name) spoke with an innocent smile, a container on his desk with three little fish cakes. The door opened before Mikey could thank the male, Haruchiyo coming in with a bento box. 

“I told you to wait in my office, this place is flooded with idiots. I guess it’s fine though since you’re with the king. I got you some lunch. I figured that we could have lunch together today since it’s looking like a long night.” Haruchiyo spoke, a flush on his cheeks as he scratched at his neck. While he adored Mikey, he wasn’t that comfortable with being vulnerable around him still. 

(Name) turned to face the standing male and smiled softly at him. 

“Ah, sorry love. I was just giving Sano-San the extra taiyaki I made, since you mentioned how he likes it, I figured that I would make him some as a token of appreciation for keeping you alive!” A light laugh escaped (Name)’s lips as he spoke, Haruchiyo was surprised at the small act by his boyfriend to the person he puts his life on the line for. 

“(Name), you can call me Mikey,” (Name) and Haruchiyo moved their attention onto the male who was now speaking, “I really appreciate this. Go have lunch with Sanzu and spend time together. The two of you relax and have a nice break. Sanzu will be helping us deal with some idiots later so make sure that he relaxes.” Mikey spoke as he looked at the two. (Name) chuckled and smiled, nodding at the male before going over and grabbing Haru’s hand. 

“I’ll make sure he does Mikey-San! Let Haru know how those are since this was my first time making them. Now,” (Name) turned to the taller male and dragged him out of the room with a smile, “relaxation time! Oh, I saw the cutest cat today at work.” (Name)’s voice got distant as he talked to Sanzu. Leaving Mikey alone and looking at the fish. 

“He’s good for him. It’s been years since he’s been that open.” Mikey muttered to himself as he opened the container. He took a bite of the food and let a small smile creep onto his face. 

“Good cook as well.” 

Takeomi

When he first met the mystery lover of his brother, he was ready to go off on them and Haruchiyo and make sure they both understood the world they are living in. Though he couldn’t push himself to do so when he watched as a short male stormed his way into where the men were hanging out and waiting for some people to meet them. 

“Sanzu Haruchiyo.” (Name) said, his arms crossed and looking at his confused boyfriend. 

“Yes?” He hesitantly answered, unsure of why he was there and what he did to make him angry. 

“You said that you put the laundry away.” (Name) spoke, the other male quickly widened his eyes in surprise and realised he was in deep shit. 

“Laundry? Sanzu is a busy man, he doesn’t have time to do house stuff. I would assume that you were hired to do that stuff.” Ran said, glancing at the fuming male. 

“I’ll, I’ll do it after this. I promi-” Sanzu tried to reason but yelped when his ear was grabbed. His face flushed red in embarrassment and refused to look at anyone. Takeomi watched this and remembered when Haruchiyo was little and tried to lie to get out of doing chores. 

“You’re still the same.” The elder muttered loud enough for them to hear and (Name) hummed as he looked at him. 

“Oh, is that him?” Haruchiyo rubbed his ear when it was let go and nodded. (Name) was slowly learning about his family and more about his personal life and past. He had heard about his siblings and was not happy about it. 

“Hey Mikey-San, I’m going to do something real quickly to him and then I’m taking Haru home. I’ll bring you some taiyaki on Monday as payment.” (Name) spoke and the male nodded. The group watched the male go up to the sitting executive. 

“Hm?” Takeomi respected that Sanzu didn’t want to be part of the family so he never mentioned his past with him, so he was confused on why (Name) was grinning at him. He just assumes that Sanzu never talks about it. 

“You know what this is for.” (Name) said and kicked his shin. Takeomi clenched his jaw a bit as it did hurt and watched (Name) drag a stammering Haruchiyo out of the room. 

Takeomi was impressed, he didn’t say it aloud but he was also proud of the younger Akashi finding someone that he trusted enough to share the family history with. 

     3+4. Haitani Brothers

The brothers stood outside of Sanzu’s house, the taller one holding a folder and the younger one knocking on the door. They had done the research into a dude and were told to give the information to Sanzu if the person wasn’t with them. 

“Hi there, how- Oh. What are you two doing here?” (Name) asked after he opened the door and saw the two. He knew about them and knew who they were, but never actually interacted with them. 

“You’re the chore bitch. This doesn’t concern you so go grab Sanzu.” Ran said, a slight bite to his tone as he spoke. Rin elbowed him to make him go quiet. 

“Be nicer, the druggie has a higher status than us. I don’t want to figure out what happens when we piss him off and he goes tattling to Mikey.” Rin hissed, figuring that the male was one of Sanzu’s helpers as well. (Name) stood there with a sickeningly sweet smile on his face. He took a half step away from the door and turned to face the inside.

“Haru! The purple smurfs are here!” (Name) called out and he turned back to the brothers before speaking again, “Also, please refrain from calling Haru such degrading terms.” (Name) said and soon Sanzu came behind the [hair-coloured]ed male in pyjamas. 

“What the fuck do you two want? I was enjoying my time getting off earlier than normal.” Sanzu asked, the brothers unfazed by his snappy tone. 

“The dudes that we were looking into, they are traitors so we were told to give you the information. You weren’t answering your phone so we came here. Mikey wants it done as soon as possible.” Rin explained as they offered the folder to the unamused male. 

“Work doesn’t come into the house. You could’ve just put it on my desk. Do that. I’m not taking it.” Sanzu stated, as they had a few rules with their relationship. Work never comes home, you tell the other if you’re injured, and if you feel unsafe then contact the other right away. 

“Just fucking take the folder you psycho. I’m surprised you’re not foaming at the mouth with the opportunity to deal with traitors.” Ran sneered and before Sanzu could speak, a punch was thrown. 

“I told you to not call him shit like that. Work doesn’t come home. So that won’t be coming into the house.” (Name) said with a grin as Ran held his nose. (Name) had punched him directly on the bridge of his nose and it hurt like a mother fucker. 

“Fucking brat. Do-” Ran started to snap but was dragged away by Rin. 

“Alright, understood. See you tomorrow then.” Rin said as he dragged Ran back to the car. The door closed and Sanzu kissed (Name), catching him by surprise. 

“That was the hottest thing ever. You really didn’t need to do that though.” Haruchiyo said, grinning as (Name) laughed. He pressed a gentle kiss to both of his scars and went towards the kitchen. 

“I wanted to though. Only I can bully you.” (Name) said with a smile as he went off and started making the popcorn that was supposed to be done by now but two idiots stopped them. 

     5. Kokonoi

“Hey, Gucchi bitch, you know how to know if something is worth the price or not?” Sanzu asked as he entered the male’s office uninvited. Already annoyed at his behaviour, Koko watched him sit on the other side of his desk with his phone in his hand. He took notice of the careful bandages on his hand and the little kid plasters. 

“Why, do you need to buy adult medical supplies?” Koko jabbed at Sanzu who rolled his eyes. 

“No, I am looking for a ring. I was trying to make my boyfriend food this morning and I got distracted, so I burned myself and he patched it up for me.” Sanzu explained, Koko knew that he was dating the male that came by daily but wasn’t aware that he was serious about it. 

