#I WISH I COULD WRITE MORE all i do now is learn my silly little organic chemistry reactions and do my silly little physics example problems

[star-girl69]

New Romantics

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: you and clarisse meet during a capture the flag game, In A Good Way prequel!!

a/n: IM SO GLAD EVERYONE LIKES MY CLARISSE FIC ☹️☹️☹️☹️ i have so many planned but i just wanted to say thank you all sm!!!! this one is so silly….. i hope you all enjoy!!

LMK IF YOU WANNA BE ON MY CLARISSE TAGLIST!!!!!!

New Romantics - Taylor Swift

warnings: violence, swearing, mentions of death and blood, insane clarisse bc she gets a LITTLE too into capture the flag, protective clarisse obvi i will never write a fic without her showing up, clarisse makes me SWOON if you couldn’t tell, not proofread we get turned into pine trees like thalia over here, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Your legs ache. You’ve been at Camp Half Blood all your life, but you just spent the entire school year doing absolutely nothing. It was an adjustment. You’re already being forced into the horrible tradition of capture the flag. You met up with your favorite and best friends Jackie and Tyla at the beginning of summer, and you’ve all been attached to the hip ever since.

The three of you thought you could escape to a random part of the woods and skip out.

It’s not like you were lazy, or couldn’t hold your own in a fight- but you had just taken turns doing each others nails yesterday, and it would be such a shame to see them all smudged and broken.

You were on the red team, so you watched as the incomparable Clarisse La Rue ran around instructing everyone what to do- completely skipping past the three of you. Jackie took it to heart, complaining about how she had lasted two minutes sparring with Clarisse once, and she had no right to label all Aphrodite kids as weak and useless.

You remember the night you finally made it to the crest of camp, blood staining your hands, your satyr protector dead on the ground behind you as some monster you didn’t know the name of chased after you.

The three of you thought maybe a nice walk at the edge of the woods would be nice, when suddenly a squadron of the blue team came running out trying to catch you as prisoners. It wasn’t a rule of the game, but it was generally expected that that the winner had more prisoners, or else the victory just didn’t seem right.

The blue team saw Aphrodite kids as easy targets to pick off.

This felt all too familiar to that stormy light, your pounding heart, looking around as everything crashed around you. One of them even jumped down from the freaking trees, and you screamed at the top of your lungs as all three of you sprinted off into different directions.

There was only one chasing behind you, a Hermes kid you didn’t know the name of, but he was fast on your tail.

Just as you had reached the crest of the hill, you screeched at the top of your lungs as you saw four figures in front of you. A satyr. Two girls. One boy.

“Not another one,” the stayr moaned, before beckoning you towards them. You stayed frozen in place. The monster was big and slow, but you could hear it approach.

The boy held out his hand.

“I promise,” he breathed, locking eyes with the smaller girl, maybe a year or two younger than you, before looking up at the older girl. You could tell she was battle hardened, she was ready to win this. “We’ll all make it to camp.”

Both monsters chasing you let out ear-piercing roars, and you quickly slapped your hand into his and sprinted away.

Thalia, you would later learn her name, didn’t survive that night. But you did. Luke did. Annabeth did.

The three of you will forever be bonded by that, even if you’re on different teams in capture the flag. Gods, you wish it was Luke chasing you right now- but it’s not.

You’ve forgotten everything about swords and fighting in exchange for the Russian Revolution and the Periodic Table. You hate school even more in this moment.

He reaches out towards you and you’re distracted by his hand touching your shoulder, heart pounding in your ears, and you trip right over a root and stumble before falling to the ground.

You faintly see the flash of bronze armor pass you, then you suddenly hear a body slam into the ground. You whip around, only to find a girl wearing a red-tipped helmet on top of the boy chasing you.

“Clarisse!” she shouts. “I got him!”

You breathe heavily, watching at the boy yells and tries to buck her off of him, but you faintly remember seeing her constantly around Clarisse. She must be another Ares kid, which means there’s no way she’s letting this Hermes kid gets away.

Clarisse saunters out of the woods on your left, looking between you and the boy on the ground.

You sit up on your hands, watching it all play out, not able to catch your breath.

She smiles, slow, like a cheshire cat.

Gods, why does she have to look like that? Why does she have to smile like that? Why does she have to make you feel this way?

Why doesn’t she just drop the spear and make out with you?

“So, this is the dummy who thinks it’s funny to chase around Aphrodite kids,” she says, slowing walking turns him. The girl holds up his head so he has to look at Clarisse. She places the end of her spear into the dirt. She leans down in front of him. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the Aphrodite cabin is on the red team, right? Right?”

The girl tugs his head up and he winces, but nods.

“And who captains the red team? Cause I think it’s me, isn’t it?”

He’s learned his lesson. He nods quickly, now.

“I’m feeling nice today. Why don’t you apologize to the pretty girl, and maybe I won’t kill you.”

His eyes lock with yours. He says nothing.

“I said apologize, dumbass.”

He glares at Clarisse.

“You’re fucking insane.”

She laughs a bit. “It’s capture the flag, Zander, why are you not getting a little crazy? Chasing after Aphrodite kids is just embarrassing, honestly.”

