#Anything in my life gone wrong? It’s because of the ipad

[mikkomacko]

Jersey Leeds

Nico Hischier x Reader

Summary: Nico's balancing the playoffs and his pregnant wife who's due any day now.

A/n: This one got away from me and is now way longer than I intended. But it's so cute so I hope you all love it.

~

Typically, you're a very calm and easy going person. You don't go out of your way to make life difficult or feel the need to voice your every thought and opinion. Not that there's anything wrong with it, it's just not who you are.

Which is why you went along with the rule Nico had established after the regular season closed out. Your due date was growing closer and closer, a month turned to 3 weeks, and then 2 weeks, and then Nico was pulling his hair out trying to keep calm. He was about to captain his way through the post season for the first time all while trying to be a father for the first time?

At the recommendation of your doctor (and some online advice), Nico had kindly begged you to stay home for the playoff games in New Jersey. He didn't want you in such a wild and stressful environment, didn't want to risk you being around a crowd of fans that have been deprived of playoff hockey for years. It's their first season back in the post season after the rebuild, he'd told you, and he didn't know what to expect. The last thing he wanted to worry about was you and the baby somewhere in the stands while he was on the ice. Especially for a rivalry round against the Rangers. Things get out of control, he also said, what if something happened to you?

So you agreed. You spent the entirety of the first round in your apartment, eyes glued to the TV and hands on the overinflated balloon that was your belly as you watched Nico fight to keep his team in. He played well, enough to keep you from going stir crazy in the living room, but you knew he was thinking about you and the baby at home. Those 2 weeks turned to one, and it was evident in his struggle to find the back of the net that Nico was holding that due date on his shoulders, right on top of the weight of a tight series. If you being at home was going to ease that weight somehow, you'd do it.

But when game 7 found its way back to New Jersey, you couldn't do it.

"Nico you can't confine me to our home!" You argue, folding the white onesie in your hands "I'm pregnant, not imprisoned. If I want to be there I get to be there." You stack it in the laundry basket, picking up the next freshly washed and dried one.

He's set aside his iPad where he had been watching film from last night's game, the screen now dark as he turns his attention to you.

"Love," he sighs, running a hand through his overgrown hair "you know how much I want you to be there. I always want you there, but this is a whole different game now. You don't know what the fans are like and I can't just let you walk into somewhere you might not be safe."

Safe. Lately everything has come down to you being safe. It wasn't any concern before now. You'd gone to every Rangers game, every Flyers game, and every high tense game before that. The organization and the fans know you, they respect you because at the end of the night you're the one taking their captain home just to send him back the next morning. You'd never felt unsafe or unwelcomed at the Rock before.

"I'm just as safe there as here," you respond, still plucking your way through the pile of baby clothes "I've been there before, I'm known there. That's my home just as much as it's yours."

Nico sits up from the headboard, pushing his iPad even further away as he too grabs a couple of bibs and socks from the pile of clothes. He's silent for a moment and you look over at him to see that he's simply holding a pair of baby socks in his large hands, lips pursed in thought. You know he's picturing the tiny feet that'll wear those socks, thinking about how they kick at his hands when he holds you and talks too loud, when he presses his own stomach into yours so he can kiss you and the butterflies that rush through your body tickle at the baby too. You know he's worried, it's his thing. He's always footed too much responsibility, even when he doesn't have to.

"I know it is," he looks up at you, brown eyes gentle and warm but tinged with fear "and it'll be her home too. But it's not yet, and it definitely won't feel like home when hundreds of blue shirts pack in there tomorrow night. You know how these games are normally baby, and while our fans take care of you, I can't promise anything else for the others."

He folds the socks together, tossing them towards the basket with a half-hearted flick of his hand. You pick the pair up and set them in with the rest, handing him the little tee-shirt in your hands. Jack had gifted it to you a week after you told the team about the pregnancy.

"Don't you think the captain should have his family there?" You prod, softly as you watch his lips twitch into a smile at the shirt. It's got the smallest little Devils logo on the front, a C stamped on the shoulder and when he flips it over to look at the 13 and name on the back you notice the way his bottom lip rattles with emotion.

"We'll get there early and stay in the box the whole time. The other girls will be there, I'll stay towards the back and I won't leave until you or someone from the team comes to get me afterwards." You promise, and while that may sound a little dramatic, you don't mind. In fact nothing sounds better than sitting in those plush chairs watching him play while the caterers bring you food and drinks. The only time you'll have to put your swollen feet to work is to go to the bathroom.

Nico runs his thumb over the white letters spelling out Baby Hischier, and you know he's given in by the slow flutter of his eyelashes as he blinks, the smallest bit of hesitance as he thinks this might be the wrong decision but what the hell?

He folds the shirt, pushing himself up from the mess of sheets and you bite back a grin as he rounds the bed to you. A smile has fought it's way onto his face, crinkling at his eyes and sinking dimples into his cheeks. God you hope the baby has that smile of his.

You reach out for him, hands finding his chest before running up to wrap around his neck. He grips the sides of your belly, drawing you closer to him until your belly button is brushing against his abdomen.

"You don't go anywhere without security," he murmurs, right hand coming up to push a strand of hair away from your face. "no dropping into the store during intermission because you wanted something last minute for the baby. And absolutely no trash talking. These fans are fist happy and I don't need you pissing them off even if you're just defending me."

You can't help but laugh. It wouldn't be the first time you'd passionately defended him in the crowd or taunted a fan after he's scored. He knows you so well. You'd never do that now, you know to keep a low profile but it's sweet that he thinks he needs to remind you.

"I promise baby," you swear, sealing it with a kiss and he cups your face to bring you in even closer. "I just want to be there for you. We want to be there for you."

His inhale is uneven, a small tremor of fear or maybe anxiety or even excitement. Maybe all three but it does nothing to wipe away the smile on his face and so you kiss him again, laughing when you feel little hands and feet nudging against his palm on your stomach. Nico keeps kissing you, trailing his lips over your cheeks and nose as you giggle again, and he presses his hand even further into your stomach.

"Yes," he huffs playfully, looking down at your belly "you girls won, I know. I'll get used to it."

~

You stayed as low-key as possible. Simple all black clothes, casual and comfy shoes, minimal makeup and tucked your hair up into a Devils hat and hair clip. Nico appreciated it, slipping his bracelets onto your wrists before he left and giving you a kiss after he reminded you of the rules and precautions and emergency numbers for people at the arena.

The other girls had been notified of your playoff debut and swore up and down that they'd have your back, just as you'd always had theirs. You rode in the party bus with them, hands over your belly as you laughed and caught up with everyone. You missed them lately, and a part of you was heartbroken that you didn't get the first full playoff experience with them. Even the jackets, which you'd ordered and distributed to everyone, were a jab in your emotional heart because you didn't think to get yourself one. At the time you knew you'd be staying home for the games and it didn't seem worth it. Seeing it hang in your room knowing you'd never wear it would be just awful so you didn't bother.

A part of you now wishes you had, and you could almost cry about it if you weren't so excited for the game. But when the bus rolled up to the arena and the lights came up, your happiness at being back was nothing compared to the wave of emotion that took over when the girls pulled out a giant gift bag.

It was red and sparkly, your name written on the tag in a very familiar font. You pushed aside the black tissue paper, eyes welling with tears as you pulled out the black leather jacket. The name Nico had given you last summer and his number, surrounded by bright flames. You unfolded the jacket, swiping at the tears on your cheeks while the girls laughed and cheered. A white card had fallen into your lap, the message simple and sweet.

Knew you'd need it eventually

You didn't need a signature to know who gifted you this. The writing itself was clear but the special signature on the sleeve topped with a heart instead of a 13, said it all. Nico only signed with a heart when it was addressed to you. From that first receipt at the bar you met at after he bought your drinks, to the flowers he'd had delivered to you a few weeks ago just because, that same signature always topped it off.

That's what comes to mind when he takes the ice, finding his spot on the blue line for the national anthem and you holler with the rest of the fans, tucked into the jacket he got specifically for you. The Rock is electric, every fan on their feet and every towel in the air. You keep up for as long as you possibly can but your feet quickly grow sore and tired, so you settle into a seat with a plate of food. At least until you get too into the game and jump back up to cheer with the rest of the girls.

Intermission is spent taking pictures for Instagram, showing off the jackets once again and thanking the artist. You answer texts from family and friends wishing you and Nico good luck tonight, letting you know they're tuning in to watch. An ice cream helmet and a churro are delivered to you courtesy of the security guard Nico has requested follow you at all times, and you enjoy the snack for the entirety of the second period.

With the Devils up 2-0 you feel pretty good. Nico was right, you didn't know what a playoff crowd was like and while it's overwhelming, it's also heartwarming. You can't help but think of how happy Nico must be, how much he deserves this. He's done his best all season to carry the weight of being captain of a team that's constantly left behind and forgotten. The Devils are always the underdogs, and at the front of the pack is your boyfriend, trying his best to build them up into contenders. His first point of the night is a step in the right direction, and you hope he's pulling himself out of the rut he's been in. Maybe you're just superstitious but you convince yourself it's because you're at the game.

As the minutes tick by, you grow even more happy about attending tonight's game. If you're lucky it'll even relax Nico into letting you attend round 2, and hopefully more rounds after that. But you're getting ahead of yourself.

In fact, you don't really have time to think about the next round at all because the baby's begun kicking around in your belly. At first you're amused, making a mental note to tell Nico that he's going to have a hard time keeping his daughter from the rink. But as the girls take turns feeling her kick, the sudden sharp pain in your spine and release of pressure between your legs makes you freeze.

The game grows forgotten, the food and laughs and pictures given up on. There's nothing else to think about except the fact that you are going into labor and your husband is unattainable on the ice below you.

~

Nico has just stepped down the tunnel when he's stopped by personnel, not even around the corner and to the locker room yet. Someone's holding a phone out to him, urging him to take it and he feels his heart drop to his stomach. Why are they looking at him like that? With those hesitant smiles and nervous eyes. He knows it's about you, it has to be and the fact that you're not down here yet let's him know something's wrong.

He rips off his helmet, holding the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hi my love!" You greet, a little breathless but cheerful. Nico doesn't care whose phone he's got, he takes it with him towards the locker room. Why are you calling him?

"Hey darling, what are you doing?" He ignores the other boys, sitting down in his locker and untying his skates. You're not giving him any reason to be nervous but he has a feeling he should be. "Are you down here yet?"

He can hear someone else talking with you, their voice muddled through the phone but he imagines it's one of the girls. "No I'm not going down to the locker room." You carefully say "I actually already left the arena."

It's then that he recognizes the sound of a car radio and the rumble of the highway. He can feel the others looking at him, wondering why he's on the phone and already stripping out of his gear instead of celebrating with them.

"What do you mean you left?" He asks, toweling through his sweaty hair. "I told you to come down here."

Someone honks on the other line. "I know I know, but I need you to stay calm when I say this Nico."

He freezes, heart pounding in his chest but trying his best to not let it rattle in his voice. "What happened? Are you ok?"

By now Jack has picked up on the call, slowly inching towards Nico's stall with questioning eyes. "I'm fine. The baby is fine. We had a great time. So much fun that she kinda decided she wanted to watch it in person."

Nico's head spins. "What? What do you mean?"

"My water broke," you say and Nico's tossing the phone to Jack, ripping off his jersey and pads.

"Ask her how long ago." He instructs, and he hears Jack greet you before asking the question. You must talk to him for a bit because he's mouthing things and holding up fingers as you go. Nico continues to tear through his gear, half-heartedly wiping sweat off as he goes so he can get dressed.

"Five minutes left in the third," Jack recites back to him. "She took the bus here with the girls so Clare is driving her and they're about 2 minutes from the hospital."

Nico tugs on a pair of shorts and shoves his feet into the sneakers he left in his locker this morning. "She's asking that you please shower before coming here because she knows you smell awful."

He wants to laugh, knows she's teasing him to try and calm him down. It doesn't work. All he can think about is how you're in labor, that your water broke and he wasn't there to help you to the car or drive you to the hospital. He throws on a shirt, taking the phone back from Jack.

"Already dressed, I'm not showering." He's shoving things into his duffle, unsure of what he even needs or should take with him. He at least has the right sense to grab deodorant and cologne from his stall.

"Nico it's not that bad yet." You say on the other end of the phone. "Really you have the time to shower and do media-"

"Media?" He interrupts, "You're not fucking serious? I'm going to the hospital so I can be with you, not talking to the press."

He digs his keys and phone out of the side pocket of his bag, tossing it over his shoulder. He's still got the phone to his ear when he turns back to Jack. "You're on media tonight. Don't say a word about this and call me afterwards."

Jack salutes him, eyes shiny and smile wide. It's then that Nico realizes the whole room is watching him excitedly. Biting back a laugh he address you again.

"I'll be there in 5 minutes. Text me if you get into a room ok?"

"Ok Nico."

"I'll see you soon love," he says quietly, wanting to keep the sweet moment between you two. You return the sentiment, wincing slightly afterwards and he knows you're starting to feel those contractions.

"Hey," he calls before you can hang up. "Don't have that baby until I'm there."

"You got it Cap."

He hangs up, not knowing what to do with the random phone he's been given until the employee that handed it to him is shoving into the room. He quickly gives it back, double checking his pockets for everything just as reporters begin to pour into the room.

"Well boys," he finally addresses the team, looking around at their expectant faces. "We fought hard, we came out on top. And we can do it again later but for now..." Jack has found his way to Nico's side, gripping his shoulder and shaking him excitedly. "I gotta go have a baby."

Hoots and hollers bust out, Jack kisses his cheek and shoves him towards the door. He receives more taps and shoves as he goes, everyone wishing him luck as he prepares for the biggest moment of his life.

~

Nico's fully aware that he looks like a mess. Disheveled, sweaty, gnawing at his bottom lip as he rushes into the labor and delivery lobby. A man in scrubs spots him before he can reach the counter, obviously recognizing him.

"Hischier?" He asks anyway and Nico nods, unsure if he answers around the trembles of his breath. "Right this way, don't worry you haven't missed a thing."

That eases him a bit, enough that he's not breathing down the man's back as they disappear down a long hallway, one left turn, two right turns. Nico finds the room number you'd given him earlier immediately, almost shoving the man out of the way to get to the door. He thinks he apologizes or maybe says excuse me but the only thing running through his mind is seeing you, being there with you.

You're pacing the room when he walks in, one hand on your lower back and the other rubbing circles over your belly. Clare is standing by the side of the bed, watching you like a hawk and Nico feels better knowing she was there. His entrance draws your attention from the TV in the corner of the room, eyes meeting his and your face immediately lights up. He moves to you before you can even take a step towards him, hands reaching up to hold your flush face.

"Why are you up? Are you ok?"

He searches your face, looks for hint of agony or worry but only finds your beautiful eyes and swollen lips. You place a hand over his, laughing softly.

"I'm ok. Still dilating but it feels better to walk." You say. "I sit down for big contractions, I promise."

Nico trusts you, backing away to thank Clare for taking care of you while you continue to move about the room. She leaves to go meet Ryan, promising to check in on you in a couple hours before disappearing out of the room. He perches on the end of the bed, watching you on the edge of his seat in case he needs to get up. The TV is showing highlights of the game tonight before cutting to the locker room just in time to see Nico give his goodbye speech to the team.

Eyebrows raised, you look at him expectantly.

"What?" He asks, defensive.

"You most definitely had time to shower." You say, waddling towards him. His hands find your hips, chin tilting up to look at you just in time to see you dramatically scrunch your nose at him.

"Not a good first impression on your daughter Nico, she's going to think you're stinky all the time."

He laughs, reaching up to move a piece of hair that's stuck to the sweat on your neck. "I have clothes in the baby bag, I'll change my love."

The relief he expected to see on your face is instead one of panic. Eyes wide, mouth dropping open and you squeeze his shoulders.

"I forgot the baby bag!" You wail, throwing your head back in frustration. Nico jumps to his feet when your whine turns to a wince, your hand dropping to your stomach. He carefully turns you until you're sitting on the bed instead, one hand crushing his as you breathe through a contraction.

He waits for it to pass before digging his phone out. "It'll be fine, I'll have Jack stop and get it. The car seats already in my car, nursery set up." Nico brushes your hair back in again, inhaling and exhaling calmly with you. "We're ready for this."

You take another deep breath, eyes not leaving his and he's tries his best to look reassuring.

"We're ready," you repeat quietly "we're having a baby and we're ready."

~

Two hours later, after countless swear words over tearful cheeks, her hand squeezing the life out of Nico's, and a little bit of wooziness on his part, Nico's met his daughter.

She's a tiny little thing, only 6 pounds and 9 ounces. Her fingers and toes scrunched, eyes pinched shut under blonde eyebrows but after only a couple cries, she lays on your chest with a smile. And when he leans in to kiss you, blubbering something about how much he loves you and how precious she is, her little nose scrunches in distaste. Maybe he should've showered. It ends up not mattering though because she still recognizes his voice, especially when he says sweet things in German to her, and her little head tilts towards him, hands wiggling around like she's trying to find him.