“Alright. We’ll go looking after work. It’s better to shop in person than online.” 

~~~~~~~

“You need to be more careful.” Koko heard as he went into Sanzu’s office. He wasn’t too surprised to find (Name) with him, but was surprised at how madly Sanzu was looking at him in love. (Name) noticed the movement and looked at Koko, Sanzu following suit. 

“You ready?” The male asked and (Name) was confused. 

“I have one more thing to take care of tonight but then I’ll be home, think about what you want for dinner and I’ll order you what you want.” (Name) smiled and giggled at the kiss that was pressed on his cheek. 

“Okay, don’t take too long though. You agreed to watch the next season with me tonight.” (Name) said, grinning as he was showing Sanzu an American tv show that he liked. The two stood up and went towards Koko, who was near the door. 

“I won’t.” Sanzu smiled softly as he spoke, Koko feeling like a third wheel. 

“Oh, before I head back home, where did you put your ripped jacket?” (Name) asked, going over to where Sanzu pointed to. He opened the door to show a range of bloody and ripped clothes. He kept them in there so if he knew he was doing something where it was going to be messy, he could ruin less clothes. 

“Let’s see if I remember how to sew. This is one of your favourites, it’s not blood stained so it can be salvaged.” (Name) explained and Koko watched him take a torn suit jacket. 

   +1. (Name)

(Name) was confused as to why they have been doing things all day. He wasn’t complaining though, he had fun and was loving being with Haruchiyo. They went to an adoption centre that was doing an event where they had their animals outside and people could donate pet supplies to the place or people looking to adopt ([Favourite animal] was the main reason Haruchiyo brought (Name) there), [Favourite place to do things], a nice restaurant for dinner, and now they were sitting at a nice little bakery next to a lake eating dessert. 

“(Name), I love you so much. I love how you do little things for me and even do things for my king. I can’t express in words how much I love and adore everything you do. You’re my prince, I never want you to leave. So, um,” Sanzu flushed red as he awkwardly got on one knee and took the ring out of his pocket. “Uh, will you marry me?”

(Name) gasped and had tears in his eyes, he threw himself onto Haruchiyo and hugged him tightly. 

“Yes. Yes, I will. I love you so much as well.” (Name) babbled out as he let Haruchiyo move him and put the ring on his finger. It was super pretty and even was [your birthstone] with the words ‘My Prince’ engraved on the inside of the ring. 

“I hope that you enjoyed today. Um, you notice the little things so I wanted to show that I also noticed them.” Haruchiyo said softly, holding (Name) close. 

“It’s the little things that matter the most. I was told by my parents that if you truly loved someone, you knew the little things they did and liked. Since you paid attention to them more than most people do and looked under the obvious things.” 

[godlizzza]

stop me if this is too angsty but. in couple down the street vers. how would dan respond to herbs untimely (and unreversible) death? or vice versa if you think that's more interesting. (unreversible can mean that the reagent fails or the body is damaged beyond use or whatever else you can think of). if you don't wanna write something that sad, how would they manage in the long-term if one of them underwent a successful reanimation?

There had been a time when Herbert had never dreamed he would share a bed with someone. Sleep was already something he abhorred- such a damnable wasted of time that could be better spent elsewhere. The thought of being at his most vulnerable and having another person there for extended hours had made him want to gag.

But that was before Dan.

After fifteen years of marriage, he had grown accustomed to the reassuring weight of Dan's body dipping the mattress, his warmth seeping into Herbert while they peacefully slept in each other's arms.

Now, he felt the absence of it like a severed limb. Their bed seemed impossibly huge without Dan there beside him, the sheets a stiff glacial face without Dan there to warm them. Herbert always found himself waking to find his arm stretched out across the mattress, as though seeking out something that wasn't there. Every day was a numbing blow as he remembered and it crashed down on him all over again.

He had rarely slept in the two weeks since it had happened. It had been years since he'd used the re-agent as a stimulant, but without Dan's disapproving glare to convince him otherwise, it was easy to forgo climbing into his marital bed alone and letting vicious nightmares take him. Besides, he needed the nights to think.

The mornings were the hardest, not just because of waking up alone or going through the motions of getting ready for work when he had no desire to go, but because of the oppressive silence. Usually, Dan's voice would be in his ear, mumbling a sleepy, "Good morning," followed by a kiss. He'd be the one chatting away as he made coffee, cracking awful jokes to try and get Herbert to smile. He always did, much to his annoyance and Dan's delight.

But now Dan's voice was gone, and with it any chance of cheer at a new day. Herbert was left to sit at the cold marble counter alone, forcing himself to eat. He had no appetite but knew he would be useless if he collapsed from lack of energy. A few times he'd tried playing music from the radio but it was no better. Every song reminded him of Dan- a song he liked, a song he'd sing in the car or in the shower, a song he'd play in the operating room and bounce his eyebrows to as he cut into flesh. On one occasion the radio had had the audacity to play Islands in the Stream, causing Herbert to wordlessly cross the room and smash the radio against the hardwood floor.

The days were long. The nights longer. Their house felt like a prison, trapped with memories that threatened to drown Herbert in despair. Herbert had never realised until then his reason for living could be taken away from him. That every breath he drew was in service of being with Dan, and without him there it was a chore to remember.

Life was tedious and pointless, all the daily motions dragging at his feet. He often felt the desire to simply fall to the floor and never get up again. But he couldn't do that. If he did, then Dan would truly be lost to him forever.

It was some weeks after the incident when a knock came at the door, startling Herbert out of the mountain of notes he'd been scribbling. He stood gingerly, his knees and back cracking from being sat, stooped over, for so long. He stepped around the piles of papers he'd haphazardly stacked around the living room and made his way to the front door. He peered through the peephole and sighed when he saw who it was.

"Piper," was all he said when he opened the door on his young protégée.

Piper's huge eyes stared up at him from beneath her fringe of blonde hair. Her chin was bowed to her chest and her hands were clasped tightly in front of her. She looked like a child wearily preparing for a scolding.

"Hi, Dr. West," she said nervously. "Um, how are you?"

Herbert stared at her without blinking. "How do you think?"

Piper flinched though he'd put no venom into the words. "Um...terrible?"

"Correct," he answered and stepped aside. "Come in."

She did and he shut the door behind her. She glanced slowly around the house and Herbert could only imagine how it- and he- must have looked to her. Dan had always insisted on keeping the house clean, but Herbert hadn't been able to muster up the motivation on his own, especially when he was in the middle of something far more important. This disregard for appearances extended to himself as well. He hadn't shaved in weeks, causing his jaw to be speckled with growing stubble. His use of the re-agent as a means of not sleeping had left his skin with an odd, waxy pallor and deep shadows beneath his eyes. It had been days since he'd last showered or brushed his teeth, and he'd been practically living in Dan's old Red Sox jersey.

"What is all of this?" Piper asked, picking up one of the many papers lining the living room and kitchen.

Herbert watched her as she read. She seemed to grow taller every time Herbert saw her. It had been a few years since he'd taken her under his wing, nursing her mind to be capable of things girls her age couldn't even comprehend. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, tucked behind her ears and revealing two sparkling studs in her earlobes. Her body had been stretched taught, her wrists and ankles rail-thin with her latest growth spurt. The sparkly pink unicorn t-shirts and frilly skirts she once wore were replaced with a knitted sweater and denim shorts. She was growing, Herbert realised. Getting older. Soon she would be in middle school.