“Fine,” he spits. “Fucking fine. I’m sorry.”

“Was that so hard?” she coos. She nods, and the girl let’s him go.

Holy Hades if that wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

He runs straight off into the woods after a moment, when he realizes they’re not gonna chase after him, not now at least.

The other girl turns to you. “You ok?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you dust off your knees. “There’s more of them by the edge, just so you know. Just north of the river.”

The girl smiles. “Gods, yes. Fuckin’ love destroying the Hermes cabin.”

Clarisse turns to you. She tilts her head to the side, watching you breath heavily on the ground. She sticks out your hand. Your grab it quick, scared she might pull away, and her hand is so warm and fits perfectly with yours. She pulls you up and you dust off your knees.

The other girl takes off running, following the boy, yelling for Clarisse to hurry up.

She smiles a bit, and you swear to Zeus her cheeks are a little flushed, you swear she looks at your lips for a second.

She brushes her thumb across her cheek.

“You’ve got some dirt on your face, gorgeous.”

She runs off before you can say anything, electrical spear crackling to life.

Oh, you fucking love capture the flag.

—-

clarisse “you’ve got some dirt on your face, gorgeous” la rue the woman you are

—-

[sordidmusings]

Age Gap (Buggy x Reader)

A/N: for @soft-mafia since she wanted more age gap Buggy! Mostly bulleted like a headcanon but has two little drabbles sprinkled in cuz I couldn't help myself. I will be posting a continuation of this actually writing out the scene mentioned at the end, but I wanted to get this out now.

Word count: ~2.6 k

Warnings: obviously an age gap but the younger one is mentioned to be in their 20s, fem!reader, NSFW mentioned at the end, alcohol consumption, probably (hopefully) silly humor, the touch starved shows hardcore for a second there, tried my best to get Buggy right but you know how it be especially because he exists as an amalgam of LA and anime Buggy in my brain

Now come get y'all dopamine

I imagine you joined Buggy’s crew largely looking for that found family goodness then found out how much you’d never been taken care of and how much you craved it

One day while going through the different acts you were learning from the crew trying to find what stuck, you took a decent fall. Not the kind that breaks bones, but the kind where you just gotta lay there a sec and recalibrate how you got to this point

After some laughter (I mean come on it is a crew curated by Buggy and they could tell it wasn’t serious), the nearby crew surrounded you to check on you. While you were breathlessly saying you’re fine from your position on the floor, they parted to reveal the Captain coming to your side:

Buggy bent down to loom over you. The shadow he cast over your face was a welcome break from the bright overhead lights. You just wished that the way they haloed him didn’t make it so hard to see the laughter on his face.

“Good form! I think we could just throw you around to see you flail like that as your act - you’d be our finest comedy routine.” His voice was thick with sarcasm and giggles. However, his detached arms were gentle when they lifted you from the floor. They changed to posing outstretched with his hands on your shoulders and he walked into them to reattach. He looked you up and down before circling around you, all the while his hands were nudging you this way and that for his inspection. Once he was back at your front, he changed to brushing some dirt from your arms and shoulders. You didn’t speak for fear of interrupting this attention you were receiving from him.  He seemed to suddenly snap to clarity anyway.

“RIGHT.” Vocal control? Who is she? Buggy doesn’t know her. “So either get better at what you’re doing or actually fall on purpose. Wouldn’t want you fucking up that money maker.” He was already walking away when one detached hand gave your cheek two brisk pats and he made himself scarce.

It was obvious to you and everyone else how much you ate up his attention. The soft look you were still giving the direction he went in was damn near sickening. It was then you understood your purpose here - becoming Buggy’s spoiled lapdog.

Luckily for you, that was also the moment Buggy realized how his body buzzed when he touched you and how he lit up when you looked up at him with pretty, wide eyes. 

Unluckily, he also decided that being near you would lead down a dangerous route of him needing more and more of you and he was positive that he was just being some old creep over a pretty little thing like you.

This led to a game where Buggy would try to keep you at arm’s length while he battled both his own desire to be around you and your seemingly supernatural ability to just appear next to him at all times.

He wasn’t great at the arms distance thing even when he thought he was nailing it because nailing it to him was being in his natural space as the center of attention and only checking (immediately and desperately) that you were watching and approving of whatever he was doing. The way his head would always snap to you for your reaction was neither subtle nor discouraging to your rapidly growing infatuation.

You decided that orbiting his personal space wasn’t working well enough. Sure, he’d give you a hit of what you wanted with some fleeting touches and mostly disguised compliments but you needed more. Hurting yourself intentionally so that he would take care of you didn’t seem like a sustainable option, so you settled on playing his own game. Time to practice owning a room.

This could be a dangerous game to play. You were certain that blatantly taking the spotlight would just make him upset with you not that you’d mind him taking that out on you. You settled on more subtle things like spreading your attention more through the crew instead of mostly on him, being more focused and daring in your training, participating more in the many games that broke out when the alcohol did, and dressing a bit more intentionally (whether that’s flashier colors, eye-catching accessories, bold makeup, new or intricate hairstyles, etc.) 

The boldest card you played was feeding more into any of the flirting you received.

