#stressed but not enough to actually get moving until the last possible minute

[roombagreyjoy]

I am now Healed (finally uninstalled TikTok)

[dragonsholygrail]

Wholesome thoughts, but I've been really stressed lately because of too much shit lol. I'm so burnt out. Having a large monster boyfriend that I could just cling to while cuddling in bed despite me being soooooo short would be amazing. He'd hold me nice and tight and call me a good girl and everything pleeeeease

Awww, hun, I’m so sorry. I hope things get better and that you get the rest you need and deserve. But in the meantime, I hope this can possibly help a bit!

You’re practically glued to your work, your eyes furiously trained on the screen. In fact, your Monster bf isn’t actually quite sure when the last time he saw you away from the screen was. Your body is practically shaking with the over exertion in which you’re forcing on yourself.

It pains your bf to see you like this, to see you so clearly exhausted and yet refusing to take a break. Your eyes drooping every few minutes before you blink rapidly and force your eyes open wide and it happens all over again. When your face accidentally smacks against the computer screen, your bf knows he can’t sit around and watch any longer.

With a heavy sigh he stands up and heads over to you. You don’t even lift up your head to look, you’re so sucked into your work. It’s only as his hands land on your shoulders do you snap out of your thoughts.

“C’mon. Let’s take a break from work for a bit,” your bf urges, sliding his hands down to your waist. He helps lift you up out of the chair before you can say a word.

You frantically look back and crane your head up, wondering what the hell is happening. But you calm down seeing it’s him. Still not really understanding what’s going on, your exhaustion causes you to easily misread his expression and you bend over the table as if he came to have his way with you.

“Oh, baby, I wanna fuck you too. But I can’t stop working right now. So how about you just go at it while I keep doing this?”

You turn your attention back to your computer, your butt popped out and lifted up for his convenience. Your bf looks over you like you’ve officially gone insane. Though your position is enticing, fucking you is the last thing on his mind.

“Love, I’m not gonna fuck you.”

Your body falls back down to your normal very short height in comparison to your bf. But your body continues to fall until you’re sagging against the table, looking even more tired than before.

“Well then what the hell is the point of a monster boyfriend if there’s no free use where he can just take me whenever and wherever he wants?” You exaggerate, your voice croaking with emotion. Your emotions all over the place with everything you have going on and your bf frowns, knowing he’s gotta take care of you asap.

With his height also comes great strength. So your bf picks you up into his arms with ease. Dragging you away from the computer and your work. You weakly fight back to stay at the computer but he easily moves you away, bringing you into his arms as he walks you two to the bedroom.

“Okay, okay. I think your lack of sleep is making you delusional.”

At this point you’re far too sleepy to resist anymore so instead, you curl into his embrace, your face burrowing into his chest.

“Hmm. Well, maybe a few minutes.”

Your bf laughs, seemingly always knowing exactly what it is you need. He’s your safe place, your comfort. The person who cares about you more than anyone else and who you care about the same way. He cuddles you close to his chest as you walk through your home.

“There it is. Good girl. Let’s go rest.”

He slides the both of you in your big bed that can comfortably fit his large form. You snuggle into the soft sheets, your limbs clinging onto your bf in a way that has him chuckling fondly.

His frame curls around you till he nearly encompasses you entirely. You’re barely see as he completely surrounds you in his presence. He nuzzles against you, getting as close to you as possible. Giving you all the comfort and support he can within the silence. But it was enough and before you know it you’re out like a light.

Your bf doesn’t sleep though as he watches over you. His clawed hands smoothing down your hair and keeping you close to him. His heart resting much easier now that his mate is finally letting him take care of her.

[229zmi]

THE ONLY MAN EVER

PAIRING: Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader

CONTENT: reader and iwaizumi are locked in a storage closet

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

“Help. Someone, please help us. Ah, poor me, I’m stuck with— ack!”

You don’t know whose jacket it is for sure, but judging by its odour and the fact that a certain someone on the team keeps complaining about his missing jacket over the past couple of days, it must be Yahaba’s jacket that suddenly falls over your head, spurring tears in your eyes and an automatic urge to gag. Yanking it away from you, you shoot Iwaizumi a hurt look. “That was evil.”

“Are you even taking this seriously?” he asks in a nearly accusatory tone. It’s difficult to make out his face in the darkness of the storage closet, but you can assume he’s glaring at you. “It’s after school hours, hardly anyone walks down this hallway. We could be stuck here for hours before anyone notices we’re gone.”

When Coach Irihata asked for someone to move some equipment from the gym to the storage closet, Iwaizumi had volunteered first like the charitable person he was, and you were adamant on making it a two-person job — in which Iwaizumi would do all the lifting and your presence by itself would bless him with very much-needed moral support along the way.

However, the door had slid shut and locked when neither of you were paying attention, which brings you to now.

Stuck.

“Boo-hoo,” is all you feel like saying in response to his distress, your only source of entertainment now that you’re in this situation. “Why don’t you try breaking down the door or something, Mr. Hulk. Show off those big guns.”

For your own added amusement, you waggle your eyebrows at his indistinct silhouette and motion to your own biceps, pretending to flex them as if you’re a bodybuilder.

“I’m so glad I can’t see right now, whatever it is that you’re doing.” Iwaizumi sighs, running a hand down his face and along his jawline upon hearing your giggles. “Do you have your phone on you? I left mine in the clubroom, but we could call someone to get us.”

Sheepishly, you reply, “I left mine in the gym.”

There’s a silence that lasts for a whole minute as he processes your words.

“Great. Now we really are trapped.”

“Aw, it’s not so bad. You’re with me.”

“That’s exactly what makes this so horrible.” You hear some shuffling, then a hissed expletive as you feel a pair of shoes stumble over yours. The cracking noise that arises from him swivelling his head in your approximate direction, presumably toward the ground, is enough to pull another fit of giggles out of you as he chastises your shadow, “You’re actually laying down? This storage closet is already cramped as it is.”

“If we’re gonna be stuck here for hours like you say, I’m going to take a nap,” you explain your reasoning like it should be obvious.

You pat around the floor for a moment until your fingers graze something cold and metallic, wrapping around the object and shaking it. A clattering noise rings throughout the quiet ambience of the storage closet. This is a shelf, you conclude, imagining your voice to be like that of those narrators in wildlife documentaries. Covered in a thick layer of dust particles and cobwebs; a safe haven for all species of spiders.

“Shit, what’re you doing now?” Iwaizumi sounds as though he might break down from the stress. Inwardly, he prays to the universe for the door to open as soon as possible. “Stop that, I won’t be able to call 119 if something falls on your head and you get hurt.”

“Such a worrywart.”

“I’m being logical. Unlike someone else here.”

“Okay… worrywart.” As funny as you’ve been finding all of this, you decide to finally sit up straight, even going the extra mile to announce to him that you are doing so for his sake, though there’s no need to now that both of your eyes have adjusted to the darkness. One of your hands slaps against the floor, like you’re trying to beckon over a dog or a toddler, not that he’s either of those. “Come sit down next to me.”

“No thanks.”

“C’mon, pleeeeease. There’s some empty space over here. I already checked.”

“You just want to use me as a buffer from the spiders.”

“Well, duh.”

“Lucky me,” he grumbles.

“So are you sitting here or not?”

“What do you think, loser?”

He takes a couple tentative steps towards you, careful not to step on any part of you as he plops down on the ground beside you. The kind gesture is done with just the smallest amount of spite— with several elbow jabs at each other as he tells you to move over an inch. Nevertheless, after the two of you reach a stalemate (though in your opinion, you’re the one that emerged as the victor since he backed out first), you are more than content, even going as far as declaring him your knight in shining armour.

You can’t see the blush blooming on his cheeks after you say that, but you can certainly see him trying to hide it by hovering a hand over the lower half of his face.

“Don’t call me that,” he says.

“How about my guard-dog?”

Iwaizumi pokes your side, and you squirm away, laughing.

“Be serious.”

“Whatever. I’m taking a nap.“

After your laughter dies down, you nestle up to his side, sort of slanting your body so that more of your weight is on him rather than on the hard floor. The process is easier said and done, given how little room there is, but once you deem your position comfortable enough for sleeping, you rest your head against his shoulder, and it’s surprising how you do all this without any complaints from him. In fact, it isn’t until you shut your eyes that he finally speaks his truth.

“Hey,” you feel him press a warm hand against your forehead before moving it to pinch the bridge of your nose, effectively making your eyelids flutter open so you can make sure your hand doesn’t miss him when you swat at his irked face, “when the hell did I ever agree to this?”

“You didn’t need to. Isn’t it in the job description of a good friend?”

“To what? Be your pillow?” His voice rises with incredulity. “Not as far as I’m concerned.”

“Fine then. Iwaizumi Hajime, the only man ever,” you announce, “do you take me to be your lawfully wedded whatever, to live together in marriage and blah blah blah—“

“What?”

“—to make sure the critters crawl all over you instead of me at any cost, for better or for worse, in strength and in weakness, in wakefulness and in—“

“Don’t say it like that!” His hand comes up flicks your forehead before immediately brushing over the area with his thumb to sooth the pain. There’s a slight stutter in that first word that does not go unnoticed by either of you, yet you don’t point it out. He hopes you can’t hear how fast his heart is beating in your proximity to him.

He glances down at you, your head still on his shoulder. The corners of your mouth lift to reveal a shit-eating grin, and he scowls.

“I hate you.”

“Nuh-uh.” You wag your finger at him as if you’re an evil villain in a kids’ cartoon. “You love me.”

The silence that hangs after your words instead of a snarky denial is so abrupt and unexpected, you wonder if an object from one of the shelves just hit his head and knocked him out or something. However, he’s still clearly conscious when you peer up at him to check, staring at nothing in particular with his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek: a telltale sign of him thinking.

“You alive?”

“Yeah. Just— go to sleep,” he says at last. “I’ll watch out for any bugs, rats, whatever, just please stop talking.”

“Finally!” You smile, turning your head to the side to press a chaste kiss against his upper arm as a small thanks. “Good luck, and may the door also hit you in the head when we get found.”

Frowning, Iwaizumi can’t see how that’ll work when you’re the one closer to the door. Nonetheless, he doesn’t mull over it for too long or bother complaining about it, letting you fall into a peaceful slumber and possibly the best nap you’ve ever taken.

Oikawa expects a lot of things when he opens the storage closet.

He expects a couple spiders to fall on top of him (for which, in that instance, he’s prepared himself by holding a textbook over his head). He expects a rat to run out and dance around his feet (for which he’s also prepared himself with vocal warm-ups a few minutes earlier, in case he needs to scream). He even expects a shelf to suddenly collapse, a broom to fall onto him, an inflatable stick figure with Ushijima’s face to pop out at him — anything but the cliché scene that lies in front of him right now, both answering the question that has been brewing inside of him ever since he realised his two friends were gone and also raising some new ones in its wake.

Slowly, he lowers his arms, his chin at a lower position than usual as he stares, flabbergasted at the sight of you hugging Iwaizumi’s shoulder like it’s a teddy bear and Iwaizumi, who to his credit is still fully awake, making violent gestures with his free hand for Oikawa to keep his mouth shut.

Oikawa gets it, despite there being no words exchanged. To wake you up means that bad things will come his way, most likely multiple volleyballs thrown at his head and a lengthy lecture. However, there’s no way he’ll pass up an opportunity to make fun of his best friend later, when the circumstances are much safer and you are awake to keep a leash on your guard-dog. (He snickers to himself at the controversial yet fitting nickname.)

