#and there seems to be something wrong idk

[sevsevteen]

hii if requests are open (and you’re comfortable with it ofc) cab i pretty pls request an angsty fic about maybe a sasaeng breaking into readers house/hotel room and idk just the members beung protective haha

i love your work 🫶🫶

hello!! thank you for your compliment hehe 🫶 much love~

[DISCLAIMER: i've read a prompt like this a while back, however i forgot the exact details and user of the original writer who wrote about it. if any of you remember please let me know i'll be sure to tag the original ><

edit: a kind reader helped me find it! the original is 'Intruder in the dark' by @scoupsakakitty. click this for their original fic, please check it out as well~]

this scene is written entirely by me (with inspiration by the orig. creator) thank youu—

Warnings: s*saeng (booo tomatox3), breaking and entering, small injury, read with caution!

-- જ⁀➴°⋆

The hallway was quiet when everyone stepped out of the elevator. A small wave and mutters of goodbyes echoed as the members left for their own rooms.

Your hoodie was still damp at the collar from post-concert sweat, and your legs ached after hours of dancing. Tugging your keycard out the lanyard, you rubbed at your tired eyes as you reached the door.

Room 1714.

The familiar green beep clicked, and you pushed the door open.

The room was dark, only the faint amber glow of the city lights filtering through the sheer curtains. You didn’t bother turning on the lights - it seemed too tiring. But when you took the first step in, the back of your neck prickled.

Something was wrong.

The room looked, at first glance, exactly as you'd left it that morning. The bed was neatly made, the curtains drawn, the complimentary water bottles untouched on the bedside table. It wasn't just the air conditioning; it was a deeper, unsettling sensation. The kind that made a chill sneak its way up your spine.

You walked toward the bed, senses on high alert. The duvet was perfectly smooth, but was the pillow fluffed just a little too much? You remembered leaving it slightly dented while getting up from your morning stretch.

Your purse - left hanging on the armchair when you left this morning - was now on the floor, contents half-spilled out. Did you knock it over when you rushed out?

A sweater, once folded on the bed, was crumpled in the corner of the room floor.

It was such a minor detail, easily dismissed as your own forgetfulness, but the unease persisted. There was a feeling. Like the air had been disturbed, the molecules rearranged by an unwelcome presence.

Your forced yourself to swallow whatever doubts you had as your hand hovered near the switch, finally flicking on the lights.

Ruffled pillow. Spilled purse. Phone charger unplugged. The mirror slightly tilted. Everything slightly…wrong.

It was tiny. Insignificant. But combined with the other small changes, it formed a terrifying mosaic in your mind.

Someone had been in the room.

Someone who definitely shouldn't have been.

And they had tried to make it look like they hadn't.

The realization hit you with the force of a physical blow. Your breath caught in your throat, blood running cold. You hadn't been alone.

Or rather, you were not alone.

You took a shaky step backwards, toward the door.

That was, when a hand wrapped around your wrist - all your senses jumping to life.

Appearing from a blindspot behind the wall of the bathroom, a man's force yanked your arm back, hard. You tumbled to the floor with a loud thud, head spinning as you landed on your back. A scream tore through your throat - only to be quickly smothered by a gloved hand pressing against your mouth, rough and smelling faintly of disinfectant, muffling any sound.

Before you could react, he was climbing over your torso, his weight pressing you down, stealing whatever breath you had left. Your wrists were seized in an iron grip, pinned above your head, held so tightly you could already feel the angry beginnings of bruises forming.

His eyes were scary - sinister. Hiding just enough for your body to start shaking uncontrollably. Your eyes closed on instinct when he leaned down, his face a dark, indistinct blur above you, breath warm and tickling your ear.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he whispered against your ear, the wind tickling your skin. “You have no idea how long.”

You shook your head, eyes darting around frantically for an escape as tears welled up, fear surging like fire through your veins. But there was only the oppressive weight of his body and the terrifying, terrifying, intimacy of his voice.

“Don't be so cold. I know you get off work at this time every day. I've been following you for a few days now.” His voice suddenly lowered, “You looked so good in your blue sweater yesterday.”

You writhed, thrashing beneath him, screams muffled as your heart beat so violently you could hear it in your ears.

“We're a match made in heaven. Don’t you know that?”

Move. Move. Think.

A flicker of raw, desperate anger ignited within you. You weren't going to let this be your end. Not here. Not like this. The adrenaline surged, sharp and hot.

With a sudden, violent twist, you yanked one wrist free from his loosening grasp, the bruising pain a dull ache against the urgency to survive.

You fumbled the floor around you, feeling the rough carpet that scratched your skin, blindly searching – reaching out, your fingers wrapped around the cool, smooth shape of a glass cup, one that must've rolled off when you crashed against the table before.

Without thinking, you swung.

The smash echoed as the cup shattered against his temple, shards cutting skin. The grip on your wrist finally gave way as he recoiled, clutching his head, a dark stain rapidly spreading on his gloves.

Your hands weren't spared either – drops of blood rolling to your elbow while pain seared your fingertips. But you couldn't feel any of it, not right now.

You kicked hard, enough for him to roll off with a yelp.

Scrambling out from under him, you crawled toward the door with your palms scraped and bleeding. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

You yanked the door open with trembling hands - and ran like never before.

.

The crash had startled most of the floor. Staff were poking their heads out, some murmuring about the noise, but some retreated quickly, not wanting to intrude.

A few doors down, the members had already stirred, stepping out their own rooms.

“Did something fall?” Jun muttered, wandering out in a white tee and sweats.

“I heard glass,” Seungcheol said, appearing from the room beside him. “Wait–”

That’s when they saw you.

Barreling down the hallway barefoot, eyes wide, hair a mess, breath ragged as if you couldn’t get air into your lungs.

You turned back occasionally, a quick, fearful glance over the shoulder, convinced the man was right behind you, his chilling whispers still echoing in your ears.

Your legs only stopped moving when you slammed into someone - arms, chest - someone solid. The impact knocked the wind out of you.

“What's going–” It was Wonwoo.

He was cut off by your scream as you pushed away. "Get away from me!" Your voice was raw and hoarse, instinctively pushing and flailing, your hands coming up in a desperate attempt to fend off whoever had stood in your way.

Wonwoo fought your fists, grabbing your arms as his own ones caged you in, forcing your thrashing to come to a halt.

“It’s me, Wonwoo. It’s just me.”

A voice, familiar and deep, began to murmur, slowly, gently, cutting through the fog of panic.

“Can you look at me?”

You paused as your vision cleared, his familiar face grounding your sanity. You collapsed into him immediately, sobbing, clutching his shirt with trembling fingers. You cried into his shoulder, pointing a trembling hand back down the hallway toward your room, stuttering out broken words between gasps.

“He– he was in– he grabbed– he was in my room-”

Wonwoo caught you again, wrapping both arms around you protectively as your knees gave out. “What? Who?!”

The words sent a shockwave through the group for a second – but the members moved instantly.

“Get a blanket. Someone call security- NOW!” Seungcheol barked, eyes wide.

Jun knelt beside you, holding your uninjured hand as he gently stroked your back, whispering: “You’re okay now. We’ve got you. Whoever it is, he’s not getting near you again.”

Mingyu and Dokyeom quickly formed a physical barrier around you and Wonwoo, their large frames blocking any view down the hallway towards your room.

“Minghao and Seokmin went down to the lobby!” Chan called from the elevator lobby, rushing back after hearing the panic.

Joshua was already on the hotel phone, voice urgent but eerily calm. “Yes, a break-in. She’s hurt. We need security and the police.”

The hallway was chaos, but around you, it was shielded - every member blocking the world from getting any closer to you.

And just minutes later, hotel security arrived, followed closely by staff and local authorities. The masked man was found still inside your room, disoriented and bleeding from his temple.

Still, your head rang when his voice boomed throughout the floor. “We belong together! Wait for me my love!”

.

You sat on Seungcheol's bed, now changed into a clean sweatshirt that belonged to Joshua, wrapped in a blanket and cradling a heat pack in your lap.

Your hands still trembled.

But you weren’t alone.

Wonwoo hadn’t left your side once. Hoshi sat on the floor by your feet, rubbing slow circles into your ankle. Mingyu had your hand in his, carefully cleaning the small cuts and scrapes on your hands – the remnants of your desperate struggle. His touch was gentle as he dabbed away the last traces of blood and shards that had embedded themselves. It hurt, of course, but exhaustion overtook every bone in your body.

Across the room, Seungcheol and Jihoon were already deep in hushed conversation, strategizing. They were setting up surveillance shifts, ensuring someone would be by your side through the night. No one had to say it aloud; the unspoken fear of the stalker's words still hung heavy.

They didn’t say much after.

None of them needed to.

Because every quiet glance, every hand on your shoulder, every member sitting in the room long after midnight without saying a word - it all said the same thing:

You were safe, and no one will ever lay a hand on you again.

--

every situation has its repercussions [coming soon]

[itneverendshere]

hey hun, idk if you taking any request but maybe you can make something about this. so you know sombr just released his song 'we never dated' and i was thinking if you can write something based on the song with rafe × reader, love you💖

a lil something i put together during my lunch break, enjoy 💘

he’s drunk again, the thinking-about-you kind.

his head tilts against the seat of the truck he hasn't driven in months, still parked in the beach house garage, waiting for something that’ll never come back.

rafe taps the red solo cup against his lip and closes his eyes.

it’s that song, the one wheezie showed him earlier, and he'd pretended to hate immediately.

"how come we never even dated but i still find myself thinking of you daily? why do you always leave me achin' when you were never mine for the takin'?"

rafe’s never wanted to punch a radio more.

it’s true, all of it. you never dated, but he loved you. that was the worst kind of heartbreak; he couldn't claim anything real, be angry or bitter or jealous. he couldn't point a finger in your direction and accuse you of breaking him because you never belonged to each other.

he never had the right.

you've always been too shiny for him. inherently good. more than a pretty face — though, yeah, you were that too and more.

rafe knew it before anyone else ever said it.

he knew you when you were still the skittish girl with lipgloss always smoothed over your mouth and that light blue cashmere sweater you wore every third thursday like clockwork.

you were sweet, but not naïve, you grew up learning how to smile through kook parents’ cocktail parties and could tell when a guy was trying to flirt or manipulate you in under three seconds.

rafe cameron wasn’t slick enough for you. he just happened to be there, at the right time, in the right places, saying the wrong things and hoping you'd want him anyway.

you did.

god, you did.

one summer, two friends who weren’t friends yet, thrown together because their parents played nice at yacht club dinners and pretended that the pogues didn’t matter as long as their kids stayed clean and polished.

you'd asked him once, on the beach at sunset, when everyone else was passed out or making out or passed out making out, why he always looked so angry.

rafe had blinked, caught off guard by your astuteness, replied with something stupid like, “m'not angry. don’t like people.”

you had smiled, close-lipped. “you seem to like me though.”

he hadn’t said anything, but you were right. he did, even when he shouldn’t have. especially when he shouldn’t have.

it got worse in senior year.

that was when he started noticing the finality of it. you were still walking around in ballet flats and sundresses and raising your hand first in ap lit — but it was all coming to an end, wasn't it? the idea of a you and him, the fantasy.

you were going places. real ones, far-far away, with brick libraries and stone archways and out-of-state dorms. you had a list, and rafe wasn’t on it.

he saw it coming the day you mentioned early decision.