He has a freak show, yes, but have you ever seen how fine circus performers are?? Full fun costumes are It and also the tasks they have to perform either help them get conventionally attractive bodies and/or the rizz that comes with performing feats (just look at the traction Fryboy has gained with women like damn why he kinda-). Due to that, you’re around attractive people all the time.

While the flirting is for the purpose of pushing Buggy’s buttons, you must admit that it wasn’t a hard habit to keep up and may help inflate your ego.

Your attempts have mixed results. Buggy’s desire to claim you grew but so did his insecurity

In his mind, you look more natural next to one of the younger lookers in his crew while he’s certain the pair of you must look ridiculous together. It’s this very insecurity that’s gonna make it necessary for you to bluntly and shamelessly throw yourself at him both repeatedly and with no room for questions:

You have no clue what else you can do to get through that thick skull of his. You’re on your knees, quite literally at that. You figured that kneeling in front of that circus throne while he’s laid himself all over it would be enough to break the man. Enough to break any man, really, but he’s still finding ways to deflect you.

Buggy nodded his head to a nearby open seat. “You know they made chairs to be comfortable and your dumb ass is on the floor. That drunk already?” he snorted. Maybe choosing to do this during one of the many celebrations (you think this one is for one week of no one pregaming for show runs. ironic.) was a bad idea. You had been banking on some drinks loosening up whatever was holding him back.  It always made you snicker when you entertained the idea of it being from a sense of propriety. Checking in on the situation, you could see how all the chaos going on around you two made it easier for him to keep his eyes off of you and his ears unfocused. Earlier, you had counted it as a plus that working up a buzz would help you bulldoze through his stubbornness. You had forgotten that any alcohol in your system would make for the perfect excuse for him to write you off.

“I’ve barely started my third drink,” you started with a pout, “and I’d be ashamed if that’s enough to get me drunk after all the time spent on your crew.”

“Then you are just being stupid.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. Okay. Attention didn’t work. Compliments didn’t work. Kneeling didn’t work. Time for some big guns.

You shifted to the side so you’d be sitting towards your left hip with your bent legs beside you. Your drink found its way to your right hand but, most importantly, your chin found its way onto Buggy’s left knee. It brought you so close to where you’d really like to put yourself to work, and, man, was the temptation strong with the way his right leg was slung over the armrest of his seat. How did he expect you to stay away when he was serving himself up on a platter like this?

Buggy was definitely giving you his undivided attention now. His gaze was dark and slightly accusatory. The lighting matched with his makeup made him look more dangerous than usual. The nerves it sent through you might have had you back right off. Instead you held your ground because you saw his pulse hammer against his neck. You saw his throat bob as he swallowed. You saw his pink tongue contrast with red as he licked his lips and gave a shaky exhale.

While you were starting to settle into your bold move, Buggy was becoming more and more antsy. His grip on his glass became white-knuckled under his gloves, and he tried to give himself time to think by taking a huge gulp of his drink. Why did you have to look at him like that? So pleading? The angle from his lap made your lashes darken your eyes and it was impossible for him to keep the image of your hooded gaze about a foot closer to him out of his head. What did you want from him? You’d denied his accusations about money or intel so what the fuck could it be? Was this a game? Get in the pants of the Captain for preferential treatment and go back to whoever else you had in your palm on the crew to laugh about him falling for it?

You noticed his mood turning sour so you decided to interrupt whatever was tumbling around his head. “I think I could get much more comfy right here.” To prove a point, you dragged your chin to his inner thigh, right above his knee, and snuggled your cheek into his leg. His pants weren’t the softest against your skin but he was so addictingly warm through them. Your eyes briefly fluttered shut to enjoy the sensation before you looked back up at him and flirtatiously said, “I’m comfiest next to you.”

His hands itched with the need to grab you by the hair and force your face right where he needed you. Instead he scoffed at you. “Suuuuure. And why’s that, princess?”

“You make me smile,” you admitted immediately. His startled gaze met your lovesick one and you realized what you said and how quickly you said it. Too close to emotionally vulnerable; time to backtrack a touch. You want to get the role as his trophy before you even attempt to approach the title of Love of His Life. “You also said that you take care of your crew and I’m on your crew, right? So you’ll take care of me.”

The cheeky smile you spoke through melted him. An achingly deep sigh left him while his right hand detached from the arm to deposit his drink on the floor next to you. Quickly, it flew back to its limb. Both of your hearts pumped fire through your chests as he reached that hand out towards you. Buggy took his time stroking his fingers from your forehead into your hair. When his palm came down to join the gesture, you were very happy to realize that his hand was just as warm as the thigh still under your cheek. You shuffled closer so your legs squeezed in between his foot and the left leg of his throne. Buggy shuddered when he felt your fingertips graze the back of his calf and spread out like a star so you could grab it. Using your new grip, you snuggled more firmly into his leg and let yourself buzz off of getting this new touch from your Captain.

Ulterior motives be damned, Buggy couldn’t give them any credence when you looked so happy to sit at his feet and receive such a simple touch. He should probably laugh and call you a needy puppy to regain some control over the situation. Instead, he slipped his hand down the side of your head.  He massaged his fingertips into the base of your skull and said, “I’ll take care of you, little star.”