As soon as she's swaddled he's taking her, cradling her to his chest in the gentlest but safest way he can. Nico's never thought of himself as impossibly strong but she's so light and so small he's afraid of holding her too tight and hurting her.

You watch him fawn over her while you get cleaned up, brushing out your hair and sponging away the sweat and blood and goop. Nico presses his nose to the top of her head, right where little strands of blonde hair have dried, and takes in the smell of her. Her faces scrunches at him again and he wants to go change and wash up so she'll stop looking at him like that but he can't bare to put her down. Even after you've settled back in the bed and the nurses have cleared out, Nico knows you want to hold her but he still takes his sweet time handing her over.

You look so sweet, so motherly when you hold her to your chest and softly stroke over her cheek. His chest alights with warmth, spreading throughout his veins and his eyes sting with happy tears. He wants to remember this forever. He fumbles for his phone, fingers shaky as he snaps a picture of you smiling widely at her. You look up at him, eyes wet with tears but so unfathomably happy and you say, "she has your nose Neeks."

She does, he realizes, taking in the sharpness of it. Your nose doesn't look like that and while his is a bit different after breaking it, hers is so similar to his. And her blonde hair, just like him. Before he'd grown up, he too had pin straight blonde hair. He imagines her with his eyes too, big and brown, seeping off warmth everywhere they look. He thinks she's so beautiful and he hopes she has your smile because that has to be his favorite thing in the world.

Perfect, his baby girl is perfect.

Nico leaves you two alone, fishing out his clothes and the baby wipes from the bag before disappearing into the bathroom. He does his best to wipe down his body with them, wanting to hurry back to his girls but in the end decides he should just rinse off in the shower there. He forgoes the hospital body wash and conditioner, simply washing his matted hair because he wants her to know what he usually smells like, not some cheap unmarked bottle stuff. He should've asked Jack to grab his bathroom stuff but it's too late now.

Toweling off and redressing in sweats and a t-shirt, Nico combs his fingers through his wet hair and let's it air dry. He put on more deodorant, forgetting the cologne because what if she doesn't like it or has some kind of reaction to it? No he'd rather her think he smells bad.

You let him hold her again when he comes back, moving over so he can squish on the bed next to you and this time when he presses her to his chest, she leans into him, lips smacking quietly as she settles in comfortably. He laughs, shaking his head because she's unable to utter a word but he already knows she's got your same little attitude.

"Nurse came by, said the boys are about to break down the doors to get in here." You say quietly. Nico laughs again, decides he should probably go get whoever's gathered out there so he hands her back to you.

"Wait," you stop him before he can get to the door, "hand me the baby bag please."

He fishes it out from the little storage closet, setting it on the end of the bed and helping you dig through it because he knows you're tired and sore. You pull out a little black beanie with a glittery Devils logo on the front, removing the pink one they put on her head and sliding the new one on. Nico tucks everything away again, taking just a second to look at you and her. You beam at him.

"She's very proud of her dad."

Nico kisses you, a real kiss this time instead of those mushy pecks he gave you earlier. Then he presses a flittering kiss to her head, promising to be back soon before he leaves to gather Jack and the others.

The lobby is packed with hockey players, squished onto the couches, hugging their knees on the floor as they chatter quietly. Nico overhears Jack talking about seeing them earlier, poking fun at how nervous Nico looked. He sneaks up behind him, grabs him by the shoulders and Jack jumps, whirling around to look at him. Nico laughs, not even getting a chance to say anything before his friend is jumping at him. He wraps his arms around him, beaming as the others rise to their feet and join in on the hug. They're all shaking him and patting his head.

"How are we feeling captain daddy?" Wood teases, ruffling his hair. Someone pinches his cheek, comments on his puffy eyes and he shrugs it off.

"Feeling like I just had the best night of my life." He admits and they cheer again. Nico gets them all to settle down and split into to two groups. He doesn't want to overwhelm you or the baby and he doubts he can bring in 15 people. The first group calmly follows him through the hall and to the room, all of them growing quite as they lightly tread into the room in a line.

You smile at everyone as they come in, the baby still cradled to your chest and Jesper is the first to tip toe over, a bouquet of balloons and a teddy bear in his hand. He sets them on the tray next to you, looking at Nico nervously.

"You can say hi," Nico chuckles and you motion Jesper closer, instructing him on how to cradle her. She barely fusses as he holds her, eyes widening and he smiles giddily at Nico. Seeing her in his arms draws the others closer and they set up a stack of cards next to the balloons, Timo settling in the chair next to you and asking about how you're doing. Jesper slowly walks down the line, letting everyone look at her.

Dawson gets a glimpse at her before his head shoots up to look at Nico. "She looks just like you!" He exclaims, loud enough that the baby stirs in Jesper's arm and he freezes. Nico laughs, walks over and reaches in to smooth his thumb over her scrunched nose. She settles back down, but Jesper's freaked enough that he eagerly hands her off to a wide eyed Jack.

"Poor kid," Jack teases, "hopefully she gets her mom's personality or she's screwed." But tears have welled in his eyes and he's staring at her so enthralled that Nico knows Jack already loves her. In fact, they're all looking at her like she's made of precious gems.

Trusting them to be careful, Nico takes Timo's seat next to you. You reach out for his hand and he holds between both of his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

"You've got a good group there Captain," you say, looking over as Jack shows Woodsy how to hold her head. He grins, unbelievably happy and content in the moment. He hasn't even had a chance to think about the fact that he's moving on to the next round of the playoffs yet. But all that matters right now is his family. He can think about the game later.

"She's already got them whipped into shape." He murmurs, laughing when Woodsy moves a little too fast and she gurgles unhappily, halting him. Dougie scolds him, taking her from his arms with a disappointed shake of his head.

Jack comes over, squishes himself into the chair with Nico even though it means he's sitting half on his lap. You laugh when he wiggles his hand in alongside Nico's, fingers holding both of yours.

"Congrats mom and dad," Jack says, "I've been waiting for a baby sister. All I got was Luke."

"Where is Luke?"

He snickers. "I left him at home."

You gasp but laugh, releasing their hands to shove him. Nico shakes his head, knowing he's going to have to text the younger Hughes brother and let him know he can stop by whenever he wants.

Timo's the last to meet her, blowing little kisses at her and smiling. "Hey little captain," he whispers, just loud enough for Nico to hear. "hope you like it here because you just got stuck with the whole team."

You and Nico look around, notice that everyone is still squished around Timo watching her. They're like moths to a flame following her, inching closer to the bed when Timo hands her to Nico. Jack moves over, perches by your feet so Nico has room to hold her and be close to you.

"You didn't tell us her name," Dougie says, looking between you and Nico. The two of you had been stuck between two different names but now that she's here the decision is clear. Nico was hesitant of it at first, thought it'd be too cliche or something but she's decided for herself.

"It's Jersey," you say with an amused smile. What other name could you give the baby that had done summersaults in your belly during games and decided she wanted to join the world during her father's game and has the whole team smitten with her.

"Jersey Leeds Hischier." Nico adds and the boys all soak it in, tease him a bit for being so sentimental but he doesn't care. This is his home, it's given him everything, and no matter what happens next round or next year or in ten years from now, he wants to remember everything Jersey has given him.

[seeminglydark]

Idk if this means anything to you but I'm a comic artist who's had a hard time doing art for a few years. The first four was because of life hardship and lack of time/chronic pain, but now lately I've had time but a mental block. I'm creeping up on 30 and felt bad about myself for "missing out" on my opportunity to be a comic artist. It was really validating to see you post about being 41 (correct me if I'm wrong) especially since you have such wonderful comics that I've been following for a while now. It makes me feel less like I'm wasting my time putting my things in order when I "should" be drawing.

Hopefully this doesn't come across as offensive or anything. It was just comforting and validating. Anyway, big fan! Love your characters a whole lot and hope you have a good day!

Dear Anon

I am 41 years old. I have wanted to make comics my entire life. before my dad got sick, and my childhood kinda fell apart, all i did was draw. after that, i used the stories in my head to cope. life moved on. i was convinced not to accept a partial scholarship to an art school in California. life got hard. i worked at a hotel, and after i escaped an abusive relationship at 22 i hitchhiked/bused far far away to start over. i tried to make comics again, but i had to survive, and so i got another job doing the only thing i knew how to do, hotels. and i worked. and worked. and life got harder and times got heavier and i didn't get time to draw and i worked double hours, 15 to 17 hours a day. and i went four years without drawing a single thing.

i kept working myself into the ground. i was 29 now. i picked up a pen again and drew a red haired boy. he had a hard life and no love and no friends. his problems were on the outside, for everyone to see. he ran away but his problems went with him.

i was 32. surely i was too old now. my time to be an artist was gone. i had no school. no hope. i was so far behind the younger gen i saw online. i cried. all the time. i wrote stories in my email drafts while i worked shifts. i stayed up late trying to learn how to draw again. i cried some more. the boy grew. i called him Fiach. worthy. a raven. later i renamed him Avery. he was like a bird, he had wings, he was my hope. i started writing some friends for him. the people i wished i had around me.

i started finding time and space. i got a new job, something where i was lucky enough to set my own hours. for the first time i had a partner who believed in me. things were hard. but i was drawing now. and that helped.

i went on a road trip and i started drawing pages of an unnamed story on 6 by 8 paper in a sketchbook. i drew 20 of them. 'what could i call this?' i thought. Nothing Seems as Dark...no says my partner. Seemingly Dark. he made me a logo. i was 35. i bought an ipad, i cant do this on paper, its too much story i have too much to say. so i learned how to draw digitally by tracing my own trad art pages.

I spoke to my dad for the last time on June 17th, fathers day that year. he said 'you're good. i'm proud. and you're gonna do amazing things. none of this is your fault. and we will speak again soon.' i didn't know id never hear his voice again. he died a week later.

i turned 36. i kept trying. i'm old, i don't understand the internet. how can i share this?

i stumbled across Lore Olympus. i was introduced to webcomics. id read comics online before but the thought never occurred to me. i opened an account on Tapas. and then i stared at it. what if no one likes it. what if its bad. my art isn't good. i should wait til i'm better. but will i ever really be better? or will i always believe that tomorrow is better? do it now. if even one person gets something out of this story, this story about a boy who is you, a boy who looking for hope, a boy who might make it, then that is enough isn't it.

June 17th 2018 i launched Seemingly Dark.

SD's five year anniversary is in a week. 0ver 700 pages. leaps and bounds in progress with my skills. a printed comic under my belt as of monday. i was always a storyteller. but i was always an artist too.

I am 41 years old, dear anon. I did not truly embark on this journey til i was 35. life got in the way. even now, chronic illness gets in the way. but its worth it. its never ever too late. i believe in you the way my dad believed in me. i reset my life again and again. but I was always an artist. and if thats who you are, and who you want to be, even if things dont go the way you wished they could, you're an artist too.

im 41 years old. i speak about my age, even though i often feel too old to belong in spaces, cuz really, in this case age is just a number. take care of yourself. do what you need to do. and little by little, when your able, carve out your space until it becomes more of a habit. sometimes i think about all the years i lost not drawing or creating. but there's a lot of factors that make me believe had i made my story then, it wouldn't be the story it is now, i needed to live a bit. i needed to find myself. i know this was long, but i just wanted you to see i also had to put my life in order, and getting notes like this reminds me it wasnt at all a waste. im glad i could offer you some comfort. thats honestly the best compliment i could ever receive.

TL;dR I was 35 when i sat down and seriously started making comics, because life always got in the way and so did my confidence. i always feared being too old. im 41 now, still going strong.

[chaionthemoon]

An Endless Existence

Prologue and Chapter 1

Opener: So to start off for those few of you that do read this fic or are even interested in it:

If you've previously read any White Diamond x Original Characters on AO3, you may be semi-familiar with a really old Fanfiction that I wrote back in 2018, and only had 6 chapters total (Title: Its my life!). When I wrote that I was barely in 9th grade of HS, I was writing on my old ass Ipad, and I was writing it right into AO3 rather than a separate document. Not only that, but it was my first ever fanfiction that I ever wrote, so I was writing with literally no experience at all.

Only recently have I gone back to the Fanfiction and have re-read it and wow… thats all I can say. Over the 6 years since publishing that story, I've matured (obviously) and Orange diamond’s story has changed EXTREMELY. I've always wanted to go back to the story and rewrite it, however back in 2022 when I started getting serious about writing and fanfiction, I orphaned the fanfiction, as I didnt want my new readers to read whatever I had wrote back when I was younger, especially since i've tried to hard to really change my writing direction, my approach and become more professional. I have an AO3 account that I publish frequently from, however I created this separate account to write whatever I want about my own original characters from fandoms and their stories, not because I am ashamed or anything, but because i've been detached from fandoms such as Steven Universe, The Arcana and ect. That I no longer feel comfortable publishing these Fics to my bigger account.

By rewriting this story, Im hoping to reclaim it for myself, as well as bring back my old childhood interest in Steven Universe. There will be some similarities between the two stories such as both stories will have similar characters, Similar ships and a few similar topics (Such as abuse within romantic relationships, power dynamics in relationships, manipulation, ect.), however will completely abandon many of the original concept of the story (Such as the arranged marriage, gemlings/the diamonds having biological kids, any ship with Pink Diamond, ect.) just because looking back at the fic, it just doesn't feel right to write about it, and I want to keep it semi-accurate to the show with adding just a few of my own twists (Such as there being Minor diamond that serve as “Apprentice’s” to the major diamonds (White, Yellow, Blue, and Pink), and there being a competition between the Minor diamonds to prove to the diamonds their worth to hopefully monitor a full colony (Not their own colon, but one of the diamonds colonies).

Im in college now, and in a major that requires me to write more often, so hopefully my grammar and writing is 1000% better than whatever I wrote 6 years ago. Feedback is always encouraged, and I hope you enjoy whatever dumpster fire this will be...

Maybe it was bad luck on Orange’s part, that she should have the misfortune of being the only gem to come from the cursed planet. After all, there had to be something terribly wrong with her or her gem if she was able to withstand such a merciless planet for years. If Orange had not been tested and checked relentlessly after coming to Homeworld to ensure her gems perfection and been cleared as a legitimate diamond, then she also would have been sure that she had a faulty gem.

She remembered the day she had formed, though it had been very long ago at this point. She couldn't see her hands in front of her, winds constantly whipped her face, the atmosphere weighing down on her and her gem, as if it would eventually shatter her. Tme did not exist, and Orange was constantly dissociating from what was real and what wasn't. What was this existence? And where was she? Would she forever be alone? All these questions circled her mind, and that would be her existence for the next few years until a scout ship would come across her and alert the diamonds of her existence.

By the time the Diamonds retrieved her, she had been sure that everything and everyone wasn't real. It couldn't be real. How could she go from being stranded in the middle of a planet with no vision, no noise but the wind, and no voices but her own, to then being surrounded by bright lights, loud mechanic noises, and a million questions from gems surrounding her. It made no sense, and wouldn't for the next few hundred years.

Looking back at it, How could Orange Diamond could have possibly have hoped for a peaceful existence when she was born in the middle of a storm? It just was not in her fate, she was the diamond of storms after all.

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Orange shook her head as she tried to dispel any thoughts on her life before coming to Homeworld. If she thought bout it for too long, she would start to disassociate again, and Yellow hated when she would have to repeat herself to Orange if she didn't hear her the first time. Orange really tried to be in some state of awareness, as to please yellow diamond, however it was difficult for her.

Orange still struggled with being able to understand what was happening around her, and how much of it was her mind playing tricks on her. Some part of her gem still believes that this is all a hallucination, and that Orange can’t possibly have the fortune of being able to directly serve such an authority as those in the Diamond Authority. But then there were moments were the light hit her eyes wrong, or when Canary nudged her with her foot to alert Orange of something, that would bring her back to reality.

“Orange.” Yellow diamonds voice rang out in the large room where the golden gem sat in her throne. Orange was still deep in her thoughts when she felt the small nudge from canary and immediately snapped back to the current reality. She knew that Yellow had called her name, and couldn't remember anything else but that, so she decided to go off of that,

“Yes, Yellow Diamond.” Orange answered back, as she stood up and knelt before Yellows chair. Orange kept her face down, looking at the floor.

“I want to discuss an important matter with you before its released to the other diamonds at the upcoming ball that we will be hosting.” Yellow Paused. Orange grew concerned at the break in between Yellows thought. Usually long pauses did not equal good news, at least not in Orange Diamonds experience. However, Orange was pleasantly surprised when the next words fell from Yellow’s mouth: “I want to officially name you as my apprentice. You've served me well these past few thousand years, and I trust no other minor gem more with my colonies than you.”