"Dr. West..."

Her voice was uncertain as she turned back around to face him, her eyebrows knitted with concern. She glanced from the paper in her hands and back up to him before swallowing. "This is- This sounds like a theory to-?"

"Come with me," Herbert told her, instantly starting down the hall. "I have something to show you."

It was a moment before he heard her tentative footsteps following him. When they reached the door leading down to the basement, he whirled on her.

"You haven't told your parents anything about what happened, have you?" he demanded.

"N-No," she stuttered, her shoulders locked up around her ears. "I haven't told anyone, just like you said."

Herbert released a breath, his hand paused on the doorknob. "Good. We can't let anyone know. That would...complicate things."

"But, Dr. West, why? I still don't understand why."

"In a moment you will," Herbert promised and opened the door.

He descended into the misty green glow of the lab, followed by Piper. Once inside, he stepped over to the operating table. He'd placed a billowing white sheet over it, covering the contents beneath. When he turned to face Piper again the girl's eyes were locked onto the lumpy shape under the sheet.

"Piper," he began. "I should apologise to you. The past few weeks have probably been quite confusing for you."

She looked at him with watery eyes, her mouth pressed into a thin, straight line to fight the wobbles in her lip. She had been with him when the re-animation had gone wrong. It was a blur in his mind still, only snatches of memory from that cursed night invading his dreams. But he perfectly remembered the lab in a complete mess, the cadaver's face crushed in by the shovel in his hand, and Dan. Dan lying in the middle of the floor, his body something out of a horror.

Herbert had sworn Piper to secrecy before sending her away, screaming at her to get out. She hadn't returned since, perhaps waiting for Herbert to reach out to her first or even assuming that her apprenticeship was over.

"I'm sorry," she whispered now. "It was all my fault. If Dr. Cain hadn't been trying to protect me, he wouldn't have-"

"Shh," Herbert hissed, and she clamped her mouth shut. "None of that matters now. What matters is me knowing if I can depend on your help."

"Of course," Piper rushed to say. "But with what?"

"With this," Herbert said and pulled the sheet to flutter to the floor.

Piper sucked in a horrified gasp. On the cold slab lay Dan's remains. Herbert had done his best to repair what damage he could; he'd sewn up the gashes along his chest and stomach, he'd reattached Dan's jaw and stitched the skin along his throat back together, and cleaned all the blood (some his own, some not) that had been sprayed across him. There was little he could do about the arm and leg that had been ripped off. The limbs had been destroyed in the struggle, so Herbert had had to settle on pinching off the exposed arteries and veins, leaving the bone protruding from his shoulder and the stump of his thigh on display.

From the neck down, he was a mangled mess, but if Herbert concentrated on his face, he could imagine he was just asleep. That's all it really was anyway, Herbert thought as he stroked Dan's cheek. A long sleep. A coma. One he would wake up from with a little help.

"I- What is-?" Piper fumbled to say, seemingly unable to rip her eyes away from Dan.

Herbert placed two soft kisses over Dan's closed eyelids before straightening up. He ran his thumb along the inside of his fingers, brushing where his and Dan's wedding rings were stacked above his knuckle.

"We're going to bring him back," Herbert told Piper.

Her eyes finally bounced to him, wide and wild. "But that's impossible. His body's too damaged. Besides, he's been dead for too long."

Herbert didn't wince at the word dead. He had long ago learnt that death was not the end, merely a state of being. One that was difficult to come back from, but not impossible.

"I applied a balm to him. It's something Dan tinkered with for quite some time but the end product is remarkable. It'll keep his body from decaying and give us time to find him the parts he needs."

"But Dr. West," Piper stammered. "We've never done anything like this before. I mean, building a new body?"

"Dan and I did it once, half a lifetime ago," Herbert said, his mind flashing back to that house they'd shared in Arkham and the bride they'd built there. He closed his eyes and shook away the memory of her cracked and crying voice melting along with the rest of her. He blinked and focused on Dan's serene face. "With all the knowledge we've gained since then, it'll be simple."

"But his injuries," Piper tried to argue. "His heart was torn."

"And can be easily replaced," Herbert snapped. "Along with the rest. It's his brain that's important. He faced minimal head trauma. A fractured skull but no damage to the brain. He'll be able to be brought back."

When Piper spoke again it was so softly, Herbert nearly didn't hear her. She was looking at the floor, away from Dan's remains, when she said, "But is that what Dr. Cain would want?"

Anger coursed through Herbert's veins, sudden and hot. He slammed his hand down on the operating table, his palm landing beside Dan's grazed ankle with a mighty slap. Piper jumped, shying away from the furious look Herbert turned on her.

"Don't you tell me what he would want!" he yelled, his voice cracking and straining after weeks of silence. "I know him more than you could ever hope to. Everything in this world, we've experienced together. He was mine. You hear me? Mine and no one else's. So don't you dare tell me what he would want." His breath rasped out of him as Piper hid her face in her hands. "What he wants," he corrected.

He blinked and shook his head against the black spots dotting his vision. He'd been awake nearly fifty-two hours and his mind was beginning to slip. He had to grip the edge of the table for a minute, the cold metal biting into his fingertips, before the world swam back into focus and he straightened himself up. He turned once more to Piper, who was watching him from between her fingers.

"Piper," he tried again. "You know, Dan never wanted to take you on. He thought bringing a child into our work was a terrible idea. But he did it anyway, because he had faith in me and I had that same faith in you." He pursed his lips as he considered her. "Are you going to tell me now that that faith was misplaced?"

"No!" Piper cried out, letting go of her face to clamber forward and throw her arms around Herbert. She buried her face in his shoulder, squeezing him tight with her skinny arms. "I'm sorry, Dr. West. You can count on me."

Herbert smiled down at her and patted the top of her head soothingly. She had a brilliant mind for her age, but she was also crushingly predictable. She could hold the secrets of life and death in her hands, but she would also always be a little girl, seeking approval and praise from him.

"I hope so," he said. "I need you, Piper. Dan needs you. He needs both of us."

She tipped her head up to sniffle at him, her eyes red and puffy with tears. "I wanna help."

"Good," Herbert said softly.

Piper released him and stepped back, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "But how? Where are we gonna find new parts for him?"

"Where do you think?"

He swept away from her, approaching the double-door steel freezer shoved against the far wall. He opened one door and reached inside the waft of cool air that hit him until he found what he was looking for and extracted it. He turned, the metal bowl filled with ice cupped neatly in his hands, and showed Piper his prize. She didn't gasp this time as she looked upon the perfectly preserved foot, sawed off at the ankle.

"A foot," she said simply, staring as Herbert slipped on a pair of gloves and placed the foot on the operating table, next to Dan's other foot.

"Yes," Herbert agreed. "A size eleven. It belonged to a thirty-nine-year-old male. A near-perfect fit."

"You got it from the hospital?" Piper inquired, squatting down to blink at the pale soles.

"I did," Herbert said. "The man was brought in with a compound fracture to the tibia he suffered during a multiple-collision car accident. He had nerve damage all along his Achilles tendon and unfortunately, we had to amputate."