“i’m thinking of brown,” you had confessed in a dreamy tone, chewing the end of your straw.

rafe had nodded, tossing a pebble across the dock water. “yeah?”

“you think I could get in?”

you could get into heaven if you asked nicely. instead, he shrugged again.

“duh.”

you laughed, that hiccup laugh that always made his stomach drop to the pits of hell, and leaned into his side for a second, enough to make him want more. that was the problem.

he always wanted more. of your voice, your time, skin against his. more jokes, more silence, more anything you’d give him. you were meant to leave and he was stuck in this fucking awful place, barely making it out of high school.

people talked about you two, always did.

assumed you were together, and he pathetically let them think what they wanted because it was easier than the truth: he was a guy in love with a girl he never kissed, too scared to try and pull you down with him.

rafe watched you date other people. preppy kooks with clean sneakers and trust funds and internships. it didn’t matter, it made sense, even when he drove past your house a little slower after those dates.

he always looked at you longer the next morning when you sat across from him in the café. sometimes, he swore you looked back.

the party your parents decided to put together that fateful night for you was too loud, or rafe simply grew to resent the sound of other people being happy.

he stood by the railing on the second-floor landing, a typical red solo cup warm in his hand, watching the celebration spiral out under the candle lights below. your backyard had been transformed, long tables dressed in linen, picture boards of you growing up, a cake with congratulations, brown university! piped in frosted gold, and people everywhere, drunk off champagne and privilege.

he hated it.

he'd been gawking at you laughing under those lights. you wore white tonight, tailored pants and some shimmery top that sparkled when you moved. your hair was half up, the way he always liked it.

you were leaving in two days. earlier than expected. the early admission program at brown, your parents were ecstatic, toasting to the future with rosé wine and proud tears.

rafe only found out three days ago, from wheezie, who overheard your mom on the phone ordering dorm essentials to be shipped ahead of time.

he didn’t possess the energy to be surprised.

that this was it, the last night. the last time he’d maybe ever see you outside of random instagram posts and christmas visits. the final hour of whatever not-thing they were.

you never promised him anything, and he had nothing to offer. only half-mumbled jokes and every piece of his heart that he tried not to hand over, one by one, every time you looked at him like he mattered.

he was drunk again.

he couldn’t say goodbye properly, or force himself to go down there and hug you like a normal person. couldn’t say, “i'm happy for you,” without gagging on the bitterness in his throat.

he did what he always did.

avoided the situation.

he was mad you were leaving, leaving earlier. you didn’t give him time to work up the courage to spit out the truth once and for all.

his legs carried him toward the kitchen, eyes on the floor, shoulders hunched.

“rafe.”

you voice was always soft with him.

you stood there in the hallway. fuck, you looked so pretty, unfairly so.

summer and home and everything he didn’t get to keep.

“i was wondering if you were gonna hide all night."

"wasn’t hiding.”

you raised a skeptical eyebrow. “right.”

rafe looked away first, he always did with you. you made him stupidly nervous, still.

"you’re mad.”

“’m not.”

“you’re mad i’m leaving.”

he scoffed. “you were always gonna leave. what’s the point in being mad about it now?”

your expression faltered, rafe hated himself for it.

“i thought… you’d at least say goodbye,” you whispered.

"didn’t think you’d notice if I didn’t.”

“rafe.”

he took a step back. he had to, orr he’d grab your hand and beg you to stay and make a fucking fool of himself.

“i can’t do this tonight,” he mumbled. “go back to your party, yeah?ivy league’s waiting.”

“wait a minute—”

“have fun up there, alright?”

perhaps, if he hadn't been too tipsy, he would've spotted the same ache in your eyes that was bleeding through his.

your jaw clenched, that twitch he caught when you were trying not to cry. shit, that was gonna fuck him up later. that look.

“you’re being such an asshole,” you bit out, quietly.

he huffed a laugh that wasn’t amused. “yeah. guess ’m just playing my part, huh?”

you blinked. “what does that even mean?”

“you—” he started, then cut himself off. shook his head. “you’re actin’ like this is some big surprise. you were always gonna choose that life. brown. new friends. better everything. that was the plan, right?”

“i never said that,” you shot back, voice trembling now.

you were all dolled up in a way he hadn’t seen before, sparkly earrings catching the kitchen light. you didn’t look like the girl he used to skip class with and lie on the pier beside.

but you were.

“you made your choice, didn’t you?” he muttered. “early program. gone before the summer’s even over.”

“i earned it, rafe. because i worked for it—”

“and what about me?” he snapped, suddenly. voice louder than either of you expected. “i bust my ass tryin’ to graduate with you. and you couldn't tell me this? i did it—for what? so you could feel sorry for me on your way out?”

that was new low. he regretted it the second he said it.

“that’s not fair."

“yeah? neither is you leavin’ me here and expectin’ me to clap for you.”

“i never asked you to wait for me,” you were pleading now, not accusing. “i never asked you to do any of that.”

“i know, god, i know,” rafe snapped. “that’s the problem. you never looked back, did you? not once.”

“that’s not true.”

“isn’t it?”

your hands curled against your outfit, wrinkling the fabric.

“i care about you."

he let out a breath through his nose, humorless.

“yeah?” he muttered. “i love you.”

real. pathetic, even. the most honest thing he’s ever said in his life.

your lips parted but he intervined before you could salvage his reputation.

“still not enough reason for you to stay, is it?”

your breath hitched, your eyes went wide. you weren’t expecting him to say it. the possibility had lived in the space between you two for so long, you thought it'd stay silent forever.

he had too. now it was out there, and you didn’t say it back.

“that’s what I thought,” he said, voice flat now.

you looked like you were about to cry. rafe looked like he already had.

“why are you doing this now?” your voice trembled with confusion. “i’m not leaving forever!"

you meant it, you thought a couple thousand miles and a new life wouldn’t erase this not-thing, wouldn’t bury him beneath everything you’d go off and become.

rafe, despite his many flaws, wasn’t stupid. hope wasn't a luxury he could afford.

he laughed, more of a breath than anything real.

“you might as well be.”

your brows pulled together. “what—”

“i never want to see you again,” he ripped the bandage off, even though it hurt more. “okay? just—just go. go to your early program, to your dorm, to your perfect fucking life with your perfect fucking people, and let me get over you in peace.”

your face twisted, the pain blooming across.

“you don’t mean that.”

“don’t i?” he snapped, stepping backward before he got close again, and broke completely. “what’s left of this, huh?”

he could only hear your shaky breath and the sound of someone laughing downstairs.

"so yeah, do me a favor — don’t text me when you miss home. don’t check in. don’t come back here thinking everything’s the same.”

you blinked, tears building in your lashes.

“rafe…”

he looked away, couldn’t watch you cry and still walk out of his life.

you can’t miss someone you never had, right? the only thing he had were his regrets.

[gooseraider]

Hi! 🫡 Idk if you're into angst. If so, could you write reader and Ellie who are having argument at night and reader decides to go on a walk to cool emotions down, but Ellie won't let her go alone so they go together still mad at each other and it ends fluffffffyy.

Love your posts! 💘

Ps. Sorry for my english lol

a/n: i listened to jeff buckley while writing this and i lowkey got carried away. anyways hope you enjoy!🪿

“it’s not a big deal, i don’t know why you’re making it a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

“it is a big deal ellie, you were literally flirting with another girl!”

you and ellie were out at the bar with a couple of friends earlier that night. everything was fine until a girl came up to ellie, she was obviously interested in ellie with the way she kept shooting flirty remakes her way. ellie didn’t seem to notice, if anything she was entertaining the girl. constantly playing into the flirty banter, not brushing her off when the girl would get extra touchy with ellie, she even leaned into the girl with a small smile on her face and that’s when something in you snapped.

the ride back to your shared home was silent, not the kind of silence where it was comfortable but the kind that made the air thick. ellie knew something was wrong, she asked you at the bar when she noticed you spaced out, no longer paying attention to the conversation you were having. you just brushed her off with a short “i’m fine.”

ellie reaches over putting a hand on your thigh, “you sure you’re okay?” asking one more time before you went inside.

you hum, getting out the car and shutting the door with a force the sends chills up ellie’s spine. walking inside she sees your frame already heading up the stairs.

you two get ready for bed in complete silence, the air is thick, ellie almost feels suffocated. she gets in the bed expecting you to follow suit as you normally would but instead you disappear downstairs. growing tired of whatever was happening she walks down the stairs spotting you in the kitchen. it’s dark, the only source of light coming from the microwave. you’re making tea, you don’t notice her as your back faces the stairs.

“you good? you didn’t come to bed.”

you ignore her, “look, i know you’re upset but you don’t get to take it out on me, especially when you won’t tell me what’s bothering you.”

her voice is soft, it always is.

“you.”

“what?”

“you, you’re why i’m upset.” you say, barley looking at her.

“what did i do?”

a dry laugh escaping your throat, “really ellie, you don’t know?”

“i don’t, and im sorry for whatever i did to upset you.” she says, rounding the counter and coming closer to you.

“ugh you’re so oblivious it’s actually laughable. the bar, that girl was flirting with you trying to get in your pants and you just let her.”

she laughs, “ohh, this is what it’s about, you’re jealous.”

“god ellie, i’m not jealous i’m mad, you let a girl flirt with you in front of me and you basically flirted back.”

“it wasn’t a big deal, it meant nothing.”

“she didn’t know that though, it’s like you have no respect for me or our relationship.”

“it’s not a big deal, i don’t know why you’re making it a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

your voice raising as your emotions heighten, “it is a big deal ellie, you were literally flirting with another girl! and it might not be a problem to you but it is to me and i don’t want to be with someone who has no respect for me or our relationship.”

“so you wanna break up?”

“that’s not what i’m saying but if you can’t see that what you did was wrong then maybe we should.”

you walk away from her crying, you grab your shoes heading towards the door.

“where are you going?”

“a walk, i need some air.”

“i’m coming with you.”

you sigh, “i don’t want you to come ellie, i need to be alone.”

“i get that but you’re not going on a walk in the middle of the night alone.”

you stay silent.

“we don’t have to talk, you don’t even have to walk near me.”

you two are outside, it’s cold and you’re suddenly regretting the lack of clothes you have on. the shorts and t-shirt you’re wearing are making this walk even more unbearable. noticing your discomfort ellie takes her sweatshirt of and hands it to you, you take it silently.

you continue to walk until the cold becomes to much, you guys head back. y’all are approaching your home when ellie stops you.

“im sorry.”

“what?”

“i’m sorry, i was wrong to flirt with that girl and im sorry that i didn’t take your feelings seriously. you deserve the upmost respect and i wasn’t able to give that to you and for that im sorry.”

“you really hurt me ellie.” your voice barley above a whisper.

”i know, you don’t have to forgive me right away but i want you to know that i love you so much and i would never want to hurt you. i will do everything in my power to make sure you never feel pain because of me. i love you so much and im going to keep loving you, today, tomorrow, and all the days after that.”

ellie stands there as you walk up to her, wrapping your arms around her and crying into her chest.

“i’m sorry for what i said about breaking up, i never want to lose you and that’s why it hurt me so bad because it reminded of how easily i could lose you.”

ellie pulls back, arms coming off you to wipe your tears, “i love you so much, you’re not going to lose me because unfortunately for you, you’re stuck with me forever.” she says smiling.