Orange let out a small gasp before quickly closing her mouth. She kept her face looking down, at her own foot. “I- Thank you my Diamond, this is such an honor. Im unsure what else to say…”

“Say nothing then. Just continue to do your job well.” Yellow responded shortly. “While you've been diligent in your work, you still have much to improve upon. Not yet the idea of perfection, but you are getting there…” her voice sounded as if she was considering it, considering Orange’s position, and how she was of some value to her. It was softer than her usual tone of voice, and Orange was grateful for it internally.

“Thank you, my diamond.” Orange took the compliment. Compliments from Yellow were far and few inbetween, with the only compliments Orange being able to recall being directed towards White Diamond.

“I warn you though. So far, the only diamond to take an apprentice has been White diamond, and even then, the idea is simply unprecedented and still being tested to see if it works. You will be presented to not only Pink and Blue diamond, but White herself. She will evaluate you, test you if need be, to see if you are fit to assume the role as my apprentice. Orange, I need you to impress White, and calm any concerns of hers.” Yellow urged “You have been a great help to me, and I would hate to lose a gem such as yourself all because you could not meet White Diamonds standards”

“I will try my best my Diamond.” Orange responded, her tone as monotone as she could muster it. There was still a slight quiver in her tone, shock still processing in her system and adjusting to the news.

When Orange returned to her work station, it took her a few moments to remember what she had been working on previously. Whenever her bouts of concentration were broken, she always struggled to regain the same energy she had had before being called upon. Despite being able to open up her screen to her previous mission, she remained unsuccessful in continuing her productivity. Too many thoughts and ideas stirred in her head. Too many questions, too many scenarios to the unknown. What if she couldn't meet white diamonds standards? Would she be shattered? That hardly seemed like the worst punishment to her. Would Yellow Diamond be Punished? That seemed much worst to Orange, and Orange chalked it up to her loyalty to Yellow.

Dissociating had its perks. It allowed for time to pass faster for Orange. It allowed for her to get her word done with little to no thought behind it, completing it at faster rates and with ease. It came as second nature to her, and when it came to nature, there was not much to think about. It also helped her to ignore the feeling of any worries, any questions, and simply just exist without being present. Unfortunately for Orange diamond, she was stuck in her mind for the remainder of the planets cycle, left to get nothing accomplished and be stuck in her own thoughts.

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After being dismissed by Yellow Diamond, Orange had headed back to the Minor Diamonds residency to stew on the new information that had been provided to her. She found herself seated in the main area of the palace, typing furiously on her screen, trying to catch up on the previous days work. Nearby, Crimson Diamond worked. Crimson and Orange had always been friendly towards one another, though their acquaintance had its limits. To start: Orange believed Crimson a gossip. Crimson usually associated herself with Moon and Teal diamond, two of Blue Diamonds personal minor diamonds, and therefore, anything Orange diamond said to Crimson, she was sure would get back to Moon and Teal, and then so on and so fourth until it reached Yellow Diamond, and then Orange would be punished for “gossiping” as well. Second was that Crimson was extremely childish in Oranges eyes. She held little reasoning, and debating with her was like debating with a pebble. There was no argument against her. And lastly, Orange firmly believed that because they were both so opposite of one another, their was no way there could be a genuine friendship between them.

However, that didn't stop Orange from trying to fish for information from Crimson. If there was one thing that Gossips were good with, it was having updated information. Though how good Crimsons information was remained to be determined.

“What do you think the diamonds are like?” Orange questioned out loud and then turned to look at Crimson. She quickly became aware of the silence, and how her words had pierced through it. Luckily, it was only her and Crimson in the area for now, though the confused look that crimson gave her when she looked up from her own work had Orange thinking that she should backtrack a bit. “I mean specifically Pink, Blue and White Diamond.” Orange added quickly.

“Well… Who do you want me to start with?” Crimson leaned in, and slowly closed her own tablet to converse with Orange. Perfect- this was what she needed.

“Lets start with White. What can you tell me about our ruler?” Orange asked as she set aside her own work as well. This could in terms, count as working, as this was researching for her next big event.

“White diamond is a perfectionist” Crimson spoke softly, though her words carried in the main room. Orange thought to Cullinan and Black Diamond. Both worked closely with White Diamond, although they never spoke of her, and the only things Orange had heard were rumors fueled by Crimson Diamond, who got said rumors from things Pink Diamond had said. “I heard she can control gems as her power-”

‘Thats impossible” Orange had countered “There has been no record of any other gem, let alone our queen White Diamond, having such powers-”

“And thats why she is the ruler of the universe and Diamond Authority, it is said that she is everything that we are not.” Crimson motioned around her to all of the Minor diamonds. “I don't doubt for one second that she could mind control gems and make them do her bidding. If that weren't the case, then why not go against her command?”

With no warning, a voice grunted out, her voice deep and disgruntled with every word she spoke out: “Watch it Crimson.” Both diamonds flinched when they heard Black Diamond’s call out. Black diamond was White diamonds personal apprentice, a Title that the rest of the Minor Diamonds could only dream of. She had a dark and demeaning aura to her, that made her not very approachable, much less, sociable. Orange couldn't recall ever having a proper conversation with her, and in some aspects she was rather glad about that. Black Diamond seemed to dim any room she walked into, sucking all of the light out of the space. It made almost any common gem weak, and cower from her.“To question White Diamonds authority is considered treason, even for a gem of your status and station.” Black growled out.

“Im sorry, You misunderstand though Black, I meant it rhetorically.” Crimson gave a sly smile, not affected by Black’s presence. “We follow White Diamond and her Authority because she has been nothing but merciless letting us exist and serve the diamond authority, despite us being less than an actual diamond. We follow her because she guides gemkind to do what is necessary…” It sounded rehearsed, like Crimson had prepared for this, and Orange almost bought the sincerity in her words, if only she hadn't been smiling while she spoke. There was something about Crimson that had always put the other diamonds at ease, weather it was her casual demeanor towards everything, or her cheerful personality, no one could stay mad at Crimson.

Black seemed to accept Crimsons words with nothing more than one more glare, and simply turned away and out of the room, leaving Crimson and Orange alone once more. The fact that Black had overheard them of all the times that she could have came, had to be one of the most unlucky coincidences that Orange had experienced. To fill in the awkwardness left in her wake, Orange Diamond cleared her throat and turned back to Crimson. “Well, whats Pink diamond like then? Perhaps you'll have more facts rather than rumors this time.”

“Pink? Well shes simply wonderful.” Orange chuckled now, and Crimson became defensive “Im not just saying that! Its true. She has a bad temper, though she has gotten way better about it recently after an unfortunate incident with one of her pearls. Whenever I'm with her, she treats me as if I'm not…lesser than…”

“Even though we are?” Orange countered, and Crimson groaned. “You get angry, but we all know its the truth. How bad is her anger though?” Orange goaded on, clearly seeing that Crimson was getting irritated with the intrusion on her diamonds information.

Crimson sat quietly for a second before answering. “She… well, she broke her own pearl recently.”

“Are you kidding?” Orange’s eyes widened at this revelation “You mean she shattered her?” She had not heard of this from yellow, but then again, yellow rarely spoke of the other diamonds and their personal issues with the minor diamonds. It was that lack of knowledge that divided the Minor diamonds from the diamond authority, and from one another.

“Well, not exactly… She’s broken but, not shattered. After she reformed, one of her eyes had a scar remain on it. White diamond took the poor pearl and replaced her with a new pearl, one of the basic ones.” Crimson shrugged, as if it was nothing of importance, and Orange found herself wondering if she was over exaggerating with how she found the whole situation ridiculous.

“Ah, well, that makes sense then. If she cant take care of a custom pearl, then why not just give her a generic pearl.” Orange sighed “Still though, the poor thing. She must have been terrified.” Crimson hummed in agreement, and then finally asked the question that was on her mind since the start of the conversation.

“What’s making you question about the other diamonds now? Is it because of the Ball that Yellow Diamond is hosting?” Crimson spoke.

“Well, yeah.” Orange says casually, or as casually as she could. She didn't want to appear too interested in it, otherwise she was afraid that Crimson would catch on.

“Why would that concern you though? Us Minor diamonds are not allowed to attend balls unless we are officially granted Apprentice titles.” Crimson questioned further, repeating the rehearsed rules that Orange was all too familiar with.

Orange knew she had to come up with something quickly, and so she opted to say “well, Im assisting Yellow with the ball and wanted to know the other diamonds better so that I know how to properly set up the ball. I want to exceed Yellow Diamonds expectations of me, and by having this chance, I hope to prove myself even more to her.” it was basic, but did the trick as Crimson lost interest in Orange Diamonds words.

“Oh-” Crimson propped her head on her hand and leaned on it “I was so hoping that there was something else on your mind-”

“Like what?” Orange shook her head incredulously and turned to Crimson again. There was no way that Crimson knew anything.

“Well, you've served under Yellow diamond for quiet a while. The third longest minor diamond to work for the diamond authority. Not only that, but Canary is quiet young, and stands no chance on your age and wisdom, so… I thought that Yellow Diamond would have made you her apprentice by now…”

“And what of you? Has Pink spoken about making you an apprentice?” Orange countered, and Crimson turned a bright red. It was almost comical how dark she became in a matter of seconds.

“Pink knows she doesn't need to talk to me about my position in her court because it is secured. My only competition being Daria, and Daria is barely one thousand years old. She barely figured out how to fly a dropship a few moons ago, much less having the knowledge on how to assist our diamond in conquering a planet. I've been working tirelessly though to assist Pink when the Diamonds graciously allow her the opportunity to prove herself to them.”

Orange nodded her head, not genuinely listening to Crimsons ramblings, however picked her head back up at the mention of Pink having a colony. “Do you believe that she is ready for a colony?” Orange asked, genuine in her question, and Crimson nodded.

“I firmly believe that she could be a great ruler, a great diamond, because she already is one. She just needs the chance to show it…” Orange pursed her lips, but accepted the answer.

“Ill… Ill let you know if I hear anything about it.” Orange said and excused herself from their conversation.

Talking with Crimson left her with a nagging feeling in the back of her mind. What crimson said could have some truth to it, or it could all be lies, told to Orange to make her look like a fool in front of the diamond authority. She supposed she wouldn't know until the Ball.

(This fic is also posted on AO3 under the name Chaionthemoon. Ao3 is more frequently and accurately updated rather than Tumblr, so to get the next chapter faster I recommend going there first)

[ivy-diaries]

⌗ kpop daebak show with Eric Nam (part two) !!

ᝰ era: unstoppable

ᝰ characters: Ivy & Eric Nam

ᝰ word count: 2.1k

ᝰ notes: done!! i hope everyone enjoyed it!! lmk if i got anything wrong!! stay hydrated <33

ᝰ taglist: lmk if you wanna be added !!

“Hello ladies and gentlemen, welcome to part two of catching up with ivy. So let's continue. We were talking about how you and yeonjun had met each other. Now let’s talk about your music. How does it feel, now that you are the producer, composer, lyricist and the mastermind behind all your songs? Does it feel different than before?” Eric turned to ivy as he asked her the question after the intro.

“Well for starters, it feels new. I’ve always had at least a person or two in my studio and they’d do the work and I'd just give suggestions but now I'm the one who’s completely responsible for what kind of music I put out. It's a bit burdensome. I won't lie but it gives me a lot of freedom.” she laughs before continuing. “I feel like I can play around with anything and everything until I find what I like before putting it out. And I have 3racha on the hotline so I can ask them any questions I have about producing. I remember I once called Han at like 3 am and he was like ‘what the hell do you want?’ I think he probably wanted to kill me." Eric joins in with his laughter before asking her, “it’s a relief that you have people you can reach out too then.” Ivy nodded, saying yes. Moving on from that, eric started, “we asked your fans, soleils, some questions for you to answer. Are you ready?” she nodded enthusiastically. “Okay, first question! ‘who is your fashion inspiration?’” eric asked her.

Ivy thought for a second before opening her mouth to answer, “honestly I draw inspiration from my everyday life. There isn’t anything particular that I can put a label on as my inspo. I sometimes look at yeonjun and get inspired, i listen to taylor swift and get an inspiration suddenly, i open pinterest and look at my board and randomly get up to choose an outfit for the day. So yeah it depends on many factors.” she concluded. Satisfied with her answer, eric nodded before looking at the iPad for the next question. “What is your favorite food ?” he asked her. “Hmm, to me, since i have very limited options as a vegetarian here but my all time favorite food has to be the tteokbokki that yeonjun’s mom makes. It tastes so good! Her food is my all time favorite after my moms of course. I think i visit her more than yeonjun sometimes haha” she laughs. “Oh yea! I wanted to ask you about that. How do you survive being a vegetarian here? It's really hard. I tried for some time and I went back to the states and I couldn't control it haha” Eric asks her and laughs. Chuckling, she started, “I was just brought up like that. I didn’t wake up one day and suddenly wanted to be a vegetarian. It's not that difficult for me in a sense that I don't find it difficult to not eat any meat but it’s pretty difficult to find vegetarian stuff here. There is not much vegetarian stuff available. And in that sense i'm really thankful to yeonjun’s mom because she tries a lot to make stuff vegetarian for me whenever i visit. It moves me to tears everytime. She’s always trying out new methods to make stuff edible for me and it really touches my heart.” she finishes.

Eric gave her a smile before reading the next question. “What is your description of the perfect date?” Eric asks, chuckling. “There is no such thing as a perfect date. You just have to make sure that the both of you don’t make each other uncomfortable if it’s the first one. But if it’s like a date with like your significant other, I would recommend that you do whatever that makes you both happy. A date should not be fun for only one person. Whatever you choose to do, make sure both of you have equal amounts of fun” she finished. Eric looked at her before asking her a question of his own. “Okay, this is my question. What is the best date that you have gone on?” she chuckled before answering him. “The first one that comes to mind is that one day when we both had the day off and we decided to not waste the day. We got up and we ate breakfast and just headed out. We went to art museums, we went cafe hopping, we had lunch and we walked out and about until sunset and we had a little picnic and we ended the night stargazing. It is the best date we’ve had. I won't lie haha” she laughed as Eric looked with adoration at her as she finished speaking. “That sounds like so much fun!! Okay now to the next question. What is your dream collab stage?” he asked her. She thought for a few seconds “i’d love to collab with Taylor swift. But we all know that’s not gonna happen haha. So realistically speaking, I'd love to have all my girl friends on an album or a song. Like I'm talking inka from stray kids, calista from enhypen, lua from ateez, and haewon from mask and many more people that if i start naming, i could go on forever haha.” she laughs as she finishes her sentence. Eric looks at her with an amused look and reads the next question. “What are your hobbies?” “hmm i’d say i love taking pictures that look really aesthetic. I have been using my old phone that I don't use anymore simply for taking pictures. And oh I love baking! If i’m not home, then i’m probably at the straykid’s dorm or the tubatu dorm baking with felix or soobin haha." She explains her hobbies and waits for Eric to ask her the next question. “What do you hate most in the world?” he asks her. “People not respecting boundaries. I really hate it when people cross boundaries they’re not supposed to cross. Like mainly in this industry where our privacy as idols are not respected. I know that as fans they want to know everything that happens in our life but people have to know where to stop. They have to understand that we can share only minute details of ourselves. They have to understand that it's the same feeling as someone randomly coming up to you in the streets and asking you to spill your deepest darkest secret.” she finished as Eric nodded, agreeing to her words. "Do you prefer cats or dogs?" He asks her the next question. Gasping, she places a hand dramatically on her chest. "You can't ask me to choose!! I know I have two dogs but I promised Inka that I will love cats the same as dogs!! I won't choose between my dogs and the words of other love of my life!!" Ivy says as Eric wheezes at her dramatic behavior next to her. She too chuckles when Eric tries to read the next question.

"What would you have done if you hadn't become an idol?" "That's a very interesting question. Hmm i haven't really given it much thought since from all i can remember from the age of 11 is that I've ever thought about is working hard to become an idol. But it really got to me when I was on break last time. I can't be doing this forever can i? I mean I'll continue being an idol as long as my body allows it and I have a passion for it. But I was thinking about what I will do next if I lose my passion for this. That's when I realized that I had to think of something else too. I think if i hadn't been an idol, I would've probably gone to college in the states and would've been working now. But I've always wanted to open a cafe so I would've probably done that. But I do plan on opening my own cafe one day though!! It's not just a dream of the past. It's a dream for the future too." Ivy finished as Eric looked at her like a proud father. "I really hope you achieve that dream of your jen!" He wished her as she thanked him silently before answering the next question.