Piper frowned as she inspected the amputation site. "Really? The Achilles looks fine to me."

"That's because it is," Herbert told her sharply. "But he doesn't know that. As far as his chart is concerned, the foot was unsalvageable."

It took a moment for his meaning to sink in and her mouth fell open. "You mean you...You stole it?"

He stared at her coolly. He didn't look away, didn't falter. He let her stare into his eyes and see the resolution there. Only when he didn't immediately jump to defend himself did Piper close her mouth.

"Think of it as an organ donation." Herbert said. "Besides, it's not so bad. The amputation was below the knee. With a good prosthetic, he'll walk again." He folded his hands behind his back and rotated so he was looking down at Dan, now with one piece closer to being whole again. "I couldn't take the rest of his leg. He was too short. I won't have Dan coming back as some malformed thing. It has to be perfect. You need to understand, Piper, that this isn't some foolish game. This is the most important thing you or I will ever do."

She stepped up to his side and he glanced down at her. Her gaze was fixed on the foot, exactly the same length as Dan's.

"You'll have to do things you may not want to do," he said, making his voice softer now. "Do you understand?"

She nodded mutely and reached out to grasp his hand. He gripped her hand in return.

"To help Dr. Cain," she said in an odd tone, and Herbert nodded.

"That's right. We have to do everything in our power to help him, then everything can go back to the way it was before."

"Right," Piper said shakily, rapidly blinking her lashes.

"And we'll have to work quickly as well. I wrote into the hospital on Dan's computer, telling them he's suffered a death in the family. They've put him on compassionate leave, but that'll only last so long. It's only a matter of time before someone realises he's gone, and then suspicion will automatically fall on me." He glanced down at their matching wedding rings on his finger and sighed. "It's always the husband."

"Don't worry, Dr. West," Piper said, staring up at him with an expression of determination fixed on her face. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. And we'll fix Dr. Cain."

Herbert smiled for the first time in weeks. It wasn't the same smile that Dan would draw out of him but it was a smile, nonetheless.

"Yes, we will," he said.

He looked at Dan, his husband, his partner in life and death, and felt his resolve steel. Their time on this Earth wasn't over yet. 'Til death do we part, they had said to each other fifteen years ago, but Herbert supposed he had lied. He wasn't going to let an insignificant thing like death come between them.

"I know it."

[emberswrites]

Have you ever thought of someday posting all of your Tumblr drabbles in a collection on ao3? they're always so lovely, I think that would be great

Anyway, here it goes: Realisation + Sai

Thanks for doing this, these little snippets make my day!

This is going to sound very dumb but I actually didn't really think of doing that, I guess because I didn't think I'd be doing so many? But since I now have quite a few it's not a bad idea at all, anon. I think I will actually do that because it would be nice to have the writing in one place and easy to find. And thank you, glad you enjoy them!

Prompt Game - Bonus Ino appearance.

Sai is still learning how to understand the impossible combinations of words, expressions, body language, and gestures that make up the puzzle of everyday communication. He's been getting better with the help of his new friends and his new sensei.

Only sometimes, Kakashi is the puzzle and he's not always so helpful.

Today, Kakashi looks rather dour, even though Sasuke had sent word that he'd successfully helped a community in Ame defend from a crime ring and would be staying an extra few months to see to it's safety as they rebuilt leadership.

He should be thrilled, Ame continued to be a vulnerable region and any threats stamped out there not only made good political sense but would help the many disadvantaged who continue to live there.

Kakashi had merely sighed after he'd read the correspondence, muttered a soft good, that's good before turning back to the stack of papers on his desk. Sai had asked if Kakashi needed anything, only for him to look up and give Sai that special kind of smile, the one that looked a little too much like his own had, empty.

"No thank you, Sai. That will be all."

He relays this odd encounter to Ino over lunch and she hums.

"Well, maybe he's just tired."

"He's always tired."

"Ugh, so true. He's too handsome to be working so hard," she says wistfully.

Sai isn't sure what an aesthetically pleasing face has to do with work ethic or load, but he makes a note to ask about this later. He can only handle so much examination of the human condition at once.

"Do you think it's Sasuke that upset him? Being reminded of his charge having to make up for his ills and failings, unlike Naruto and Sakura?"

This would make Sai feel rather sad, he thinks. Kakashi-sensei is a good man and shouldn't have to feel so responsible, to the point he can't even be happy at good news.

"Hm?" Ino begins to shake her head before pausing, "No, why would hearing from- wait. Oh you may be on to something Sai! Well done."

"What is it?"

"Well, he misses him obviously," she shrugs, "You know, when someone you care about isn't around and you want to see them."

Sai does know this ache. He resolves to be more helpful, maybe that would help take Kakashi's mind off his incomplete team. He decides to stop by the Tower earlier the next day to check in and be of good use to his sensei, only when he gets there he senses another chakra presence.

He instinctually minimizes his own signature, although he is not alone in the hallway as other shinobi move about beginning or ending their work days. He has rather good hearing and it isn't hard for him to pick up on the conversation inside as he waits.

"You didn't have to come back," Kakashi is saying, "I wouldn't have said it if I thought you'd come back because of it."

"I know-"

Sasuke? Sai blinks, Sasuke is meant to be in Ame for months.

"-but I wanted to. I miss you, too, you know. It's not...this isn't easy for me. But I am compelled to do it all the same. It isn't about...making up for anything, I just think I should be using this power where it's needed."

Ah, so Ino had been right - Kakashi had been sad at Sasuke being away again. But then, he was always away. Even Naruto had gotten used to it by now.

"I know, and I adore you for it. I just - selfishly - wish it didn't take you away from us so much. There will never be a shortage of strife or calamity...your life can't be just attending to the world's ills."

"Hm. And you?"

"What about me?"

"Shikamaru told me you barely go home."

"What would I do at home?"

There is a silence after this. A long silence, Sai notes. It's broken by a breathy laugh, Sasuke's by the sound of it.

"There's your agenda for today. Tell Shikamaru you're taking the day off, I'll have you back here and energized by tomorrow morning, promise."

"That soon?"

"Until next time."

"Next time, you stay longer than a day then."

"Deal."

Sai takes several steps back as the door swings open and the two walk out.

"Ah," Kakashi says, "You've been waiting, sorry Sai. You can check in with Shikamaru when he's in soon. Shouldn't be long, will you tell him I'm cashing in one of those vacation days Shizune's always on about?"

"Oh, yes," he says, smiling lightly, "What will you do, sensei?"

"Don't answer that," Kakashi says when Sasuke looks like he's about to, "We'll be at home, if the sky is falling."

Sai watches them walk away, puzzled. Home? Who's home? Sasuke doesn't have one here any longer, not a physical one anyway. Kakashi's home? Does Sasuke stay there when he's in town?

Are they holding hands?

Oh.

OH.

Yes, Sai will definitely need to note this one down in his book.

[imagine--if]

Imagine Eddie whispering a gushy vulnerable speech when he thinks the reader is sleeping. Stuff like "you have no idea how much you've changed me and my life for the better. I used to think I was a pathetic nobody who was too bitter with the world to be loved or to love anyone but then I found you. You make me feel worthy of love and respect without the mask. I love you so incomprehensibly much- sometimes I fear to an extent that's embarrassing for you to put up with, but I need you to know that my heart is yours entirely. Just know that this clingy, exhausting, reclusive hermit of a man can't live without you just as he can't live without oxygen." And 15 minutes into the speech the reader cuts him off with a big hug and kisses 🥺