“i love you.”

she kisses you, it’s soft and says so many things that she can’t.

“i love you more.”

[clarkeysbedchem]

heyyyy!! idk if you’ve done this yet w another character, but i was thinking maybe some buck x reader where buck is sick and tries to put on a brave face but reader takes care of him and it’s fluffy and sweet. thank youuuu!! <3

take care of you

evan buckley x fem reader

summary: buck is sick and you take care of him

a/n: this is my first 911 fic, so i do hope i’ve done it justice and i hope you enjoy it

masterlist | main masterlist

Buck has never been great at admitting when he’s was less than okay.

He has always been the type to brush off injuries, ignore fevers, and claim that he was fine. You always knew better.

So, when he walked into the firehouse with his shoulders hunched over and movements sluggish, like every step was an effort. You knew instantly that something was wrong. He clung to his hoodie pulling tight around him like a shield hiding the shivers racking through his body.

He nodded faintly at you as he walked in, his eyes rimmed with red, and skin void of colour beneath an unnatural flush.

You stood by your locker eyeing him suspicious. His hair was tousled like he hadn’t attempted to do it for the day, and the sleeves of his hoodie were pulled low over his hands. There was no bounding entrance, no joke cracked, no clapping Chim on the back. Just a quiet nod as he beelined for his locker.

“Hey, Buck,” you greeted softly, eyes lingering on the slight wobble in his step.

“Morning,” he mumbles, voice hoarse and strained.

You arched a brow, watching him a moment longer. You saw it. The slight sway as he tied his boots, the subtle wince as he straightens up. You decided it was your job to keep an eye on him from that moment.

The morning passed by in a blur of routine: gear checks, equipment cleaning, reports to file. Buck moved through it all like a shadow. He hadn’t made one snarky comment, there was no bite back at Chim’s heckling, and no laughter when Eddie made a horrific joke.

The only time you saw a shift in his frown was when he’d because he caught you watching him, but it never reached his eyes.

You had caught him leaning against the engine more than once, eyes fluttering shut for just a second too long. When Eddie asked him to help hoist a ladder, Buck grunted something and complied, but you noticed how he winced, how his legs shook when he thought no one was looking.

He was trying so hard to pretend he was fine.

And maybe no one else seemed to notice that he wasn’t except you.

Then a call came in just after noon.

A non-emergency call thank God. It was a sweet elderly woman down in the suburbs whose cat had climbed onto the roof and decided that is where it would remain. No danger. Just a chance to help, reassure, and get some fresh air.

You arrived on scene with Hen and Eddie, and while they dealt with the ladder setup and calming the frantic homeowner, you scanned the street for Buck.

You found him beside the truck, half hidden in its shade. He was gripping the side of the engine with whitening knuckles, and his other hand pressed flat against his lower back like he was steadying himself. Sweat beaded on his forehead, soaking into the neck of his turnout gear, and when his eyes closed, he swayed slightly.

“Buck,” you said hesitantly as you approached, rummaging in your pocket. He startled slightly, eyes glassy.

“I’m good,” he rasped, “I just need a sec.”

“Uh-huh.” You held out a bottle of water and a protein bar, “Drink. Eat. Then sit.”

He looked at you like you were offering him gold, not snacks, “You’re a lifesaver,” he mumbled, uncapping the bottle with trembling fingers.

“Just don’t make me carry you back to the truck,” you teased gently.

He laughed for the first time all day, “Could be fun.”

You rolled your eyes, but your hand lingered on his.

The rest of the day went pretty uneventful. The team had returned back to the station, and went into their post-call clean-up, before settling into the calm between calls.

You had spent most of your down time pretending not to look at Buck, and failing miserably. He tried to carry on like usual, but he was fading fast. After lunch, you noticed he hadn’t touched his food, which was very unlike him considering his love for Bobby’s cooking, and instead just pushed it around with a fork before disappearing onto the sofa.

You waited for the rest of the crew to disappear back downstairs before joining him.

Sure enough, you found him on the sofa curled tightly under one of the many blankets you had left in the firehouse. His hoodie had scrunched around his neck, his boots were still on, and one of his arms draped over his eyes. His breathing was slow, congested, and soft.

You smiled crouching beside him and gently shaking his arm, “Hey, Buck,” you said softly.

He groaned and blinked up at you, “What time is it?”

“Time for you to go home.”

“I’m fine,” he murmured, already trying to sit up.

You stood quickly, hands out ready to steady him. He got to his feet and immediately swayed, blinking rapidly like the room was spinning.

“Okay,” he mumbled, grabbing onto your out stretched hands, “Maybe not one hundred percent.”

“That’s what I thought.” You nodded, snaking an arm around his waist letting him lean against you as you guided him downstairs and to the lockers.

You flagged Bobby with a small smile, “I’m gonna take Buck home,” you informed simply, trying to ignore the knowing smirk that played on your Captains face.

“Good. And maybe knock some sense into him while you’re at it.”

“Try not to burn the place down while we’re gone.”

Eddie followed behind a sluggish Buck with a raised eyebrow, “Wait, you’re taking him home?”

Hen looked between the two of you, then back at Chimney, “They’re seriously still not together?”

“I’m starting to think they’re doing it just to mess with us,” Chimney muttered.

“Dumbasses,” Hen sighed fondly.

You pretend not to hear them as a soft smile played on your lips, and you guided Buck to your car.

The warmth of Buck’s apartment wrapped around you the moment you stepped through the door, the dim light a stark contrast from the station and the faint scent of cedar wood lingered through the air. You guided Buck up to his room pushing him to sit on the bed despite his half-hearted grumbles of protest.

You stood between his legs tapping his biceps gently, he lifted them with a wince letting you pull the sweat soaked hoodie off his warm body. The tips of your fingers skimming over his skin making his shiver instinctively.

“You do know I’m not dying, right?” He mumbled sleepily, rubbing his sore eyes before peering up at you.

“Didn’t say you were,” you said, turning away from him to toss the hoodie in the hamper, “But you’re definitely out of the count tomorrow.”

He collapsed back onto bed with a dramatic sigh, “You’re bossy when you’re concerned.”

You pulled the duvet over him, then leaned down, “You like it.”

His smile was small, sleepy, “A little.”

You kissed his temple, soft enough that it barely even registered in the moment, and padded downstairs to the kitchen.

When you were younger, your mother had always made the same soup when you were sick. Sometimes you wished you’d get sick just to have some, and you carried on that tradition when you got older. Garlic, ginger, rice, chicken and carrots. A dish that was comforting, nostalgic, and medicinal all in one.

The apartment filled with the gentle bubbling of the pot and the scent of broth and herbs. You hummed quietly as you worked, feeling oddly at home in the situation. When the soup was ready, you ladled a generous portion into a bowl, and you poured the rest into a container labelling it with the date and slid it into his fridge with a note stuck to the lid: reheat this. Or I will come do it for you.

You walked up the stairs carefully, the warmth of the bowl warming your hands and when you spotted Buck it warmed your heart all the same. You found him exactly where you left him, curled on his side, chest rising and falling steadily.

You placed the soup on the nightstand, cautious not to wake him, then leaned over, brushing a few curls back from his forehead.

His skin was still burning against your touch.

You bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his damp temple, “Goodnight, Buck.”

You turned to go but was stopped by the feeling of fingers wrapping weakly around your wrist.

“Can you stay?” he mumbled, barely audible, “Just for a little longer.”

You looked at him, at his flushed cheeks and pleading eyes, and your heart splintered a little.

“Yeah,” you whispered, “Of course.”

You toed off your shoes, and shimmied out of your jeans, before climbing into the bed beside him. He immediately shifted closer, curling into your side, his nose tucked against your shoulder, breath warm against your collarbone.

Your fingers found the curls at the crown of his head twirling them softly, feeling him relax further into you with every minute.

“Good night, Buck.” you whispered again, letting your own eyes drift shut.

taglist: @sdmnpact @triplefrontierbabe

[nattousan]

i don't know what aspect of autism this is or if it's just me being arrogant but the absolute blinding rage i feel over something this insignificant has Got to be a symptom idk

at work rn we're working on a very large foam sculpture for an event that has to do with a medusa head topping an entranceway, and i do mean it's Massive, like 8ft across or something. The client sent us a 3D rendering of the sculpt that they want us to follow and i seem to be the only one bothered by it.

The face itself is fine, the anatomy is a little wonky but it looks like what it's supposed to look like, but the snakes... dear lord the Snakes

there's no rhyme or reason to where they are placed or where they originate from the head, NO thought was given to how an actual snakes body moves or bends and they all ended up looking like squeezed out toothpaste or entrails, there's no flow to the design, there's WAY TOO MANY OF THEM for our small shop to sculpt by hand, NO thought was given as to how people were actually supposed to sculpt it so that it lines up with the wall/entryway it's being mounted to, they all look like sock puppets and overall the whole job is a mess from the beginning!!!!

I feel myself being paralyzed by all of these issues, unable to move forward without fixing them, esp since my questions of "how are we making this fit to it's frame without the frame itself" being met with a noncomittal "eh, we'll make it work, just do your best"

i have had my whole workflow disrupted by this and all of the other sculptors seem to not notice how WRONG it is!!! it's wrongggggg!!!!!!

im not trying to be a like... uh, art snob or something condescending about this but i find the whole design ugly and not worth making in its current form and that might be diagnosable idk, i guess i just need to learn how to turn off the part in my brain that cares about that and do it ugly i guess ???

[slaaverin]

It's funny but the dream I had a while back about jikook jikooking also involved the theme of fans crossing boundaries and when fans should stop invading their privacy. Now I'm thinking this was prophetic.

People are now sharing their hotel like this is normal and nobody knows if they truly left.

Do people have no limits anymore?

Funny that my dream highlighted this point. Like at some point in my dream jikook allowed us to film them jikooking and when I recorded this represented ARMY as a whole filming them but there was a point when it became "too much" and jikook told us to stop. Like a boundary was crossed.

I wonder if they might say something ~ but I think not.

Yet it's clear people are going too far, recording and sharing a private conversation, sharing hotel a minute after they found out....

Idk but it makes me have such an icky feeling. I can't really be happy about it, even if I'm glad jikook are jikooking as always but it leaves a bad aftertaste.

It shows even jikookers will stop at nothing to get what they want and it completely dishumanize jikook. They are persons, and I hope people knew that they deserve some respect too, even if they are celebrities. They are not puppets for people's entertainement. They deserve to live their life freely and it would be cool if they could trust us to respect them but in this case it feels like jikookers are breaking that trust for greed and I'm really sad about that.

You might say I'm overreacting but seeing people sharing all of this like this is completely fine and ok baffles me. Don't people feel this is wrong? It seems not. I don't get it.