He shoves his textbook under his arm, then starts fumbling through his pockets for something. Iwaizumi realises too late what Oikawa is about to do, mouthing the word don’t just as he hears a click from the brunet’s phone.

Oh fuck, he thinks. Not only does Oikawa have a picture of you nuzzling your face against Iwaizumi’s arm but now he probably has a picture of Iwaizumi looking stupid as hell with his mouth open mid-word.

As Iwaizumi shoots invisible daggers at him with his eyes, Oikawa makes the wise decision to cancel out the other not-so-wise one; he shuts the door and books it down the hallway.

[daydreaming-in-letters]

I have got SO many good pics saved, this is my time to shine! XD I feel like this could be 50/50 a meet-cute, or a meet-sexy, if you catch my drift

Hey! It has taken a moment, but it's done. I hope you don't mind I chose a different hairstyle.

warnings: language, possibly; drinking, no mentions of alcohol though; kissing; insinuation to future sexy times

This was not a normal Friday night. Far from it. All the stress of the week had vanished once you had walked through that door, probably blown away by the music which was on fire tonight. Around you, the smell of old wood and beer and bodies filled the pub. This was usually not too exciting, but above it all there was something else about tonight, something you could not quite grasp. Maybe to call it the thrill of excitement came closest to what it actually was, a feeling as if anything were possible. 

And yet it was not until halfway through the night before it finally seemed to make do on what it had promised all along. You had just taken another sip of your drink, still laughing about one of your friend’s stupid jokes, when you felt his eyes on you for the first time. You turned on instinct, just in time to catch him glancing over at you before he suddenly looked away. You could not help but smile about the slight panic that must have caused his move. Fortunately, it provided you with the opportunity now to take a good, long look at him—which turned out a little more challenging than you would have expected. 

Actually, you did not know where to look first. Maybe at his hair, those long, soft curls. He had pulled half of them up, but a few stubborn strands still refused to stay back and kept falling into his face no matter how often his long, slender fingers tried to tug them behind his ears. There were also the features of his face that competed for your attention. The prominent, thick brows for example, sitting above a pair of dark eyes. Sadly their colour was impossible to make out in the dim light. Or his beard, mh, his beard. You were such a sucker for long haired, bearded man and he just seemed to have it all. 

Luckily for you, your sight must have been just as tempting for him, as soon enough he let his eyes wander back to you. And now, he allowed you even enough time for a smile, and when he smiled back, his eyes still holding yours, you could feel your heart doing a double flip in your chest. 

The music was still booming, yet all you realised was the rolling of the bass in your stomach, everything else, the chatter, the clinking of glasses, the shuffling of feet on the ground, it was all silenced for a moment, overlaid by the feverish drum of your heartbeat. Even your mouth felt dry all of a sudden, but as you lifted your glass to your lips all that reached them were a few measly drops of liquid.

Good, you thought, it would provide you with an excuse to get closer to him. He sat next to the wall right opposite the counter, and as if fate had decided for you to make a move, there was a free spot at the bar close by. As you walked it was as if you were drawn to him, gravitating towards his chair, just to pass him by last minute. It were only a few steps to the counter now, but the weight of his stare was unmistakable, it followed you, all the way. Just as he had done, you realised after placing your order. He was just there, smiling, but that was enough to make your breath hitch in your throat. Jesus, he was tall. The kind of tall where you had to crane your neck to look into his eyes. 

“Can I buy that drink for you?”

“No, thanks, I’m good,” you said, already pushing some money across the counter top in exchange for your drink. You immediately took a sip, enjoying the confused look on his face just a moment longer. He was obviously still unsure about what had just happened, or whether he should leave. But obviously there was no way you would let that happen.

“But you could tell me your name instead.”

Immediately the brightest smile curled his lips, although his eyes were very busy watching his feet all of a sudden. Was he flustered? God, this man was so cute.

“I’m Andrew.”

How could a voice be this soft? You wanted to melt on the spot. But instead you held out your hand to him.

“Hi Andrew, nice to meet you. I’m Y/N,” you said as if you were totally unfazed, and it was almost no surprise at all that his hand was just as soft. 

From this moment on, it was easy. Almost too easy to be real. But you did not care. You had not felt this alive in a very long time. The giddiness that had befallen you was unreal. How could simply talking to someone else make you this ridiculously happy?

“Do you want to dance?”

The question came out of the blue for you, and you needed to follow his glance to understand what was going on. Over where you had stood before, your friends had somehow decided it was time to shake a leg. And with him, yes, you would have loved to join them. But something told you he was not asking you to dance with him, but whether you wanted to rejoin your friends. Those gangly limbs of his did probably not make him the most passionate dancer. 

“Another time perhaps. Right now, I am very happy exactly where I am.”

He smiled, his eyes pulling you in, and it would have taken supernatural abilities to keep track of time after that. You must have been talking and laughing for hours, until the pub was about to close. Your friends had been long gone, and so were his. 

And so you found yourself side by side, walking down the deserted streets at night. He had asked to walk you home, and this time you had not declined his offer. He was walking close to you, so close that the back of your hand had touched his a few times, always drawing his eyes to you instantly. But soon you had mercy, on him as much as on yourself. And so you allowed your finger to make contact first, letting your pinky gently glide along his, and he understood. His hand was warm, his grip just right, and as his thumb tenderly caressed yours, you knew it would be the hardest thing you had ever done to let go once the two of you had said your goodbyes.

You wished it would never have to end, but you were inevitably nearing your home. You had taken the scenic route already, stalling, being stingy with the moments you had left with him, and now there was just no way you could put this off any longer. 

“This is me then,” you said, as you came to a stop.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the building behind you and you had no idea why until he spoke again.

“Are you sure? We could take a turn around the block just to make sure.”

His silliness made you chuckle. 

“I’m afraid I am quite certain this is where I live.”

“Shame.”

It was, you thought, as your eyes fell to the ground. 

“Andy?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

His answer came promptly, accompanied by a squeeze of your hand. “Please do.”

You had feared it would be awkward, asking that question, then reaching for him. But it was not. Not in the least. And when his lips touched yours for the first time, his taste rolling over your tongue, his breath mingling with yours, you were certain you would never want for anything again in your life. 

You were wrong though. You still needed air. As did he. And so you pulled away, hesitant, refusing to let go entirely as you leant your forehead against his. 

Andrew was the first to find his voice again. “Can we maybe do this again tomorrow?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Now it was him who chuckled, and he kept on smiling as you pulled out your phone and gave it to him so he could type in his number.

Then he leant down again for another—this time much too chaste for your taste—kiss.

“Night, love.”

“Night, Andy.”

He had taken a step back, your hands still entwined, tying you securely together. But then he took another and his fingers slowly slipped from your grasp. He smiled again, lips tightly pressed together, and right before he turned, he winked. A gesture so sinful it set you on fire despite the cold of the night air that surrounded you. 

You watched him walk, all the way down the street. He would soon reach his turn, when the chime of his phone cut through the silence. A text alert. Pulling the phone from his pocket without stopping, his feet instantly refused to walk as the display lit up. 

He had not noticed, but he must have started to smile, so much so his cheeks were beginning to hurt. He had never turned faster in his life.

[writtnbyhan]

Can I request a fic where hyunjin had a really bad day and then reader says something that’s obviously meant to be a joke, or idk buys him the wrong order of food etc but he gets really upset and takes it to heart and starts crying and reader realizes something is definitely wrong because he’s never that sensitive and she gets him to open up to her about how stressed he’s been etc and she just helps him get through the day and feel better.

hey!! I loved this request because I love hurt/comfort, even though I don't know if I'm good at writing it...? I tried my best, though! I really hope you like it and that it is what you wanted. I don't know if Hyune actually feels like this sometimes but the mere thought just made me want to fly to Korea and tell this man how much I love him. So, there's that!!! hope you like it.

word count: 1560

Fuck. fuck. fuck.

You know you fucked up, somehow. Looking at your boyfriend's sad face in front of you, you look back upon your interactions today, trying to pinpoint exactly what you did wrong.

Hyunjin had texted you around midday, a simple “coming over tonight after schedules”, to which you responded with a heart emoji and continued working. Luckily, you worked from home so you were able to clean around the house so you could wait for him at your apartment. He was usually done with schedules by 7 p.m., or maybe 8 at the latest. You were free from work by 6:30, so you took a shower and sat on the couch to watch an episode of Friends, sure that by the time it was done your boyfriend would be arriving.

Distracted by the episode, you only remembered he was apparently late when you were halfway through the third episode. Looking at your phone, you saw it was around 10 already.

“baby? you still coming over, right?” you sent, worried frown on your face. You figured he had gone to his place to get cleaned up, maybe dance practice ran late and he had to wait until 3racha showered, or something. He probably had a reasonable explanation, you figured, even when he didn’t text you back, you knew he wouldn’t stand you up.

Sure enough, about 30 minutes later your boyfriend arrived, opening the door for himself and getting inside, running away from the chilly night air that probably made him feel cold due to his wet hair. You frowned, looking at him.

“I’m so, so sorry!” he quickly apologized, taking off his shoes in a rush so as to get closer to you as fast as possible. “Everything got delayed and then Jisung took forever in the shower, I’m so sorry!” he repeated.

“And here I was thinking you stood me up and I’d be able to sleep without someone stealing all the sheets tonight.” you joked, sighing as soon as you finished saying those words as if you meant them, even though it was an obvious joke, and you figured he could tell by the blush that crept to your cheeks as soon as he stepped through the door. Even after dating for a few months, you were always blushing around him.

He froze, but you didn’t notice that because you were watching the screen in front of you to click pause on the episode. After doing so, you closed the laptop and stretched your back, only then looking at him again. You noticed he was staring at the floor and had stopped moving towards you halfway through the living room, so he was standing close to the door, just looking at the floor as if it had something interesting to tell him.

“Hyune?” you asked, worried, trying to get his attention. He hummed without looking up, letting you know you were heard. “What’s going through your head?”

“You really think I would stand you up?” he asked, and his voice broke a little near the end. Your eyes grew big, surprised he was taking that comment so seriously. Before you got a chance to say anything, he continued. “Am I… do I ever make you believe you're not loved enough?”

He looked up as he let out the last question, and you were now able to see the tears that were running silently down his face, his worried eyes fixed on you as you gasped in surprise, quickly getting up to get close to him.

“Hyunjin! No!” You were almost reprimanding him. Seeing him this sad made you feel guilty, and your heart broke a little at the sight of the tears and the hurt he was feeling.

When you were close enough, you tiptoed and put your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly.

“Baby, I never once believed you were actually standing me up, you make me feel so loved and so sure. I knew if you weren’t coming you’d let me know, so I figured something had happened and you were running late.” you explained in whispers, still hugging him.

His arms were around your waist now, and he hugged you so tight he almost left you without air. His face was hidden in your neck, and you could feel his wet cheeks brushing against your skin. You worry, because it’s obvious that the tears are still falling and because he’s never this insecure.

“Hyune?” you ask again to get his attention, but you don’t wait for a hum this time before continuing. “What’s wrong?”

Hyunjin is silent for a few seconds, probably thinking if you really want to hear what’s burdening him. Trying to be reassuring, you move one of your hands to his hair, interlocking your hands with locks of hair, massaging his scalp. He sighs, and you know you broke through him and his walls — they’re never strong enough to keep you out, and you’re so glad for that.

“I’m just stressed, y/n…” he says, voice so tired it makes you wanna cry.

When you realize he won’t continue talking, you try to get him to open up more. “Why is that, baby? What exactly has got you this stressed? You know you’re an amazing artist so, what’s wrong?”

Hyunjin thinks. He’s picking up the reasons why he’s stressed, trying to organize his thoughts and put them into words.