"Who is the person you trust the most?" He asked her. Without any hesitation, she replied "mom, dad, my brother, my sister and yeonjun." Smiling at how quick she answered the question, Eric moved on to the next one. "Ooh this is a very interesting question. This fan asks 'since you debuted at such a young age, what were the pros and cons of it? How did you manage school?' " smiling at the question, "they always know what to ask haha." She laughed before answering it. "Of course the obvious pros that came out of it are getting a lot of fans that support me and love me for who i am. A lot of people come up to me saying that my music saved them or that they found me at their lowest and in one way or the other i helped them get out of it and these words really keep me up at night. Yes it was really hard debuting at that age but it's words like these that don't make me regret it. Although yes I do wish I could've debuted a bit later but i was desperate. I thought that if i didn't debut at that time then i couldn't debut at all. But all ended up being good. So I don't regret anything. And about how I managed school, it was tough. It really was haha I remember once when I was back from a music show at almost 2 am but I had a test the next morning so I stayed up preparing for it. I got a good result so it was all worth it but yeah managing school was tough. College was a lot easier though. I loved college." She finished. Eric looked at her with a look of sympathy as he read the next question. "If you had to pick a song to describe your life, what would it be?" "Hmm one song? It's hard choosing just one. Because I feel like there's a time in my life I could say "to my youth" fit the best and there's a time when I can say "blueming" fits perfectly. There was a time when- I can't say much about it but, a song in my upcoming album fit the best. So it's almost impossible to pinpoint one song. She replied. "Are you more of a sweet or savory eater?" Eric read the next question. "I am more of a sweet tooth. I love anything and everything sweet but I do crave savory quite a few times to balance it out. But the majority of the time, I'm a sweet tooth!" Ivy answered.

Suddenly Eric clapped his arms once startling the poor girl. Laughing at her, he says "it's the second to last question." Pouting, she whines at him about how she doesn't wanna go and wants to stay some more. Laughing at her antics, Eric reads out the question. "What's your dream destination?" "My dream destination is probably switzerland. I heard it's really beautiful and I've seen a few videos so I'd love to go there one day." Ivy smiled as she waited for the last question. Eric asked her, "which musical concept do you prefer and why? I feel like it's a good question to end" nodding, she replied. "Hmm I like a lot of concepts but I think I like fantasy and y2k concepts in kpop. But overall I love it when the music tells the artist's story. I love it." Sighing, Eric kept the iPad on the ground and sat up straight.

He could see ivy pouting and as he laughed at it, he said his closing ments and asked Ivy to say how she felt. "I felt so comfortable actually. It's so nice here, the ambiance is really good and you all are soo sweet!! I want to start a podcast here now! haha But anyways, I had such a great time. And it's been quite some time since I saw Eric oppa too so it felt really nice catching up and answering the questions! Thank you soo much for having me!! I'd love to be back one day!! Byeee" she said as the outro of the daebak show played.

[puppyyboyy]

huge vent under the thingy

.

im really selfish i think, like i dont really do much for people and i dont like to talk to people anymore as much as i used to but i think im just scared of people now. my parents pulled me out of school so i wouldnt be bullied but i think it just made my social anxiety worse

im also really sensitive and cry easily and i dont like that, yesterday i almost started crying because i couldnt find a room number in school (i was there for exams) that was super embarrassing

today is my brothers birthday and he has special needs and i feel bad because he has no friends to celebrate his birthday and my sister left the house to go hangout with her boyfriend so its only my mom, dad and me there for him on his birthday and i feel so bad and im like miserable right now and i woke up really upset because i was almost late for my exam and i definitely failed it because i guessed on almost question and i talked about college today and my plans with my guidance counselor at school and she talked about what im gonna do after highschool and i dont know what i wanna do because i thought i was gonna kms at 11 years old and not have anything else ahead of me and im so lost now and i dont even know what to do anymore

and im crying because i cant stop thinking about all the stuff thats gone wrong in my life and if i did things differently i couldve been happier and a better person

and i feel bad cuz im ignoring literally everyone rn whos texting me and im just sitting on my bedroom floor crying and writing this lmao im literally venting on tumblr💀 how did i get this bad omg. i could use my notes app to vent but i also want someone to read this, like anyone idc who im not even asking for help i just wanna be seen in a way i think

and my head is always full of ideas and thoughts and its hard to do anything because its always racing and i dont like it at all and i cant ever find the right words to get all these thoughts out or draw them out because i make art but irs not good it sucks and i hate my art style and i hate how i cant draw poses right or render correctly it pisses me off

my sister is really good at art, she goes to college for it and is way better then me and my parents are always praising her about her art and i feel like ill never be as good as her with anything, shes an honors student and graduated almost top of her class and president of the art club at her highschool (currently my highschool) and i got pulled into a bunch of shit when i made friends at highschool and they are all older then me and have so much drama and i feel like no matter who im friends with i cant be friends with the other people i wanna be friends with because they have drama together and if im one persons friend then i cant be the other persons friend because then im a bad person and i just hate it so much i hate beiing around people and i hate having to pick sides and i wish i could kms and i wouldnt have to deal with anything anymore

and then with my sister- anything i do or make art of my parents are like "cool!" and move on with their rlife and when my sister does art they post it on their facebook and show other family members and praise her so fucking much. im not saying i want all that but it feels like they dont even care

and i also noticed i get less things at Christmas and on my birthday now ever since i came out as trans to my extended family like my grandparents and uncle and aunt, my sister and brother get a bunch of shit and ill get some books and some other shit i dont even want or asked for but my sister gets money and a bunch of shit she asked for (expensive things) and my brother gets new electronics every fucking year. he got the newest iphone and a ipad and a fucking 3d printer last christmas???? and i got books and a 20$ Michaels gift card? its so unfair i with i was cis and my family would like me more itd not even about the gifts its just in general they got so distant and weird with me i feel so odd when i go to family events

sexual talk here- and i feel really gross a lot of the time cuz im sexual a lot and i wish i wasnt because i always feel gross and idk it makes me feel weird i guess its just hormones and a trauma response from when i was younger but i just feel weird especially when im alone and im being sexual i feel gross after and i dont know why im like this

theres so much on my mind and im just like AGHHHH!!!!!! i wanna cut myself and bleed out everywhere istg (i wont actually cuz im very afraid of physical pain)

[lostintime-liketearsinrain]

Just when things feel like they are getting back on track, having sorted a new car out, focused my headspace and focusing on some goals for 2024. All that to come burning down when I get a phone call tonight from my mum to let me know my grandad is acusing me (and my mum) of stealing from him…..fuck my life….

When my grandad fell ill and went into hospital in November 2022, we (my mum, grandad and me) agreed to take his banking off his IPad for security reasons being on an openward in hospital etc. I set it up on my iPad and was happy to show him or do anything he needed when visiting. Once he got discharged we continued to keep it off as he was in a care home and his IPad would be left unattended a lot. This has gone on and on until recently (against my mums, mine and the current carehome managers wishes for security reasons) we’ve put it back on his IPad.

Now keeping in mind, all this time I've shown him his banking regularly or anytime he's asked. I've got nothing to hide. Over the last 16 months, as he can't walk he's asked myself and my mum to buy him things, be it decorations for his room, food stuff, clothing etc. You get the drift. With that he's told me to use his card to pay for those things. Fair enough and sometimes I have and other times I haven't. Also at times he's offered to help me out financially, offering to pay for car repairs, my BT Sport so he could watch his boyhood club play in the Champions League, my resin printer and most recently 1 week costs for my hire car. Everytime he's offered I've protested as I don't want money off him, I do what I do because I care for him and not financial gain. It gets to the point where if I say no he says he’ll give his card and pin to a career and get them to get cash out to give to me. Which is ridiculous to trust someone to do that but that's another rant.

Anyway, apparently all those times and discussions have been wiped from his memory as today when my mum visited he's ranted and raved as to why I've taken X amount here there and so on. For instance the resin printer, I protested for weeks that I'll buy it myself I just need to save, to the point where me, my mum and step dad were visiting and while showing his banking app to him, he transferred the money for it to my account. According to him today tho that never happened, he never agreed to it and remembers no conversation of the sort. Keeping in mind my mum and stepdad where there at the time and we all remember the conversation. That's just one of many transactions he's quoted to my mum today, who is and has always been aware of if or when I've transferred money from his account.

I always thought this moment would come someday and therefore I was careful, making sure any transfer I did I put what it was for as the payment reference. I know I've stole nothing, any amounts taken we discussed and confirmed but as he's getting older his memory is failing him. He thinks he's still mentally sharp but when you don't remember a conversation that 3 other people do, well you're not as sharp as you think.

I called my grandad on the way home and raised what my mum told me and he said I was wrong and he hasn't accused me but he has a habit of this, saying one thing to me and another to my mum. I raised my voice, got angry, upset and even swore because it's upsetting. After everything we’ve done over the last 16 months and this is how he acts towards us. It's sad really.

I don't expect anyone to read all this but I had to put it somewhere. I'm at a loss for words and what to do now but all I know is my grandad isn't the same grandad I loved before and it breaks my heart.

[alphabet-p00p]

winter break

It starts like this. I wake up at eleven am. I lie in bed and soak in the news of the day from twitter. I look around my childhood bedroom, at the books i have not read, at the moments from years gone by. I still have not gotten out of bed. I am overwhelmed by the sheer amount of shit i own, own and don't use, own and don't deserve. Lately i have not gotten out of bed until some one has compelled me to. Today, on december thirty first, twenty twenty one, it was my dad. In the kitchen, munching on whatever leftovers he stubbornly insists on eating, blaring succession on his ipad pro. When he left he made sure to tell me in a way that let me know he was disappointed in me. My feet hit the ground as the front door slammed shut. Lately i have been thinking about my first semester of college. Maybe i need more trauma in my life but i consider that move to be traumatic. The only other move before this was before i could walk, and that was arguably more alienating.

Adoption The only other friend i have who is adopted and that i feel i know well enough to draw comparisons is alex. Alex is afro-latinx from panama and adopted by black parents when they were a baby. Their parents got divorced when they were five but finalized around when they were eleven. They have moved around new jersey a few times with their mother who pressured them to be an exemplary member of the Black Community. Upon hearing their stories i have always been intrigued by the community they have been fortunate to be apart of- familial ties and racial bonds that tether them -whether they like it or not (most often not) to people for life. I do not feel this community with the whites or the asians and it leaves something to be desired. I feel most strongly at the moment an estrangement from myself and my family. This christmas while sitting across from my mother’s sister- my aunt- i sipped my sveda and sprite. I looked in her eyes, my mothers eyes, and wondered what she saw. I didn't look anything like her kids, i didn't have my mother’s eyes. What did she see when she looked at me? What did the rest of them see? My parents called me pessimistic but its hard to look on the bright side when you’ve seen how shitty people can be. Where do you think it picked it up? You put me in the worst environment ever and called it love. And maybe i wouldn't be so mad if they knew why they fucked up but they still don't get it. When I started writing this a year ago i wasn't as mad at white people, i didn't pick up their quirks like i thought i did. Hypervigilant about the wrong things, maybe- or maybe no one taught me to look out for these things, no one gave me an explanation. I heavily interacted with activist and social justice content in highschool, but always from the inner perspective of a white person. I didn't see how the things i read applied to me, because no one taught me how to look for them. I havent really made piece with how i was raised, and it is still upsetting when i am reminded that i was raised white. Upset for past me who had no idea why girls didn't want to be friends with me or why boys didn't really find me pretty, not immediately, anyway. I didn't notice in the past when people saw me as exotic, or when white people would marvel at my thick, poorly managed (bc of lack of knowledge) hair. I didn't notice when other poc’s were interested in being my friend. I notice all of this now, but there is no making peace with this past ignorance. But then my girlfriend would be mad at me, and say i can make peace, right now i can forgive myself, be kinder to myself, but the anger and betrayal i feel towards my parents won't go away completely, i'm afraid.

originally written dec 31, 2021 - added but not edited sept 19, 2023

[halfyourheart]

Hej, I'm really bad at finding fanfics that I actually enjoy. So I was wondering if you knew any 5sos fanfics where it's just cute stuff. Like just two people obsessed with each other. Some kissing and fluff maybe :)) Sorry if this is too random, but it was worth a try

hi hi hi anon! 💗 

Sorry for the freaking late response, life has been busy 🥲

This might be stuff that you’ve already read, so I apologise in advance but onto the fluff (in no particular order)! 

(I assumed since you requested some kissing and fluff that we were aiming for a general and/or teen rating - lemme know if that’s wrong 💛) 

(also didn’t know what length you were looking for - so some have a bit of plot and some are shorter one-shots 💗) 

I really just went through some of my favourite fic writers and picked some personal favourite fics with your requests in mind :D (also they’re very luke centric because… yeah)(but every writer has fluff related to another pairing I’m pretty sure so check them out!)

the essentials - galacticsugar / @burstingsunrise

Pairing: Michael Clifford & Luke Hemmings

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Words: 1677

Summary: They’ve only been on tour for a couple weeks, but there’s already stray glitter littering the bottom of Luke’s black toiletry bag. 

I immediately thought of this fic, because it’s one of the softest things I have ever had the pleasure of reading. It’s friendship, but that doesn’t deter from the fluff! and it never will! it’s very sweet to explore luke’s relationship with makeup, michael’s relationship with luke, and Michaels relationship with luke’s relationship with makeup! 

Putting on makeup is such a personal thing. It’s a fun little ritual that makes you feel good and sharing that with another person is such a lovely thing !! like here is something I love !! and I am sharing that with you !! it’s an extension of me !! and michael actively taking part even if he’s complaining about it (I mean banter is their love language so) is just AH. 

I think about this fic a lot. 

crowning glory - kaleidoscopeminds / @kaleidoscopeminds

Pairing: Luke Hemmings & Calum Hood

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1000

Summary: It’s not unusual for Luke to find somewhere to nap pre-soundcheck if they have time, curling his too-long limbs up into an impressively small croissant of Luke Hemmings, his curly head just poking out the side

Napping with someone, or in this case, one person is napping while the other is just in their presence, is just so much casual intimacy, which is my kryptonite, that it makes my head explode. 

This is a routine that they’ve established !! meaning it’s repetitive and something that comforts them both !! they feel safe enough to let their guards down and just exist in each other’s space. Calum doesn’t want to talk to anyone so he just sits with sleeping luke and pets him. That is the softest shit and it makes me want to sob. 

This is short and sweet and the gratuitous descriptions of luke, specifically his curls, will send me to an early grave. 

stolen shirts/heart - kaleidoscopeminds / @kaleidoscopeminds

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood

Rating: Teen and Up Audience 

Words: 6132

Summary: There's a sort of inevitability that comes with being in this band. A set of concrete circumstances that never seems to change. They annoy each other to hell, they know every last thing about each other, Calum is in love with Luke, and Luke always steals Calum's clothes. 

That's the way it is. That's the way they all know it is, except maybe Luke, who might be ignorant to the third thing on the list.

Fluff, clothes sharing, and calum being obsessed with Luke, what more could you ask for? 

I like the passage of time being marked by what items of clothing Luke has stolen from Calum. That’s how the calendar should be 😌 All events can be related to this !! and I will die on this hill. 

sweet and salty - galacticsugar / @burstingsunrise

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood

Rating: Teen and Up Audience

Words: 9290

Summary: “We could get a bunch of stuff to try? See what’s good before we commit to buying anything in bulk?”

“That’s actually not bad,” Luke admits. “Go to the store, grab some things that catch our eye, try them out…” A fantastic idea is formulating in his head. An excuse to spend even more time with Calum. 

“We could make a night of it? Like have a full-on sleepover? Really surround ourselves in the sorority girl vibe.” He chuckles to ensure Calum is aware this is very much a joke. But also a very serious suggestion. But also definitely a joke.

Frat boys cake buying an assortment of bath bombs, face masks, nail polish, ONESIES, etc, and doing stereotypical sleepover things in the name of science (well in the name of making a gift basket for a sorority)? Iconic. 

I love you humour. I love you Luke jk unless-ing the whole time. I love you idiots in love trope. I love you frat boy!cake. I love you snapbacks (something I never thought I would ever say). I love you casual flirting that constantly confuses them because what are they! 

Cake is ridiculous in this and I love it !! 

I leave you with this snippet, “Has Luke’s friendship with Calum just been one long series of dates, and somewhere in there they just forgot they could be kissing?” 

you wanna be closer - kaleidoscopeminds /@kaleidoscopeminds

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Words: 5063

Summary: In hindsight, Calum probably should have seen it coming. In hindsight, he supposes he was incredibly obtuse about it. And in hindsight, he wishes he had pulled his head out of his ass earlier (thanks Michael), so he could have been doing this earlier. He’s not dwelling on hindsight though when his brain is occupied with other things, specifically the way that Luke’s mouth feels against his own lips.

Five times Luke and Calum touch platonically, and once when Calum realises maybe it was never platonic at all.

Essentially a love letter to physical affection, my beloved !! Physical affection, whether platonic or romantic, is my shit !! Hugs!! forehead kisses!! hand holding!! legs touching just to remind the person that you’re next to them!! sharing space!!   just existing together !! 

As a 5+1 fic the scenes are little pockets of lovely moments with physical affection!! Fluffy touches!! 

The reminiscing in this fic about the progression of their relationship makes me very soft but also incredibly feral. 

Off-screen - allsassnoclass / @allsassnoclass

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin

Rating: General Audiences 

Words: 3038

Summary: Now that classes are being taught from home due to the pandemic, students are getting a glimpse into Professor Irwin's home life, especially when his mysterious husband keeps interrupting class.