Anyway that was my morning rant don't mind me

[all-pacas]

likewise it's so funny how once s7 starts chase IMMEDIATELY shoots up the ranks to house's favorite. he's getting away with shit house would never let anyone do before, he's going home early, he's getting praised, he's getting first crack at hiring a new fellow, he's allowed to antagonize foreman. it continues into s8, too; chase is now unambiguously (slotted into foreman's spot) the smartest and most capable of the team, the defacto 'leader' when house isn't available.

i do love the "house is chase's surrogate father" takes for obvious reasons -- they are appealing -- but it really undermines the shift their relationship takes by pretending it was always like that. house and chase really did not have any sort of relationship for most of the show; it wasn't until s7 that things changed; it wasn't until s8 that they finally had an honest moment. and on the one hand, sure, i love chase, i wish we'd gotten more that wasn't subtext and hints. and sure, house did always have a soft spot for chase, even if chase was never the favorite (or second favorite). it isn't like the choice is son or hated.

but also. idk. something about how the shift only comes at a moment when house's life is going well, and chase's life is going worse. something about how chase's life falls apart around him, and house keeps pointing out how depressed and miserable he is, keeps reminding him over and over. how house starts looking out for chase and favoring him once he has been broken down, and not before, when chase was happy and chase didn't need house's approval.

in s1, house did not like chase much. was interested in him, sure, but he was blatantly the lowest on the office ladder, the expendable one.

s2, chase is labelled a lapdog, an asskisser. he starts to be accused of screwing up procedures as a default excuse for what might be wrong: there's the mistake, sure, and there's forever, but house's feelings about chase are mostly neutral to mocking.

s3, house punches chase out for no reason, and chase tells wilson he's done looking for house's approval. chase means it: he stops kissing house's ass for the rest of the show. he is fired, and considers it a good thing. s4-5-6, chase is completely apathetic to house; he still likes the guy but is completely uninterested in house and house's praise and validation. he and house seem to have a good working relationship, and chase as usual has an uncanny ability to read house and get honesty from him, but... that's about it.

And then in S6, as chase's life is falling apart, that house pivots. NOW he cares, now he wants chase back on the team, now he starts letting chase get away with things and hire people and praises him for his good work. it doesn't happen before this. chase gets more praise from house in s6 than in all the years prior. and, i don't know. saying chase was always the favorite, saying he was always "house's son" really lessens that impact for me. house didn't care when chase wasn't broken. he cares once chase is.

[amyluvshamzah]

WRONG

summary: an intruder breaks into your house and grabs you in all the wrong ways

contains: smut, masked!hamzah, stalker!hamzah, intruder ??? idk guys help theres something wrong w me

youre sitting in your bedroom, home alone. its late at night when you hear a tapping sound on your window.

──── ୨୧ ────

you sit up, phone dropping onto your bed.

"hello?" you ask quietly. you dont want to seem crazy talking to yourself. or to nothing.

a loud bang against the glass has you jumping out of your skin.

you cant see out of the window as theres a curtain over it. but you know someones there.

you turn your lamp off, pulling the covers over your head as you tremble from pure fear.

you try to deny whatever you heard. you dont want it to be true.

its quiet for a little bit, until your power goes out. you gasp, flying out of your bed.

you grip your phone in your hand, turning on your flashlight. you whimper in the dark. your flashlight lights up your feet as you walk into the living room, finding the breaker box.

your fingers shake as you try to flip the switches. nothing happens.

suddenly, your front door knob rattles. you run to it, ensuring its locked.

it opens right as you reach it.

a man barges in, covered head to toe in black. you cry out, running for your room. you drop your phone as you dash for safety.

you slam the door as his body collides with it. he tries to push it open but you locked it.

he grunts, the sound muffled behind the door. you feel a tear slip down your cheek in fear.

you mentally curse at yourself for dropping your phone.

"let me in..." he sing-songs, tapping against the door. you sob, dropping down onto the floor. you hear him laugh at your misery.

he sings your name and you physically feel your stomach drop.

"h- how do you know my name?" you ask. you back away from the door as your back hits the bedframe.

he chuckles low and deep. you feel your stomach flip.

"because i own you, princess." the knob turns unexpectedly. you crawl under the bed but he stops you, grabbing your ankle.

he pulls you out from under the bed.

"you cant hide from me." he tuts, picking you up with ease to throw you on the bed.

you land hard on your back, looking up at the clown-masked man in the dim moonlight.

"now that i got you on the bed, you dont wanna run?" he teases you as you watch his every move.

he tugs his shirt off, tossing it across the room. his mask stays on his face. youre not worried about his face.

your eyes take in his bare chest, every dip and curve. the line of hair going down from his belly button to beneath the waistband of his pants.

"you like what you see? hm?" he climbs onto the bed, sitting on his knees as he unbuttons his pants.

you notice the large bulge, begging to be freed. it has your head spinning as you dissect your feelings.

youre actually turned on by this.

youre in possible- no- definite danger. and you like it?

you bite your lip, speechless as he crawls to your feet. he pulls you by your calf. you slide down to him.

his breathing is heavy behind the mask and you reach for it without thinking.

"ah ah ah, not yet, princess." he grabs your wrist, pulling the belt out of his pants as he ties it around your hands.

you still have a growing need in your abdomen.

"you like this?" he asks simply, head cocked as he studies you. your hardened nipples beneath your thin tank top. the way your legs are spread open for him. your lips parted as you watch him. no sign of a struggle from you.

"i- you wont hurt me... right?" you bite the inside of your cheek nervously. he chuckles, "not in the way youre thinking." his voice is deep and yet playful.

your feet wrap behind his back. his hands land on the soft skin of your thighs, fingers massaging your muscles.

you close your eyes, letting a soft moan escape.

he exhales sharply. his fingers pause.

"whyd you stop?" you pout, opening your eyes to look at him. he adjusts his mask, sighing as he looks back down at you. you can just barely see his eyes in the dark room.

theyre dark and locked on you.

it turns you on even more.

"have you been stalking me?" you blurt.

you can hear the laugh in his throat as he answers, "maybe... maybe not." he turns his head to the side and you notice a small tattoo.

your name written in cursive.

your eyes widen at the realization.

"wow." you whisper. youve never had someone so obsessed with you. not even a fraction of this.

it feels good.

"i cant stop thinking about you. i watch you all the time." he admits, looking back at you. he tugs off the black beanie hed had on his head.

his dark curls fall out, unruly and yet still soft-looking. you wanna touch them.

"what are you gonna do to me?" you whisper, voice barely audible.

he leans into you, lips a hair away from your ear as he whispers. "nothing that you dont want deep down." you hear the cocky smirk as he speaks.

his warm breath sends chills down your spine.

he lifts the mask up partially, letting his lips capture your neck. he sucks one spot, leaving his mark.

his hand rests along the spot between your hip and thigh, rubbing it softly.

you cant help but love this.

this whole thing.

its so bad but you cant deny the need coursing through your veins.

"i shouldnt like this." you say, more to yourself than him. he still breathes a laugh against your neck.

"but you do...?"

you nod.

you bring your tied arms around the back of his head, pulling him into you.

"eager little one." he laughs. he sucks another hickey onto your neck. a groan forms deep in your chest at the pleasure from his lips against the soft skin.

"more." you breathe. he pulls away, fixing his mask before you can see anything. he presses his hips into yours, the wetness from your core seeps through the fabric.

"already? i didnt even do anything yet, baby." he teases you.

you blush and roll your head to the side to hide your face. his fingers grip your chin to pull your face back up.

"eyes on me."

he pulls his pants down just enough so that he can free his throbbing cock. you watch as he strokes it slowly to the view of you drenched and needy beneath him.

he stops, reaching for the hem of your top, pulling it over your head. it doesnt go far as your hands are tied together.

he tugs off your short shorts, flinging them across the dark room.

"look at you." he breathes deeply, eyes taking in this vulnerable view of you spread wide open for a random guy who barged into your house.

"so pretty."

his fingers toy with your clit, tantalizing you. your hips buck into his. his free hand grabs your side, stopping your movements.

you whine as his fingers become too much against your sensitive spot. you arch your back.

he pulls away, rubbing his cock with the wetness from your folds. he brings the tip to your entrance, pressing it inside.

he slips inside of you in one quick movement. you can tell its gonna be a long night just from the size of his cock.

"oh- god!" you cry out. he groans deeply in your ear as he hovers above your body.

"im not a god, baby." he coos at your pleading words, thrusting his hips into yours.

you writhe beneath him, hard nipples brushing against the warm skin of his chest.

"good girl, baby. youre doing so good." his words are strained but have all the same effect on you.

your walls tighten on his cock as he moves slower inside of you. he hums in pleasure.

you bring your arms back around him, his mask falling off of his face as hes too busy to fix it.

you dont care. it feels too good to care.

"dont stop..." you whisper, feeling your release. his mask falls next to you on the mattress. he doesnt bother with it as he dives into your neck again.

each thrust is deep and slow as your orgasm eases into your body. your hips find his rhythm as you cum.

"i- m'cumming. fuck!"

your head falls back, his lips working over to the other side of your neck. he doesnt stop or slow down or even speed up, just keeps his same pace as you fall apart.

"good girl." he murmurs.

he sits up, his face now fully visible to you.

and- god- is he hot.

his big nose compliments his face so well with his big eyes and straight teeth. his lips are full, pink, and slightly bruised from his work on your neck.

his jaw tenses as hes focused on fucking you.

you recognize him from somewhere.

years ago.

fifth grade when you guys went to the same elementary school. hed had a crush on you but he was a quiet kid, little to no friends. so when you found out he had a crush on you- you ridiculed him for it.

guilt rushes through your bones as you remember how rude you were. thinking you were so cool.

now, hes fucking you after hes broken into your house.

and of course you like it.

"hamzah?" you say it quietly. you regretted it as soon as it left your lips.

he pauses, eyes searching for his mask as he hisses.

"shit."

"no- no its okay." your hands press lightly against his chest, stopping him. he looks deep into your eyes.

"its okay." you repeat, nodding. his lips fold in on themselves as he contemplates what to do.

"you dont have to stop." you whisper in the silent room.

his eyes darken. "i wasnt planning to."

he grabs your hips, thrusts gaining speed as he watches your countenance.

his eyes flick to where hes fucking you, your wetness dripping down your ass cheek.

the new pace has another orgasm coming quickly. you moan loud, his grip tight on your hips.

"im gonna-" you cant even finish your sentence. hes rough with you, voice gravelly. "cum, princess."

those two words have your walls clenching around his length. your back arches as you go silent.

he follows right after you, hips sputtering as he finishes.

your name falls from his lips in a lovely whisper. you both go limp as he lays next to you. he frees your wrists, letting you stretch next to him.

"sorry." he laughs, breathless. you smile at him, running a hand through his hair as you pull him to your chest.

"dont be."

──── ୨୧ ────

i love this

can you tell?

anyways!!!! request things plsssssssss pls pls pls

also is that pic actually hamzah cause it doesnt even look like him idk i cant tell

GOODNIGHT

i looooove you babies - amyluvshamzah

TAGLIST: @hamzahshoe @hamzahslvt @babyunicorndoll @xoxo-yamil3t

[spamtennanation]

Had to make a whole new sideblog for this but I've been having Thoughts about SpamTenna wireplay. But specifically mixing it with angst because I like to cause suffering.

Imagine how it must have been in the beginning, in the Big Shot era. Imagine Spamton being surprisingly gentle with Tenna's wires, being slow and methodical to get the best results. In the beginning maybe it was uncertainty as they both were exploring and figuring it out, but then it just became what worked best. As they got more comfortable, maybe Spamton would be start being a little more rough, but always knowing exactly when to stop short, always being able to ride the line between pleasure and pain.