“Everything is too much.” he settles for, in the end. “You know the comeback is this week, right?” You nod, and he must feel it against his head because he continues. “Well, we have everything ready and only practice the choreographies and film interviews and that’s the thing. I feel like I should be doing more, I feel like people think I should be doing more. Also! The whole ambassador thing… it makes me so happy, but I feel like I’m also not good enough for it, not worthy of such an honor… I should be doing more to actually earn it.” he says, almost rushing through his words as more things come to mind. You’re still hugging, so he can’t see how you close your eyes in a pained expression as you hear him speak. It hurts you that he thinks this way of himself.

“Hyunjin…” Your voice breaks, betraying you. “You are doing so good, I’ve seen you practice the choreographies and I see your work with Versace and… baby, believe me, you’re doing enough. You are enough. Even if you weren’t doing anything, you deserve this so much because you’re you! They want you because you have the charisma, and the look, not because of what you do to promote. The enterprise and the kids, they love you because you’re you, and you do an amazing work. If they wanted you to do more, they would ask for it. If they don’t tell you explicitly, that means you’re doing enough — and knowing you, you’re probably doing even more than you should. Do you think your fancams have the amount of views they have just because you’re pretty? I mean, you are, I won’t deny that, but you’re also mesmerizing on stage, even when you don’t try that hard. Now, I can tell that you’re trying because you look… more than thrice as good. It’s actually unbelievable. I know Stay is proud of you, and I am too. No one thinks you should do more than what you do or you should try harder, we think you’re enough, and we thank you for doing what you do already.”

Your voice is firm, even if it breaks sometimes, betraying that tears are running down your face too. It makes you ache that the person you love so much is doubting himself.

“Baby…” Hyunjin says, and his voice is barely audible. He’s sobbing now against your neck, and you don’t blame him because you can only imagine how long he’s kept this hidden and how badly he needed to hear what you just told him.

You shush him and go back to massaging his scalp.

“Let’s go to bed, okay? You need to rest, and you need cuddles and kisses. I’m going to kiss you until you forget every doubt you have about yourself, okay?” You whisper, trying to lighten the mood. He chuckles and nods, untangling himself from you but taking your hand, guiding you to your room. You notice he doesn’t want you to see him while he cries because he turns around quickly. You smile, shaking your head slowly. You’re so in love with that man, you doubt there’s anything he could do to scare you away.

You squeeze his hand three times, the universal signal for “I love you”. He squeezes back, and when you arrive in the bedroom you cuddle with him and make good on your promise to kiss him until he forgets.

The next day, you start by reminding him how proud you are of him, and promising him that the kids are also proud, and so is Stay. You take it one day at a time, checking in on him and letting him tell you every doubt he has, something just to get them off his chest and sometimes so you can free him of said doubts. One day at a time, slowly, until he realizes how much he’s worth.

[hergrandplan]

Wille Month 2024 (@youngroyals-events), Day 1: Sandwich

These days, their love lies in the simple things – going to bed a bit earlier than they have to, just so they can cuddle, Wille’s home in his arms, right where he belongs. It is laughing over coffee, delaying heading to work for as long as they possibly can because they don’t want to miss a single moment with each other. Saturday afternoon cleaning sessions, interrupted by stolen kisses, and late-night reruns of their favorite shows.

The grand gestures are things they have left behind in the days of their youth – they don’t need the big declarations anymore, school anthems rewritten and thrones abdicated. There is no need for it, when love lingers in every single touch.

It’s in the quiet moments, the whispered ‘I love yous’, that Wille feels his heart almost combust with overflowing love.

And today, it’s in Simon showing up to his work unannounced. It’s almost scary, the way Simon knows exactly what Wille needs even when he hasn’t said a thing.

Wille’s morning consists of an endless string of meetings, each more awful than the last. It doesn’t help that his boss is away this week, having handed all his unfinished tasks for Wille to deal with, as if Wille doesn’t have enough to do already. It fills his stomach with dread, the amount of unanswered e-mails in his inbox that he has to do something with, even if he has no idea what.

By 11 am, Wille is drained, and has no idea how he’ll get through the next 6 hours. On top of that, there’s a message from Simon on his phone sent about an hour ago that he hasn’t even opened yet.

A few minutes past noon, there’s a soft knock on his door.

Wille has no time to deal with any of his colleagues right now – barely has time to think, but he says “come in” anyways, because maybe it’s urgent. Everything always feels urgent, somehow.

But instead of Myriam from accounting asking a question about the budget, or Ron coming in with more reports he has to sign off on, it’s Simon, the love of his life, standing in the doorway to his office. Smiling and curls tousled by the wind.

Relief floods through his body immediately – even just seeing him is enough to ease the pressure on his chest a bit.

Simon makes his way over to Wille and wraps his arms around him, nudging his chin up to kiss him, soft and tender. Wille clutches the fabric of his shirt tight, pressing his face against Simon’s sternum, but it isn’t until Simon places a kiss to the crown on his head that Wille feels like he can actually breathe again.

“Hey,” Simon says then. Wille hears the smile in his voice, feels how Simon’s arms tighten around him just a little, the press of his chin on his head. They hold each other like that – Wille, sat on his desk chair, Simon standing upright – for a few minutes, until Simon moves away a little so he can look at Wille. He places his hand on Wille’s cheek, and Wille leans into his touch immediately. He takes another deep breath.

“What are you doing here?” Wille asks, now gazing up at Simon. And he’s so beautiful, Wille still doesn’t know how he ever got this lucky.

Simon pulls away a bit, but keeps one arm wrapped around Wille’s frame while his other reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a tiny parcel, wrapped in a purple napkin.

“I figured, since you didn’t answer my texts, that you were either busy or stressed, and that you probably figured you didn’t have time for lunch, and so – I brought you lunch.”

Simon sits down on his lap as Wille takes the package from him and unwraps it to find a sandwich. Wille can’t help but chuckle as he takes a grateful bite. Simon knows him well – Wille hadn’t even thought about lunch yet, let alone if he was going to have it or not. He lets out a satisfied sigh at the taste of hummus and cucumber and cheese, with a little bit of hot sauce – just how Wille likes it.

The sandwich isn’t quite a surprise. Sandwiches are quick and easy, especially when the man you love has gone out of his way to give it to you because he knows you wouldn’t have eaten anything otherwise. But it’s also a small declaration of his love for Wille, an I care about you. By not answering his texts, Simon somehow figured out that Wille needed him, and here he was now, fingers playing with his hair as Wille enjoys this rare moment of peace and quiet in the middle of a busy work day.

“I love you,” Wille says, once he’s finished the sandwich.

“You better, I saved you from starvation,” Simon responds, smirking. Then his smile softens, and he presses his lips against Wille’s forehead. “I love you too.”

Wille lays his head on Simon’s shoulder again, brings his arms up to hold him, just for one moment longer until Simon has to go. At least his thoughts have quieted now, and even his mailbox doesn’t seem as daunting. He’s not sure if it’s the food or the simply Simon’s presence, but that doesn’t really matter.

Simon stays just a bit longer than necessary, just until Wille manages to clean up his inbox and knows that he’ll make it through the day without a panic attack. When he leaves, he takes a cookie out of his pocket and puts it on Wille’s desk. “For when you get peckish at 4,” he says.

And then, with one last final kiss goodbye, he’s out the door again.

Will doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

[todorokis-girl]

I Never Knew You Were Alive - Soulmate AU (V)

Chapter V: Last minute encounter

No actual dabi in this one

Chapter I: So it starts Chapter II: A late arrival Chapter III: belive of be doomed Chapter IV: What are we doing? Chapter V: Last minute encounter Chapter VI: Deciding to fall in love with you

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Next Chapter

taglist: @staygoldsquatchling02 , @alien-00715-blog

Note: I was gonna post this next week BUT I have some presentations and assignments to turn in, and I don't know if I could keep track of this. Plus I already started chapter VII (I have chapter VI done and ready to post later today, this was supposed to be chapter 1 but I wanted to add drama before this), so that will probably my focus next week.

The day had started like any other. The city bustled with life, the streets filled with people going about their routines. She had been on her way to meet Keigo, walking through a busy shopping district. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden hue over the city. As she passed by a familiar convenience store, she decided to stop in and grab a snack, hoping to alleviate the stress of the day with a small treat.

Inside the store, the hum of the refrigeration units and the soft chime of the entrance bell created a familiar ambiance. She wandered down the aisles, her mind drifting as she absentmindedly picked up a packet of chips. Her thoughts were a mix of mundane worries and lingering memories of a past. The Todoroki family, Touya’s memory, the constant ache of his loss—they were always there, just beneath the surface.

As she reached the checkout counter, a sudden chill ran down her spine. She felt a presence, something or someone that made her skin prickle with a strange sense of déjà vu. Turning slowly, she saw a figure standing at the end of the aisle, partially hidden in the shadows. His posture was familiar, but it wasn’t until he stepped into the light that recognition slammed into her like a physical blow.

The figure turned, revealing the face she had once known so well. His eyes, deep turquoise and filled with a mixture of surprise and anger, locked onto hers. This wasn't the first time they had seen each other. Just a couple of days ago, she had been pressed between him and a wall in an alley; but his eyes seemed wilder than usual, angrier, and she had been feeling tension, irritation, and anger all morning. She didn't understand what had happened, but she did know one thing right now…

Run.

She dropped her bags immediately and sprinted out of the convenience store, anxiously looking around for a place to run to without civilians. It seemed impossible—she was in the middle of a big city. Next idea.

Heroes. She needed to get as many people out of the vicinity as possible. She couldn't do that right now, and she could feel the temperature behind her rise. She had to find help, find heroes who could evacuate the area. The heat was intensifying, and panic clawed at her chest as she darted through the crowded street.

"You're a liar" His voice, raw with betrayal and rage, echoed in her ears. His deep turquoise eyes bore so deeply into hers that the pressure on her chest, in her heart, seemed to increase exponentially.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she rounded a corner, her mind racing. She needed to find a hero, anyone who could help mitigate the impending disaster. The familiar signs of the shopping district blurred as she focused on putting as much distance as possible between her and the man she had once known.

She knew there was no time to dwell on the past. She had to keep moving, keep running, and find a way to protect the people around her. She spotted one of the local heroes and stopped in from of him, hopping she was far enough for Tou... Dabi as she could. 

"Help, I need help clearing the area as much as posible" The hero looked her over with a corked brow "and I should listen to you why?"

"Damn it I dont have to for this" her breathing picked up and she started shaking "Thermifrost with Endeavors agency, League of villains member Dabi is chasing me, I can take him; but I can't deal with him and getting people out" her eyes settled on angry as she looked at the hero over "get the people out"

She started to feel the temperature rise behind her again, and her own feeling of fear and his feeling of anger increased with every second, making it cold would help her with him, and maybe saving one or two people, but she couldn’t stop him from doing any damage. 

“Yes ma’am!” She nooded and watched him run off screaing at people to move away, and left it up to him to get the help you needed 

She turned around and faced him for the first time since she started to run “I don’t know where this is coming from, or what I did to get you so angry” She was anxious, she wanted to avoid this, but as he walked up to her, slowly, with his arm slowly growin fire, she braced herself for a fight she didn’t want to have. 

"You chose them over me!" Deep turquoise eye bore so deeply into mine, the pressure on my chest, in my heart, seemed to increase.

"I didn't chose anyone over you Touya", anger, misplaced anger, seeped out of my word "I didn't even know you were alive!" A sob escaped me, which made the current situation so much more real. it had been years.. years of pain, thinking he was dead. How dare he? How dare he imply I chose anything in this situation, I chose the option that would have kept me closer to him. When he was dead.