An outsider POV about secret husbands lashton? I LOVE IT. I love an outsider POV because you get to see a pairings dynamic in a way they themselves probably don’t see. You see little subconscious things they don’t notice until pointed out! love that stuff :D Can’t get enough of people watching honestly !! 

and what if you’d never smiled at me - kaleidoscopeminds / @kaleidoscopeminds

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Calum hood

Rating: Teen and Up Audience

Words: 14910

Summary: He opens up the loaf from the cut, exposing the pale inside that was previously encased by the dark crust. He wonders if you were to split people open whether they would match their appearance; he worries that his own exterior might be a little too much like the hard crust of his sourdough. Not Luke though. He’s pretty sure people like Luke are as soft and golden on the inside as they are on the outside. x Calum's really not happy about the new bakery that's just opened up down the road from his own bakery; it's gaudy and pastel and covered in flowers and is an offence to the name of baking. At least he's got a new regular to make him feel better about it all. One with a smile that can turn a day around just like that, even on a Tuesday.

I had to include a bakery au so I just added it!! I think it fills the obsessed prompt pretty well. Pining idiots my beloved. 

These are just some that I love! I didn’t want to go overboard because I feel like I’ve already done that agahsjsjsjsz

I would check out all the writers I’ve listed on AO3 because I’m sure there’s way more fluff, various ratings, pairings, etc. I’m just too focused on Luke 🧍‍♂️🥲

I hope this is kind of what you had in mind ! 💛

[tobesolonely]

queen anne’s coffee

A/N: hello everyone! I am not D/deaf or Hard of Hearing. However, this was requested more than once I wanted to do my best to provide. In this story, Y/N is a part of the Deaf community. if I have misrepresented the Deaf community in any way or wrote something inaccurate or offensive, then please DO NOT hesitate to let me know (respectfully, of course!) i wanted to fulfill this person’s request and be as inclusive as i could, as i don’t typically see stories with a Deaf!reader. shes short and sweet but i hope you all enjoy anyway! as always, feedback is very much welcomed and appreciated! :)

Summary: Y/N visits Harry’s coffee shop every Tuesday and Thursday and always orders the same thing. Harry HAS to get to know her!!!

word count: ~1.7k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Every Tuesday and Thursday at exactly 3:50 PM, Y/N placed an online order that consisted of an iced chai tea latte with oat milk and a butter croissant from Harry’s coffee shop, Queen Anne’s Coffee.

Y/N never forgot to add, “warmed up pls! thank you :)” in the section for comments, and she always tipped. She would then come into Harry’s shop approximately ten minutes later, walk up to the ‘pickup’ counter, grab her items, smile at Harry, and promptly leave. Harry never even so much as said hello to her, but he was irrevocably captivated––even if she was a complete stranger.

Harry decided that when Y/N came in today for her usual, he’d finally talk to her.

Business had been unusually slow for a Thursday afternoon but Harry didn’t mind–when Y/N came in, he’d be able to have a proper chat with her without having to rush the conversation along to help other customers. His gaze kept floating up to the cat-shaped clock hanging above the door, anxiously awaiting 3:50 PM when Y/N’s order would come through on the iPad and he got to read the words, “warmed up pls! thank you :)”

Harry didn’t know why he was so nervous to speak to her. As the owner of his very own coffee shop (and it’s only employee), he got to know the people who came in regularly well, even developing genuine friendships with some. It bothered Harry that this beautiful person gave him business two days a week and the only thing he knew about her was her name, which is only because he can see it when she places her order online.

When the iPad Harry keeps plugged up atop the counter chimes, he doesn’t even have to glance at it to know it was Y/N but he does anyway, feelings of excitement bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He was finally going to talk to her! Harry contemplates scribbling his number on the side of her cup as he’s writing her name but decides against it, not wanting to be too forward before they even formally meet.

When Y/N comes in ten minutes later, Harry can immediately sense something is wrong. She hardly looks up once as she shuffles from the door to the counter, hoodie pulled up and drawn tight over her head.

“Are you okay?”

Y/N doesn’t look up or even acknowledge the fact that Harry spoke. Even though there’s only two other people in the shop besides them, Harry figures she might think he was talking to someone else and addresses her by name.

“Y/N?”

She still doesn’t address Harry as she gives him a small smile before hurriedly exiting the shop, the bell above the door signaling her exit.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

When Tuesday comes, Harry’s out of bed before his alarm jolts him from his dreams.

He thought about Y/N all weekend as he impatiently awaited Tuesday’s arrival, excited over the prospect of finally seeing her again. He hoped she was doing better today than she was last week, and he really hoped she was in the mood to chat with him today.

Harry’s grateful the shop is busy today. It helps to keep his mind off of Y/N, and his eyes off the clock. When the iPad chimes at 3:50 on the dot, Harry decides he’ll wait until she comes in to prepare her order. It didn’t take him over two minutes, anyway. He figures this will give him a bit more time to chat with her, at least say hello and see if she’s doing better.

Much to his pleasure, Y/N has a big smile on her face when she bursts through the door ten minutes later. She floats to the pickup counter, then furrows her eyebrows in confusion as she looks up at Harry.

“Sorry, I’m working on your order right now,” Harry grabs a purple marker off the counter, scribbling Y/N’s name on the cup used for iced drinks. “How’s your day so far?”

Harry watches as Y/N cocks her head to the side in confusion, then pulls her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. She quickly types something before holding her phone out for Harry to take.

“I can’t hear you! I’m Deaf.”

A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he reads what she said. He now understood why Y/N didn’t answer him when he tried speaking to her last week, and he’s secretly relieved that she wasn’t ignoring him because she hated him or anything like that.

“I know a bit of sign!” Harry types before handing Y/N back her phone. He watches as her eyes skim his words and she looks up, a toothy grin plastered on her face.

“Great! This is much faster.” Her hands move quickly as she signs. “Did my order work or not? Wi-Fi is bad at home today.”

Harry realizes he doesn’t know as much sign language as he thought he did.

“OK. I am rusty.”

Y/N smiles at this and pulls her phone back out, typing what she just signed to him before passing it back to him. A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he learns she was just asking if her order came through alright, seeing as it was not yet ready. Too embarrassed to tell her he intentionally waited until she arrived to prepare her order, he just nods.

“I’ll have it ready in no more than two minutes… and refund you, too. I’m sorry for the wait.” Harry looks up at Y/N as he passes the phone to her, eyes not leaving her face as he tries to gauge her reaction.

“No!” Her head shakes as she signs. “Happy to pay. Thank you.”

Harry understands Y/N but refunds her, anyway.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Why do you always come Tuesday and Thursday? Same time?”

“Exams every Tuesday and Thursday.” The look of obvious dissatisfaction on Y/N’s face makes Harry laugh. “Your chai and pastries cheer me up after.”

Harry’s face turns red at Y/N’s admittance, so he instead looks down, pretending he’s distracted by something on the iPad. He decides at that moment that he will no longer charge Y/N for her oat milk latte and croissant. She was a college student after all––if her financial situation was like Harry’s in any way when he was in college earning his business degree, it would probably be beneficial for her to save her money, anyhow.

Ever since Harry and Y/N’s first real interaction, Y/N had been coming into Queen Anne’s nearly every day, school supplies and laptop in tow. She always sat at the table closest to the front counter, directly in Harry’s line of vision so they could sign to each other.

Y/N provided Harry with some much needed (and enjoyed) company when business was slow, and she was helping him brush up on his sign language. Harry learned that Y/N is Deaf; her hearing is completely gone in her left ear and almost completely gone in the right. She’s the only person in her family who is Deaf. She also hated eggs, is lactose intolerant (hence the oat milk), has two older siblings, is a master’s student, and a plethora of other things that Harry had committed to memory.

“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoy.”  

“Who is A-N-N-E?”

Harry grins. “My mother. Back in London.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. “London? Amazing! You must have an accent.”

It dawns on Harry that Y/N has never heard his voice before. “Yes. Are you from here?” Y/N nods in response.

“Whole life. Small town, but it’s home.” Her pinched hand moves quickly from her mouth up to her ear.

“Sorry. What?”

“H-O-M-E.”

A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he nods in response, signaling for Y/N to give him a moment as the bell above the entrance jingles. It seems as if the few people who walk through the door act as a catalyst for others to enter, and soon Queen Anne’s is at maximum occupancy and Harry is trying to make several drinks at once while taking orders. He locks eyes with Y/N a few times and she gives him a sympathetic look, not able to do much to help him out.

Harry decides that once business dies back down, he’ll find out if Y/N is interested in a part-time job.

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N was interested in a part-time job.

She was a fast learner and a hard worker. Harry was more than delighted to show her how to make every drink on the menu, and consume her failed attempts. It was nice having someone else behind the counter with him––he wished he’d gone about hiring someone to help him much sooner, but he was glad to now have Y/N by his side.

“So much chai! I thought only I drank this stuff.”

Harry’s gaze lingers on Y/N for a beat too long, causing her to shift slightly. Harry’s hand moves to scratch the back of his neck. “Yes. I like chai. With milk.” His hand forms a ‘C’ then closes to form an ‘S’ twice for the word “milk”.

“Regular?” One of Y/N’s eyebrows raises as she asks her question, setting a hot chai latte atop the “pickup” counter.

“S-O-Y.”

Y/N lets out a quiet snort of laughter as she shakes her head. It was the first time Harry ever made her laugh out loud. After hearing her laugh once, he never wanted to stop––it was music to his ears. “Not surprised!”

Harry’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Why?” His eyes remain on Y/N as she walks around the small area, cleaning up a small coffee spill she had earlier.

“You just are a S-O-Y boy, H. My S-O-Y boy!”

Harry’s cheeks immediately turn pink as they did the first time Y/N said something that flustered him, but he doesn’t look away.

“You’re my O-A-T girl.”

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Thank you everyone for reading!!! This is only the beginning of Y/N and Harry I think <33

[matsbarzal]

can I please request angst #14 with Petey??

angst #14. "are you going to talk to me or?"

pairing: elias pettersson x reader word count: 1.3k warnings: angst (happy ending)

Elias Pettersson knew he was good at lots of things. He knew he was a good person, a good friend, an even better hockey player. But the one thing he wasn’t good at? Understanding what he had done to upset you.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have a relatively good understanding of the stupid things he did, he knew he had made plenty of mistakes in your relationships, easily fixable ones, really. Except this time.

It had been almost four days of complete radio silence, no text, no call, no FaceTime’s, nothing. You had sent him a thumbs up the moment he landed and told you he had landed, and no response since. Elias could easily tell you had been on your phone, snapchat stories and twitter likes popping up on both his feeds every now and then, but he could not fathom why you hadn’t texted him in days.

You had fought hundreds of times before, little spats here and there, petty arguments that just turned into nothing when he brought home your favourite food, but never an argument to the extent that you wouldn’t even text him.

“You alright over there, Petey? Lookin’ a little queasy… oh shit that rhymed, look at me go,” trying to ignore Brock was even more difficult than trying to understand why you weren’t texting him, especially when said blonde was his best friend and could pick up on every social cue Elias was giving off.

“Fine, yeah.”

Shrugging his shoulders slightly, the Swede thumbed through his phone, bringing up your contact card and then exiting out every few seconds. “Y/N still not texting you? You sure you didn’t do anything before we left?”

Tossing the phone onto the table in front of him, Elias groaned as he tried to rack his head for what he could’ve done wrong before leaving Vancouver. There was a multitude of things it could be, there was a spat right before he left the apartment, an argument over moving the cars, which somehow turned into him suggesting that the two of you should get a dog.

The Swede couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment in your last two days with one another where he might have upset you to the point of not speaking.

Halfway across the country, your eyes had barely left the box you had found sitting in Elias’ top drawer since he left. It was all you could focus on, your eyes constantly moving to find the little black box that you had moved to the top of the dresser, its closed lid haunting you, taunting you the more and more your eyes peered to it.

Elias hadn’t made any indications that this was what he was pushing towards, you hadn’t even realized he was considering this. Two years into a relationship, you knew it was possible, but you just didn’t realize how possible.

You loved him, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t, but did you love him enough to get married? Maybe. But add in the constant bickering, the continuous fights, the never-ending spats that had no regular conclusion and usually just consisted of some form of idiotic makeup in the hopes the both of you would forget about what you were arguing for anyways.

The silent treatment may have been petty, all of Elias’ texts going unanswered, snapchats only being sent back every time the timer would appear next to your streak. You knew it was childish, and was probably terrifying your boyfriend, but your brain couldn’t fathom what to do, couldn’t fathom what you wanted.

The game against the Canadiens had been explosive, the Canucks losing horrifically, and Elias’ play just an even bigger catalyst to the team. It was the first game you had watched where he hadn’t played his best, the turnovers were consistent, his numbers were down, his penalty minutes were even higher than usually.

And you knew there was a large possibility you were the main cause for his deterioration of play.

Pulling up your phone from its spot stuffed under the covers, you scrolled until you reached his contact name, the little blue dot beside it just an indication of how many messages had gone unanswered in the last few days. Before you even had the chance to send a message through, his contact name appeared at the top of your list.

are you going to talk to me or am i going to come home to an empty apartment tn? not sure what i did wrong but this isn’t fair

You could feel the guilty instantly seep through your body at the text message, your eyes welling up with unshed tears at the message that came through. Elias was your best friend, the epitome of everything good in your life, and something about that just terrified you.

i’ll be here when u get home, ‘Lias. have a safe flight xo

A large sigh of relief left the Swede’s lips when the three bubbles popped up under your name, an even bigger sigh leaving his lips when you said you’d be home when he got there. He allowed his phone to drop in between his legs, his eyes focusing on the iPad in front of him, currently playing reruns of New Girl, your favourite show to watch together.

Almost six hours later, you heard the sound of the lock clicking, the door swinging open to reveal a dishevelled and thoroughly exhausted-looking Elias Pettersson.

“So, are we going to do this now? I told Brock to set up his guest bedroom, I’m not arguing all night so let’s just get this over with,” his keys were tossed onto the centre island, his eyes never leaving yours as you tried to rack your brain for what to say.

“I found the ring… in your top drawer.”

Your stomach turned as you watched the array of emotions fly across Elias’ face; confusion, frustration, anger, sadness, everything smoothing together before he placed a stoic look across his features.

“You freaked out and ignored me for almost five days, because you found a ring in my drawer?” The scoff fell from his lips almost beautifully, his features twisting into annoyance as he looked at you.

“I just… I didn’t know how to react. We argue about everything, ‘Lias. We literally fight about the colour of the sky, and you’ve already bought a ring?”

Moving so he was sitting on the couch opposite of you, the Swede turned so his entire body was facing you, the stoic look now turning into a look of concern.

“Y/N… we fight about everything because that’s just how we are. Our fights have never, ever turned into anything serious. We argue with each other because we both never want to be wrong, that shouldn’t be a reason for you to freak out and not want to marry me one day, my love. Just because I have the ring doesn’t mean I want to get married tomorrow. It’s my grandmother’s engagement ring, Emil let me have it for the day I eventually propose to you. I didn’t buy it, it’s been sitting in that drawer for ages.”

You could feel the embarrassment settling in your stomach at his words, your stomach turning as you tried to think of a response. The only thing you could muster up was an apology, your eyes never leaving your hands as they twisted amongst each other.

His body moved closer to yours, one arm wrapping around your back as he gently pulled you into his side.

“You don’t need to apologize, just maybe instead of going ghost, argue with me instead? Since when are you one to hide your feelings, especially something like that?”

Shrugging your shoulders at his words, you felt his lips press against the crown of your head gently, his hands squeezing your side as he did so.

“Pinky promise that you won’t do that again? Scared the shit out of me and Brock, and Brock never gets scared.”

Pushing your pinky finger towards him, he wrapped his own around yours with a smile small, his head pressed against yours as he squeezed your pinky with his own.

“And quit going through my drawers, nerd.”

“Don’t leave your clothes in the dryer then and I won’t have to put them away for you, Pettersson.”

note: thank you for requesting this!! i hope you enjoy, and it's everything you wanted. it's not too angsty, and it has a happy ending so hopefully that's perfect. <3

[spencersmagic]

a knife twists at the thought - SR

Prompt: a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark - Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Spencer is new to this, and the poor boy is terrified

Couple: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid (i picture season 2/3 Spencer but y’all do you)

Category: angst

Word count: 3086 words

Warnings: general criminal minds stuff, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of loss, HAPPY ENDING!!, my 3am writing, tooth rotting love, uhmm spoilers for Orwell’s 1984 (if anybody hasn’t read it), humiliation, Spencer crying and breaking my heart (lmk if you need anything warned or trigger tagged).

A/N This is very loosely based on 2x15 (VERY LOOSELY). I’m quite proud of this one :)

masterlist // 505 series taglist

*****

They say you never see it coming.

When a tragedy occurs, and someone’s life is turned upside down forever, they never see it coming. It just... hits them. Like an oncoming car ramming into a bystander who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No one has time to prepare. In our time-starved lives, there is no place for such a warning.