A/N: It’s too cute I love it I can’t- 😍 fr almost cried after reading what I wrote 🥹

Pairing: Dano!Riddler x reader (The Batman 2022)

Warnings: FlUfF, brief description of violence 💚

Words: 371

You’re used to being woken up every morning by Eddie’s love and attention, smothering hugs, lazy kisses and sweet words, but tonight, it’s slightly different.

It’s still dark out when you drift awake, feeling the warm breath of Edward from behind you tickling the skin of your neck. You’re just about to turn around and face him in questioning, but the whispers and shaky breaths make you stop, and you stare forwards into the blackness around you and listen.

“…Have no idea how much you’ve changed me for the better. You- you gave me meaning, Angel, made me realise what I must do, both to Gotham and for you. I used to be invisible, feel invisible, so… so alone, all the time, before I met you. And you smiled; your smile, no one’s ever smiled at that like me before, and nobody else can.

“I realise now that I can get love and attention without the mask- but it’s only from you. I only want it from you, my love, and I know you know that. I think I must tire you out, sometimes, because I show you how much I love you in any and every way I can. But I just can’t help it. I have to love you like this, we were always meant to be like this, darling. I- I can’t even begin to understand or measure how much I love you, it’s sooo much, really. I just want you to know, even though you can’t really know while you’re sleeping, that thi- this clingy, exhausting, reclusive hermit of a man needs you just like he needs oxygen. And-“

By this time, the darkness around you is swimming with unspilled tears, your breath caught in your throat as you listen to each and every word he says. Before you can stop yourself, you spin around where you lie and wrap your arms around Eddie, hugging him as tight as you can and kiss him passionately, feeling your tears trickle and mix with his own. Edward doesn’t need to say a single word more, and he doesn’t, burying himself as close to you as possible before eventually going to sleep with you, tangled up in each other’s arms.

.・ Taglist: ・.

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[bullet-prooflove]

StolenMoments!Series Part Five: Gone - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader (feat: Sam Hanna)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds

Part One: First Date - You and Nik have an unusual first date.

Part Two: Christmas in Afganistan - You and Nik reunite in Afganistan.

Part Three: Yours (NSFW) - Nik and you take the next step in your relationship.

Part Four: Last Words - Nik goes on the hunt after you're taken.

Sam finds you sitting alone on the edge of your bunk, your packed bag resting in the space alongside of you. You don’t look up when he enters, you’re too focused on the plush heated blanket that’s folded neatly upon your lap. Your fingertips toying with the edges of it.

“It was Sabatino’s.” You find yourself telling him. “He lent it to me when one of the generators broke.”

“I know you hate the cold.” He had murmured, his lips ghosting along the line of your jaw as his heated form covered yours.  “And I won’t be here over the next few weeks to keep you warm.”

You had told him that a lifetime ago, back when the two of you were sitting in a car watching Sidorov fuck his mistress. You’d been surprised he remembered. He’d laughed when you’d said that, his nose trailing over yours as he’d whispered.

“I remember everything my girl tells me.”

He’d made love to you that night for the last time. His hands threading through your hair as he kissed you. You’ll never forget the way he looked at you in that moment, like you were the most precious thing in his world, like he loved you more than life itself.

“He’s a good guy.” Sam says as he takes up residence alongside of you, his shoulder nudges against yours. “But you knew that anyway.”

You purse your lips together grimly before you tilt your head to look at him. You look like a horror show. The left side of your face is swollen, marred with hues of purple and blue. Your lip is split, and your right eye is bloodshot, the broken blood vessels stark against the white of your eye. Your nose has been reset by the medic on base and you have cracked ribs from the beating you had taken when the Taliban had first tried to interrogate you.

As soon as you had landed back at base you’d been triaged. Your injuries didn’t warrant a hospital visit. You’d been taken away to the medical tent instead while Sabatino was airlifted to Daoud Khan Military Hospital in Kabal for emergency surgery. The bullet had torn through his back and exited through his chest causing him to bleed internally, his lungs had begun to soak up the blood causing him to choke. It had been fucking devastating to watch, the man you love dying right before your eyes.

“I got word that he made it through the surgery.” Sam says quietly as he leans forward, clasping his hands together. “That man is one tough bastard.”

“He is.” You say with a small smile because the Sabatino you know never quits; it isn’t in his nature. “When can I see him?”

Sam doesn’t say anything and that’s when you realise the real reason he’s here. The words that he’s not saying.

“He’s already gone, isn’t he?” You say raising your eyes towards the ceiling as you inhale deeply.

“Yea.” Sam says quietly. “The CIA closed ranks, he was moved as soon as the surgery was completed. I don’t know where they’ve taken him.”

It’s a blow. Sam sees the impact of it as your grip on the blanket tightens, your knuckles whitening. You haven’t learned yet the sacrifice that comes with being involved with a CIA Officer, but you’re starting to. Their lives, they aren’t their own, they belong The Agency. They go where they’re told and they do the job. Sabatino, he’s an important asset, the connections he has, the operations he’s worked, the shit he knows, they can’t afford for him to be vulnerable. Sam knows it must kill you, it had killed him once upon a time when it happened with Michelle. The worst part is, he doesn’t think you understand what Sabatino was saying in the chopper, how he’s betraying the CIA by giving himself to you.

“You don’t know do you?” Sam says softly. “What he was trying to tell you in the helicopter.”

You shake your head.

He slips into Armenian sometimes when he’s emotional, when he’s in the throes of pleasure and he can’t find the words, he wants to say in English. He whispers them against your skin in the heat of the moment, saying the most beautiful things in a language you don’t understand.

“I love you.” Sam tells you in a low tone. “He was saying I love you.”

It hits you hard because in Sabatino’s final moments that’s what he would have wanted you to know, that he loved you. He had repeated it over and over again until he’d begun to drown on his own blood.

“He doesn’t know…” You trail off, your palms smoothing over the blanket.

“You never told him.” Sam states.

“No.”

Your eyes fucking sting, you pinch your brow to stave off the tears, but it’s been a traumatic twenty-four hours and right now, this conversation it’s more than you can bear. Sam’s hand comes to rest on yours, he squeezes it lightly before he sighs.

“If you go down this path, it’s going to be like this. It’s hard, loving someone like him, there’s going to be compromises, ones you don’t even see coming.” He warns you. You know he’s speaking from experience. His wife Michelle was a CIA operative when they met, she’d given it up when they had decided to start a family. “If this were a normal relationship you’d be going home to your man, he’d be taking care of you, helping you recover but it doesn’t work that way with them. They can’t be there when you need them. It hurts the both of you.”

“Was it worth it?” You ask him. “You and Michelle going through all of that?”

Sam smiles, because the years he’s had with Michelle have been the best ones of his life.

“Yea, but that included a lot of sacrifice on her part.” He tells you with a knowing look because that’s what it takes, commitment, endurance. He knows Sabatino is willing to go the distance, but the question is are you. “If you want this, write him a letter and tuck it in the folds of that blanket, sooner or later his belongings will find their way back to him.”

He raises to his feet, his hand coming to clasp your shoulder.