"We have marks with each others names, we feel what the other feels", he took exasperated steps towards me getting closer and more menacing as he got closer, the feeling of safety slowly washing off me, would he hurt me? would he killme? "You're gonna look at me in the eye, and tell me, you didn't know I was alive?"

The question was one that burned inside me, ever since I found out he was alive, and it killed me knowing that he wasn't only alive, but with the villains, it drove me crazy and I could barely sleep. I wondered during the years why occasionally I would feel things that were simply not my own; but how was I to know? He was dead, it was a fact, he died in his fire!, so young, faking your own death that young wasn't realistic to think about. I didn't... other than sudden anger, sadness and occasional pleasure, the feelings didn't range far or even often.

"I didn't! I really didn't know, had I know ANY of this, I would hace been on your side no questions asked," I pulled my legs closer to me, the fight we had engaged in didn't fair well on my body. The burns from his fire were negligible, the burn from my own ice, though, if not treated soon could start causing decay "You think I wanted to sit by and let him do any of those things to Shouto? That it brought me pleasure in any way to say your mother hospitalized? Natsuo and Fujumi so neglected?" The tears finally started pouring out, this was emotionally too much, hopelessness and guilt was bubbling up and started to eat me inside "I don't care anymore, just, kill me if you have to"

The Todoroki's took me in, not because of me but because of him, for him. They swore he would have wanted me to be a part of their family, all the other soulmates of their kids were just as welcomed. Enji took it upon himself to look for all their kids soulmates, as soon as posible. We all knew how.... intense, Enji Tododroki could be, but we stayed for our soulmates. They weren't a perfect family, or even a good one; but I wanted Touya with me so badly, and his family was all that was left; his grave, his shrine, I needed him and I couldn't have him. Now what? It seems I never had anything of his at all.

"I'm not going to kill you" he said while slowly crouching down ro my eye level, the fire in his hand slowly being put out; the look in his eyes wasn't the thing giving his emotions away but the bond we had, I understood the resignation and the conflict happening in his heart "but, we are in a bit of a bad situation right now, doll" I swallowed thickly and rested the back of my head in what was left of the concrete wall behind me.

"I'm not leaving the kids to be killed" I said after a moment of silence, having had to steel my mind and build my resolve; making sure I understood what I was potentially giving up.

"I'm not going to leave the league" he replied after a deep breath, and I could hear the same resolve in his voice.

and, there in lies our problem.

I straightened up my head to look at him again, his hands reaching to the ice around me, I assumed to melt it "don't... it hurts"

He looked up at me and stopped, taking a quick Look over me. "You have to do something about the ice, or you'll be short an arm and maybe a leg"

The cold was starting to set, over my body, and as usual it started to build in my extremities, I could barely feel my nose and my fingers anymore.

I ignored him, the current situation not leaving my mind at all, my injuries could wait "What do we do?"

"What we've been doing," he hesitantly reached to touch my cheek, providing much-needed warmth, his thumb lightly brushing my nose. "I'm dead, sweetheart." He proceeded to hold my hands for a while, and I wished the warmth building up in my body could stay forever.

He immediately stepped away from me the moment we heard running, signaling that heroes were here. "Your help's here," he said something to himself, and slowly he was swallowed by some black goo. "Don't die on me, I gotta see you at the end of this, however that goes." Once he was gone, she felt the ice she had built break, and some heroes rushed in to help her.

"Are you alright?" Hawks was the first to reach her, the concern in his eyes overflowing. She nodded, though her mind was still reeling from the encounter. The warmth from his touch lingered, contrasting sharply with the chill that had settled in her bones.

"We need to get you to safety," another hero, Midnight asked, as she looked over the area, with a soothing voice, said as she helped her to her feet. "You're not injured, are you?"

"No, I'm fine, just need to get warm, or I’m gonna lose my fingers" she replied, her voice trembling. "He's gone now."

The heroes exchanged glances, a mix of relief and apprehension in their eyes. "Good," Midnight said, "but we need to take you to the hospital, any idea why this happened?"

She looked up at them deciding what to reply, she could tell them everything that had been going on, get herself on a watchlist OR she could lie to them, and live in constat panic hoping they won’t find out any time soon. She took a deep breath once she settled on her answer “No, I was at the convinience store, and he just attacked me” 

As they led her through the bustling streets, the golden hue of the setting sun seemed to mock her turmoil. She couldn't shake the feeling that this was far from over. His words echoed in her mind: "Don't die on me, I gotta see you at the end of this, however that goes." 

What did he mean? Was there still hope, or was it a final farewell? Her heart ached with the uncertainty, and the heroes' reassuring presence did little to quell the storm of emotions raging within her.

Hawks didn't leave her side, and insisted on sleeping in her room until her family arrives. She didn't feel good calling them her family anymore, knowing Touya was alive, she didn't feel like there was a place with them anymore. Before she could let the thoughts settle any further her hospital room door opened to reveal all the Todoroki siblings standing there.

"Are you alright?" She smiled at Shouto, and nodded showing him her fingers "I'm all warmed up, I'm only here for a couple hours to make sure nothing else is wrong" He narrowed his eyes at her and sat his hot side closest to her. As she smiled at him she greeted the others.

Hers or not, she loved them as if they were.

[agustdiv1ne]

˗ˏˋ꒰𖦹｡🧪⋆°｡2:54 p.m. — kang taehyun

genre: kinda meet cute? idk they're lab partners (as a stem major i am projecting heavily), college au

wc: 998

kang taehyun has terrible luck with lab partners.

he figures it comes with the territory — labs can be stressful, and sometimes the procedures written by the chemistry department are, at best, redundant, and, at worst, practically unintelligible. past partners have royally screwed him over by messing up the experiment halfway through, then banking on him to fix everything with the little time that is remaining. despite his annoyance, taehyun is well aware that he is not perfect; he has messed up experiments before, too, and he can easily admit that. however, unlike some of his peers (see: choi beomgyu, forensic science major), he will always clean up his own mess without anyone else’s help.

after last week’s class that only covered lab safety procedures, the first actual experiment day in his organic chemistry lab brings with it a looming sense of dread. he’s sitting outside the lab and waiting for class to begin, praying that he is not paired up with beomgyu again, not after the fiasco last semester in which he was seconds away from blowing up the science building.

within a few minutes, the lab instructor props open the door, announcing that partner pairings could be found near the fume hoods. once he walks up to the paper, he sighs, crosses his fingers, and searches for his name. directly next to his, he finds a name that he doesn’t recognize. despite this, he mentally fist pumps; anyone is better than beomgyu at this point.

“looks like we’re partners,” he hears from next to him. the finger he was using to search for his name lifts from the paper, and he swivels his head over to find you, donned in similar attire of a white coat and safety goggles, a small smile spread across your lips. you extend your arm, introducing yourself more formally. “i’m looking forward to working with you.”

“same here.” he moves to shake your outstretched hand, though he’s not sure if he means it yet, unsure of how you operate in a lab. really, it all depends on how well you work together.

“what’s your major?” you ask in an attempt to strike up conversation while you grab all of the necessary flasks and beakers and other tools required for this experiment. synthesis of aspirin — should be simple enough.

“biochem, and i’m also pre-med,” he says, before he’s asking for your own. your answer colors him shocked: you’re the same major, and on the same pre-med track? then…

“how come i’ve never seen you before?” he questions as he sets up some of the apparatus. you simply shrug in response while you finish setting up the other half. it’s impressive how quickly, how accurately, you complete it. is his bad luck finally gone? are you the lab partner that he’s been wishing for?

“i tend to keep to myself. ‘m not a fan of most people.” you’re already starting the experiment, scanning over the procedures to ensure that you’re doing everything correctly. “is the steam bath ready? the salicylic acid is all dissolved.”

“yeah, give it here.” you carefully slide it over the benchtop and he places the flask in the bath. as you wait the proper amount of time, he can’t help but ask, “am i most people?”

“i’m not sure yet. we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” and you’re almost smirking, a teasing lilt in your voice. it should be annoying after getting a total of three hours of sleep, and yet it only serves to intrigue him. you say that you don’t like people, and yet you’re basically a master at conversation; you can tease and crack jokes but still keep track of everything that is going on in front of you. it’s impressive. so far, he really likes you — in the most platonic, professional way possible, of course. you just met, and you're only lab partners. nothing more, nothing less.

the two of you work in almost perfect tandem until the experiment is finally complete, all data collected and post-lab questions already answered for the report that’s due next week. relief floods his veins the moment the two of you exit the stuffy, humid lab, stripping yourselves of your coats and groaning at the sensation of the post-experiment grime that clings to the skin of your faces. you haphazardly shove the article of clothing into your backpack, unbothered by potential wrinkles. you give him a playful salute before you’re moving to leave.

“good work, kang,” you comment, grinning tiredly as you walk backwards. you spin to face away from him and call over your shoulder, “see you in lecture!”

“actually,” he starts. you spin on your heel, a curious quirk in your brow as you stare at him. “you wanna grab some food? i’m sure you’re starving, too.”

and you’re smiling wider, and his heart is beating faster and no, he’s absolutely, positively not forming a little crush on you. he just admires your competence, the rational part of his brain supplies. you’re lab partners, completely professional, newly acquainted lab partners that barely even know each other, though he finds himself strongly hoping that you’ll say yes.

your fingers loosely grip the straps of your backpack, eyes lighting up, as you respond. “yeah, i'd like that. wanna get chick-fil-a?”

“it’s like you read my mind,” he quips, celebrating internally. “i’ve been craving that all day.”

as he falls into step next to you — the two of you complaining about the professors that you share and promising to sit next to each other and study together from now on — taehyun begins to think that luck is finally on his side.

“soooo,” he draws out, one eyebrow raised in an inquisitive expression. you glance over at him through the corner of your eye, urging him to continue with an impatient wave of your hand. “am i most people now?”

chuckling, you jostle his arm with your elbow. “nah, i think i might be able to tolerate you.”

masterlist

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 18: One Step Forward…

word count: 3.3k

ao3 | wattpad

Joel

Temptation had come knocking on my door once again. Only this time, temptation was pounding through my defenses with a battering ram, and she was dressed in skintight red leather.

Whereas the past few days had been consumed with the guilt of withholding the second of the stalker’s gifts from her, last night had been an endless repetition of increasingly indecent thoughts. My guilty conscience was left black and blue, fighting harder and harder to keep them at bay. The fact that for a moment I had actually considered kissing her means that I had incinerated boundaries that should have been impenetrable. Gwen is supposed to be able to trust me implicitly. She had been shaking out of fear only minutes prior, and yet, when she looked up at me with those curious, playful eyes, asking me about relationships no less…

My behavior was unacceptable. I hadn’t touched her, my aching body knew that much. It took firing up every muscle in my body to pull me back from her on that balcony. But it was the want to do so and the thoughts that followed that had me cursing at the ceiling until the early hours of the morning. In the dark, there were moments where I was delusional enough to think Gwen might actually feel the same. The electric pull to be as close to her as possible. It had to stop. And that starts with telling her about the second note.

Except, Gwen had made brunch plans with her friends the following morning to recap the night. It didn’t seem right to tell her before we left, like I had planned. It seemed like a potential few hours of peace, and with the guilt I’m carrying from last night, I feel like I owe that to her. Watching her laugh, with the sun pouring into the enclosed porch of the restaurant, it feels like I’m doing it for myself, too. I want to give her this peace, and the knowledge that I also have to be the one to take it away is littering my gut with guilt. A small, more selfish part of me wonders if I have to tell her at all. But it’s been several days, and as much as she deserves peace, she also deserves honesty. If I can’t be honest about my feelings, I need to be honest about this.