Then imagine them again post canon, maybe they've reconciled and been back together for a while. Maybe Tenna suggests the wireplay a few times, but Spamton brushes it off at first. Eventually, he agrees. Spamton does genuinely want to, but he seems nervous and Tenna isn't sure why. Maybe it starts out okay, nice and slow as they become familiar with each other in that way again. But then something goes wrong. Spamton doesn't have the same amount of control over his own body anymore and it betrays him, twitching or glitching and he ends up accidentally hurting Tenna. Tenna doesn't realize at first what happened, thinking it was just a mistake since it's been so long since they'd last done it, but Spamton pulls away from Tenna so quickly he realizes something is wrong. He realizes Spamton is in a full blown panic attack, this being the exact reason he hadn't agreed up to now. He's afraid that he can't do it anymore, can't give Tenna the pleasure he wants to give, without causing him pain in the process. Afraid that maybe, if he can't do it anymore, Tenna will leave him. Tenna has to end up comforting Spamton, reassuring him that he's okay. That he isn't with Spamton just for the wireplay.

I don't know where it goes from there. Maybe they agree to try again, to take it slow and figure out how to make it work now after everything. Maybe they have to try something new, maybe it's too dangerous for both to try it that way again, and while they are able to find new ways to pleasure each other, it still lingers as a bittersweet reminder of how things used to be and can never be again.

Idk I've never written any smut fanfic before (I'm very asexual myself lol) but maybe I'll have to write a full version of this sometime.

[kings-highway]

Impulsively wrote this middle school friendship AU intro for Ushiten. It would follow a week of them working on a school project together and probably be mostly canon compliant with the change of them meeting in middle school. Theyd play volleyball eventually and maybe Id extend it long enough to see the high school days its unclear. It would include both artist Ushijima and mega anime nerd Tendou and also tw for suicidal thoughts and feelings but no attempts just two deeply, deeply depressed 13 year olds finally meeting someone who gets them. Also Ushijima would have a stammer and an amount of autism that might be lethal before he had any decent self regulation. It would be the return of Adopted Tendou and probably a few other things. Anyway why am I telling you this? Because I have a habit of impulse writing the first 1000 words of something and then forgetting about it so instead I've given it to you. So like. Maybe all this will be nothing idk.

---

It was 9:08 on a Thursday morning when Tendou Satori decided to kill himself.

And then at 11:13 that very same Thursday morning, he’s forced to delay his decision due to a school assigned group project.

Now, normally Tendou would not be so altruistic as to care about whether or not he pulled his weight in a group project or left people hanging. No, the reason why this is an imposition at all is because of how he ends up assigned to a group project. He’s not paired up with the girl he sits beside as she rolls her eyes, they don’t draw straws or count numbers. No, they’re told that everyone can pick a partner to work with for this particular assignment, and then they have to make and colour project board on - you guessed it - a type of animal to then present to the class on.

Tendou, at first, is actually thrilled with this. He simply won’t partner up, and then he’ll be dead, and it will be okay. But when the class is wrapping up and everyone is getting ready for lunch, the teacher is suddenly whistling for him and waving him over like a scheming villain.

He’s not even sure he’s the one she wants at first. He frowns, glancing around and watching the other kids file out of the class, and then looking back to her. She waves him over again.

Her name is Kobayashi, and she’s… fine. Middle school biology is generally just fine.

He stands in front of her, wondering if he’s done something wrong.

“Hey, Satori,” she says, like she’s about to ask for all his gold. “I have a… huge favour to ask you. You don’t have a partner in mind for the animal project, do you?”

He shakes his head.

“Great, good, okay. So… do you think you could do me the favour of asking Wakatoshi to be your partner?”

Tendou frowns, glancing behind him to where the other kid usually sat, but he had already left the class.

“Uh… why?”

She seems to hesitate on this answer for a second, before eventually saying: “Well, it’s just that… you know he doesn’t really talk much, and has a really hard time making friends. And usually I help out by introducing him to someone, but I think he’s begun to notice that nobody ever approaches him on their own, and…”

Tendou stares at her for a moment, then glances behind him and scans over the occupied seats in the class to identify and even number of students. So an even amount of pairs.

We’re probably leftovers, he decides. There’s probably something wrong with this kid the way there’s something wrong with him, and she wanted them stuck together to avoid contaminating the other kids.

“Okay,” he says, because what does it matter to him?

“Oh, you’re the best, thank you,” Kobayashi says, clasping her hands together for a moment before adding: “Okay, I won’t take any more of your time. Go enjoy your lunch.”

Tendou nods slightly, and figures he should probably go find this kid to set up their collaboration. And it’s about then, (11:13) that he realizes if he asks to partner with someone, and then kills himself, that would be super inconsiderate and lame. So he decides he’ll wait until after they present.

But he heads down to the school cafeteria and starts scanning the available seats. It’s interesting that there’s apparently another social loser like him in his very class, and he’d never noticed. He’s fairly certain he can recognize the kid by face, but it still takes him a moment of intensely scanning before he notices him. He’s not exactly sitting alone, which is what surprises him. It looks like the kid is surrounded by friends.

Except for that, as Tendou approaches, he realizes that while he’s sandwiched in between two very loud groups of friends, he’s not actually engaging in either circle, and is instead sitting with his head down, peeling an orange so carefully he’s kept the peel all in one piece.

Tendou has to fight through crowds, then, to get to the other side and worm into the seat across from him and between those two groups. He doesn’t look up.

Tendou clears his throat.

He still doesn’t look up.

So he reached forward, knocking his knuckles against the table to get his attention. This makes him jump, and he looks up in alarm, as if shocked someone had snuck up on him despite being locked in on that orange like it owed him a life debt.

Tendou immediately regrets the rude way of getting his attention, realizing he probably seemed like an asshole, and withdrew his hand quickly to sit on it.

“Uh, hey,” he says. “Ushijima, right?”

He gets a single nod back. Well, Kobayashi had said he was quiet. Tendou wasn’t sure he’d ever heard him speak, actually.

“Well, I’m Tendou - we’re in class together-”

Ushijima is nodding, indicating he does recognize him.

“-uh, and we’ve got that stupid animal project coming up, and I don’t have a partner yet, so I was wondering if you wanted to, like, I dunno, do that together or whatever.”

Ushijima looks at him for long enough that Tendou is beginning to get concerned that he didn’t actually speak any Japanese, and then eventually the blank look turns to a frown.

What, did I offend him? Why is he looking at me like that?

“I mean, unless you already have a partner,” Tendou starts. Ushijima continues to stare at him. “Do… uh… sorry… What's happening? You can say no, dude, that’s fine, I just-”

After a second, Ushijima glances around, as if psyching himself up, before lean towards Tendou and very carefully saying:

“Okay.”

Tendou leans towards him at the same time. “Okay as in… partners?”

Ushijima nods, and then looks back down to his orange. Tendou is fairly certain that that’s the end of the conversation and this project is going to be the most boring partnership on the planet when Ushijima splits the orange in half, and offers half over to him.

“What? Why?” Tendou says, not quite able to stop his tone from coming out distrustfully.

Ushijima doesn’t seem to notice, and instead answers the question:

“You do not have lunch with you.”

It’s not a question of ‘are you hungry’ or ‘did you eat’ or ‘would you like half of this orange I’m holding,’ but rather Ushijima has now decided that since Tendou does not have any, he was going to put food in front of him.

Tendou feels a very heavy, hard beat in his heart, and reaches forward to take the orange.

“Oh. Thanks.”

[sadboyeddie]

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐥 𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐃𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 & 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭

Summary: It's time to taste Miles' pies.

Warnings: There's some implied stuff and the tension gets a little heavy but nothing yet.

A/N: I'm on a roll so might as well keep going. I'm thinking about putting some smut in the next chapter idk. Please let me know if you're reading and enjoying this. I'm desperate for praise and feedback.

WC: 2.8K

A small curse leaves your lips as you struggle to open the door, the key fit in the lock fine but the handle is jammed. You knock your shoulder against the hard wood a few times and to your relief the door begrudgingly pushes open. 

You can't help the grimace that covers your face as you take in the colour of the room; it's a lot. You don't let that deter you though as you fully enter, kicking the door closed behind you, and drop your bag on the floor. 

You sit on the side of the bed facing the large mirror on the wall, fingers gliding over the material of the comforter; a little stiff but not the worst you've had to endure this trip. The mattress itself is a bit springy but it's also kind of firm which you like. 

You allow yourself to sit for a moment and just take a breath. 

Falling back against the bed you decide to close your eyes for a few minutes, unaware of the man staring at you from only a few feet away.

-- 

Miles knows this is wrong.

Knows he should be in his little closet sized room doing something else wrong but he just couldn't help himself. Your smile, your laugh, your genuine interest in what he was saying was just too captivating.

It's not like he's filming you, not that the dark thought hadn't crossed his mind, he's only watching. He tries to convince himself what he's doing is not that bad.

It could be worse.

Your soft demeanor seems to have a calming effect on his soul, something he hasn't felt since before he left for war.

He leans down and flicks the switch, the small crackle of the machine adds sound to the quiet hall before your voice fills the space. 

You're humming a tune and it takes him all but a second to realise it's the song that was playing in the lobby. He cant see your face, unfortunately, from the angle that you're laying in but he watches as you bring your hand to your chest and start playing with something; your necklace most likely. 

Although a dirtier more darker part of him wishes it was something else.

Miles takes a step back until he hits the cold concrete wall behind him, bringing his hands to his face to press the heels of his palms into his eyes, he doesn't stop until he starts to see stars behind the lids.

He's never done this before, he's only every come down to observe and watch when he's been told to. When he gets that call. He's normally very respectful of regular guests but there's something about you. Something sweet and alluring. Something the darker part of him wants. Craves

He takes one last look at you before flicking the switch off, your soft voice being cut out, as he quickly leaves the dark hallway. 

When he locks the door behind him he can hear the shrill alarm of the oven going off. 

His pies. He completely forgot.

-- 

After dragging yourself from the bed you had made your way to the shower, relieved to feel the hot water pulsing from the head. You admittedly had spent far longer in there then you intended but it felt far too good to get out, the images of the handsome concierge didn't at all help your situation. Maybe you should've had a cold shower instead? 

Here you sit on your bed now, lacing up your shoes as you finish getting ready to go out and find something to eat. You're still starving, the small bag of peanuts you had before your shower did nothing to help your hunger but you chose the comfort of the warm spray of water over food and now you're slightly regretting the long shower. 

Double checking to make sure you have your room key and purse you head down the covered walkway back to the lobby, a little surprised to see that it's already dark out. You hadn't noticed the time get away from you.

When you enter the lobby the first thing to hit you is the warmth, followed by how dark it is. There's light coming from the dessert display cases, a light behind the bar some small lamps on the tables in the booths here but not much other then that. 

You intend to ask Miles if there's a place around here to eat but just like check-in the man is nowhere to be seen.

As you make your way over to the counter you hear the faint grumblings of President Nixon going on about some such garbage that you don't really care to listen to coming from the small TV set, so you turn and head over to the display case of food on the opposite side of the room. 

You bite your bottom lip in contemplation, there's a few sandwiches; looking a little stale, some sad looking fruit and finally some slices of pie, there's a little paper note on the bottom of each plate labeling each selection in a messy scrawl; apple, strawberry, cherry or mix. 

Interesting.