Once he has accepted that you’re serious there will be jokes about the dynamic but do not be fooled - he can only dish it out and WILL spiral if he receives any type of comment about how much older he is (the word geriatric is punishable by death)

Sometimes the joke is him patronizingly treating you like a child (you almost socked him right there at the dinner table when some food came at your face with accompanying airplane noises)

Sometimes it’s calling you a gold digger (“then where’s my allowance, huh?” “OH so my gIFTS AREN’T ENOUGH FOR YOU NOW? YOU were the one ACTUALLY CRYING over me buying you that wonky ass stuffed seal with the lopsided face!!” “HIS NAME IS JERRY AND YOU WILL SHOW HIM SOME RESPECT”)

Sometimes it’s just dumb shit like pointing at the type of girl’s clothing store that has made a contract with God to own all the pinks and pastels the world has to offer before turning to you straight faced and asking if you want to stop in to look. Any way this man can think to goof, he will.

And it’s tooooootally a coping mechanism to process the fact that he’s nearly forty and dating a twenty-something and not at all because joking around with you has become one of his basic survival needs

The dynamic ends up helping both of y’all feel special - you have a hot, boisterous, spotlight-stealing pirate captain pampering (and then making a mess of) you while he gets a beautiful, capable, eye-catching young thing looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky

Nothing goes to Buggy’s head more than when you walk into a room full of people, attractive ones especially, and only see him.

He loves anything that makes it obvious to others that you are his, whether that's him draped over you, you draped over him, red stains on the back of your hands, your shoulders, your cheeks, your forehead, your neck, having his jolly roger on your outfit, having you in his hat or coat

This very much extends to him wanting anyone and everyone to overhear you in the bedroom. Everyone should know you're his and he's the only one who can make you feel so good

Don't worry, they'll also get the message that he's yours from all the moaning and praises

He gives you endless pet names but always comes back to “sweet stuff”, “sweets”, “princess”, “star”, “prima donna” (affectionate), “prima donna” (derogatory), and anything preceded by “little” (“little showstopper”, “little tease”, very rarely “little girl” if he feels especially like exerting power over you)

He prides himself on making you feel cared for and safe. Instead of feeling like a chore he has to do because he’s in the ‘older man’ role, he loves the way you preen under his attention and how you happily return the favor.

When in the Cross Guild Era, Buggy started going to all meetings with you by his side then on his thigh. It was a good defensive strategy because the other two seemed more hesitant to throttle him if you were in the way, but lets be real this man is also clingy and loves showing you off too.

At first he found it offensive that Mihawk and Croc were so disbelieving at the sight of you happily perched on your captain’s lap but then it made him the smuggest motherfucker when he would see their eyes trail over you knowing that they can only look and he can touch however he wants. This leads to him pushing until he hit your boundary at leaving very visible marks on you

One time he fucked you stupid right before a meeting so that you wouldn’t think about the bite mark surrounded by red makeup that kept playing peekaboo with your shirt collar (or the red smears between your thighs that showed whenever you shifted your legs)

[melodic-haze]

Hellooo!!

I wanted to ask if you make content about Furina (I love your writing and Furina, so seeing that combined would be the BEST 😻) and if you do, could you write to needy!sub!Furina that after going through all that suffering for 500 years, she just want her girlfriend to take care of her and love her like she always needed?

Thank you!! :33

(and sorry for the bad English 😭)

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Furina x dom!fem!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: None

☆ — NOTES: FIRSTLY THANK YOUUUU I'M FLATTERED YOU LOVE MY WRITING OMG???? And yes, I do make Furina content I love my silly thespian lesbian girlfailure :3 DON'T APOLOGISE DAWG your English isn't bad!!

I'd like you all to know I converted a Furina hater first of all with my extensive knowledge of ouji lolita clothing. But that's not what you wanted to see here

Being Furina's lover would be. Very much in need of constant attention, you right!!! Wish I could generalise it all but this is ME that's making this and ME making this means I have to actually Put My Mind into this 😭😭😭. Being in a relationship with her is NOT for the detached and the unavailable bc of just how needy she is

She's very! Attached to you! I think eventually she does learn to latch off and act independently without fear of losing the ones she loves (read: you), but it'd take a WHILE before she's at fully at peace with herself.......but rn she NEEDS to catch up on YEARS of intimacy

That DOES translate beyond a simple want for companionship however 😄

You wake up in the middle of the night to soft sounds from your beloved, whose back is turned towards you.

"'Rina..?" Your hands reached towards her in an attempt to let her know of your presence, "Babe, what's wrong?"

You see her shoulders still at your touch, her blanketed figure highlighted by the stream of moonlight escaping from the small gap between the curtains. You took it as a sign that perhaps touching her right now was a bad idea, so you draw your hand back.. but her hand darts to hold yours, squeezing desperately as she turns to look at you.

And oh, you could feel your heart shatter at the sight—tears streaming down her face, eyes glassy and a horrified expression that swiftly twists into relief at the sight of you.

What she says after breaks your heart even further as her voice cracks and loses its usual bravado, eyes meeting you and searching for something—reassurance, perhaps—in your moonlit gaze, "I'm not... This isn't a dream, right? You're-- you're here, I'm here, this is.. this is real. Please tell me this is real."