One day, you just wake up. And they’re not next to you. They’ve disappeared, leaving the stickiest, most unforgettable parts of themselves behind for others to grieve to: the smell of their shampoo in the pillows they used to share, the seconds just as you wake when you still feel like you have them - only to gain full consciousness and realise they left you behind - even the fucking jars, which never seem to be open because he’s just not there to do it.

And you feel your heart breaking all over again as your soul sticks to the parts that couldn’t be erased with the rest of him as he left. Because you needed him, you had him, and now he’s gone. No warning, no letter, no signs which could’ve helped you foresee such a tragedy, because how could he? He didn’t disappear on purpose.

She doesn’t understand why he's so absent. So unequivocally missing. And the person she would turn to to ask these riddled questions isn’t there to answer. Because he’s gone.

But they’re not there yet.

And she feels so close to that feeling - the helplessness, the pain, the empty cups next to her bed because he always carried them to the sink when she was finished with her tea the mornings of those rare days they got to sleep in. Those days when they had time. She can practically touch, with the tip of her fingertips, the waves of pain that would surge over her if he was gone for one more fucking minute.

She has to remind herself, over and over again, like a mantra. He’s not gone yet.

The “yet” at the end of her mantra just breaks her all over again.

She was always the one to tell Spencer “if you worry before something happens, in case it goes wrong, and then it does, you’ve managed to suffer twice through something painful for absolutely no reason”. It usually worked. Needless to say, she felt like a hypocrite right about now.

Because Spencer is gone. And she doesn’t know how to bring him back.

She knows only to watch the monitor, never once blinking, taking in everything that happened in that damned livestream - every word, every sound, every reference. She can only try to hear anything over the whimpers and sobs her love was letting out as he’s tortured by that man. She can only hear the cracks of his knuckles against Spencers soft skin, the same soft skin she had kissed mere hours ago before telling him to “be careful”. Her own way of saying the three little words the couple was too young to hear. She can only see his lips parting, sobs rumbling out of his body as the unsub abuses his frame over and over again - same lips which had kissed her forehead before telling her “i always am”.

Then again, she isn’t sure if its his voice which is filling her head with painful sounds or if her mind is playing tricks on her, memorising the horrifying vibrations coming from his chest for her to ever consider anything else. She hasn’t stopped hearing him since she turned on that damned computer.

She isn’t sure she’ll ever stop hearing it.

**

As a man of great intellect, Spencer always recurred to knowledge to understand difficult occurrences in his life. Burying himself in textbooks, novels, poems, and even music to understand pain, and himself having a life filled with it, he was an incredibly knowledgeable man.

He knew much. But right now, he only knew one thing.

In Orwells’ 1984, as Winston was being tortured (much like Spencer is right now), Orwell described the following:

“Never, for any reason on earth, could you wish for an increase of pain. Of pain you could only wish one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes”.

And, as a man who had acquired most of his intellect by immersing himself in trivial content in the face of pain, he found himself doing the same thing as the unsub hurt him over and over again, each blow seemingly more painful than the last. As his skin bruised, a causality of his abusers torment, he analysed the seemingly logical quote.

It must depend on the person, he was sure. In fact, a number of factors must be taken into consideration at this statement. For starters, Winston lives in a society incapable of any human feelings. There is only dominance, and those who attempt, in vain, to challenge it. Surely, if he had felt happiness, like the one you feel when the first day of spring rolls around, or like the one that creeps up on you as you look into the eyes of your loved one, surely, he would understand that some things can outweigh pain.

Love.

If Spencer’s mind could make sense of what he was feeling right now, he would understand, something he would figure of were he to leave this damned place, that he was thankful to the Gods, were there any, for having the unsub kidnap him and not Y/N.

Winston hadn’t understood emotional pain because emotions weren’t dealt with regularly. They were discouraged. That’s why he believed that there are no heroes in the face of pain. Because he doesn’t understand emotional pain.

He knew he was suffering. He also knew that Y/N was at the other side of the blinking camera suffering more than he could ever imagine.

**

They say emotional pain lasts 12 minutes. Anything one feels after this would be the aftermath of the cause of the pain in question. Pure emotional pain, the one you practically feel in your chest, the one that says “i can’t think, feel or be. not until this feeling dissipates”.

She had learned this from Spencer.

And she wished it were true. As she watched that damned monitor, she wished that all the venom the unsub was spewing at Spencer, all the verbal abuse, was long forgotten. She wished he could only feel the physical pain. Because the mind is incredibly stronger than the body - it could keep him awake, alive, for just enough time for the team to rescue him.

The entire team had huddled around the monitor around her. She was painfully aware that other people were seeing this. Which meant it wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t another one of those damned dreams she would have when she slept a little too far away from Spencer’s touch.

They had only been together for two months, but his touch was all that could get her to fall asleep.

She jolted as the unsub landed another slap on Spencer’s cheek, swiftly grabbing his hair for him to look into the camera. He had a cut above his right cheek, just where she would kiss him in the mornings, and bruises all over his neck, jaw and left eye.

“Say hi to your team!” he mocked Spencer, chuckling darkly as he moved his almost lifeless body around for the team to watch in horror. Spencer let out a heartbreaking sob, feeling so vulnerable.

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” he jumped, as if he had gotten an idea. The unsub reached behind himself to grab a pistol, clicking off the magazine safety to put one bullet in one of the eight slots, leaving the other seven free. He pointed it at Spencer’s temple.

Her entire body shook the thought of seeing Spencer’s lifeless body, held up only by the ropes and that sick man’s grip around his curls. The same curls she grabbed as she kissed his face when she wanted his attention.

“I’m going to ask you some questions...” he said, voice dripping with sickening sweetness as he turned the roulette, “and if i don’t like your answer i’ll pull the trigger! Let God decide what I do with you. Sounds good?”. He wanted to humiliate Spencer.

However, Spencer made the mistake of not answering him. He was quickly reminded as the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes, pulling the trigger, a loud bang! sound expanding through the barn.

“I asked you a question!” he suddenly yelled into Spencer’s face.

“Y-yes, Sir” he whimpered, shaking at the ease at which the man pulled the trigger.

“Good, you’re learning”.

**

She experienced it by bits. Hotch’s hoarse voice. “Talk to me Garcia”. “We’ve got coordinates”. Everybody rushing to the SUVs. Tripping over her own feet on the way to the car. Morgan’s voice. The iPad, which still carried Spencer’s whimpers and the man mocking tone.

“I’ve got your diary, Spence” his sing-song voice didn’t match the disgusting man she was looking at. Nothing made sense.

“And I wanna know why...” he drew out the ‘y’ as he looked for something between the worn pages between his hands.

Of course she knew Spencer owned a diary. But she was mature enough to keep her hands to herself and her eyes on her own pages as he wrote on his, eyebrows creasing as he recalled all which he had experienced during the day. His face would twitch slightly at the memories, both good and bad, as he basically described his day word by word.

“...why did you wait until you were 24 to lose your virginity?” he asked in a clear attempt to humiliate and ridicule Spencer in front of his team.

“I-I didn't-” he could barely finish a word before a sob wrecking through his body at the humiliation, chest rumbling and voice wavering. “I didn’t want to lose it before, i w-wasn’t in a hurry” he rushed out. The man brought the pistol to his own chin, tapping it as he thought. “Hmm... I’m satisfied with your answer. Let’s dig deeper, shall we?” he asked as he went back into the pages.

“ooh! This one is new” that sick bastard was having fun with this, completely unaware that the team was less than 5 minutes away from their location.

“Care to read what you wrote three days ago? Right here” he turned the pages so Spencer could read them, though he was painfully aware of that entry he was talking about. His body shook violently. “P-please. D-don’t ma-make me do t-this” he whimpered, body feeling defeated.

“Wrong answer” the unsub said before pointing a gun at him and pulling the trigger.

A shriek was heard from the iPad. The SUV went silent.

“He’s alive” she whispered, unable to speak up. “He-” she swallowed. “He’s alive. We’re not there, yet” her mantra became a reminder that she hadn’t been quick enough to help him. She had the tools to save him. Every second she had the knowledge to save him and didn’t was another second she remained impotent at the risk of losing the love of her life.

Spencer’s voice spoke from the iPad.

“C-can you at-at leas-st turn off t-the ca-amera?” he said between sobs.

And it hit her.

What hurt him the most wasn’t the memories he had to relieve, but the fact that the rest of the team would have to hear his most intimate thoughts. His deepest secrets.

He could bare the pain. The humiliation? That broke him.

“Aww” the unsub chuckled mockingly, “are you embarrassed?” he said, slouching down to look into his eyes. “Well too fucking bad!” he screamed into his face, spitting with every word he spewed at him. Spencer’s sobs got louder.

“O-okay okay!” Spencer caved, accepting the journal that got shoved into his face.

“Read, pretty boy” the unsub sang. That son of a bitch was having fun.

“We’re two minutes away, Y/N” Hotch said. Maybe it was he sobs, which were barely audible to herself, having accepted them as second nature after all the heartbreak she was experiencing, but Hotch needed her to be okay.

His own heart thumped into his chest, feeling as helpless as he’d ever felt. Seeing a member of his team - someone he was supposed to take care of, someone he was supposed to keep safe - was sobbing as he was physically and emotionally tortured. But he was painfully aware of the feelings Y/N was experiencing. The sheer fear that was running down her veins at the idea of them running out of time.

After a few sobs, Spencer started reading, interrupting himself occasionally with his whimpers:

“It’s been three months. Today, three months, seven hours and forty-six minutes ago, she did what I didn’t have the courage to do. She asked me out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you pretty much since the day i met you” she had said. Those words keep ringing in my head like a beautifully written symphony, intrinsically designed to make me face my deepest fears. Opening my scars one by one, dissecting them and reaching the simple conclusion that i was a coward.

She didn’t say it, but what she meant was “i’ve been waiting for you to do it, but you never did, so i had to”. We wasted time - a time so precious and sacred - because i was a coward.

I’ve never felt like this before. I never understood a love so deep as to move something so stubborn as the human spirit. I’ve read textbook after textbook, and novel after novel, and still I’ve never learned more than with her. But I was a coward. And i wasted her time. I fear that I still am.

A knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark. It’s impossible for me to ever be enough for her”.

Her heart broke at this confession. Even worse at the thought that he wouldn’t’ve told her, instead inhaling fear and exhaling rejection at every breath he took next to her.

“We’re here” she heard Hotch, looking at her. She grabbed a bottle of water and dropped the iPad, not hearing the teams objections at the lack of vest and preparation and ran into the barn.

She isn’t sure if she’ll ever stop hearing his whimpers. As she runs closer, she hears them louder and louder, decorated with sobs and cries, and small, meaningless replies to his abusers’ mocking words.

She kicked the door down, the loud bang booming across the room, only helping in raising Spencer’s sobs as he feared the sound had been the result of a certain trigger being pulled. As she looks at him, she realises just how much pain he’s been put through.

She remembers Orwells words, much like how Spencer had remembered them mere hours ago. And disagrees, wishing over and over, praying to the Gods that she would be the victim of such atrocious abuse. She wished she could take his pain. Morgan joined her at her side mere seconds later, yelling. “FBI! Put the gun down!”.

Spencer used the last bit of energy to lunge forward, hitting the unsubs stomach with his head, successfully getting him on the floor for Morgan to apprehend. Y/N rushed to Spencer’s side, untying him, as his now nonexistent sobs grew louder and louder, not only at the prospect of getting out of that horrible place alive, but also at the knowledge that Y/N had heard what he had so dreadfully recited.

Spencer collapsed into her arms, crying into her in the same way she was crying into him, and she wondered just how to take away all his pain. So they cried into each other, desperately grasping each others hair, skin, clothes, anything that would make them feel like they wouldn’t have to spend another damned second without the company of each other.

Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I need-” he stopped, coughing. She reached for the bottle of water she had brought with her because she knew he would need it. She always knew what he needed.

He chugged it desperately, stray drops falling down his chin at his eagerness. He took a deep breath trying to steady his lungs.

“I need to get out of here” he choked out.

She grabbed him under the shoulders, careful not to hurt him - not being successful, realising that there wasn’t much of him the man hadn’t hurt. Y/N pulled him out, sitting down on the grass with him. Their legs intertwined, pulling each other impossibly closer. They kissed, over and over again. Not as an act of any sexual relevance, but as a reminder that they had each other in any way, shape or form. That they weren’t out of time.

The team was certain they would stay there, never letting each other go for another minute.

After what felt like seconds in their time-starved little world, she broke the silence, which had only been filled with their own cries and occasional sobs.

“Spence” she grabbed his chin to look into his eyes. They were dull, red and hooded. He was exhausted. “Mhmm?” he let out, looking into hers. She was his solace.

“How could you ever think you were anything but completely and unequivocally enough?” she whispered the words he dreaded.

But as Spencer looked into her eyes he knew, better than he had ever known anything, that he was enough. And she was enough. He realised that which she had known for the past three months (possibly longer). They fit like two marvellous puzzle pieces.

Her hands grabbed his cheeks slowly, as to not hurt or startle him, pulling his forehead into hers. “Baby, I can’t imagine anybody else waking up to me every morning. You’re so much more than enough”, she planted a small kiss on his forehead before resuming her position. “I’ll remind you every day of the rest of my life if that’s what it takes for you to believe it”.

And with their eyes closed, foreheads and noses pressed together and legs tangled between each other, pulling each other close, closer - around grass and voices and his abuser pressed into the hood of a police car, they only felt each other. With their shaky breaths, even shakier voices, fearing any words that would leave them in case they triggered a cascade of tears down their oh so vulnerable cheeks, they were more than enough.

***

I hope y’all liked it!! Feel free to let me know by liking, reblogging, or sending me a message :) 

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x​ @spencerreid-mgg​​ @eoupe​ @inlovewithbabygirl​ @galaxydefenderjulia​ @username2002​

[mandoalorian]

Handy-Man

An AU in which Din Djarin advertises himself on Craigslist as a man who can assemble your IKEA furniture for 50 bucks.

credit for idea goes to @fleetwoodmactshirt and their post which you can read here; thank you to @clown-bae-anon for tagging me in the post!! 💓

Please please reblog!

You wanted to cry.

Moving out of your childhood home was meant to be your way of asserting your independence and proving to your parents that you could make it on your own. But, as you sat in front of the collapsed television unit, surrounded by an abundance of miscellaneous screws, with broken and bleeding fingernails, you found yourself wondering if you had made a severe lapse of judgement.

Better yet, they were coming over for dinner today— and you knew your dad would give you a mouthful if he saw you hadn’t finished assembling your furniture already. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Unfortunately, you were brand new to the neighbourhood and hadn’t yet made any friends. You had no one to rely on; no one to ask for a favour. You pondered for a few moments, trying to figure out where you could find a handy man willing to work such short notice. You had no other choice than to turn to Craigslist.

There were a few potential candidates. Boba Fett; but he couldn’t be there until Tuesday. Fennec Shand; but she was extremely pricey. Then, at the very bottom of the website, you noticed a small advertisement. Only a few words.

“Din Djarin: I will assemble your IKEA furniture for 50 bucks. Will take me no more than an hour. I will bring my kid. Call me.”

And underneath, he left his number. You guessed that was the catch: that he would bring his child while he worked. You didn’t mind too terribly, besides, you were out of other options. You just hoped it wouldn’t be a sticky iPad kid who was going to snoop around your stuff and make a mess.

Grabbing your phone, you dialled his number. He answered on the first few rings, but said nothing.

“Uhm, hi,” you greeted, scratching the back of your neck as you tried to figure out how to approach the handy man. You’d never hired anyone from Craigslist before. “I have this huge TV unit from IKEA and I need it assembled before 5pm today. Would you be able to—“

“Address?” he asked, giving you the first taste of his velvety voice. After giving him your address, you were about to ask him about the child, but he cut you off. “I’ll be over in ten minutes.” Then he hung up.

He was abrupt, to say the least. You stood there, phone in hand, reflecting on your short witted conversation you’d had with the handyman. Maybe he just wasn’t sociable? It was okay though, he’d be coming over to work, not chat. You just needed him to assemble the television stand before your parents came over.

And if he was true to his advertisement, he’d get it done in no time.

Din Djarin arrived on your doorstep after seven minutes, carrying his son close to his chest. When you heard your doorbell ring out, you smoothed out your outfit, fixed your hair, and checked your appearance on the mirror hanging in the entrance-way. After all, this would technically be the first person you met in your brand new neighbourhood. And first impressions mattered.

As you swung open the front door, you announced, with a beaming smile crossing your lips, “Thank you so much for com—“

You were awe-struck. He was… breathtaking. Not like the handymen back home. He stood there, blinking his chocolate brown eyes, and nursing a child who must have been no older than two years. His hair was only a few shades darker than his eyes, short and curly, and he had a light graze of stubble donning his jaw and upper lip.