While you were engrossed in the cases you didn't happen to notice or hear Miles entering, not until he stands several feet behind you and clears his throat. 

You swear you jump several feet in the air as you quickly spin to face the noise, hand tightly clutching your chest, "my god!" your breathing is a little fast as you take in the apologetic smile of Miles, "you're a quiet little thing when you want to be." 

He has the audacity to look sheepish but a little pleased as he once again apologises, "I'm really sorry, I tried to be a bit louder so I wouldn't scare you."

After taking several seconds for your heart to stop racing you let out a small chuckle, "didn't work."

You notice how he's a little more put together then he was this afternoon, not twitching as much and able to actually look you in the eye. 

It's actually a little intense.

"So.." you slightly trail off as you turn back towards the display case, "what would you suggest?"

He walks a bit closer to get a better look at the options and you take the opportunity to be a little creepy and smell him a bit. 

He smells like fruit and washing powder, an odd combination but not at all unpleasant. 

"Well, uh, I baked the pies this afternoon," he looks over at you with a proud grin and you can't help but smile back. He's so cute.

"A concierge and a cook?" You ask, impressed, "a man of many talents."

"I don't know about that," he chuckles a bit, "I never said the pies were good."

"I guess I'll be the judge of that," you turn fully to the case and take your purse from your pocket before you're stopped by Miles. 

"If you're going to rate my desserts you shouldn't have to pay," his smile is small but still there as he makes his way towards the case; ignoring your protest with his key in hand he unlocks the glass door. 

"Trying to butter up the judge?" you playfully ask as he grabs two small plates of sliced pie.

"If I was going to do that I would go and get the ice cream," he grins and makes his way over to a booth, you obediently following behind him. 

"Well now I'm definitely taking a point off for no ice cream," you grumble with a smile as you take a seat.

Miles breathes out a laugh through his nose, an easy smile on his face and heads back over to the display case to get the other two flavours of pie and two forks. 

"So, which is which?" you ask, gently turning the slices of pies to get a better look at their fillings as he sits down and places the forks on the table.

"Apple, strawberry, cherry, mixed," he points to each one as he names it, he takes note of the small confusion as he points to the fourth, "I had extra filling left over so I made a smaller pie," he shrugs.

"Ah, very smart," you praise as you pick up a fork and pull the strawberry pie a little closer to you, "have you tried any yet?" you nod towards the desserts.

"I had some of the cherry before putting it into the oven," he picks up his fork and waits for you to start, "it was good." 

"I'll decide that," you smile, and he laughs a bit, as you cut the tip of the pie off with the side of your fork, making sure to get a decent amount of crust and filling before scooping it into your mouth. 

Miles watches you with baited breath, trying to gauge your reaction. To your credit you try very hard to keep a neutral expression but your facade falls and you let out a small groan.

If you hadn't gone to fork another piece you would have seen the tips of Miles' ears go red and his face flush a deep crimson.

"This is so good!" you praise before taking another bite. Your hunger make itself more evident now that you've had a taste of food.

Your praise snaps him out of his trance and he gives you a warm smile, "yeah?"

"Yes!" you nod, "try some," pushing the plate with little force in his direction, stopping when it's in the middle of the table between you. 

"Okay," it's soft and a little shy but he eagerly digs his fork into the pie, a small thrill runs through you as you watch him share the dessert. The whole thing feeling entirely too intimate but you can't find it in yourself to stop.

You admit that if Miles was a different person, perhaps loud and brash you might not want to spent much time in his presence but he's completely the opposite of that. Gentle and shy, mysterious and intriguing. A soft riddle you want to solve.

You can tell the moment the pie hits his tongue because his eyes widen and light up a bit, "huh," he nods, trying his hardest to stay modest, "not bad."

"'Not bad'," you scoff and playfully roll your eyes, "such a humble chef." 

You go to break off another peace and he follows your lead smiling as he does. 

"Where'd you learn to bake?" you ask the question casually but you notice his shoulders stiffen a bit.

He takes his time chewing the mouthful of pastry before finally answering your question, "my Grandma taught me."

You take in his hesitancy before replying, "I think she'd be proud of this," you point the fork at the crumbs now lingering the empty plate, feeling slightly guilty you ate much more then Miles.

If he cares, he doesn't show it.

"Oh, this wouldn't even compare to hers," his laugh is a tad depreciating, "hers tasted like home," the last part was said much quieter and a with a little sadness.

The look on his face makes you want to climb across the table and hold him; instead you gently place your hand on his, to your relief he doesn't shake it off or remove it. The urge to sooth him is overwhelming and you have to take a second to mentally pull yourself back.

You met this guy this afternoon and have barely been around him for an hour and yet you're ready to risk it all for him. How desperate are you?

He clears his throat and puts on a small smile before pushing the apple pie in your direction, "ready for more?"

Okay, yeah, you're very desperate. 

"Mhm," you hum, not really trusting your voice at the moment. You take note of how cold your hand feels now that it's no longer touching his warm one.

Pull it together!

"Apple," your voice comes out a little rougher then you'd hope, "a classic," you bite your bottom lip as you cut off a piece and bring it up for a taste. 

Your hand stutters slightly as you notice Miles' burning eyes focused solely on your lips. You quickly place the for in your mouth but you're so distracted by Miles you don't really taste it before chewing and swallowing. 

"It's, um, it's very good," you nervously laugh avoiding Miles' gaze as you go in for more. 

He's once again snapped from his trance, letting out a heavy breath as he takes a scoop of the apple and quickly pushes it into his mouth. 

"Your verdict?" you ask, feeling your cheeks heat up watching him swallow. 

What is going on with you?

"You're the judge," his shy smile is back, like it never left, "you tell me."

You playfully laugh as you take another bite, fully intending to actually taste the pie this time. You take a minute after swallowing to answer him.

"Apple isn't my favourite type of pie," you start, "but the cinnamon really brings out the flavour," you complement, "would be nicer with cream though," you joke.

It was meant as a jest but Miles answers like his mouth was faster then his brain. 

"Cream pies are the best," your eyes go wide as he tries to stutter out a response, "cream w-with pies, cream is good on pies," you can see the horror in his eyes as he talks.

The room goes still, awkward tension fills the air but you can't help but add to that. 

"I like cream pies," you wink as you reach over and grab the cherry pie, feeling pretty satisfied when you hear Miles let out a choked cough, "I'll admit cherries are my favourite so you better not have messed this up," you add playfully, like you didn't just send his mind spiraling.

"Mine too," is all he can manage to say after a long pause, his voice is soft but the grip he has on the fork looks like it's enough to bend the metal. 

This time the groan you let out is not all for the taste of the pie, its exaggerated and you close your eyes just for show, "So good, Miles." 

He quickly scoops up what was left of the apple pie into his mouth, something to distract him from the problem he's now facing. 

"I don't know if I want to share this," you open your eyes and give him your most innocent smile, "it's the best one."

After a beat and a small breath he replies.

"There's more in the case," it's his turn for his voice to be rough, "you can have as much as you like."

"Don't tease me," you laugh, "I might just take you up that." 

The pie really is the best of the three, you haven't tried the fourth one yet but you've already picked a clear winner. 

"Here," you cut off a generous portion of the pastry and filling and hold it up, "taste it."

Miles can no longer hold back the small groan that's been lingering at the back of his throat as he eagerly leans forward and wraps his lips around your fork, all the while keeping eye contact. 

All the control you thought you had and all the confidence suddenly vanishes as you watch him slowly eat the pie from your fork. Your breathing is once again coming out heavy as you watch him slowly chew, eyes burning into yours before swallowing.

A small bit of juice has gathered on his bottom lip and before you can lean over and do something about it his tongue darts out, swiping over the sweet liquid, there really isn't that much but just to be sure he make a show of bringing his thumb up and swiping over his lip before sucking the tip into his mouth.

You harshly push the plates to the side and lean up in your seat to kiss him, he follows your lead as you grab handfuls of his white button-up shirt but just before you can crash your lips to his the front door to the lobby opens and a man and woman walk in, loudly chatting between themselves.

You hear Miles let out a small sound, something between a whimper and a groan, which if you weren't annoyed at being interrupted would have definitely done something to you. 

You can't help but pout when he stands up, taking a second to straighten up his now crumpled shirt before heading over to attend the couple that are now ringing the bell at the front desk. 

With the tension gone and the mood ruined you grab the last piece of pie and head back to your room, you would have maybe stayed but you can over hear the man talking about having a few drinks at the bar, and you doubt there's a bartender other the Miles here. 

You briefly make eye contact with Miles as you open the door, his jaw is clenched and his shoulders are straight, you let out a humourless chuckle at the look he sends the woman when she asks for the introductory tour. 

At least he's feeling similarly to you.

[witheringwidgetwrites]

Hi☺️🌸 TW for this request: loneliness, angst, depression.

You are 100% allowed to not take this request and if you choose to do so, I would totally understand ❤️

Can we please get a series or even a one shot on how each of the Obey me! brothers (separately or together or maybe a mixture of both) would react to an mc that's just so use to not having any friends or anyone that particularly cares about what they're up to or what's on their mind/how they feel (on top of also being bullied)? An mc with a loneliness that runs so deep that that they end up constantly feeling abandoned and forgotten. For whom none of the friends that they've had in the past ever cared to maintain a relationship with them, which really aggravated their pre-existing rejection sensitive dysphoria (AuDHD). And this mc cares so much and put so much love into their relationships with others. This mc loves hard and was told throughout their life, that that was bad. And no matter what they do, people always end up leaving them or making them feel like they're not good enough - sometimes because of circumstances, sometimes because people (the friends) think they're "too much" or "weird", sometimes because they (the friends) genuinely just don't care. Because that's how insignificant MC is.

I want to read about an mc who gets surprised when (one of) the brothers decide to sit with them while they're doing something mundane, like homework or studying or colouring (idk i love colouring). And an mc who sleeps holding a pillow or with the pillow against their back, so that they can feel less alone. And can we see the brothers react to all of it? Why would they care about what MC is doing? Do they need something? Is something wrong?

Sorry, I know it's a lot and I really didn't mean to info/trauma dump on you🙏🏽 I just really want to read something that makes me feel seen and represented. Because I'm speaking from experience, unfortunately. And can we also make the mc gender neutral, if that's okay with you?

Even if you don't end up taking my request, thank you for taking the time to read it🙏🏽 I really appreciate it ❤️💖

Okay friend, I am picking one brother for this, and I picked Mammon! Unfortunately I so deeply understand this ask, as someone who has BPD. I desperately need soul crushing devotion and love in my life. Anyway.

So, how would Mammon react to a lonely MC?

I think at first, Mammon would brush off some habits of yours as weird-human-traits until he puts the pieces together. I think the first time it clicks, is the first time he REALLY eats lunch with you, of his own volition. He usually does, not JUST because he's your watchdog, but because ehe does enjoy it. And then, one afternoon he sits with you after not doing so for a few days, and the genuine surprise when you turn your head is a little baffling to him! Your smile lights up a little more than usual, and he notices the sparkle in your eyes. He knows by now that he's smitten, but today is the day he pieces together how lonely you seem.