A former archon, no matter the authenticity, is pleading to you as if you were the god. Praying for some form of reassurance that she wasn't going to wake up cold and alone, doomed to be on the outside looking in as she performed and performed and performed for more times than she could ever possibly count.

"Yes. Yes, of--" You swallowed your initial response (saying that 'of course it's real' would do her no good), "I'm real. This is all real. And I am not going to let you go until you believe it yourself."

"I need-- I need to feel you, to know you're not just saying what I want to hear," her free hand frantically went underneath your shirt, grasping onto your waist as she ducked her head and mumbled into your collar. You could feel fresh tears dampen your skin.

"..Are you sure?"

"Mhm."

"No, no, come on." You gently combed through your hair with her fingers, "Look at me."

No answer.

"Furina. Please."

..It takes a little bit, but she does end up following through.

"Are you completely sure? I don't want to do anything if--"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"..Okay." You moved above her, placing your knee in between her thighs, "But if you need me to stop or you want a break, do not keep quiet."

"Thank you."

NeedneedneedNEEEEED to take care of babyyyy :(((

She's veryyyyy needy PLEASE take care of her. NO rough sex this time, I need her to be treated juuuust like the girlprince that she is :((((( which means giving her so much love to the point where she CANNOT handle it❗️❗️ Poor girl doesn't know what to do when she's been basically in isolation for so long, only to now have someone so undeniably special to her REASSURING her that she's not going to be alone. If that meant overwhelming her and winding her up in the best possible way, well. Who's complaining, really 🤷‍♀️

Shower her in kisses, worship her body. She might be ticklish at first (which is good bc it distracts her :3), but then you get to more sensitive spots on her body and it has her bucking up into you, even tearing up at just how utterly devoted you're being to her

HOLD HER HANDS. OHMYGOD. Keep her laying down as you finger her, let her watch your desire for her translate to reality, let yourself feel just how close she wants you as she tugs you even closer while begging for more. Whatever baby wants, baby gets 😊😊😊😊😊

"Good girl.. good girl, there you go, just... Mmm, keep sucking me like that-- fuck you're so tight, you needed this, didn't you?"

You ask, and yet you expected no answer from her. Why would you, when you had stuffed her mouth with one of your tits, offered it for her to do whatever she wished as your fingers prodded and explored the insides of her wet cunt?

By god, she was trying her best make the most of what she was given, interchanging between her tongue swirling around your nipple and her lips suckling as if she were starved.

And perhaps she was, with the way she had grasped onto you so tightly as you brought her to the peak over and over again in an effort to show just how much you treasure her just for who she is.

Along with the fact that she was here in the present, sharing this moment with you.

You see her eyes go glassy again (it was hard to count just how many times it's happened throughout the night, not like you cared to), and you press a tender kiss on the crown of her head—a stark contrast from your hand's harsh motions, "Let it all out, baby... Let me hear you."

Her mouth lets go of your nipple as she let out a cross between a sob and a dumbed-out whine, her hand moving as a stand-in to squeeze your chest. "Ffffaster, pleeease-- yesyesyesthank you--"

"You're still so polite, you lovely little thing!" You curled your fingers up, in the same direction at which her hips rose up to, "I'll show you just how much I appreciate all of you."

By daybreak, you know your loving partner, however insecure she is now due to the lasting damage done to her after hundreds of years of doing nothing but perform to a grand audience with a role that is much too big and lonely for herself, would be more than assured that she is now accompanied by the present—she is accompanied by you and those who she deems special.

After all, if you were nothing but a dream, then however could she truly feel the raw sensation of every overstimulated nerve in her body?

If this were a dream, then however could she truly feel, for that matter?

Gotta GOGOGO until she's way too exhausted to go on. Furina is built for extensive dramatics, which means that she's going to have stamina, but she wasn't built to FOCUS on stamina, so at some point she Does pass out. Doesn't help that she's so unbelievably touch starved to the point where a LOT of her body's Extremely sensitive to intimate touches soooooo 🥰🥰🥰

And by the end of it? I pray to fucking GOD you both cuddle. She will forever be little spoon so hold her, have your legs all tangled together and make sure she can feel your warmth and the way your chest expands whenever you breathe :3c if this is a dream, then may it be a long-lasting one for the both of you🫶

[sen-ya]

Life After Info Post

[Click here to access the Life After Digital Comic Book]

Summary: Two years ago, a viral outbreak rose the dead. Considering how his life had gone up to this point, surgeon Trafalgar Law figured this might as well happen too. When a supply run into the nearby city gets intercepted by a seemingly reckless and impulsive former patient, the dependable routine Law had settled into in this new life shatters. He finds himself exposed — his body out in the infected landscape, his conscious clawing to define what he believes is right, his heart begrudgingly deciding to find a new home on his sleeve. Maybe there’s more than a virus roaming the new world that can bring a dead man back to life.