You found your gaze quickly flicking to his hands, only to check for a wedding ring. You hated how that was your first instinct but you felt a hitch in your throat when you saw just how large and thick his fingers were.

Your wild thoughts were interrupted when he cleared his throat awkwardly, and you wanted to curse at yourself how long you’d been standing there, blatantly checking him out. Your grip on the door tightened as you felt a flush of heat cross your cheeks, and you offered the handyman a weak smile.

“S— am sorry, I— hi,” you extended your arm and shook his hand. “I’m new. I mean I’m Y/N. But I’m new too. I uh—“

“I’m Din,” he introduced, cutting your flustered response short. “This is Grogu.”

His child cooed slightly and you were in awe over just how big the little one’s eyes were. You smiled and closed in on the child, offering him a small wave.

“Hi baby,” you cooed back, completely enamoured with him. Now that you were more aware of how you were acting around the handyman, you turned to focus your attention more on him. “Uh, please come in. And make yourself comfortable,” you offered, opening the front door wider and ushering both the man and his son inside. “Can I get you anything? A drink?”

“No thanks.” Din replied, setting down his toolbox and then the child.

“Grogu, are you hungry?” you asked, kneeling down to the little child. He slurped and eagerly nodded his head, causing Din to roll his eyes.

“He just had soup before we left,” Din told you.

“Kids always have big appetites,” you laughed, and finally, your comment had caused Din to break a smile. Albeit it was a small one, you still adored the way the corners of his eyes crinkled with delight.

“You have kids?” Din asked curiously, briefly glancing around your living room in search for any signs of children; but he couldn’t find any toys or printed comfort blankies laying around.

Somehow, you got the idea that he didn’t get around much (other than for work, at least). You got the idea that maybe he didn’t have many friends.

“No, but uh— I come from a big family and I used to have a babysitting job when I was a teenager. Feels like I’ve been around kids my whole life,” you admitted, wondering if you’d offered the handyman a little too much personal information. You quickly made the decision to change the subject, grabbing Grogu’s tiny hand. “Come with me Grogu, let’s see what I have in the fridge.”

Grogu selected some dinosaur shaped crackers and a juice box, sipping on it merrily as he toddled back into the living room where his father was working. You silently leaned by the door frame, admiring Din as he constructed the television stand. You’d only been gone five minutes and he’d already made so much progress.

Unable to escape the feeling, you just couldn’t ignore the flurry of butterflies that were ecstatically circling around in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t tear your gaze from the attractive handyman who was fixing up your IKEA television stand for only 50 bucks. All of this seemed too good to be true.

He could be a serial killer and you wouldn’t even know. But as you watched his bicep flex underneath his light grey sweatshirt, you considered the many ways he might kill you; and for a split second, you knew that if he decided to turn around and choke you with his strong hands, you wouldn’t be mad at all.

“You want kids one day?” he quizzed suddenly, the question causing you to jump slightly. You were so quiet, you had kind of hoped he hadn’t noticed you were just standing there, watching him work.

“Uhm, maybe. I don’t know yet,” you said, glancing down at Grogu who was just patiently sitting down on your sofa, munching at his cookies. He was so well behaved. Din must’ve been a really good dad. “Did you want kids before you had Grogu?”

You winced after asking the question, hating the way the words had left your lips. It sounded wrong; like you were asking your handyman if his son was planned or not. But thankfully, Din only laughed.

“Kind of a weird story,” He said as he tightened a screw using nothing but the strength in his left arm. “I found Grogu. Or more like, he found me.”

You pressed your lips together as you wondered what exactly that was supposed to mean.

You and Din exchanged more small talk, and you both found yourselves learning more and more menial facts about one another.

You: What’s your favourite colour?

Din: Brown. Like dirt.

You: Cats or dogs?

Din: Fish.

You: Fish?

Din: They’re nice to look at.

Despite the random quick-fire questions you both asked each other, it didn’t stop you from yearning to know more about the mysterious handyman who took his kid with him everywhere.

Din finished the job early. He always did. But he pottered around with the finished television stand simply because he just didn’t want to leave yet. He was enjoying your company so much, and you were so endearing and easy to talk to. Not to mention, you were brilliant with Grogu.

Eventually though, he stood up and dipped his hands into his jean pockets. “Uh, I’m finished. Does it look okay? I hammered the shelving unit into the wall so it looks neater. It’s more stable that way, too.”

You smiled, impressed with Din’s skillful labour. “It’s perfect,” you admired. “You’re my hero. Really.”

That tugged on Din’s heart strings. Your hero. His cheeks flushed pink and he prayed that you didn’t notice his warm blush. You reached into your purse and paid the handyman.

“Thanks again.” you said with gratitude as you saw Din and Grogu to the door. You passed Grogu some more dinosaur crackers for the journey home and he took them from you eagerly.

Din wanted to get your number so badly. In the short time you’d spent together, you had completely bewitched him, and he didn’t want this to be the last time he saw you. You had his number but… the chances that you’d call him again were slim. Unless—

“If you ever get more furniture, give me a ring,” Din offered awkwardly, shying away from the idea of asking for your number outright.

“I will Din, I promise.”

Din nodded and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Okay. Thanks. Um— bye then.”

“I’ll see you around Din.”

See you around. The words rang in the back of Din’s mind as he drove home as he processed your open-ended goodbye. He really did hope that he’d see you again.

———————

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[foodieforthoughts]

Down in History

Summary: Your first award function with Henry as a couple.

Pairing: Henry x Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Fluffy comfort

A/N: This is a birthday fic dedicated to the wonderful Lisa (@killjoy-assbutt-1112). Babe you deserve the world and here's to me trying to make your day a little brighter. Hope you enjoy and I'm sorry I'm a day late. 🙈

Also, thank you to @the-soot-sprite for helpful writing tips and @infinite-shite for listening to me talk about this. ❤️

Song inspo:

Title: Down in History

I looked out the window as hordes of paparazzi lined outside to snap a picture of their favorite celebs. The police tried to contain the crowd, failing miserably like I was failing to contain my growing anxiety.

Closing the curtains, I turned to the beautiful dress hanging on the mannequin. It was a gift from Henry for our first red carpet event tonight. I ran a hand lightly over the satin dress, feeling the silky fabric glid smoothly beneath my touch. The bodice was embroidered with silver crystals, glinting as the light caught in them.

I chewed on my bottom lip and wound my arms around my body. I was nervous beyond explanation. The media had dissected our relationship left, right and centre. They had scrutinized Henry for being with a girl who was nearly two decades younger than him, again.

"Miss," Maurice peered from behind the door, her cat-eyed glasses perched low on her nose. "We need to start getting ready." She informed and with a nod from me, she entered with her posse behind her.

I sat on the swirling chair they had placed in front of the mirror. While the ladies got to their work, I took the opportunity to look into my relationship with Henry.

As soon as our meetings became more frequent and the paps started getting more content, our faces started to appear on blogs and websites. My life became an open book with everyone trying to pull it apart piece by piece, commenting on things they had no business getting into. I had a fair idea about Henry's 19 year old ex-girlfriend and how much slack he had gotten for it. It was the sole reason why I was reluctant to officially date him even when he persistently asked for it.

After months of running into each other every day on our daily morning runs, Henry had finally stopped me for a chat one day. I had been a bubbling bundle of nerves when he had asked my name. The sexy Hollywood heartthrob seemed like he had planned on bumping into me that day for his questions seemed like he had memorized them. I wasn't the one to complain and when he had asked if I was free for coffee, I had agreed in a heartbeat.

"He's in the other room, miss. Maurice insisted that this room should be Female Central."

"Where's Henry?" I asked, turning slightly in my seat to look at our assistant sitting on a chair typing on her iPad. "I didn't see him since morning."

"Guilty." Maurice commented as she curled the ends of my hair to fall down my shoulder in waves. "Are you nervous?" She asked, talking to me through the reflection in the mirror.

"Very. I think I'll pass out even before I reach the red carpet."

She tapped lightly on my shoulder. "Don't worry. I heard Henry tell his friend he's not going to leave your side the entire night."

Despite all his efforts, I had once almost broken up with him. Henry had been away for filming and I had stayed back at his house. Somehow my location had gotten out to the public and I had been chased by the paps and fans, asking questions about Henry. I had locked myself in his house, too afraid to go out and when Henry was unavailable for calls because of the time difference, I had been a crying mess. In the heat of the moment, I had texted him that once he is back it is going to be over for us. After a long call later in the night, lots of crying and soothing, we had pulled through.

I felt a flutter in my heart.

Henry had been the most supportive boyfriend in the world. He had been with me through thick and thin, gently easing me in his life. He had promised me that whenever possible, he wouldn't let anyone harm my image in anyway. And he had rightfully held his promise. He had assigned PR representatives to look after my public image and gone as far as to make a big celeb gossip blog retract their article spreading personal information about my life.

Maurice eased me into my dress with the help of her assistants and started making the necessary adjustments to it. I stood with my arms out, looking at myself in the mirror and marveled at the image that looked back at me.

I worried about how people were going to perceive me tonight. They were going to complain how the dress had lost its charm because it was on me. Or they would comment how I look like Henry's child, like they always did. Or maybe this time they'll comment on the way my body was built.

My eyes welled up in tears and I sniffed, looking up and trying to not ruin the makeup. A knock on the door, distracted me from my inner turmoil. I waited for one of the ladies to open it and when they did, the sight in front of me nearly took my breath away.

Henry looked daper in a suit, made to perfectly fit his body. His eyes softened as he took notice of me and he entered through the door to walk towards me. "What's wrong baby?" He asked and took my hands in his.

Maurice and her assistants were done with their work on the dress and they quietly left the room to give us some privacy. I felt my lips tremble as the self doubt began clouding in my mind.

"I-I'm scared." I muttered. The welling tears in my eyes were threatening to fall down.

"But why? I'll be by your side the whole time. You don't have to worry about anything." He reassured me, walking me towards the bed and making me sit beside him.

"They are going to comment on our age," I mumbled quietly, twirling my fingers in a curl, refusing to look at him.

"I don't care, baby. And you shouldn't either. What's important is that we love each other and I accept you for who you are."

I weakly smiled at him as Henry kissed my cheek. The tears were threatening to fall but I managed to blink them away. He held my hand, gently circling his thumb over my skin in circles. I heard him sigh and run his free hand through his hair.

"What?" I asked, worried he had something running in his own mind.

"I was going to do this after the event, but-" He said before sliding down the bed and on his knee.

My mouth fell open, stunned at the turn of events. I stared at him wide eyed as Henry fished out a signature blue Tiffany&Co box from his pocket. He smiled sheepishly at me as I could only stare at him.

"Henry, what are you..."

"Baby, I love you. I have been searching for a person like you my whole life. I have never been happier before in my life. I don't care what people say, all I want is to spend the rest of my life with you." He pressed his lips, trying to breathe calmly. "Will you marry me, baby?"

Henry opened the box leaving me mesmerized by the beautiful double halo diamond ring sitting on the plush velvet cushion. But it wasn't the ring that made me cry, it was the love that seemed to be overflowing from within me for this man. I didn't care about the ruined makeup, nor the sobbing mess I was becoming.

I barely could nod a 'yes', before Henry with tears in his eyes smiled brightly up at me. He sat up and pulled me in for a hug as I wound my arms around his neck. He kissed my lips softly, before he pulled the ring out of its box. I bit my lip and watched as he slid the platinum band on my finger, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions as it sat snugly around my slim digit.

"Now, let's go to the event and let everyone know that you aren't just my girlfriend, but also my future wife." Henry said before kissing me until I couldn't breathe.

[darkmulti]

What would yandere!Jungook do if you ran away with your guys child?

⚠️: HEAVY, YANDERE BEHAVIOUR

You didn’t plan on getting pregnant

But when you found out, you wanted to keep it

It was actually Jungkook’s fault

You told him you weren’t on birth control but he came in you anyways

When you told him you were pregnant, he distanced himself from you

Jungkook didn’t know what he wanted to do

When he thought about his future, it was only you and him

Your attention would always be on him

All your love goes into his heart

And Jungkook does not like to share

He wanted you to get an abortion but the sadness on your face made his heart clench

You were too scared to speak up to tell him no, but your face said it all and Jungkook let you keep your child

Jungkook never imagined kids in his future life because of his traumatic childhood

It’s the reason why he’s like this

Jungkook’s heart warmed up when he saw the smile on your face

You hugged his bigger body and kissed him

“Thank you, Koo!”

The next couple of months, you tried to be the perfect housewife

Making dinner, cleaning, spending time with Jungkook

You wanted it to seem like this baby wouldn’t change your guys life completely even though you knew you were very wrong

Jungkook wasn’t dumb

He also knew this baby would be a big change for both of you

For the first time in a long time, Jungkook took you out to do some baby shopping

You and Jungkook cleaned out one of the guest bedroom and turned it into the baby’s room

As your baby bump started to get bigger, Jungkook was afraid to leave you alone in the house

So he started working from home

he started to cook and clean too

“Sit down and don’t overwork yourself, baby. If you stress out, it’ll affect our child.”

For the first time in a long time, Jungkook was actually gentle and caring about you

He continued to be a charming man until you gave birth to a beautiful baby boy

After you gave birth, he became cold again

You took care of your son while Jungkook was at work

Before Jungkook comes back, you put your baby to sleep and take out dinner for Jungkook

You spend all your time talking to him, kissing him, all your attention has to be on him when he’s home

This way of life went on for three years

Your son barely got any attention from his father

Jungkook didn’t even try to acknowledge him

You were terrified to bring this up to Jungkook, knowing that he didn’t want a kid

He wouldn’t listen to you and would say it’s only your child, not his

One day, while you were making dinner, your son was in the living room watching a show

Suddenly you heard the door unlock and saw Jungkook coming inside with a stern look on his face

You immediately stop cutting the vegetables and greet him

“Baby, you’re home extra early.”

You kiss him lips then walk back to the kitchen, hoping he wouldn’t get mad at your son for being in the living room

“Why is he out? Go lock him in his room. I don’t want to see him, Y/N.”

Jungkook started walking towards your son and you sprint to him, thinking Jungkook would do something to him

“STOP! I-I’ll take him upstairs.”

“But mommy, it’s not my bedtime yet.”

Your son chirped

You picked up your son and took him upstairs and handed him an iPad

“Here baby. Watch your videos on here but stay in your room okay. Please listen to mommy.”

“Okay mommy!” He said cheerfully

You went back downstairs to see Jungkook watching a kid show

You give him the remote but he doesn’t change the channel

“I don’t want him in my house. I’ve talked to my friend and he’s willing to adopt your son.”

Your heart broke into two pieces

Your whole body started to shake

“N-no.” You whispered out, eyes watering

“Please, Jungkook. I-I can’t.”

“I’m not giving you a choice. This is my house!”

“Please! I’ll do anything! Anything to keep him! Please!”

“No! I made up my mind.” Jungkook went upstairs and you stood there in shook

The next day, you packed some of your clothes and some of your sons clothes

Jungkook had lots of security, but you were willing to take the risk

You can’t have your son taken away from you

It would break you completely

You left the house with your son in your arms and took one of his cars

You drove far away from his house and into a city

After you sold the car to a drug dealer and used to cash to stay at a hotel

You had sixty four thousand dollars in cash

It should last you for a while

In the meantime, you can find a job and apartment to stay at with your son

Weeks went past and you got a job as a teacher which was perfect since your son will be attending school too

You bought an apartment that was big enough for the both of you

It took some time for your son to adjust, but he really trusted and loved you

Everything that you’ve done, you did it for him

Jungkook was back home, breaking everything in sight

“FIND HER!” He yelled at his men, breaking all the plates like a mad man

They tracked down the car that you used but they figured out later that you sold it, so they couldn’t track you anymore

Jungkook was so pissed off

He got access to the traffic cameras and followed your car around to see where you went

He saw you drive into the city and that was enough for him

He got into his car and drove to the city where he searched every inch until he found you

Jungkook figured out that you were working at a school

He parked his car and waited for you and your son to come out

You hold your sons hand and walked out of the school, only to see Jungkook leaning against the hood of his car, eyes never leaving yours

“Dad?” The little boy said, in confusion

Jungkook started to walk towards you guys and you were backing away

You picked up your son and tried to run inside, only to see the office ladies being held at gun point by his men

You turn around and Jungkook was already in front of you

You held your son tightly

“W-what do you want from me?”

“I want my wife back.”

“I’m not going back. You can’t take my son away from me! You can’t!”

You son started to sob on your shoulder

“M-mommy, what’s going on?”

“Shhh, don’t cry. Please be strong for mommy.”

You peck your sons cheek, rubbing his back to calm him down

“I’ll willingly go back only if you let him stay with us. I’m not asking you to take care of him, I’ll do that myself.”

“Fine. As long as I have you back.”

Jungkook stepped closer and put his arms out for your son

“Let me hold him.”

You hesitated, but gave your son to him since you were right there

Your son held onto him and looked into his eyes

“You have the same eyes as me.”