From then on, he prods a little. Not gently, but gentle for him. Either way, whether you're forthcoming or not, he chooses to push a little more. More sleepovers, more time together, even if it's. most of your time. You'll be able to notice how his comments about humans seem to slip off his tongue more quietly for a while, and then they seemingly disappear almost all together. He does really notice and take these things to heart, especially for you. When you seem more isolated, or even when he's just busy, you'll find that the little crows seem to gather around you during lunch or homework time, and sometimes you'll get a little pebble!

[jaegonsmoon]

Aegon trying to embarrass his uptight brother Aemond at a joined family dinner by slipping dragon arousal stimulants designed to get dragons rowdy to ramp up egg production into his drink (do they have sex to make eggs who knows not me, now they do) aegon not quite thinking this through on how much it would effect someone with blood of the dragon. Aegon, jace, and luce all watching him squirm and get progressively more and more agitated as aegon teases him, they decide its time they all did some family re-bonding after dinner with their dear aemond . .

LMAOOOO NOT THEM STILL PICKING ON POOR AEMOND!

Idk the initial intention but this is what it sparked.

✨we’re pale in the moonlight✨

No matter how tall and broad and skilled Aemond has gotten, that’s still Aegon’s little shit brother and therefore he will always be his punching bag by default. The perfect target for all his masterful, mischievous, pranks.

This prank however—Lucerys has a reluctance that isn’t unreasonable to begin with, so naturally, after a while of having agreed to be an uninvolved observer, he starts to feel guilty about letting it happen at all.

When Jacaerys (because, of course this is how Jace decided to rekindle his friendship with uncle Aegon—nothing like picking up right where they left off) agreed to the prank, Lucerys refused to participate. But, well… eventually he got bored and after Aegon and Jace bullied him into joining them, he decided to just be present in the affair. More out of morbid curiosity than anything else.

Lucerys knows it’s a bad idea since the second Aegon mentions it. Seriously, what could possibly go wrong if you put dragon mating stimulants into someone’s wine? Especially if that someone is not a fucking dragon, yet carries a percentage of their blood, which makes the possibility of having a horrid effect more probable? Aegon insists that he only put merely one (‘-or two drops mayhaps, can’t remember, little nephew–’)

What this aphrodisiac will do to Aemond, however, it’s not only make him unbearably and visibly horny, according to Aegon The Expert, but his other emotions get enhanced too. But, like with everything else, his dumbass brother and even dumber uncle underestimate the extent of Aemond’s reaction, because once the worst has inevitably made its presence during the first course of the dinner–with that, comes Aemond’s rage. After the giggles are shared and his humiliation has settled in, a sweaty, red-faced Aemond excuses himself quickly when he can no longer bear it.

Jacaerys and Aegon can’t hold their laughter any longer, giving themselves away in the process. But it seems they don’t share a care in the world. They lean on each other and burst out laughing. Rhaenyra is looking at them with a serious expression, while Daemon is smirking, clearly amused by their misdeeds. Alicent tries to go after Aemond but he snaps at her, telling her to stay away from him right now. Something he has clearly never done before, given her stricken and hurt expression. Aegon gets slapped in front of the whole family, and Lucerys can’t say he didn’t deserve that. Luke also feels like passing out from guilt and worry for the whole thing, knowing that it’s escalating too quickly and he could’ve stopped it.

While Aegon and Jacaerys are being yelled at by an angry Alicent, and said woman is being interrupted by his pissed off mother, Lucerys gets up slowly and silently from his chair, he gains an odd look from Rhaena, but after summoning his best puppy eyed, pleading look, she nods once and looks away. He manages to sneak out from the hellish hall and goes after Aemond. He spots his uncle pacing and growling on the empty training yard, tugging at his silver strands and cursing the lights out of their entire family line. Luke is scared shitless to approach him, no lie, but he still mans up and does so. Refusing to let this be like the last dinner they had, where shit’d hit the fan so badly they didn’t return to King’s Landing in almost two years. “Uncle?” Luke says almost in a whisper and Aemond stops his pacing for a second. Cringing to himself like a spooked cat.

“Fuck you, not now, Luke!” He growls and resumes his pacing. He’s a mess, his perfect hair is all ruffled—his signature half-ponytail long gone. [He feels like dragon fire is burning him from the inside out and his dick is threatening to blow in his pants.]

“A-Are you alright?” Luke asks, dumb question, he immediately regrets it. Mentally, he slaps himself. Aemond grunts, kicking a base that dared to be near him, despite the fact that the ancient thing was probably older than Maegor.

“Do I look fucking alright to you, nephew?!”

“I’m sorry, it was a stupid question. Is there—H-How can I help?”

No shit, Aemond mutters. Aemond turns to look at him once more. His eyes are bloodshot and unfocused, and there are unshed tears in them. Lucerys has never seen his uncle lose his cool like this, ever. “You fucking can’t.” he spits, grinding his teeth. “I want… I need–Gods, I feel like fucking and breeding all of the Street of Silk right now. I’m boiling inside.” He admits in a half cry, tugging at the collar of his vest and doublet. His cheeks pink up and Luke can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment, arousal or both. Probably both.

Luke feels himself blush in return too. “Oh…” He opens his mouth to say something else but he faintly hears footsteps approaching and then there’s giggles. He groans, uncle Aegon and Jacaerys are approaching. Aemond is aware too, cussing as he rips off his coat and then sprints away from the training yard. “Uncle, wait!” Luke hisses, going after him.

Aemond runs, and runs, and runs until they reach near the dragon pit. Going around it where the lake of the dragons is. “Aemond!” The boy screeches when he sees his uncle not stopping but throwing himself to the black, freezing water. Luke stops, trying to catch his breath and watching in half horror, not a sight of his uncle.

Aemond surfaces then, gasping loudly. “Aemond?!” He calls again desperately, debating whether jumping into the cold, dirty water to rescue his asshole uncle is worth it.

Luke walks up to the small deck on the lake and sits there, observing his uncle soak up in the freezing water. King’s Landing wasn’t as cold as the northern cities, but it was nearing winter and it was nighttime already; it was cold, especially for a dragon’s taste. After a few moments, Aemond, hesitatingly, swims to where he is sitting. He rises himself a bit until he can rest his elbows on the deck, right by Lucerys’ folded knees. Luke scoots a bit closer so he can look at him better. The lighting is dim, only the paleness of the moonlight and the faint fire of some of the nearest torches surrounding the pit. His uncle’s long silver hair glims in contrast to the pitch blackness that the night offers. He looks calmer, though Luke can see vapor rise from his fair skin. Luke reaches a careful hand and touches his forehead on his good side. Aemond flinches a bit, and Lucerys gasps softly. “You are burning up!”

“I did tell you,” he says, softer this time than all his prior answers.

Luke pushes away the wet strands of hair that sticks messily on his uncle’s forehead. “You look like a siren, uncle.”

Aemond hums, for some reason seeming quite content that the boy who took his eye when they were children, is touching him.

“Thought you are supposed to be the Velaryon here.” He mumbles.

Luke can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. “Am I, now?”

“Hm. Maybe not.”

Luke rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue. And for a moment he thinks he hallucinates the smile that kirks up on his uncle’s lips.

But then Lucerys remembers his words earlier, about Aemond wanting to fuck half of the city and he finds himself blushing again. He shifts a bit in his place but doesn’t pull his hand away from the other. Instead, he temptingly strokes his left cheek, right under his eyepatch, where the scar he gave him all those years ago, begins. He feels Aemond’s eye on him now, he watches him intendedly. He can feel his uncle’s wariness, but he still doesn’t stop him. He craves the touch, Lucerys realises.

“Do you feel better?” Lucerys says, voice above a whisper.

“Slightly.”

He can’t help it, he smirks as he asks. “Still wanna fuck the whole the city?”

“Mm, only half of it now,” to his shock, Aemond’s lips twitch in the hint of another smile. His uncle is sharing a jest with him. “The water helps. It is cold.” he pauses, then he tilts his head, leaning his face on Luke’s palm. “Your touch, too,” he mutters begrudgingly.

Luke bites his lip, trying to contain the fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach that the admission gives him. He decides not to thread down that dangerous, lustful road and strays the conversation right. He clears his throat. “I tried to talk them out of it, you know? They wouldn’t listen, thinking it too hilarious. Wanting to get ‘Uptight Aemond’ to loosen up for once,” Luke admits with honesty, he knows he’s throwing his big brother under the bridge in the process, but the guilt he feels by being complicit in this tasteless joke is eating at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t do more. I could’ve stopped them.”

Aemond grabs the wrist of the hand that holds his face and purses his mouth like he tastes something sour. “I’m gonna kill my pathetic, delusional brother and your even more pathetic brother with my bare hands.” The grip of his hand on his wrist tightens, making Luke yelp in surprise.

He wants to make amends with Aemond, desperately so. He is tired. He has wanted it since the moment he took his eye. He’s always liked Aemond, he’d been his favourite uncle back then. And he missed him. He spent eight years missing him, the same way Jace had missed Aegon but was too proud to admit it. Luke wasn’t, he spent years growing up voicing how much he missed King’s Landing and his uncles. Even after the disaster in Driftmark, even after his uncles called them bastards to their face and everyone else’s. They’d been friends once, and Luke missed the fun they’d have when the four of them were alone. Growing up had sucked, but at least he could own it now on his own accord.

[corner-collects-rocks]

im curious if renee actually thought jean was the right person, wrong time or if she said it to try and give jean a chance to move on.

(this is probably gonna get rambly and stop making sense but im tired and thinking so enjoy what my head organ has chosen to provide)

i head canon renee as aroace so that plays a factor into this but; i think renee was trying to help jean move forward whilst still leaving herself open to talk to. the reason renee and jean start talking is because neil asks her to reach out. i do think they had a genuine friendship and maybe they both had feelings for each other but i dont think renee did.

personally i think renee seeks companionship over partnership. i think thats also why her dynamic with andrew works so well. i dont think either of them were interested in each other romantically but they could find value in seeking out each others company. i think she was striving for a similar dynamic with jean, and jean (bless his poor bisexual soul) was attracted to renee in part because she was beautiful but also because they don’t really have rainbows in the nest. renee was one bright thing when dealing with the torture he endured in the nest. (think of it like a one sided trauma bond, or like a “the waiter was nice to me i think they might be in love with me” type of deal)

i havent read all the EC but im pretty sure we dont get to know much of what jean and renee discuss. in general (iirc) it seems a lot of what we see from renee is her offering jean kindness and some safety in a place where all of his had been striped away.

also after jean moves out to california renee isnt something he really dwells on (fair enough moving is rough on its own, let alone leaving a cult) i understand that renee is also something jean chooses to keep private even from us the readers(shout out the literal end of the golden raven filling us in that they text REGULARLY) but from what i’ve seen people tend to think about their situationships a lot even after they move on since they tend to leave more of an impression since the human brain loves to dwell on “what could’ve been”

anyway i’ve lost my train of thought with this, if i find it i may reblog w/ more thoughts. in conclusion, jeanee (whatever their shipname is idk) works better as a platonic dynamic and renee walker is aroace and i love her!!! also petition for renee to be jeans best man at the wedding, or have cat and renee co-best man.

Sincerely, Corner

P. S. nora please please please let renee and jean hang out in the broken cage. as a treat!! like even if its only for a little bit after a game or something (trojans play at foxes stadium and they go out after or whatever) i think they deserve a debrief! and renee i think would like to hear how jeans list has grown (because oh boy has it) and my girl deserves to see some good come to her after all the shits shes seen!! renee walker ily and ur awesome and holy shit u deserve so much. i want to know so much more abt u diva. so much. please nora i am begging you.