“You need to choose quickly.” He tells you, his eyes meeting yours. “Our ride will be here in an hour. We’re taking you home.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[lonestardust]

The Firehouse AU spoilers // aka me breaking down over chapter 11

screaming crying and throwing up over :

“I wanted to save people. I never.. forgave myself. For not being able to save you."

.

"TK looks over at him with so much pain in his eyes. “So if you were gonna end up going to jail anyway, why the fuck did I have to be alone for 14 years!?"

.

"He walks over, stepping in front of TK and lowering himself down to his knees on the hardwood. TK sniffs and won’t look at him. Carlos slides his hands down TK’s forearms, tugging his hands out from where they’re trapped so he can hold them. He brings them to his mouth to kiss TK’s knuckles one by one. On his left hand, Carlos places a kiss directly to the tattoo on his fourth finger. “You didn’t ruin me,” Carlos murmurs. “Losing you ruined me. I loved you so much I spent every day for a year trying to get back to you. I didn’t end up here because you fucked me up. I ended up here because for 14 years, I was alone too.”

.

“I met my soulmate when I was eight years old and then I had to live half my life without him. That’s what fucked me up. I had to leave, and my heart was still stuck up on that fire escape on West 77th Street and I didn’t know how to keep being me without it. Without you.”

"but the evidence remains next to Carlos’s hip in a blue felt box that he’d never really carried on without him as much as he’d wished he could. Carlos knows so intimately what that’s like. All these years, TK’s felt like a ghost. Like Carlos was being followed around by the shadow of him, like he’d colored every place Carlos visited and decision he made and chance he didn’t take."

.

"The spark of risk dances on his skin. It’s a part of himself that he’s been missing for so long Carlos isn’t sure he was even aware it was gone..... He didn’t take risks after he lost TK. He didn’t enjoy keeping a secret, he didn’t push back, he lived quietly within the boundaries set for him by other people and never quite noticed what a muted existence it was"

.

“I should’ve done this the very first time with you,” Carlos says. “In your bedroom while your mom was at work. Figuring it out together, holding you if you were nervous. We should’ve been each other’s first everything."

.

"They were made for each other, he thinks. Crafted from the same stone, broken apart when they should always have been one. Everything went up in smoke and nothing happened the way it should have, but right now TK is in his arms. Kissing him, trusting him, asking for Carlos to connect them again."

them being flirty and playful. the stolen kisses behind closed doors, the winks and giggles and butterflies in stomach and smiles and memories and dozing off on the couch. them getting to have those private moments of sheer love amidst the heavy pain of the lost time and the impending doom of what's eventually coming. the contrast between tk wearing grey and yellow. carlos not trying to get info out of tk on his whereabouts and "instead, he kisses TK harder and drags him toward the bedroom" BECAUSE REUNITING WITH HIS FIRST AND THE ONLY LOVE OF HIS LIFE IS THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS. the achingly tender body worship. tk trying to cut down smoking, bc of carlos — because he now has something that makes him care. THEM ON THE FIRE ESCAPE and tk taking carlos' hands into his when he was silent for a minute to comfort him through getting vulnerable and carlos looking at their hands and thinking that they belong and complete each other. Carlos telling him how ruined and broken he was too all along. tk spiraling and breaking down and carlos kissing his knuckles and correcting him and comforting him with the truth. THEM AT TK'S PLACE. Carlos realising that tk's house is not a home because the reason that makes it so has been absent from tk's life when back then he used to have all of his favourite things all over the place. the BLUE MEMORY BOX and carlos seeing gwyn's face and how he once reassured his heartsick teenage heart that there was at least a gwyn back in new york loving her son fiercely when he can't do it himself anymore. and the only other memories in the box being JUST CARLOS and them sitting around reminders from their precious bitter-sweet history and carlos holding tk in his lap and carlos clasping his chain around tk's neck and wanting to tell him that he can keep all of him but he can't make a breakable promise. THE ARISTOCRATS and them talking about their first times and how it was all marked by each other’s absence. just like everything else......... I AM not FINE. i'm ruined!!!! beyond repair!!!! so so RUINED I'll never recover from this EVER

CAN THEY EVADE THE POLICE??!! RUN AWAY from the feds and from austin and EVERYTHING escape ALL THE MESS and go to paris... start what they should have had long long time ago. CAN CARLOS "SOMEDAY" PROMISE COME TRUE

I need to go lie down for 10 business days sob and wail into the void uncontrollably

@paperstorm HOW ARE YOU SO TALENTED HOW COULD YOU howwwww is this soooooo heartrendingly beautiful and complex and so smartly crafted and built and narrated!!!!!!!! to be able to create such a full-fledged extremely sensitive and complex human world with unforgettable excellent characterization is just so.. it's a godlike work!!! i'm really truly too spellbound to speak. thank you. thank you. thank you, Andie xx

[munsons-maiden]

TW: drug abuse, vague hints of child abuse (physical and verbal) Warning: message is long and rambly Personally I can see Eddie taking more serious drugs in the past. I headcanon that growing up Eddie was often witness to serious drug taking and although he felt uncomfortable and at times scared around his father and his dad’s junkie friends, tragically he thought that drug taking, no matter the classification, was the norm and not a big deal. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think that Eddie was ever an addict; but he could have easily descended down that path if he had continued living with his father / continued living in the toxic environment of his childhood. Eddie had become resigned to the belief that he would eventually be like his father (although never violent or cruel; such traits were just and would never be in him). It was only when he moved in with Wayne that he started thinking that maybe he wasn’t doomed to be like his dad. I mean Wayne was a Munson who had the same upbringing as Eddie’s dad (just my headcanon), yet Wayne wasn’t a violent deadbeat who blamed his problems on everyone else - when drunk Eddie’s dad would blame literally everyone for his crap life even Eddie (which did wonders for Eddie’s already crippling self esteem 🥺) - but Wayne was a survivor. Despite being dealt the same crap hand, Wayne had created a life for himself. He had a steady job, he was well liked by his colleagues and he had his own home. Sure he was called “trailer park trash” and “just another Munson” by the snobs of Hawkins, but those who knew him respected him. Most importantly though Wayne had given Eddie a home. To Wayne there was no question of him taking Eddie in. He was family and he needed him - that was all that mattered. (Some of Eddie’s looking after “lost sheep” is rooted in Wayne’s looking after him when he was lost, alone and vulnerable.) Eddie wanted (wants) Wayne to be proud of him so he stopped taking the harder drugs (Special K, pills, LSD) and gradually decreased how much weed he smoked - he only smokes the occasional joint now. Also seeing Wayne in a police station coming to bail him out made Eddie ashamed in a way he had never felt before. I think the reason he still deals drugs is because he wants to financially contribute to the Munson household. Wayne has never said anything, but Eddie knows that his uncle has to work longer hours because he now has two mouths to feed. Wayne doesn’t think anything of it - it’s a parent’s duty to provide for their kid - but Eddie does. There is still some guilt there of him burdening Wayne with his living with him. Eddie wants to help Wayne any way he can. He knows no-one will give him a job, not with his reputation, so Eddie resorts to selling drugs. (Also Eddie cannot work full-time as he is bloody determined to graduate. None of his family graduated and Eddie is desperate to prove to himself and Hawkins that he is not like his dad.) And so to financially help Wayne, Eddie sells drugs. Wayne has realised that it is pointless arguing with Eddie to stop - his nephew can be very stubborn - but he has made him promise not to sell any hard drugs; he doesn’t want his boy going to prison. I headcanon that Eddie bought the Special K before he made this promise hence why it was in the trailer in the first place and why Eddie struggled to find it. Maybe I’m just naive but those are my theories on Eddie’s relationship with drugs. Curious to hear your thoughts babe. Also I apologise for this long ass message. I have no one else to talk about our darling Eddie with in RL 😭