As we’re leaving the restaurant, she gives her friends one last hug before smiling up at me.

“Could you do something for me?” She asks.

Anything.

“Yes, ma’am.” Her eyes flicker just as they had when I said that before, though she recovers quickly.

“Do you think we could walk home instead? I know it’s probably more stressful for you, vigilance wise, but it’s not that far.”

The sun was still on her face. Knowing that there won’t be many days in the winter that I get to see how that light changes the color of her hair, I nod instantly.

“Of course.”

Gwen leads the way, and again my chest hurts that some of her assurance has been restored. Maybe I should tell her now, and get it over with. The street isn’t too busy, but I still run the risk that her stalker is nearby, and he could gauge her reaction, or worse, get some sick satisfaction if it upsets her.

If. It’s not an if, I know it will upset her.

“You’re scowling even more than usual,” She says lightly, swinging around the purse in her hand.

“I thought I was the observant one.” I grumble.

“Not the only one,” she corrects me, gazing upwards at some of the taller buildings. “Speaking of, I’ve never seen you do the tourist stare. Have you been to New York before?”

“The tourist stare?” I scoff, “I had never been to New York before,” I look down at her, and she’s squinting to look up at me. “I pay attention to what’s important.”

“Ah,” Gwen looks at me for a moment longer before returning to her usual, glazed over expression that she uses to move through crowds. Though now, we’re only sharing the street with a few others. The Upper West is relatively quiet on a Sunday afternoon.

“Is there anywhere you’d want to visit while you’re in the city?” She asks.

I chuckle, and Gwen’s face turns incredulous. “I just—haven’t given it any thought.” We turn around the next corner, which seems to be part residential, part boutique-type stores.

“You were flown to one of the best cities in the world, and you didn’t even think of visiting The Met or something?”

“It was an assignment. I had a lot of information to learn, and I focused on that. In this line of work, you don’t have many days off. Or any room for distractions.”

“Oh,” Gwen looks as though she never considered that. After some silence, she asks, “Do you…want a day off?”

“No.” I answer it too quickly, too forcefully. “That’s not what I mean. I’m used to it is all. Looking up tourist spots just isn’t part of my job.”

She considers this, stopping on the sidewalk. “I get that. But if you ever do need a day off—”

“I don’t.” I say it quietly, but firm.

“Okay,” she mimics my tone, and I anticipate her to start walking again, but she hesitates. “Okay, I lied. I didn’t just want to walk home, I wanted to take you here,” She uses her thumb to point behind her at a small men’s clothing store.

“That’s fine. Are you picking something up?” Maybe she wanted help carrying something without missing out on the fresh air.

“No, that’s the thing. I was hoping we could take you in here and get you a few new shirts.”

“I…” I’m dumbfounded, my mouth open slightly, but not making a move to formulate a real sentence. “Is there something wrong with my clothes?”

“What? No!” Her eyes grow wide and apologetic, “Not at all. I think your style suits you, actually,” Gwen looks down at her heeled boots, kicking something on the pavement that I don’t see.

“I just noticed you only have like, five shirts. And since you can’t exactly go shopping without keeping an eye on me, I figured…” She gestures back at the store.

I narrow my eyes at the window mannequins facing the street. I would expect them to be dressed in full suits with some sort of fancy, pocket square bullshit, but they weren’t. There was a leather jacket that looked worn enough that it could easily be from a Texas thrift store, and the other mannequins had on basic jeans, a sweater, and a t-shirt. Nothing about it scared me away, though everything about this made my guilt ten times worse.

“We don’t need to do that,” I say, and her face falls. She picks it right back up, flicking a stray hair out of her face.

“I should have been more clear. I’m more so giving you the illusion of choice.” Gwen turns on her heel, and heads inside the shop without another word. I tilt my head back, sighing up at the sky before following her in. Where she goes, I go. And she knows it.

The store is intimate on the inside, which makes this even more uncomfortable. There are three large racks with clothing, two dressing rooms at the far end, and a checkout counter to the right. Gwen is already in her element, chatting with the older woman behind that counter. I feel like I’ve morphed into one of the mannequins the way I’m standing by the door.

“Just some basics, you know. Maybe another pair of jeans, dark wash if you have any, some button-downs. That sort of thing.” Gwen wags her hand in the air, and the woman’s attention is drawn to me.

“I see,” The lady’s eyes scan me like I’m the newest experiment to enter her laboratory. “Is this him?”

“Yes,” Gwen grins, “Don’t be shy, Mr. Miller.”

I’d find her even more irritating if she didn’t look so damn proud of herself.

Before I know it, the lady, who’s name I learn is Julie, is measuring me. Soon after, she and Gwen are swapping opinions as they hand me a navy sweater, a light blue button-down, and a dark green t-shirt. I can’t say I hate what they pull for me, especially when Gwen holds things up to my chest to inspect. Glancing from a shirt to my eyes and my hair makes me feel more vulnerable than I have in years, but I don't mind. She’s clearly enjoying herself, which makes it easy for me to do the same.

When Julie shoves me toward the dressing room though, some of that enjoyment fades.

“I don’t think that's necessary,” I huff, even as she starts to close the curtain behind me.

“Humor us,” Julie smiles, yanking the last part of the curtain closed. The whole room is one giant mirror, and I decide it best to just put on everything at once so this will be over as soon as possible. I yank down my jeans, swapping for the new pair. To Julie’s credit, they fit well. Same with the blue button-down, but I only do up a few of the buttons before ripping the curtain open.

I run a hand through my hair, not sure what I’m supposed to announce in a situation like this.

“Oooo,” Julie coos. “That is certainly your color.”

My color? It’s the color of your commission maybe.

“What do you think, Miss Russell?” Julie asks.

Gwen has taken one of the two seats available in the shop, directly facing my dressing room. Her eyes start at my knees, gracing their way up and landing on my exposed chest just long enough for me to feel like I wanted to close the space between us.

“Did you try on the sweater?” She asks me.

I smirk as I’ve only been behind the curtain for a minute or two. “No.”

“Can you?” Gwen picks at one of her cuticles.

I start to unbutton my shirt in front of her before I remember where I am, and I quickly close the curtain. After emerging in the sweater, Gwen surveys me for a few long moments, before smiling at Julie.

“We’ll take it all.”

As Julie brings everything to the counter, I walk back over to the shop window. I can’t help but reach out and touch the jacket sitting in the sun. It would help to have something heavier like this in the coming months. Without another thought, I try it on over my regular clothes, stretching out my arms to make sure it fits as good as it feels.

I catch Gwen’s eye, and my heart nearly stops when I see her smiling.

“That looks like you,” She says.

“It’s nice and…heavy.” I’m not sure what adjectives fashionable New Yorkers use while shopping. But it does feel like a good fit.

“We’ll take that as well,” Gwen points the jacket out to Julie. This finally alerts me to what she’s trying to do, and I stalk over to the counter.

“I’m taking it. I’m the one buying it,” I reach for my wallet in the back pocket of my jeans as Julie rings it up.

“No you are not. My idea, my card.” Gwen slaps her card on the counter, clearly already prepared for battle.

Julie is unfazed by this, ringing up the shirts, jeans, and the jacket I take off and hand to her.

“The total is $1,826 today. Will that be debit or credit?”

“Credit,” Gwen and I say at the same time, though I nearly choke on the price. I’ve fixed appliances for cheaper. There ain’t no way this amount of items is worth that much.

“Can you not just be so—you for a minute and let me pay for it?” Gwen arches a brow.

I can’t handle the look in her eyes, the guilt of what still remains unsaid, and the thought of her purchasing all of this nonsense.

“If you pay, I’ll owe you several more self-defense courses. And I don’t think you want that.”

Gwen bites back a smile. “You can buy the jacket.”

Her bracelets jingle as she shoves her card in Julie’s direction, and she runs it through before I can object any further. I pay my portion, a whopping $725—definitely not a Texas thrift store price—and we’re out the door. Rodney’s car is out front, and I roll my eyes at how orchestrated this whole thing was.

“If you wanted to do this, you could have just asked.” I say as I open the door for her.

“You would have said no.”“That’s not true—”

Gwen gives me a wry look.

“Fine.” I close her door, getting in myself without another word.

The entire way home, my hands are sweating. All of the things I’ve done in this job, all the things I’ve seen, and this is what worries me? I should have told her as soon as it was delivered. I know that. But she had a hard enough time enjoying herself at the party as is. I never thought I’d see the day when I was borderline disappointed she didn’t feel like dancing with another man. Though some of those feelings are muddled—and best left unexplored—knowing about the second note would have only made that night worse for her. And that’s what I keep repeating to myself as we walk into her apartment.

Gwen has just made her way into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. I wait for a moment longer before wiping my hands on my jeans one final time and I ask her, “Can I speak to you for a minute?”

She takes a long swig. “Am I in trouble?”

“No. Just—maybe we could talk in the living room.”

“Okay…” The humor has died down in her voice as she follows me to the sofas.

I crack my knuckles, unsure of how to begin.

“Look, if the clothes thing is seriously going to make you uncomfortable we can work something else out.”

“It’s not that. Uh, thank you. Miss Russell, there’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. It’s something I should have told you sooner, I realize.”

I clear my throat, risking a glance at Gwen. She’s much more serious now, taking on the expression that is usually reserved for board meetings. The only difference is her eyes. They’re wider, with a strange dash of hopefulness that I’ve seen on occasion.

“Go on,” She encourages.

“You didn’t seem to be sleeping well lately. And when you mentioned the party, I felt like it would be good for you to get out and be around your people.” I pause, trying to calculate how she’s responding so far, but there’s nothing. She remains just as impassive. “Later that day, one of the receptionists said there was a package for you. I had hoped it was from someone else, but…it was from the stalker. I wanted to tell you right away, but I didn’t want to spoil the weekend for you. I just—feel like you should know.”

I try to hide how deep of a breath I take before looking up at her again. Her eyes have narrowed, and she’s sticking one fingernail into the pad of her thumb so sharply that I’d be surprised if it doesn’t break skin.

“How do you know it was him?” She asks quietly.

“The note. I thought we might have a lead now, since he used a gifting company this time…unfortunately he mailed in the cash with instructions on who to address the gift to.” At least I can give her more details than I had when it arrived, thanks to Angus.

Gwen shakes her head, looking at the coffee table between us. “What did it say?”

Even now, I don’t want to tell her. Just because she deserves to know doesn’t make it easier when I know it will scare her.

“It said…‘I’m glad to see you’ve returned. I look forward to the day when you’re on the top floor. Then I’ll always know where to find you.’”There’s a single flash of panic across her face. And then, only a moment longer, and she’s back to her usual composure.

“You should have told me.” She whispers, her tone several degrees cooler than before.

“I agree.” She looks as though she didn’t expect that response, but I can tell she’s far from done with me.

“What was the package?”

“Candy, mostly. And more white roses.”

She shakes her head again, her lips pressing together. “I have a right to know these things. To choose whether or not I put myself, or more importantly, my friends at risk by going out. Even you could’ve—” She stops herself, shaking her head once more. “I wouldn’t have gone.”

“You needed to go.”

Gwen’s laugh is riddled with irritation. “And you think you get to decide that? God, what is with you people?” She places both of her hands on either side of her face, dumbfounded.

“I don’t get to decide. I should have told you…but you also should have gone.” I say quietly, trying to determine who these other ‘people’ are.

“Withholding information so that I do what you think I should do is essentially deciding for me. That’s all everyone does. You withhold information in some weird act of self-preservation, assuming that I can’t handle it, meanwhile, someone could get hurt!” Gwen’s voice rises as she stands from the couch. Now I’m lost.