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence, zombies/body horror (but lbr I am not good at making scary things look scary)

Relationships: Luffy x Law

Update Schedule: New page every Monday/Wednesday/Friday

Page Count: [37 posted | 55 drawn]

Latest Update: [7/21/24] WOWEE did I get myself carried away this morning. I just spent 5 hours organizing my comics and creating the digital comic book pages. I could have spent that time drawing or idk not doing what I do for my job, but I cannot be stopped. Anyway I blocked out 30 pages of this comic last week and they include the most intense action sequence I've ever done in my gotdang life. Wish me luck because I am nervous about tying down all my drawings lmao.

OLD UPDATES:

[6/29/24] HULLO! I'm doing so bad at keeping my masterposts updated lately I am sorry. All pages of life after are tagged life after if you're ever looking between masterpost updates! Also exciting update, I finally have figured out all the different plot points i'm gonna be hitting (yay!). I got hung up on something for awhile that made me not wanna work on this project, but I'm back at it. I think we'll end up with 6-7 parts! I have probably another 80-100 pages to draw lol. Also i got the app Magic Poser and it's AWESOME and I immediately used it to block out sets cuz MAN I hate backgrounds.

[6/10/24] HELLO. I'm sorry I've been shit at updating my masterposts lately. It's easiest to do from my computer, which I rarely use, and life has been happening. I also can't believe I bungled the queue and posted pg19 before pg18 i am very sorry 🤦 Eventually I'll have to turn this into an airtable base I'm sure, but until that day comes where I have like 100 pages of this comic we're stickin to the regular post lmao

[5/26/23] I got real caught up in doing summer of lawlu comics this week and this is the first week since the first week of April I haven't drawn new Life After pages and it feels weird 🙊

[5/19/24] More Luffy backstory comin' this week! :^)

[5/12/24] Updating now so get myself on schedule to update on Sundays like I had been with my other comic master post!

[5/8/24] Thank you to everyone who's liked/reblogged/comment on the first few pages!! It means the world to me that anyone's reading my silly little comics.

[4/28/24] HULLO. It’s happeninnng. I’ve spent the last few weeks working on this comic, and I gotta make this post so I can start queuing pages & link this in them! This is the most like….legit? Comic endeavor I’ve undertaken perhaps….ever. I’m very nervous about committing to how long it will need to be lol. This story is dear to my heart — zombie content is kind of my very favorite. I’ve always found it to be a great backdrop for exploring themes like grief, coping with change, community, and learning to live again. It’ll be a long haul but I hope you’ll ride it out with me!! Tomorrow I’ll be posting the first two pages. After that a page will post every Monday/Wednesday/Friday. As of this post I’ve completed over 20 pages so that I have a good lead on what’s posting and continuing to write, so I’m hopeful that’s a cadence I’ll be able to maintain. I’ll update this post weekly to include the most recent pages the way I do with my main comics master post. All pages will be tagged 'Life After' and I'll tag any pages with zombies in them with 'zombie' for blacklisting etc.

[factual-fantasy]

29 asks! Thank you!! :)) 🐙

(Referencing this post)

They'd probably try to find some kind of orphanage to give the baby to. With Red as a family exception- the life of a pirate is no life for a child! :((

@glitchhayden418

I think this is a classic case of "two wrongs don't make a right" my friend <XDD

(Referencing this post)

That might work.. 😔 Thank you for the advice!

@sevenheven7011

I have heard of it! :0 Its a game I think..?

@kermit-ydafrog

I gotta write that down! XD

@depressoblueberryoflife

Not sure, and not surprised <XD 💀💔

@quillsinkwell

Oh hey!! Its those little critters from spirited away! I saw the movie a few weeks ago. I think they're adorable! :)) And I 100% see the resemblance to my sona XDD

(Referencing this post)

A Google doc sounds like it might be the best/only solution. Which is very unfortunate because I don't know how to make them, I don't want to learn how, and I just wish everything could stay on Tumblr.. 😔

Thank you for the advice though, much appreciated! :)

Exactly, all this and more I imagine.😔Trying so hard to be calm and stoic but its just eating him up inside that he doesn't know where his baby brother is. Blaming himself, beating himself up for it.. the works..

I have now! XDD

@nerdy-aroace (Referencing this post)

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY SLIME RANCHER AU STUFF!! :DDD

@ody-and-fanatu

:DDD Thank you!! I'm glad you like my Mario stuff! :))

There would be some plot holes if I wanted Grim to dynamax <XD though I had a comic draft where he mega evolved.. :00

@imaplantyay

Uhg. More stolen artwork..

Also that comic was never finished, nor do i I intend to ever finish it..

@wolfie-777

Something tells me that Luna would win because she has guns <XDD

Though if we don't include guns, mayyybe still Luna.? She has the intelligence of a person but the body of a werewolf. Maybe she'd win..? :0

@collisionofthestars-newblog

XDD Now I cant stop thinking about it!

@raven-bearden-the-interviewer42

Probably Seafoam, Octo, Spidercrab and Louis.

Seafoam because she loves him, Spidercrab because he's a medic, Louis to lighten the mood, and Octo because he'd actually know how to survive on an island XDD

Permission granted! :DD

@importantnightwerewolf

🥰Thank you!! :))

Thank you so much! :DD And I think adopting small headcanons like that here and there is alright :)) Thank you for asking! :}}}

@artistiemi

<XD No idea, I cant even remember when I changed it. Welcome back though! :))

(Link in post)

Ohh! I see, that was just the skeleton version of saying "your forehead is hot!" when someone has a fever <XD

@caronaro-flipaclip

🥺🥺🥺

Thank you..... I put a lot of effort and heart into them.. 🥺💞💞

They would FREAK OUT if they saw that <XDD Horrifying!