--

Hi dear! Please never apologize for sending long messages, I love hearing all your takes and headcanons and thoughts on Eddie!🖤

Second, omg. This ripped out my heart and then put it slowly back together and I can definitely see that. There's no way Eddie's father didn't have anything to do with harder drugs, and the way you summed it up makes absolute perfect sense. It's definitely possible that Eddie started veering down the dark path of hard drugs but was caught and it was the turning point just at the right moment.

One addition (because I've went through several semesters learning everything about drugs and drug abuse and cannot shut up): Special K is not a hard drug. It's a bit harder than weed, but it's used as anaesthesia for infants and at the vet, and it's a very common treatment for fresh trauma and the very hard cases of depression. While, like with most substances, there is a possibility to get dependent on it (not addicted! addicted = physical, dependent = psychological), that risk is classified as lower than for weed even. Adding to that, LSD and Ecstasy - common party drugs especially in the Eighties - are classified as less dangerous than alcohol regarding the risk for addiction. When I talk about hard drugs, I'm talking about those drugs bearing a high risk for addiction and/or dependency when taken (more than) once, which are coke, crack, speed, dope, meth, heroin, you name it. Since Eddie canonically doesn't show any symptoms of withdrawal or anything the likes, we know he isn't addicted to anything (except maybe from cigarettes but as I said, I don't think he is) means he's staying away from those drugs now. I agree with you that he might have started veering down that path but pulled himself together before he could really go down the metaphorical rabbit hole (disclaimer: this is in no way meant to demonize addicts or anything, it's just that I don't believe Eddie ever struggled with addiction).

I don't think if he had actually started going down the path of hard drugs in the past, he'd still be selling any drugs at all, not even weed, because it would hit too close to the path he steers clear of now.

And I'm wondering if his dad lived in Hawkins with him, or if Eddie only came to Hawkins to live with Wayne. If that's the case, it would canonically imply that, since Eddie has been in Hawkins for the final year of middle school (he and Chrissy hung out at the talent show in middle school, Corroded Coffin already existed then which means his friends = support system existed already back then. Since He was held back twice, the only possible way for Eddie and Chrissy's paths to cross in middle school would be that it was in his last and her first year since middle school has 3 years). Which means there are two possibilities:

a) He lived with his dad outside of Hawkins -> came to Hawkins some time before or during his last year of middle school (when he was 13? 14?) to live with Wayne

b) His dad lived in Hawkins so Eddie lived in Hawkins all his life and we can't know when Wayne took him in.

If a) is true, Wayne taking Eddie in might have come just at the right time to help keep Eddie off the dark path from the start (it is canonically implied how much Wayne cares for and loves Eddie. Wayne is Eddie's Joyce Byers, which would put Eddie's dad in the position of Lonnie. I'd argue Wayne's influence on Eddie was very similar to that Joyce had on Jonathan - comparing Edie and Jonathan here because they had similar backgrounds at a similar age).

If b) is true, it's possible Eddie had a time where he struggled and was already off the right path but the scared straight moment came at the right time to prevent him from going down the rabbit hole any further and he turned his life around, with Wayne's influence playing a role in it (your headcanon).

My personal headcanon is a) for the simple reason that b) would break my heart even more but I think both are equally possible.

About the present:

First of all, I absolutely agree with your take on the dealing. I think we can say it's canon or at least heavily implied that Eddie doesn't deal hard drugs - he's not the type for that. Hard drugs are destroying lives and killing people and it feels very out of character for Eddie to earn money with that, no matter how much he might need the money. I do, however, think the Special K and pills we see in his stash aren't leftovers from before (again, they aren't hard drugs - he wouldn't have given Chrissy or anyone else hard drugs). He was shocked/surprised when Chrissy asked for something stronger than weed in the woods scene, which might have been because he wouldn't have pegged Chrissy as someone who'd ask for stronger stuff or because he hardly ever sells stronger stuff than weed or maybe both, idk. But since he was searching for the stash with the stronger drugs for half an eternity, only remembering they were somewhere but not where, it's safe to say he neither sells nor does the stronger-than-weed stuff regularly. Which makes me headcanon that 99% of the time he sells weed (and if he takes drugs, it's weed 99% of the time as well, I'd wager. He talks about Special K in a way that implies he has taken it a few times before but again, it doesn't seem to be a regular thing. We don't know anything about the rest of the party drugs. I can see him selling them as well, and dabbling in them/taking them occasionally since the Eighties were pretty chill about party drugs as far as I can tell as someone who was born in the late Nineties - but that's all just headcanon because nothing in canon implies anything except that he's taken Special K a few times.) I vaguely remember a post from 2020/2021 when all the new characters were introduced in a few sentences calling Eddie a small-scale drug dealer or something like that (*Eddie's voice in my head* "SoMetHing LiKe tHat" like he does in the cafeteria making me realize once again I'm in very deep and will stay there for the rest of my existence), if anyone remembers, let me know.

And lastly the REASON for why he deals drugs: I completely agree. He makes a few jokes about his wealth (/lack thereof) when talking to Chrissy ("this is my castle", "the maid took the week off", "he works nights at the plant, bringing home the big bucks"). It never sounds ashamed, but rather a bit insecure which might be just the presence of Chrissy who (crush or no crush depending on whether you ship them or not, that's irrelevant here) clearly comes from a middle class or even upper middle class family with a big house etc. And I mean, if they were wealthy they wouldn't live at the trailer park but I wanted to point it out. I don't think Wayne would ever take the money Eddie makes - no matter whether through drug deals or whether he worked at Scoops - and Eddie probably doesn't want to ask Wayne for money (and there wouldn't be much left, anyways, to give to Eddie) but all the guitars and band equipment and D&D stuff we see in his rooms and the van aren't cheap so it seems the dealing is a way to finance his hobbies. And bringing in Eddie's comment "I swore to myself I wouldn't wind up like he did" and his obvious discontent with having to hotwire the camper in that moment imply that he wants to steer as clear of criminal activity as he can. I said it before and I'll say it again, though: working at Scoop's to sell ice cream to mean kids in a sailor's costume for three bucks an hour vs. selling weed and maybe a few party drugs...personally, I know what I'd prefer and it might simply be that Wayne sees it the same way.