Jungkook smiled and kissed your sons forehead

He took him to the car and you followed behind carefully

When you arrived back home, Jungkook become soft for his son, but for you it was a different story

Punishments every night

He hated you for leaving him

You were gone for almost two months and it drove him crazy

He would degrade you for leaving him

He would mark you everywhere

Become extra possessive and protective

High level security

You were always being watched by him

Rough sex sessions every night, for the next three months until you get pregnant again

That was a shitty ass ending... forgive me

SORRY FOR ANY MISTAKES

I’m half asleep rn:)

[latenightdecaf]

Entry 6 - of light gaze and worrisome face

part of let the pile of good things grow series - series masterlist

previous entry here

Yoongi x reader

Ft. nonidol!bts

Producer!yoongi, roommate!yoongi, soft!yoongi

slow burn romance, friendship, slice of life

series of drabbles/one shots

no warnings for now

A/N: starting to get the hang of this again, it’s been a while so i’m just going where my imagination takes me. So i’ll probably be posting another one for tomorrow before the motivation leaves me. Hope you all like it.

Word count: 1,953

Pacing back and forth in the living room as you’re having this conversation with your friend and also editor, Hye Jin. Talking you out into the possibility of taking in another project that would put an indefinite pause to your own book.

“I couldn’t possibly say no, she had this whole speech on how she wanted to make this book for her baby. To read to her when she’s old enough. Words from a loving mother for her newborn child, my goodness.” You stopped and sighed. “I know, but having to accept this means also putting your book on hold, you’ve been working on that for months now—is that really something you are willing to do?” Hye Jin reminded you on the other end. You stopped on your tracks, not saying a word and just looking blankly over the view from your living room. Thinking to yourself, ‘I can’t believe it’s summer already.’

Yoongi who have just woken up and is getting himself some water in the kitchen and were just looking intently at your back not particularly eavesdropping in your conversation, but just looking. You haven’t even realized he walked in.

“I know you, you’re just running away from this. You’ve been so scared of finally publishing something that is yours and yours only. So when a small window of opportunity presents itself you immediately took the ticket to leave.” Hye Jin, your editor who has became a good friend to you throughout these years, has always been good to you—she can so easily read you, too.

“You know for someone who’s actually trying to get pregnant for months now, you don’t seem to understand her feelings. Of course, I’m just here to help.” Weak argument on your end, you know she’s right when she said that you were running away. “You’re always there to help. But what about you? You know for someone who doesn’t want to have kids. I’m surprised you’re too adamant to do this.” Her statement made you laugh. “Have you changed your mind?” She added.

“I may not want kids, but I’m not heartless.”

And those were the last phrase Yoongi heard from you as we backed to his room.

Your conversation with Hye Jin went on for a couple more minutes only to end up with some sort of a compromise.

“You’ll need minimum 3-4 months, and probably maximum 6/7 months to wrap this all up? You need to get this done more quickly. That’s my only deal.” You sighed in defeat. “I’ll try.” Ending the call and waving the white flag. You too were also not sure of what you’re getting yourself into. Is it just you running away? Or is this the small part of you feeling guilty again.

“You’ll need minimum 3-4 months, and probably maximum 6/7 months to wrap this all up? You need to get this done more quickly. That’s my only deal.” You sighed in defeat. “I’ll try.” Ending the call and waving the white flag. You too were also not sure of what you’re getting yourself into. Is it just you running away? Or is this the small part of you feeling guilty again.

Weeks later, Yoongi’s packing up for their fishing trip that his friend, Jin insisted they would come. He felt like he has no choice but it might be good reason to go our for a change.

“Hey, I thought you said you guys were going camping? Why do you have your equipments with you… you poor corporate slave.”

He laughed at your remark. You’re still looking at his stuff all puzzled and confused by how heavy it all looks. You leaned on the kitchen counter as you watch him put his stuff out from his room.

You asked again, “Dont you think it’s a little too much? Cant you leave some stuff? Do you even have clothes in there? How bout food? Not important? Music is life?” He laughed. You’re good at making him laugh.

He finds all of your worrisome-sarcastic remarks endearing. He looked at you and said, “Look, it’s like you—you not taking your ipad everywhere you go. Or that small sketchbook you have. You draw every chance you get, you draw in the middle of lunch or while waiting for someone. And if not your ipad, you draw even on table napkins and ask the waiter for more. It’s the same for me.”

You let out a smile at his comparison.

“Okay okay, point taken mister. Point. Taken. But my ipad wont break my back—just saying.” You teasingly replied.

“Maybe i can leave some.” Looking at his bags and talking to himself as he puts some of his stuff back in his room and minutes later he’s done preparing for their camping tomorrow.

“All done?” You asked as you look over to a now somehow reduced luggage. “I’ll help you put some of it in your car.”

You carried with him some of his bags as he is the type to have everything ready before leaving.

As you walked down the stairs, just carrying the lightest possible baggage you could ever find. “You sure you have enough food in here?” Lifting the bag and shaking to hear whats inside. “I mean i know you can certainly whip anything and turn it into a meal but this looks like there’s just ramen in here.”

He finds you cute when you worry.

“We’ll do grocery tomorrow on our way, no worries.” That statement puts you at ease. You reached the ground floor and towards his car. “That sounds good. I mean—just incase the fishing thing wont work out. You know, like last time? There might be a lot of fish in the sea and then suddenly there’s none for you—i mean that in the most literal sense. Not just in women, you know—just incase.” Teasing him again and bringing up the time he went home from a fishing trip. He was so tired, they didn’t caught a single fish. And the trip was cut short and they all immediately went home. He declared then to never go with Jin again but I guess, he love that Hyung of him a lot to be packing all these for yet another fishing trip.

There’s a good sense of companionship between the two of you. The way you can always make him smile without even trying. The way you always tease him lightly. He’s known you for a while, has seen you with your friends and he knows that you’re just the warmest person—to everyone, not just to him. But it looks like something has been bothering you lately, he even offered if you wanted to go with him on their fishing trip, assuring you that Jin and Hoseok are good people and nothing bad will happen. But you respectfully declined. Not just because you don’t eat fish but because you just need some time alone. Not that Yoongi has ever been a bother to you in any way too but just alone would be nice, you thought.

Yoongi will be gone for the whole weekend and possibly be returning on Sunday afternoon. You don’t have any particular plans just work and then some more work. As soon as you’re both back into the apartment you asked, “You’re leaving tonight? At midnight?”

“Yeah around that time, why?” Yoongi confirmed.

“Nothing.”

“Are you okay?” He asked, as you stopped in front of the refrigerator to get yourself some coffee.

“Yeah, why won’t I be?”

“You do know you say that a lot.” Yoongi grabbed himself a glass and grabbed the pitcher in your hand and you just smiled. “There’s not much meat left in the fridge, couple of things are missing too. You want me to go to grocery before I leave?” Leaning in the kitchen sink and drinking your coffee. You let out a deep sigh unknowingly. “No, I’ll go. Don’t worry.” You left your empty glass onto the sink. “I’m just saying, I can go if you’re not up for it.” You shake your head to reassure him, “I don’t mind, okay? I’m going to be fine.” You walked passed him as you went to your room.

Yoongi definitely knows that something’s been bothering you for days. He doesn’t want to pry, if you don’t want to talk about it. He just keeps looking at you, just in case you want to talk—these days your mind has always been elsewhere and there’s just so much work to be done.

You wanted to say goodbye before he left but you fell asleep in the middle of the evening and woke up half past one. You went outside to check and it looks like he already left. You got yourself some water from the kitchen and there’s a post-it left in the fridge that says, “Got you some groceries, call me if there’s anything.” You opened fridge and he even refilled your ice creams. You know you couldn’t have a more thoughtful cat. Even when he went away for almost a week for work and you were dying from a sky high fever, you never really called him for anything. But he constantly reminds you that you always can.

Yoongi volunteered to drive this time for some odd reason. It’ll be an almost 2 hour drive from Seoul to Daejeon, he actually doesn’t mind driving and quiets enjoy it more than he’d ever admit. Everything is set, their fishing trip as orchestrated by his hyung, Jin and Hoseok who had no choice but to be dragged unto this trip. They’ve been his friends for the longest time, being in the same company who also works in the industry. Hoseok, a renowned choreographer and Jin, one of the company directors in his agency. He never would’ve agreed to yet another fishing trip if only Jin didn’t promised to have everything paid for and ready to go. He held Hoseok hostage though and so he has no choice but to go as well. Sleeping at the passenger’s seat they both drifted away as Yoongi drives.

They have gone to multiple fishing trips over the years, some where even overseas during their vacation and something wrong always turn out like the time they have to cut the trip short because they have been sitting in the boat for hours and they haven’t caught a single thing. The owner of the boat found it odd too.

But to Yoongi’s surprise everything’s turning out smoothly, on their second day of camping they were able to caught a lot of salmon and have it for dinner. Stuck in his own thoughts while grilling some salmon, Jin shouted. “Yoongi-ah! You’re burning it.” Immediately going back to reality, and thankfully saving the precious fish from burning. “What are you thinking about so deeply?”

“No it’s nothing, Hyung.” He replied as he kept tending to his almost burnt fish.

Once grilling is done they all gathered to have their dinner with some drinks. Soju and beer is always present and with Hoseok around to play some games. In the middle of all the silliness that is Jin and Hoseok and taking the game way too seriously for their own good. Jin asked Yoongi, “Why are you always staring at your phone?” He immediately hide it and said, “No nothing, hyung.”

“What are you thinking of again?” Knowing how Yoongi is sometimes, Jin pried as Yoongi kept looking distracted the entire trip. “Nothing, Hyung. Really.”

“Okay, it’s your turn.” Giving him his Nintendo, he eventually added “If this is about Hyuna, just let me know if you don’t want to work with her again. Maybe we can do something about it.” Yoongi let out a chuckle and drank a shot of soju. “Hyung it’s nothing really, it’s not about her either. The work is fine, we actually finished it sooner than I thought. You must have heard it already.” Jin eventually took the game from Yoongi replied, “I did, you guys were really professional about all this.”

“Of course.” Yoongi proudly replied as he sneaked a peek into his phone again. Unconsciously waiting for some call.

moodboard sr: x x x

[mmvalentine]

heyy, can you write feysand as something like roommates or just friends but then rhys walks in on feyre getting off thinking of him and everything changes? thank u and your stories are amazing ❤️

BESTIE YOU KNOW I LOVE A ROOM MATES AU. Let's do a 2-shot.

Just Fantasy pt 1

Feyre is an early bird and Rhys is a night owl.

For the most part, this suits them just fine. They share a small apartment and they are never trying to use the bathroom or kitchen at the same time.

Rhys does weights in his room every day at 9pm. Feyre supposes this is some sort of afternoon for him, since he tends to wake up around noon. She herself is usually climbing into bed around this time, but does not mind the rhythmic clanking of the weights. Particularly because on nights she can’t sleep, there’s one thing that cures her insomnia, and it helps to know that Rhys is not going to knock on her door while she does it.

Feyre prefers reading erotic fiction to watching video porn, and this is convenient because it is silent. She has a library of short, filthy stories on her iPad, which never runs out because Mor sends her new ones periodically and then squeals about them over coffee.

Feyre’s summer routine is to get up early, go for a run, then work in the living room. She works from home most days, and is able to sit on the beach in the afternoons if she finishes on time. Rhys works free lance and has an office in the city, but by no means keeps regular hours.

Feyre is glad Rhys is often out of the house, because she’s starting to find Rhys slightly distracting. There’s just something about hot weather that always seems to make her a little more... excitable. And after months of thick sweaters, she’s suddenly looking at her room mate a little too long these days. She can’t remember if he’s always been this attractive, or if she’s only now noticing.

This week the season is tempestuous, and it has been alternately been storming and baking them alive in their apartment. Feyre has been trying to work, but can barely think straight in the heat. It does not help that Rhys has started walking around the house shirtless, and he seems to always be slicked with sweat. One day Rhys comes home after being caught in the rain, and his t-shirt is plastered to him in a way that is worse than when he is not wearing one at all.

“Hello Feyre darling,” he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“Hey Rhys,” she says, ignoring the tingling sensation where his lips touched her. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

“Sorry,” he responds, and grabs an apple off the kitchen counter. He takes a large bite as he disappears into his bedroom, and then emerges a minute later in dry clothes and towelling off his hair.

“Real bad storm brewing out there,” he comments.

“Yeah, no beach for me today,” Feyre replies, and then feels this is a dumb thing to say. She hurries on. “Where have you been today?”

“Was supposed to be on a shoot, but of course it was a disaster with the weather,” Rhys says. “I’m just happy none of my equipment got destroyed. Gonna flick through the photos now and see if we got anything worth keeping.”

He rummages in the fridge and gives Feyre a wink before going back to his room with an armful of food. Feyre smiles at him, then turns back to her very blank computer screen.

By the evening, the building is shaking in the grip of the thunder storm. Feyre is very grateful that she is in the living room when there is a loud crash, and both she and Rhys rush toward the sound to discover that Feyre’s bedroom window has been smashed in. They rush forward and try to move things out of the way as water torrents in, but there is not much else they can do with the glass gone.

In the end, the storm blows over and most of Feyre’s things are okay. It takes two days for the landlord to fix up the window, and Feyre stays at Mor’s. When she gets back, the debris has been cleared and the window is whole, but the carpet is wet and it smells like damp. Feyre collects her things and sleeps on the couch.

Rhys offers to sleep in the living room so she can have his bed, but Feyre declines. And so she finds herself lying in the dark trying to get to sleep while Rhys potters around hours from his own bedtime.

Feyre is a creature of habit. She finds it difficult to sleep in the wrong place, and after a half hour wide awake, she wonders if her usual trick for falling asleep is feasible here in the lounge room. After all, she can hear Rhys lifting weights in his room so she knows he isn’t going to walk in.

Feyre’s hand slides between her legs under her thin summer blanket, and she is now bitterly regretting that her iPad was ruined in the storm. She flicks through her phone with her free hand, scrolling past images and snippets of bad fan fiction, and misses the familiarity of the short stories she already knows she enjoys. She’s having trouble focusing on anything, and trying to keep an ear out in case Rhys finishes his workout and comes out looking for food or the bathroom or something.

Luckily, she can still hear him. Could count his reps if she wanted to, using the sharp metal clangs. She can even hear him breathing, deep inhales and grunting exhales as he exerts himself.

Now that she’s listening to it, she realises that the sounds coming from his room sound a lot like other bedroom sounds. The pattern of his breathing, the little groan he makes at the peak of each extension, is frankly erotic. Before she knows what she’s doing, Feyre’s fingers are moving and behind her closed eyelids she can see Rhys panting for a different reason.

It’s not difficult for Feyre to imagine Rhys naked. She knows the bare planes of his chest in more detail than she cares to admit, knows the flow of his tattoos and the contours of his abs. Has seen him in sweatpants enough times to estimate the shape of other areas too, and although she hasn’t let herself have this fantasy before, now that she’s started it so easy to fall into.

Feyre does not like to consider whether she’s in love with her roommate. It would be far too inconvenient if she was, so she doesn’t think about it. The fact of her attraction, however, is not something she can deny- Rhys is objectively, and unreasonably attractive. She knows he does some kind of martial arts, but he’s not a violent sort of a person. In fact he’s infuriatingly calm at times, and on more than one occasion he has helped to ground her when she is freaking out about a deadline or family drama with her sisters. He’s always kind, and patient with her in a way that no... but this isn’t what Feyre wants to be thinking about.

Easier to focus back on the breathing, the sharp exhales, the image of the movement of his muscles. In her head, every breath is taken by her ear, blowing against her lips, the rhythm matching his pace above her.

In real life, she had never been the sort of girl who could make the first move- not like Mor, who had enough confidence for the both of them. She would be mortified for Rhys to discover her little crush. But here in her imagination it is so easy between them. That smirk Rhys sometimes gives her when she feels like he is reading her mind seems so much sexier when it is inches from her own mouth, when she can lick her tongue against it while her hips move to meet his.

She imagines the surety he always seems to carry would cross over into Rhys’s sex life. She imagines he would be completely in control in the bedroom, unruffled and measured as ever as he moves inside her. Feyre, on the other hand, is surely a more reactive creature, and would squirm beneath him. Her head falls back against the arm rest of the couch as her hand- no Rhys, moves faster between her legs. He is delicious, he is exquisite, he is going to make her come.

“Is that good, baby?” Rhys says in her mind.

“Yes,” she breathes back.

“Say my name when you come,” he tells her.

“Rhys,” she murmurs, as her climax builds on her fingertips. “Rhys.. Rhys!”

She’s so lost in it that she doesn’t notice that the clanking weights have stopped, and that she’s just spoken out loud. Is not at all prepared when a real life Rhys walks into the room and says “yeah Feyre what’s...”

He trails off as he takes in the sight of her. Knees pull up, head thrown back and eyes glazed. His name still warm on her lips.

****

Part 2 is all smut baby. Now up.

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