“I would never put your friends in harm’s way, Miss Russell. They were safe. We all were.”

She scoffs. “I don’t—I don’t believe you. You say you’re here for my protection, but how do I know? How do I know you’re not just reporting back to base? Keeping me out of…trouble?”

“Miss Russell…I’m not following.” I thought we were past this by now. Who would I be reporting to? I doubt her father would want to know what she’s up to all the time, and I doubt Gwen would believe it if he did. “How can I prove to you that all I care about is your safety?” Emotionally, and physically. Though I don’t think I’ve ever cared about the former this much before, and it’s taking everything in me right now not to express it.

Gwen takes a few sharp breaths, eyes searching mine. Her hurt is evident even if she doesn’t realize.

“You can’t,” She sounds defeated, turning on her heel toward the hallway. Halfway there, she stops in her tracks, facing me with a pinning stare.

“You… do not treat me like that. Not like them. You tell me when these things happen. Got it?” It was the voice of the heir to the global media conglomerate. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t the one to hire me. That tone told me that if I didn’t adhere to what she asked…Well, she might not be able to make me lose my job, but she could certainly make me regret taking it.

Gwen raises a brow at me, clearly waiting for a response.

“I’ll tell you,” I say.

All she does is sigh before leaving me alone in the living room.

I knew she would be upset, and angry, most likely. I didn’t expect the hurt I saw on her face. Or that she would rope me in with whomever else she felt didn’t respect her. And she still doesn’t believe that I’m not tracking her whereabouts and reporting them to someone else? She must mean her father, or the other board members. But why would they? And if they did hire me to do that, why would it matter? Unless they wanted to be kept apprised of where she shops, eats, and sleeps. Other than that, what could they possibly want to know?

And more importantly, why did that possibility worry her so much?

Next Chapter

Previous chapter

Masterlist

[abiiors]

“Come here and rest next to me. You’ve worked hard enough today.” for Ross please, reader works a highly stressful job, long hours etc and Ross would love her to give it up but she feels like she will rely on him too much if she doesn’t work

I love writing soft Ross so thank you for the ask 🥺

I’ve changed the actual dialogue a smidge to fit the context but here you go <3

Exhaustion

Ross is already making coffee for the third time today. 

He’s in the kitchen, waiting for the french press to do its thing, while he gets your favourite mug out for you. It’s yellow, printed with tulips all over; a cute little thing he randomly saw in a little shop in Chicago that instantly made him think of you. But the mug fails to brighten him up today. 

‘Do you want some snacks with it, love?’ he calls out from the kitchen, strains his ear for your answer but nothing. The house is silent. 

He doesn’t bother asking again. If you want some, then he’ll just run back to the kitchen and get it for you. Instead, he picks up the steaming mug and makes his way to the study. 

You sit hunched over on the comfy chair, knees pulled to your chest, chin resting on top. The music in your ears is so loud that he can practically hear the heavy guitar riff outside of your headphones. 

‘I got you coffee, darling,’ he calls out but you don’t budge. 

Your eyes are wide open, focused on the laptop in front of you, staring at the document on the screen intently, one hand rests on the mouse, the other massages your temples and your neck every so often. 

‘Coffee, darling,’ he calls out again and tries to pull your headphones back with one hand. 

You startle slightly and swivel in the chair to look at him. ‘Jesus!’ you breathe, hand on your chest and then your eyes move from him to the mug in his hands. ‘Oh, thank you. I’m getting so drowsy, honestly.’ 

He hands you the mug which you accept gratefully, sighing at the first sip. Which is how you miss his assessing gaze on you and the frown that comes right after.

‘So take a break for a bit.’

You look at him as if he’s just suggested the wildest thing possible. And he realises that he’s going to have to put up a fight.

The table you’re working on is cluttered. There are papers strewn haphazardly and some files are peaking out from underneath. Pens with their caps missing, a plate of half-eaten toast and marmalade. The previous two cups of coffee; one with dried brown remnants and the other with cold, stale liquid still in it. This is not a good sign, not a good sign at all. 

‘Come on,’ he nudges again, ‘when was the last time you got up from that chair?’

But you won’t answer him because he knows you don’t have an answer for him. It leaves him no choice but to grab the chair and swivel it some more to properly face him. 

‘Not now, Ross!’ you complain, already trying to move your attention back to the laptop, ‘I need to get this done today.’ But he’s having none of it.

‘Even if it kills you?’ he challenges.

You roll your eyes and scoff lightly, ‘let’s not be dramatic, okay?’

Okay, so you’re not in the best of moods but this conversation can’t wait. ‘I’m not being dramatic,’ he tries as gently as possible. His intention is not to antagonise, he simply needs you to listen to him. 

‘You were up until 2:30 last night. I know because I woke up to find the lights still on.’ He's kneeling down in front of your chair now, his hands in your lap and yours clutching onto the coffee cup for dear life. ‘And you’ve been awake since 7 back here again.’

Now that he’s looking at you intently, he realises that he does not like what he sees. The bags under your eyes are worse than ever. There’s a permanent frown etched onto your face. And worst of all are your red eyes. He knows you’ve been straining them for far longer than you should be, that they must be burning by now. And you look like you're minutes away from crying at all times. 

Even now as you try to look at him with exasperation, he still sees you holding back tears. Worry twists in his gut, surges urgently.

‘Baby, I understand,’ you swallow past the lump in your throat before speaking again, ‘I know I haven’t spent much time with you this week—’

‘This is not about me,’ he interrupts firmly, shaking his head. 'This is about you.'

You close your eyes for so long that he wonders if you’ve fallen asleep on the spot. But then your hands move, bringing up the mug in front of your mouth again. This time, however, you press it against your forehead instead of taking a sip. He watches as you lean into the warmth of the mug, as your face relaxes just a smidge and he knows what’s happening. 

��You have a headache.’ It’s not a question. It’s a statement. 

You don’t even take a beat before answering. ‘The coffee will fix it.’ 

Now he truly can’t help his exasperation. ‘No, sleep will fix it,’ he retorts. He knew you are hardworking but when did you become such a workaholic? He can barely recall three moments from this week when you didn’t have a laptop or some files in front of you, when you just sat with him and talked. Or slept. 

‘Alright, that’s it!' he stands up to make a point. He is serious about this and he's going to be stern if he needs to. 'You either come with me right now or I’m carrying you out of here. You need to rest. You’ve worked hard enough for today.’

And he’s absolutely ready to do it too. He’s also prepared to argue that you don’t need to work so much at all, that he’s perfectly capable of taking care of you but that is a subject he will not happily broach again. Your opinions on it are clear to him and he can’t bring himself to take your independence away. Besides, the pressure aside, he knows how much you love your job. 

He also fully knows he can pick you up and carry you out with him and straight to bed. You would be mad at first and might even try to argue with him but he’s willing to risk a sour mood if that means you get some proper shut-eye. 

To his surprise, your lower lip wobbles. And in the smallest, most heart-breaking voice he’s ever heard from you, you utter one single word. 

‘Okay.’

Ross wastes no time in setting the mug and shutting the laptop for you. He holds your hand in his all the way to your bedroom and helps you get in. Even tucks you in like a little kid. Then he climbs in from the other side and pulls you on half on top of him.

‘I’m sorry I made you worry,’ you speak in a small voice. 

He can see the effects of lying down, your eyes are already half shut. Your voice practically comes out as a whisper. And so he tightens his arms around you further.

‘Forget about that for now, okay?’ he presses a kiss into your hair and stays like that. Then his fingers come up to play with a few strands of your hair, just the way you like it.

It takes little to no time for your breathing to deepen, for you to snuggle further into him. All he can do is hope that he can have a proper chat with you about this when you wake up.

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

sometimes that's just the way that it goes

or, joel smallishbeans joins the tokyo lift (an mcyt blaseball au fic)

the thing about joel is- well, there's a lot of things about joel, but the most relevant thing, is that he never really got in to blaseball.

he'd gone to few of grian and jimmy's games in college, been brought to an equal number of pearl's minor league games, and mostly paid attention in conversation about it after his entire friend group became obsessed with the splort seemingly overnight.

but then he'd moved out to tokyo after college, where the blaseball scene had yet to expand to a proper minor league; let alone a major league. he got a non-splorts related job. he had non-splorts related hobbies. and he was suddenly in a timezone 17 hours ahead from all his friends who cared about these things.

so maybe he managed to forget basically all the knowledge he had about the game. sue him.

by the time the ILB expanded to tokyo with the lift, joel was certainly more knowledgeable on the splort than he'd ever been. he had basically the entire league's schedule in his calendar at all times, he voted in the elections, he kept a close eye on weather forecasts across the globe. a small side effect of most of your friends playing a splort that started killing people 10 years ago.

but here's the thing- despite joel's expansive knowledge of what's happening the ILB on any given day, despite his stockpile of votes, despite his constant presence as someone's plus one at any given ILB event or party-

despite all of that...

joel doesn't really know how to play.

which is a problem, when, on a whim that he now knows was definitely some divine intervention at play, he decides to actually go to one of his friend's games on a day they happen to be playing in tokyo. and it becomes more of a problem when an umpire goes rogue, and in the blink of an eye, joel finds himself vaulting a railing and picking up a bat that, until two minutes ago, belonged to a toyko lift player.

and now belongs to a new tokyo lift player.

him.

shit.

and that is how joel finds himself here, on a stool in stress and false's bathroom, staring at his actively-being-dyed hair in the mirror and considering.

he didn't know stress and false very well before joining the lift. he'd met them, of course, at the aforementioned parties and events he'd been brought to, but they weren't close by any means. but seeing as they were the only members of his new team he'd been properly introduced to prior to becoming their coworker, he found himself following them around like a lost puppy from day one. they seemed mostly endeared by this, so far, which joel was taking as an embarrassing but necessary fact of his new career.

the "sitting in their bathroom getting his hair dyed" part of his current situation had come about a few days prior, when the wild card teams were announced and the lift had officially made their first ever post season. joel's remark that they should do something for the occasion had spiraled into stress lending him her bathroom and hair dye to dye the streak in his hair pink in celebration.

by the time they actually got around to it, the lift had been knocked out of the post season by the wild wings in a two game sweep, but joel hadn't backed out, so here they were.

stress was mixing the pink dye while joel got the green bleached out of his hair, humming along to a song joel wasn't really listening to. the bathroom isn't large enough to fit false as well, with joel on a stool, so she's hovering outside doing... something. joel's kinda lost track of her exact movements due to his aforementioned considering.

joel hasn't actually played a lot with the lift, yet. he'd joined the team in the last 20 days or so of the season, so they've gotten a good 20 games worth of a look at his... let's say, skill, and they've all presumably figured out that he's not very good. no one's said anything, but that doesn't mean they haven't been thinking it. but it's also possible they haven't been thinking it, and if joel brings it up right now, then they'll all realize that he's terrible. but also, joel knows he needs to fix this problem, because he's seen what happens to bad players.

so he's sucking it up.

"stress, can i admit something to you?" joel says, as confident and nonchalant as he can manage. it's not very nonchalant.

"hm?" stress says, looking up from where she's fidgeting about. "sure, i don't see why not."

joel takes a deep breath before he continues. "now, i don't know if any of you have noticed this yet, but... i don't really know how to play blaseball."

this is when false chooses to poke her head in from whatever she'd been doing to comment. "sorry, repeat yourself?"

"well, despite the fact that all of my friends have played this game for years, i haven't been paying much attention to how it actually works. so i don't think i actually know how to play, which wasn't a problem for me until about three weeks ago. and now it's a very big problem."