I'm still into FNAF SB! :00 And honestly I find that ending a little silly <XDD

(Referencing this post (?))

Ingo and Emmet are twin brothers :00 naturally their relationship is 100% platonic and brotherly 👍👍

I have not, but I've heard really good things about it! :000

[lesbianphan]

I know this is gonna be mushy and overly emotional and I'm sorry for oversharing a bit, but I feel like it's necessary to put into words what rewatching We're All Doomed means to me personally. I watched the kiswe premiere event live and it was one of the most fun nights I've had in a while, even though my life felt extremely hopeless at the time.

And, look, here's the thing: when the WAD premiere dropped, I had completely given up on improving things. In fact, I was very much in the 'doomed' mentality. I had long accepted that there was no way my life would get better. So Dan's message really resonated with me: it's easy to settle for being at rock bottom and thinking that's all there is for me. I was happy to see Dan doing better, but deep down I didn't truly believe his words either, not really. I did want to, but I wasn't quite there. And I don't believe them all the time, as he himself said he doesn't, and doing the show many times hammers the point home into his head.

After experiencing it, I thought maybe, just maybe, I could stop only embracing the void, but start having the courage to exist as well. Putting myself out there more, trying to make a world for myself in which I'm not the :/ emoji all the time. So I applied for the jobs, I wrote what I wanted, I unapologetically embraced the nerdy things and the fandoms I enjoyed. I decided I can choose happiness in the smallest of ways, even when it sounds silly and unimportant. Because it isn't unimportant really if it means something to me.

Rewatching the show last night showed me how much it changed my life and the big leaps it helped me take in life. I have so much more to learn, but I keep telling myself to be brave (lmao sorry had to sneak the Phil reference) and have the courage to exist. Really truly exist out in the world, not hidden inside my room. And sure, some days are harder than the others, some days I really don't like myself at all. Even in those days, though, I tell myself: all I have to do is have the courage to exist.

I went in to watch WAD with no expectations, and I feel like the message of appreciating the little moments was so monumental, it truly absolutely had a huge impact in my own life. I have a job now, and some financial stability. To be honest, I never thought I'd get this job, I might not even have applied if I wasn't in this mindset. In so many ways, Dan and Phil have profoundly changed my life, and I think WAD is just one of those big examples.

I doubt the real humans Dan and Phil will ever understand the impact they've had on this world, but I'll forever wish them the best. I'll always support them, because their creations have irrevocably changed me as a person, and as much as I like joking around and stuff, I'm just thankful that we share this existence, and we get to have fun and be forever changed by it.

Thanks @danielhowell, you'll never know how huge the impact of this show was, but I am truly crying writing this and I hope one day I get to tell you in person how much you inspired me to keep going when no one else would.

[mothandpidgeon]

Aunt Flo's First Visit [pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader]

MASTERLIST - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

Pairing: pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After Sarah gets her first period, Joel is determined to be a supportive parent despite the fact that he doesn't know the first thing about menstruation. But when he goes to the pharmacy to shop for supplies, he finds himself in way over his head.

Words: 2k

Rating: G

Warnings: period stuff and everything that comes with it

a/n: This is really fluffy and a little silly. I saw a tik tok by a menstrual product company about a customer trying to find the right thing for his daughter and it just gave me such Joel energy this happened. I haven't finished any fic in MONTHS because I'm working on my book and that's not finished either so it feels really good to complete something. (If you want to keep up with my publishing journey, I'm mainly documenting it here.) Please enjoy.

Also, I challenged myself to write in present tense bc I never do and I really was struggling so pretend the grammar is all correct. Thank you.

Joel knows how to do a lot of things. He can manage a crew, change a flat tire, and build just about anything. He never considered himself smart by the classical definition but he knows how to make a car battery from scratch despite the fact that he got a C in chemistry. 

If somebody had told him a decade ago that he’d one day be paralyzed with fear in the feminine hygiene aisle, he would’ve laughed. But right now, Joel would give all his knowledge along with his left arm if he could just figure out what the hell he ought to buy for his daughter.

He knew this day would come eventually. It’s his own damn fault he never prepared himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he must’ve expected Sarah to just know how to handle it. Being a single dad wasn’t a walk in the park but he couldn’t imagine how much harder it would be if Sarah wasn’t so damn self sufficient. Even at 13, she can get herself fed and dressed and off to school without help. Of course she could figure this out on her own.

But Joel was reminded that Sarah’s still just a kid when she finally told him that she’d gotten her period for the very first time. She was so embarrassed to admit it, Joel practically had to drag it out of her. 

He was angry with himself. He should’ve been ready, wished that he knew the right words to say. Joel promised himself he would put things right so she wouldn’t feel like she ever had to hide anything from him. 

That was a lot easier said than done, he realizes now.