[muttoncon]

idk if you're down for them but Shenvadi + things you said while we were driving

i am so sorry this took so long... i got a little sidetracked teehee

word count: 1.9k, please forgive any mistakes <3

john liked to think of himself as a good guy. he got good grades in school, his coworkers liked him, his patient satisfaction scores were… alright. driving victoria to and from home during her night shift rotation, while good on paper, was ultimately a not good guy thing to do. 

it started just a few days ago when he saw victoria pouting at her phone in front of the lockers. it was the start of her first night shift and john was placing his backpack in his own locker. 

“something up, javadi? can’t have my new student starting her night shift off on the wrong foot.” she startled, quickly shoving her phone into her scrub pocket. 

“oh! it’s uh- it’s nothing really!” she kept tucking her hair behind her ear, even though there wasn’t any errant stand to tuck back, “my mom just told me that i’ll have to take an uber home. she was supposed to pick me up but my aunt needed her for… something. dad is out this weekend, so he can’t get me either. it’s not that bad but- i just hate taking ubers, yknow?” john just stands there nodding and smiling at her. she just can’t seem to stop talking, going on and on about how she’s fine but when she gets in an uber all she can think about is how she has to put on a nice face and she just can’t relax in a stranger’s car. 

as she kept rambling, john had the god awful thought of giving her a ride home. it’s only when she stopped her rambling that he realized he’d said that awful thought out loud. thankfully, it seemed like he didn’t also blurt out how he wanted to see her relaxed in his passenger seat, his hand in her thigh, her pretty lips singing along to whatever song he put on, long neck tilted back in joy. 

“you- you don’t have to do that! oh my god, i sound like such a child i swear it’s not that big of a deal-“ 

“i want to, javadi. i can even pick you up if you need, so you don’t have to wait on your parents.” victoria’s big brown eyes blinked up at him, her hands hanging limply in the air, her pretty lips making an “O” shape. with a sharp click of her jaw closing, she nodded vigorously, her ponytail bouncing. to stop himself from saying any more stupid shit, he clapped her shoulder and headed towards central.

as that first shift started to end, john kept getting side eyes from the nurses and ellis. he liked being known as a chill guy, but it came with the unfortunate side effect of everyone he works with watching him like a hawk to see him falter. anytime victoria looked at him as he taught (because at the end of the day he is her attending and this is a teaching hospital), he had to quickly dart his eyes to the wall before he smiled like a loon. 

they met, once again, at the lockers. victoria stood there fiddling with the strings of her hoodie. john grabbed his backpack from his locker and tapped her on the shoulder to get her to follow him to the parking lot. they engaged in the typical small talk, “how was your shift?” “it was fine, you?” “fine.” by the time they got to john’s car (a used 2016 subaru outback) victoria had rambled on about the weather for a good 5 minutes. 

it was sweet how shy she was until she just couldn’t stop talking. stuttering over herself, waving her hands around, her face was always so expressive. john just let her keep going, handing her his phone to put her address in waze (she only lived about 15 minutes away from him) before shuffling his “on repeat” playlist on spotify. he learned that she knew how to drive, but wouldn’t get a car until she graduated med school, they had a pretty similar music taste, and that she had quite possibly never relaxed in her whole life. 

cut to a few days later and the shift they were driving away from had been particularly chaotic. multiple MVCs, a psych patient who kept trying to bite everyone, and two nurses who definitely just broke up got into a pretty intense fight in the middle of the ER. john could tell the night had worn down victoria but he wasn’t sure how to ask if she was okay. any time he had tried previously, either while they were working or in the car, she would ask if she’d done something wrong. it seemed to stress her out more than give her an opportunity to share her worries. 

in john’s passenger’s seat, victoria kicked off her shoes and put her knees up to her chest, pulled her hair down, and kept rubbing her shins. he’d only been driving for a few minutes before he started to hear her breathing start to pick up in speed, growing louder than the soft music he was playing. 

“javadi, are you-”

“i need you to pull over. like- like now.” a soft please was added under her breath as john quickly maneuvered into the empty church parking lot. as soon as the car was put into park, victoria flung open her door and ran a few feet away from the car without putting her shoes back on. turning the car off and flinging his seatbelt off, john followed after her. as he jogged up to her, he saw her crouched with her head between her knees, trying her hardest to cry quietly, he squatted down on her right.

“oh god, dr. shen, i’m so sorry. i don’t know what’s happening, i just needed to get out of the car. just- just give me a second and i’ll be fine. i promise, i’m so sorry.” she put her hands in her hair, tugging at the roots. before he could stop himself, john kneeled on the pavement and placed a hand on the back of her neck, softly rubbing the column of her throat with his thumb. he could feel her rapid pulse, all the frantic blood running through her veins. 

“java- victoria, it’s okay. you’re having a panic attack after a rough shift. it’s happened to me more times than i can count. you gotta take some deep breaths before you pass out or something. we can stay here as long as it takes, i won’t leave.” victoria started to shakily take deep breaths, in through her nose and out through her mouth. while john rubbed her neck with his thumb, softly shushing her, her shoulders moved away from her ears and her cries turned into soft little sniffles. 

“better?” he asked, moving his head down to try and look her in the eyes but she still had them closed. she nodded, taking a few more breaths before prying her hands out of her hair to wipe the tears away from her cheeks. when she opened her eyes back up and stared at him, he couldn’t help smiling. her eyes were still red and watery, her cheeks mottled, but she returned his smile.

“ready?” john tilted his head back towards the car and victoria nodded. when he pushed himself up to stand, he stuck his hand out for her, and when she grasped it to be pulled up, he didn’t let go. they held hands for the short distance to his subaru before breaking apart to climb in. john started the car and began the drive to victoria’s again. stealing a glance at her, the rising sun shone on her face through the windshield, bathing her sad little face in golden light. 

“dr. shen, i just want to apologize aga-”

before victoria could finish her sentence, john held up a hand to stop her. “call me john. maybe not at work, but i’d like to think of us as friends now, yeah?” he glanced just in time to see her staring at him and she nodded. “cool. since we’re friends, you don’t need to apologize. i’m serious. this job is stressful, today was stressful. i wish i could say it gets easier, but ideally you learn better ways to cope with it than bottling it up.”

“how do you cope?” her soft question paused his tangent. “i just… you always seem so calm.”

he started to chuckle, pulling into her neighborhood he started to slow the car down. “do you want me to be real?” john chanced looking over at her again. she’d shifted to turning her whole body to look at him, hair tucked behind her ears, socked feet on the seat, her eyes wide as her head bobbed up and down. he could see her tiny lily of the valley earrings sway with the movement. 

“most of the time, after work, i’ll take an edible and veg out on the couch. listen to music, play some mario kart, or just watch shitty tv. i like to just… zone out, y’know?” he could see her house (really her parent’s house) only a few yards away, but he pulled over anyways, parking the car and turning to look back at her. her pretty mouth was open in an “O” again and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“an edible? like- like weed?"

“yeah. it’s medicinal, so if you think about it, it’s literally the doctor's orders for me to get high.” that got a shocked giggle out of her, but she still looked like she had more to say, but was holding herself back. 

“y’know, if you want, i have some gummies in my bag. i can give you one to try out, they’re only 5mg. i’d still only eat half since i’m guessing you’ve never gotten high before.” victoria really started laughing at that, stuttering over herself as john leaned into the back seat and opened his backpack. he fished out a gummy from the tin and held it in the palm of his hand, almost like he was displaying it to her.

“no pressure, but i think it’ll help. honestly you’ll probably just fall asleep, but it’s better than staying up and worrying yourself to death.” 

she held a hand out to grab the gummy but paused just inches over his hand, “are- are you sure?” he nodded and she plucked it out of his palm, quickly, like he was going to snatch it away from her. she stared at it for a moment before having it in her pocket. it was only when john put the car out of park to get them closer to her house did it seem like she realized they were in her neighborhood. 

parking again, he watched victoria as picked up her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and put her hand on the door handle. she opened the door a few inches before closing it again and turning to face him again. 

“you really want to be friends? like, actual friends?” she looked so unsure, biting her lower lip and furrowing her brow. 

“of course, victoria. i like you, i have fun talking to you.” at that she stopped chewing her lip and smiled so brightly at him. it was like he had his own pocket sun, right there in his passenger’s seat. she opened up the car door again and waved at him as she closed. he watched her walk up the front door and before she disappeared into her home, she turned around and gave him a little curtsy before dashing in the door, slamming it behind her. 

he smiled like an idiot all the way home.

[forsaken-headcanons]

(aw man I just found out that asks are from like... the main blogs I wanted to send this ask from Pit-Thrice but oh well hehe)

Saw that oc and canon interaction is allowed so I wanna show my oc/sona who's in a queer-platonic relationship with Chance :D and I also wanna kill the part of me that cringes and just let myself be happy lol Here's art of her and Chance wearing a Jessicsa Rabbit costume bc it's all I have atm

This is Partygirl112, Party for short. She's a hacker. She's genderfluid and goes by any pronouns but gets really giddy and likes it when she's referred to as she/her. She's DOWN BAD for Chance. Idk what to make the ship name yet tho bc I got a lot of ideas. PartyChance, Doubleshades, Luckshipping (both have crazy luck, bad or good), Monorainbow (Chance's greys vs Party's colourfulness), Spectrumshipping (light spectrum hehe), and Russianrouletteshipping (they both like Russian roulette).

She works at this rave/party place thing (idk English) named Paradisia. Pretty popular in the city especially due to the rumours about 'the boss' who's this completely anonymous individual. Even the workers there never met them properly.

Now for yapping hehe:

• She's REALLY protective of Chance. Like she'd glare at someone just for looking at him wrong. She also loves calling them pet names like "My love", "Darling", and she also calls him "My Aphrodite"

• She also has beef with Noob because Noob once caused trouble in Paradisia and she had to cover it up before her boss found out. Genderfluid partygoer on genderfluid partygoer hostility lmao

• Both Party and Chance are afraid that the other might find someone to love more than them. They distract themselves with any type of activities that gets their adrenaline pumping.

• People don't really believe that their relationship is serious (not because they don't believe in qprs but because they assume that they're both too attached to their 'thing', Party - Partying, Chance - Gambling, to be committed to each other)

• If Chance is a rabbit, Party's an owl.

• Party has violent tendencies and she's scared of violence. She hates herself so much for how much she feels like she needs to destroy something or beat the crap out of someone. She won't know what to do with herself if she ever hurts Chance.

• When Chance died and got Forsaken™, Party followed closely after. Not that she did it to herself deliberately. There was just something in the universe that kept them together. So when one goes where the other can't follow, the universe forces fate to put them together again anyway.

Too bad the Spetre ABSOLUTELY screws her up like how they did with John Doe lmao. Killer gang.

am I cringe and free yet I need to BREAK FREE (sorry if this is too much feel free to delete this ask if it is aughsjjbvibys)

another one bites the dust 💔💔

love what you did w her! party seems AWESOnvm she dislikes noob /silly (/J /J /J SHE LOOKS AWESOME!)

owlcore characters are faves ! would love to see her appear in the inbox again once it's cleared out :]