"oh," false says, looking him up and down. joel tries not to feel scrutinized. "i wouldn't have guessed that from your stats, but yeah, in hindsight, that makes sense."

"you looked at my stats?" joel sputters.

"yeah is that not-" false looks at stress, desperation clear on her face. "do people not usually do that?"

"i mean, i don't, but i don't know what all you other geezers are up to."

joel has yet to move on from the stats thing. "i haven't even looked at my stats. what- are they good? actually, no i don't want to know. or, if they're bad, i don't want to know. if they're good you can tell me."

false laughs. "you're fine, overall. not a good pitcher, but that's not your problem. everything else is pretty average, but your batting is your best stat, and it's pretty up there. not really indicative of someone who doesn't know how to play."

"oh!" joel thinks about this. he doesn't think he's been a particularly special batter thus far, but he's not objecting to whoever's quantifying his skill saying he's good. not at all. "ok, well, i kinda know how to play. i think. i know enough that i've been able to be passable, but i want to be good next season."

"are you asking us to coach you?" stress says as she starts the tap to wash the bleach out of joel's hair.

"uh, if you want to, yeah. you're both good, i think."

false, who is now leaning in the doorway instead of poking her head in, laughs again. "yeah, i'd say we're alright." from her tone, joel suspects they're actually very good, and he once again has no idea what he's talking about.

"but we'd love to!" stress says, lightly pushing joel to put his head into the sink. her next words are slightly drowned out by the running water. "obviously the lift practice in the off season already, but we could spend a bit of time doing one on one stuff with you. show you the ropes, you know?"

joel, still in the sink, answers with a thumbs up. as he sits back up and takes the towel stress offers him, he sees false leave the doorway and go back to whatever she was doing, decision seemingly reached.

joel dries off his hair and stress moves in with the pink dye and a dye brush, humming along to another song he doesn't know. he definitely doesn't need her help dying his hair- he's been doing it on his own for years now. but she'd offered the dye she already had so he didn't have to buy a new color, and apparently that offer came along with her doing most of the work as well.

and for once in his life, joel is going to take the help without a fuss.

[timaeusterrored]

(The Northern Lights)

Depression was a common thing in the Eurodyne household. It normally hit at different times luckily enough, their bad weeks never usually lined up. But the one time it did, Kerry booked them a trip. He needed to get them both out of the city, away from stress and reminders.

Kerry wanted to spice things up, go somewhere Vax had never been. He tried to keep it to his place in Florida or Italy simply for his husband’s comfort, but he felt they needed something new, and see something Vax would be all over.

So next thing he knew, they were on their plane to Iceland. Vax was mostly quiet, lost in thought as he usually was as Kerry answered emails and did the less fun part of his job.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head?” Kerry spoke up after about an hour of silence, making Vax look up. His exhaustion was hitting him hard, and Kerry wished he didn’t over work himself like this.

“Static. I think if I had a single thought right now I’d explode.” Vax got up from his seat and moved to cuddle up with Kerry, the older man moving his laptop away in favor of his favorite person.

“Understandable… try not to think too hard. You take your meds today?”

“Yes Vik.” Vax mumbled sarcastically.

“Hey now, don’t get sassy because I’m making sure you’re doing what you’re supposed to.” Kerry held him to his chest, looking out the window. He hoped he had planned this right.

When they landed, Kerry got them checked into their lodge as soon as possible, they had a tour to get too and he could see that Vax’s interest had been caught.

He had Vax out of the lodge in ten minutes flat, basically dragging him. Vax had no idea what was going on, but he was into it. And Kerry had to keep that interest for the next few hours.

Okay, the beginning of the tour was kind of a drag, Kerry wouldn’t lie… but goddamn was it worth it when he saw what he had dragged his husband all the way up for.

“Aurora.” Vax breathed, staring at the night sky with childlike wonder. Kerry was glad the Space station hadn’t completely ruined the stars for Vax.

Kerry leaned into his side, for warmth and support. This was totally worth it.

“Can I-“

“Yes you can tell me facts, that’s why we’re here.” Vax was his own personal stars podcast sometimes.

“So basically, the Northern lights, or Aurora borealis, is actually sun storms. But our atmosphere protects us from them, they’re as pretty as they are violent.”

“Sounds like someone I know.”

“Yeah Venus is fucking violent sometimes-“

“You asshole. You knew who I was talking about.”

“A n y w a y, speaking of Venus, did you know that the lights were named after the Roman goddess of dawn, Aurora? And the Greek god of winds, Boreas?”

“I did not.”

“Yeah, it’s really fuckin cool when you think about it-“

Vax proceeded to take about the lights for the next 15 minutes, until they had faded and his face fell a bit.

“What?” Kerry frowned.

“It’s just said something so beautiful only lasts for a short amount of time. We’re lucky we even got to see them.”

“…kinda like life.”

Vax’s arm tightened around him, and Kerry looked up to find grey eyes staring down at him.

“You didn’t drag me up here to serve divorce papers did you? Because we are stuck in this shit together, no one else could possibly-“

Kerry cut him off with a kiss, holding his face with a small smile when they pulled back.

“I’m genuinely amazed you haven’t exploded yet… I’m not going anywhere.” Kerry whispered, bumping their foreheads together.

“Good…” Vax whispered back, looking back up at the stars.

[largishcat]

hi! i saw your post a few days ago about meditation, and i wanted to ask if you have any tips on how to get started, or if you'd like to share your experiences if you're comfortable. I've been trying to get into meditation since forever, but i have chronic "think too much worry too hard" disease and none of the apps ever worked for me....

(general disclaimer i am not an expert etc) so weirdly enough, meditation is actually great for sufferers of “think too much worry too hard” syndrome, although it really seems like it shouldn’t be. a while back, I had a massive, terrible depressive episode, and one of the major symptoms i suffered from was getting caught in negative thought spirals that I couldn’t get out of. it felt like my brain was dashing itself against my skull like a caged animal. terrible time. i turned to meditation out of desperation, and it really did help me. i credit 3 things with enabling me to drag myself out of that uhhhh 18 month depressive episode

dropping out of college and moving across the country

keeping up a daily meditation practice

getting a job at a bakery that I hated but did force me to go outside and interact with people

the thing about meditation is, it won’t make negative thoughts go away, but it will a) decrease the gravity of them, and b) it will make you less scared of them

because negative thoughts are, in fact, scary and they can hurt. repressing that shit is a genuine way to prevent harm to yourself, ESPECIALLY if you are prone to negative thought spirals. what meditation did for ME was it allowed me to not spiral. a negative thought would happen, but it would not catch in my brain like a hook anymore. it would happen, and then I would move on, and it was fucking great

this has already gotten long but i do have some tips!!

dont bother with the fuckin apps they’re all corporate bullshit these days. i DID use headspace when i was first starting out, but that was years ago when they still gave you the entire first module for free. there are free guided meditations on youtube, use those. they’ll teach you the basic techniques (counting, noting, visualization) just as well

make it easier. with yoga, if you can’t get into a pose, they’ll tell you to do a modified version. it’s the same. there is this very basic meditation exercise where you breath slowly and count to ten. one in, two out, etc. and you just have to get to ten without being distracted. when i first started meditating, I couldn’t fucking do it. i could NOT make it to ten without getting caught in a spiral. so i made it easier. i counted to two, over and over again, until i got the hang of it

it’s all about the breath. some bozos (headspace guy) will tell you you can breath however you want, this is NOT TRUE. it’s the breath that guides you into the meditative state. i guess it’s possible for you to achieve it if you’re breathing shallowly, but i know it’s way easier when you do the traditional deep, slow, gentle breathing. it literally forces your body to relax and your heart to slow

make sure you’re at a point in your life where you can afford to be emotionally tender. this is the warning label i was talking about. if you have stuff to bring up, it’s coming up, and it won’t be super great. you are GOING to be in your feelings for a bit. it lasts a few days to a couple weeks. if your life/work is very stressful and likely to press on that bruise, decide if it’s worth it. and make sure you’re prepared to do self care. you have to take care of yourself like you have the flu, essentially

you aren’t getting the full benefits until you achieve the full meditative state, and it might take a minute to get there. so, in my experience, there are like three states you pass through during each session. 1) there’s the more or less awake state, when you’re first starting. this is when you first close your eyes and start concentrating on your breathing. it’s very easy to get distracted during this stage, and you might even get stuck here as you’re just starting out. 2) the next stage is the BAD TIMES stage, this is when the bad feelings are going to trickle up to the surface. keep breathing through it, use whatever technique you’re practicing this session (noting, visualization, just plan counting) and keep going. you DONT want to stop at this stage, you will feel terrible. but the good news is you probably won’t get stuck here. 3) the final state beyond that is true mediation

you’ll know when you reach the correct state because it’s awesome. i experience it as a sense of coolness and lightness, like im full of crisp fall air. i think other people might experience it as warmth? it’s probably different for everybody. breath becomes naturally deep and you stop being bored. just breathing and existing become perfectly fulfilling activities (that’s the altered mental state, babyyyy). thoughts may be gone or they may still be drifting around, but none of them will seem dire, your breath is more interesting than them. and the great part is you can hang out here as long as you want! coming back up is as easy and wriggling your toes and opening your eyes. or you can just fall asleep from here if you’re doing a bedtime meditation. even a few minutes in this state is so nice and restorative, and the sense of calm lingers

this turned into an essay, but i hope this was helpful!

[delivish]

first lines in 2024

i've been a little quiet on here because i've actually been plugging away with writing, but i was tagged by the super-nice and super talented @betaot4 (seriously, go read their works, they are so. good) and thought it would be fun! here's two excerpts, one from my butters/scott fic, the other from a secret project 👀 the malkinstotch fic was technically started dec 27th, but idc idc, it counts, lol

Malkinstotch Fic:

After the break was physical education. Scott dressed in his shirt and gym shorts and skipped energetically out to the field.  He’d always liked P.E. Most of the kids he went to school with thought physical education was just a gimme class — and, to be fair, they were right — but Scott welcomed the opportunity to get out and exercise, even if he got tired pretty easily and was almost always picked last for everything. His mother hated that he was still taking P.E., even though, according to her, he had a serious medical condition and should have been excused. Scott didn’t see what the big deal was. His mother worried about him getting hurt, and maybe that was fair; any injuries he got always took him twice as long to heal on account of his being diabetic.  But then again, his mother had spent his entire life worrying about him getting hurt, often and loudly, much to the chagrin of his childhood Pediatricians. If wiping his ass had the potential to hurt him, Scott was halfway convinced his mother would be doing it for him. He loved her, but her concern for him sometimes felt like a watery grave slowly being filled one cup at a time. Not enough to kill you outright, but you’d eventually drown in it all the same.  It was raining out, so they were inside today. Scott could see Butters standing on the other side of the basketball court. Butters turned his head to one side as Scott looked, presumably to catch Clyde Donovan’s latest lame joke, and laughed. Scott watched Butters’ eyes go soft at the corners, big and bluey-green, watched the magical way they seemed to shift more green than blue and vice versa whenever the light hit them just right; whenever Butters laughed it was like Scott was pressing into an old bruise, the way it hurt and felt kind've good all at once. Butters was like a controversial flavor of pie — banana cream, maybe — in that not everyone liked him, but it was okay because he was still sweet.