Canonically, Wayne has to know Eddie deals or at least has dealt because Susan Hargrove commented the police arriving with "looks like that Munson boy got himself into trouble again" which sounds like it's a) not the first time it happened which b) is pretty impressive considering the Hargrove-Mayfields have been living at the trailer park only for a few months. But it can't have been harder offences because Hawkins is small and people know each other and we all know how the gossip mills are working so if Eddie had been busted for harder crimes, there's no way the Sinclairs, Claudia Henderson or Karen Wheeler would've let their kids join Eddie's D&D club and hang out with a criminal. I have so many questions. But underage drinking meant/means drinking below the age of 21 (which he isn't, he's 20) and it includes a single bottle of beer. Add to that the fact that the police tends to look very hard at those hailing from trailer parks instead of white-picket-fence homes and it's easily possible that Eddie got busted for drinking a beer instead of selling drugs. (Which makes me imagine Callahan the ignorant twat waffle sacking Eddie for drinking a bottle of beer while Eddie's on the backseat of the police car, his vest stacked with ounces of weed he was going to sell at some party that night, not sure whether he should laugh or cry😂)

And I agree, if he knows Wayne doesn't like Eddie's doing it but he can't stop him and he sees why he's doing it and that it's harmless stuff Eddie deals so they might have an agreement like "stay away from harder stuff and make sure I'm not called away from work at 3am because the cops got you and do what you have to since I can hardly stop you anyways". And I agree with your take that while Wayne doesn't see it as a burden that he has two mouths to feed (which is part of his A+ parenting, in this house we stan Wayne Munson) I feel that the time with his father and most probably his father's comments on Eddie being a burden, Eddie still sees himself that way. Which breaks my heart. But yeah, I think that's another reason why he'd want to finance his hobbies himself and he wouldn't ask Wayne for money even if there was some left to spare at the end of the month.

OR, another possibility: Eddie mentions that Corroded Coffin plays at the Hideout every Tuesday, which means they're getting paid for the gigs. Since Wayne and Eddie have very different daily routines (Wayne works nights at the plant) it's possible that Wayne thinks the money Eddie uses to finance his hobbies comes from the gigs and really doesn't know of Eddie's little side business or knew at some point and Eddie reassured him he's stopped. But the way I see it, Wayne is too attentive to not realize his nephew is dealing weed.

Possibility number three - my favorite, I think - would be: Wayne knows Eddie by heart. So much so that he knows Eddie didn't kill Chrissy even though everything looked like he did. But Wayne didn't hesitate or falter even for a second. He knew, with all his heart, that Eddie didn't have it in him. I could imagine Wayne knows that Eddie in general doesn't have it in him to go down the darker path. As you said, if anyone knows life can be tough and unfair, it's Wayne. Maybe he doesn't see any harm in Eddie dealing weed and the occasional party drug to buy stuff for the hobbies that make him truly happy, because those hobbies are huge protective factors to keep someone off darker paths. And since he knows Eddie wouldn't dabble in hard drugs, and he wouldn't steal cars or whatever, he knows dealing weed and the occasional party drug isn't something Eddie is passionate about but does so he has the money to do the things he's actually passionate about. He keeps a close eye on everything, but he doesn't intervene since there's no danger here.

The question still remains: why the fuck was Eddie searching for the Special K in his kitchen???😂

Again, NEVER apologize for sending long messages, darling! 🖤

[lady-phasma]

Wow thankyou so much much for replying back and for also for @gemini-mamaadding their opinion. It meant a lot to me. And also I don’t feel alone as I haven’t been able to talk to anyone else about this. 💕💕It has really helped me a lot and I did have a cry over it. It’s been really hard this week as for some reason. I have realised I’m more invested in a character/actor and their life than my own life. And so scared to be vulnerable to date etc. Your advice was so kind and compassionate. I am also going to read the article you linked me to too.

I’ve also thought a lot about my life and I’m determined to get back out there. These connections can be lovely (in your head) but they are stifling because that person is doing things in their lives and it looks so damn amazing and I’m in the office having to tick off tasks for the day! I have a brilliant trip aboard scheduled for the summer and have been working out etc but today I did have a McDonald’s because I felt so low. 

I’m re- reading your advice and will be taking it onboard.

I think I also need to take a step back from fandom for the next couple of weeks because I see things that I don’t really like but people on tumblr go crazy for. And I feel bad for having opinions that are not positive or supportive. An example would be EM at the last comic con event where he was pushing his chest out to show off his mesh top. I thought that was very Liam Gallagher and Oasis of him and slightly arrogant, whereas Steve T seemed so refined, gentlemanly and was taking it all in his stride. Maybe as an older actor he didn’t feel the need to peacock? I am also older than EM (never fancied anyone younger in my life! 🫣🫣) and have liked Matt Smiths energy more than EM’s recently. But even with that there has to be a line drawn. I do not know MS at all and have no connection with him!

I think I am alittle scared of dating and putting myself out there but I have also been confused about the type of person I would like to be with. This experience has taught I wouldn’t want to be with anyone younger than me because it just feels like the reality would be very different to the fantasy.  I don’t want any regrets and I really can’t allow this to get in my way.

I think I’m also envious alittle of the confidence that EM has. Or is perceived to have. I know he has probably worked really hard but it does all seem to happening so young for him and the other younger cast mates. I had an ugly duckling complex when I was younger and even though people say I’m good looking I have an insecurity especially about my nose so I found it fascinating when EM came out with a prominent chin. I love his chin and it fits his face but I’m envious of his confidence and the fact he hasn’t let it get in the way. Sorry for saying that but that is how I feel - please be kind to me. I wiuld love to hear your views. 💕💕

thank you again for being kind to me. 🥰🥰

Hi anon! I'm sorry I couldn't get back to this right away. My job got really stressful this week and then more HotD press and chaos.

I am so glad that you saw @gemini-mama's reblog! It was a lovely addition. 💕

I will always be kind to you nonnie! I just wish I could respond to every point you made. Please don't ever let that stop you from coming to my inbox though.

A few thoughts after the cut.

Dating is difficult for nearly everyone. For plenty of people "age is just a number" and they go by personality. I find that difficult irl (with intimate relationships). There are so many factors that I'm not going to go into, but I'm flexible. I can't say "I won't ever" because I might meet someone five years younger or 10 years older than myself and be smitten!

Switching to appearances, I love love love Ewan's jaw. Just like I love Matt's chin and ears and lack of eyebrows. What makes us unique, makes us beautiful! I'm self-conscious about some of my physical features but the insecurities started to go away in my 30s. Do I still think my lips are too thin? Yup, do I care any more? Nope. They've been the same for 41 years, they aren't getting any bigger!

There's nothing anyone can ever say to us to change how we think about our appearance. Maybe your envy of Ewan isn't a bad thing, maybe it can help you see that other people can inhabit their body without openly conveying how they feel about it. I hope he loves how he looks, but most humans don't.

I hope your break is good for you and that you come back refreshed. I would love to hear what you have to say about episode one after it airs (all the episodes if you want to stop by and chat about them)!

One last thing, Ewan's style: I have the unpopular opinion that he and Matt need to fire their stylists and borrow Olivia's. But I don't think Ewan was pushing his chest out to show off. My take (and I made a few slow motion gifs of that outfit) is that he was probably in his head, trying to get past nerves, and not fuck up and spoil anything. Like I said in my other ask, he's young, he's figuring it out.

Again, sorry for the delay. I'm always here if you need me, even if it takes me a moment to answer. 💜