Secret Project:

His Narcotics Anonymous group met every Friday evening at 8 PM in the gymnasium of the local high school.  Butters didn’t get off work until seven-thirty, though, and the veterinary clinic where he was employed as a tech was forty-five minutes across town. With traffic, he was almost always fifteen or twenty minutes late, on top of being tired, stressed out, and covered in animal hair — or worse. Bebe had told him over and over again that it was okay. She knew he was working, and she didn’t care how late he showed up as long as he kept showing up. Her reassurances, gentle as they were, had fallen on deaf ears. Butters’ stomach twisted itself into knots every time he walked in here, bile slicking the back of his throat, anxiety slithering under his skin like some parasitic worm that existed only to amplify all his bad thoughts. If it hadn’t been for his therapist, Butters probably would have stopped going to these stupid meetings a long time ago. But Stan, in an uncharacteristic display of offering an actual fucking opinion, seemed to think it would do him some good to see that other people had struggled with this, that he wasn’t as alone as he’d always felt.  Butters chuckled miserably as he parked the older model white pickup he’d traded in his Mini-Cooper for when he moved back into town. His old car had been cute when he lived in Los Angeles, but he was in the boonies now, as rural as he could possibly get without becoming an actual hermit. Maybe these meetings would do him some good, but god, all he could think was how much his mother would have hated the thought of him coming here, how she would have berated him for being such a weak, useless, fairy-fucking moron who couldn't keep his shit together.  Which, of course, was part of the problem. 

I am tagging @thegloriousninjaturtle and @stennyandbaddecisions!! Totally optional, ofc!! 💕

[freeuseanddemand]

Sarah's Head of the Household

They take care of me, so long as I make myself available to take care of them. If you didn't know any better, you might think I was their slave, but I'm not... unless you count being a slave to pleasure. I was actually the one that brought everyone together.

I was in need of somewhere to live. My previous roommates were getting married and wanted the place to themselves as soon as possible. Since my name wasn't even on the lease, I was in no position to argue, and I was genuinely happy for them.

I found the dream home for rent. It was a huge old Victorian with a turret out front and a balcony out back. Every room felt massive compared to everywhere else I have lived. One of the bedrooms was in the turret, I had to have it, I needed to feel like a princess. Of course, I could never afford it on my own.

So I started talking to everyone I knew, but first I needed to clear my head.

"Sarah, the place sounds amazing, but I'm not really looking to move. I don't have any roommates right now and I like it that way. Plus, you and I could never afford this on our own, so we would need more roommates." Shane said as my head bobbed in his lap. He paused for a moment holding my hair tight to control the motion of my mouth on his cock. "The only thing swaying me right now, is knowing that you have no ability to turn me down, and you let me do whatever I want."

Shane pulled my head up so I could finally respond. After taking a moment to catch my breath, "...I know roommates can be a lot of stress, but I want this bad enough that I promise to be the arbiter of all disputes."

I grabbed his spit covered cock and started stroking, "And you can always take your stress out on me, because you're right, I have no ability to turn you down. I always do whatever you want because you come nowhere near my limits, so I know I can safely give you full control of my body."

Shane, still holding my head by my hair, shoved me back down. His cock was in my throat now and he was just holding me there. I was suppressing my gag reflex as the tears started rolling down my face. "I'll consider it," There's just something about telling a guy that he hasn't reached your limits that always makes them just magically get more rough, it hasn't failed me yet. I could tell that Shane was in, and the house just got so much better.

The next day I was at a small party with some friends. There I found Darren and Tonya. I had known them both for a bit just being in the same friend groups. They didn't take much convincing, Darren was flirting with me all night and Tonya couldn't seem to take her eyes off me.

Darren may have been trying too hard to get in me, but I was desperate to find roommates. If I weren't on a mission, I would have taken him somewhere to make him cum and get it over with. It was hard for me, I'm not known for sexual restraint. He was cute and I was sure with the way he was lusting over me, I could make the same deal I made with Shane. I was right.

Tonya was infatuated with me, but I was loving her all the same. It was like we were already best friends and she was the only one that knew it. We were talking and drinking well past everyone leaving or passing out, aside from Darren and the host.

Tonya finally decided to explain why she's been so fixated on me that night. "Sarah, you clearly don't remember," she laughed, "you and I have hung out together at parties like this at least six times over the last year. You usually just party way harder than you did tonight and don't remember anything the next day.

I laughed, knowing she was right, and if it weren't for my mission to find roommates, I would have probably partied until I forgot tonight as well. "Like, this is the longest you and I have gone into a party without something happening between us. Last time, you showed up here ready to go, you were eating me out within the first 20 minutes of being here."

I pretended to be shocked, "no way! Am I that easy?"

Tonya, trying not to laugh too hard, "you're the easiest and the best at what you do. Our first threesome, I wasn't feeling like being fucked by a guy that night, so you just kissed me and told me not to worry, that you would be the 'cocksleeve.' You were amazing, the way you devoured me sitting on your face while you were being railed, heaven!"

I was disappointed that I couldn't remember that or any other time Tonya and I had been together. "It's perfect, I've been looking for a new place to live for months now, but everything has been out of my price range and this place sounds amazing. I can't wait to be roomies," Tonya said with pure glee on her face.

"I just want you to be aware of one thing, Tonya," I said with a more serious tone, "the way you've known me to be at parties, I'm like that... all the time. Not that I blackout all the time, but I am very much free-use. I made deals with the other two who agreed to move into the apartment. Well for them it's a deal, for me it's a dream."

Tonya was so excited to hear this, "Shut up, no way! That's amazing! I can't wait to use you too! I was already hoping we would fuck more living together, but you're saying I can just use you whenever? I'll sign the lease now, please."

I just laughed and leaned in to start kissing her, but after just a peck, Tonya got up, "I have to run and get some rest before work, but don't worry, that won't be the last time our lips touch. Give me your number so you don't forget this night too!"

After everything was said and done, we all moved in. It was overwhelming at first, like they were testing me and my limits. I loved taking care of all of them though, no matter how utterly exhausted I was. They convinced me to quit my job just a few months after we all settled in. I know this won't last forever, but I have never been happier.

My job these days is cleaning up the house, cooking, and being fuck toy, a stress ball, and a bed warmer. I do everything around the house that they need, I don't have to make any decisions, and they just grab me and use me wherever, whenever. They do so well sharing their time with me, but I wish they would use me as a group more often. Regardless, being the focus of group free-use, is more than I could have ever dreamed.

[youwouldntlietopapa]

Could you please do “The hug where they come running at you, jumping into your outstretched arms, making you stumble backward a little at the added weight of their body pressing against yours. No matter though, because you’re both laughing, arms only tightening around each other.” with a female reader and Papa Copia! Thanks!

I'm so sorry, I couldn't get this mental image out of my head. And now this exists. Enjoy!

___________________________________________________________

Anyone who has ever watched a full grown man make a split second, extremely questionable decision only to realise his mistake too far into committing to it will know exactly the look on Copia’s face as he flew through the air. (Okay, flew might be a bit of an overstatement, but still…) But I’ve gotten ahead of myself…

The show itself had gone about as well as anyone could have hoped. No technical disasters, no weather problems, Swiss hadn’t fallen off his platform or set his guitar on fire, and Copia was in fine form. For a band who’s performance mode typically left them all sharing a single brain cell, it was damned fun to watch. And, thank the dark lord, you actually got to see it in person.

It wasn’t always possible to come along on tour, but this time was lucky. It was chaos, it was exhausting, it was frustrating, and it was also more fun than anything else in the world. Besides, not being stuck back at the Abbey, counting down the days for them to return and spending evenings on video calls, trying to be grateful for even that would always be preferable.

The fact that Copia always walked off stage absolutely desperate to drag you back to the bus to unwind didn’t hurt either. At least, not in a way that you didn’t enjoy immensely.

When the last chords of the last song played and the screaming crowd became one final wave of noise and devotion, you waited well off to the side. Out of the way. Beaming so hard your cheeks ached. If it was possible to be more proud of anyone, you were sure that it couldn’t be much more. The day had been hot and sticky, but the night had gotten blessedly cool and a breeze made everything feel like it would be all right. All you could think about was the small bus shower and the bed waiting for you both.

Copia walks off stage after the final bows, still in business mode, talking with the ghouls. They always need a few minutes. Going over everything, discussing any issues, checking in with the backstage team. And you wait patiently. Once he sheds the frontman mask, you’ll have your Copia all to yourself.

Watching them all together is entertainment enough as it is. Swiss is already stuffing whatever junk food he get his hands on into his mouth. The ghoul is always famished after a show and it’s let him eat or deal with a hangry boy. Everyone has agreed letting him eat is easier. Dew is smoking away. Literally. Smoke rising off him and drifting off on the breeze. It will dissipate once he unwinds. Phantom stands quietly aside, hands folded in front of himself, tail twitching, just waiting to be released to go run circles around the tour bus to burn off the adrenaline. And the rest are either chattering away or half listening while more engaged in their own post-show rituals.

When Copia waves them off, they scatter quickly. Too many things to do, too much trouble to get into. They’ll be back on the bus before it leaves, but until then, you’re quite happy to not worry about it. Because the man you’re really most interested in takes a deep breath, shakes off the stress and the worry, allowing himself to really bask in the glow of a great ritual and the adoration of the crowd. The void where the tension he’d been holding is filled immediately with the need for you. The desperate, frantic, all consuming need that grinding on a mic stand will never satisfy. His eyes scan the backstage until he spots you.

“Amore!” He calls. There’s a hunger in his eyes and every stagehand who’s been around any length of time instinctively moves out of the path between him and you.

He doesn’t walk over. He doesn’t pause to chitchat along the way. Copia runs for you. Somewhere between spotting you, and reaching you, however, some very dubious decision making takes place. You’re not sure when exactly, but you can say for certain when it is that he realises it’s a bad idea.

Around the same time you realise what it is, exactly, that he’s doing.

And definitely after it’s too late to change his course of action.

Your arms are held out for him, expecting an absolutely rib crushing hug. But you watch, rather helplessly as he twists his torso with the last few steps, leaps off the ground, throwing himself directly at you. Like having Satan’s own golden disco ball hurled at you without warning.

“Copia!” You cry uselessly. Objects in motion being what they are and all. The hug you were expecting rapidly becomes the catch you were unprepared for.

You stumble backward, trying with everything you’ve got to avoid both knocking over anything expensive and dropping your most precious treasure. A feat that would be, admittedly, made a little easier if you hadn’t had the air knocked out of your lungs. But beggars can’t be choosers. And, by some miracle, you find yourself still standing, holding a very surprised Copia, bridal style.

“Amore! I… I don’t know what came over me! Forgive me!” He looks at you like you’ve just grown a second head, looking from your face to your arms holding him up (a little shakily, but all the same) and back again. Finally breaking into a delighted laugh. “Why didn’t you tell me you are so strong???”

You wheeze a soft laugh, feeling your legs shaking a bit. “Copia… my love… don’t take this the wrong way… but you weigh a fucking ton. I’m going to set you down, all right?”

“Of course! Of course!” He lands on his feet in front of you when you drop his legs, and he wraps you in a tight hug. “You are so strong, angelo mio. Mmmm… I like that. Will you show me more? In private?” His teeth tease your neck and his hands wander.

“I think I can manage that.” You giggle and he scoops you up, the same way you’d been holding him. No need to ask where he’s taking you. There’s only one place it could be. Your arms circle his neck and you press yourself tightly against him.

Copia grins cheekily all the way back to the bus, leaning in close as you near the door. “Did you see me on stage tonight? I’m afraid I was very naughty.”

You smile a little wider, biting at his earlobe. “I did see. I was getting a bit jealous of the mic stand.”

If the sound he makes is any indication, the new crotch corset trousers are certainly making themselves worth every penny paid for them.

“I only hope that my Principessa guerriera won’t punish me too terribly.”