Joel stands in the aisle overwhelmed and confused. Boxes and soft packages in friendly, pastel colors stare at him from the shelves. He’s never spent much time with the feminine hygiene products, not unless he was scooting by them to pick up a little carton from the family planning section. He hasn’t bothered to learn about that stuff. Women’s stuff. He’s not disgusted by menstruation, isn’t afraid of it. It’s just one of those things he never had to deal with. 

Without Sarah’s mom, though, he’s had to figure out plenty of girl things. He can remember the lesson on managing Sarah’s curls from the kind woman at the hair salon. Names of Shampoos and oils that felt foreign were now routine and he’s mastered using the combs and clips that looked more intimidating than some of his power tools. But he struggled for a good long while before that kind stylist took pity on him. 

And here he is again, flying blind into the female whirlwind. 

There’s so many options on the shelf. Words like HEAVY and gentle and sport. And the prices. Christ! He thought the hair stuff was expensive.  

Joel’s head is spinning but he has to get it together. He’d vowed long ago that he would be Dad and Mom too. That’s what his daughter deserves. 

Just a year ago, he hovered outside of the dressing room at the mall as Sarah tried on training bras. 

“Did you find one? You were in there for a while,” he said when she emerged.

“Dad,” she replied in that tone she was using more and more often, the one that told him to shut up.

It isn’t the changes to her body that scare him, all of the subtle ways she’s becoming less familiar. His little girl is growing up and he mourns her childhood. It won’t be long before she’s driving, going off to college. Maybe she’ll have a daughter of her own but Joel hopes she’ll wait longer than he did, have a chance to make a life for herself.

Speaking of which, he realizes he’s going to have to sit her down for a real talk about boys next. He better get ready for that one. Explaining where babies come from hadn’t been too difficult. Condoms and venereal diseases are a whole different ball game. Teenage boys are gremlins– he’d know– and Sarah’s so smart and pretty, she’s going to have to be careful. 

Joel doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at the shelves when a woman appears in the aisle, another shopper. She’s got her keys looped around a finger, headed straight for the tampons, her flip flops smacking against the bottoms of her feet. Joel has a box in his hands. He doesn’t even know what he’s picked up, it’s just got the least intimidating packaging and the price is reasonable. He can’t help but catch the woman’s eye and the look she gives him is a little wary. It must be obvious that he’s out of his depths. But she gives a polite, tight lipped smile and proceeds to ignore him as she approaches the pantheon of period products. 

He watches as her eyes dart around the shelves and quickly she makes a selection, plucking up a box clad with pink and purple silhouettes. So easy. Well, it must be easy for her. He wonders how many times she’s visited this part of the pharmacy, if her mother brought her to the store when she was Sarah’s age and showed her all the options. 

His free hand fidgets at his side and he swallows dryly. He feels like an idiot but he reminds himself that he’s got to do this. For Sarah. The woman is already half way back to the end of the aisle by the time he’s found his voice. 

---

“Excuse me, miss. Could I trouble you for a second?” you hear from the man behind you. 

You turn around, confused, but there’s nobody else that he could be talking to. Here you thought you could get in and out quickly. You’re cranky and tired and all day you’ve had toe curling cramps. It hits you like a ton of bricks every month. All you want to do is get home to your couch to watch some crappy reality tv. 

But this lumberjack of a man– broad shoulders wrapped in a flannel shirt– is giving you puppy dog eyes. You’ve never been hit on while holding a box of Tampax Pearl but there’s a first time for everything. 

“I apologize. This is real awkward,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck with a big hand. “I’m trying to get something for my daughter but I’m a little lost.”

His voice is warm and sweet and he’s handsome as hell but you keep your distance. 

“Didn’t she tell you what to get?” you ask. 

His expression grows even more bashful and his voice lowers. 

“I’m afraid it’s, uh…well, it’s new territory for both of us,” he admits. 

You can’t help the sympathetic smile that forms on your lips. Some poor preteen girl just got welcomed into the cruel arms of womanhood. It will be all downhill from here. Wild mood swings, angry breakouts, blood leaking through her favorite pair of pants. At least, it seems, she’s got her dad on her side. It takes a lot of balls for a guy to pick up a box of tampons let alone stop a stranger and ask for help. 

You’d like to tell him that you’re too busy to help– you can hear your Haagen Dazs calling you all the way from the freezer– but you at least owe it to this kid to help him out. 

“What’ve you got?” you ask, nodding towards the powder blue box in his grasp. It looks so little in his big hand. You walk back towards him and take a look. “Oh. Nice try but I wouldn’t go with that.”

He regards his choice again. It���s kind of adorable, the way the corners of his mouth frown as he squints at the words on the front. “What’s wrong with these?” His words aren’t defensive, he’s genuinely curious. 

“Tampons can be pretty tricky when you’re that age. And those don’t even come with an applicator,” you explain. You remember trying to use a tampon that first time. You’d never put anything up there before and it stung like hell.

“Applicator?” His brows furrow and you can see fear in his brown eyes. 

“So you can put it…in,” you tell him and motion with your finger, jabbing your pointer upwards. 

His cheeks go pink. Ears too. You try to suppress a giggle as his brain short circuits for a second. His throat works as he swallows and places the box back on the shelf— gingerly, like it might explode. 

“Which are the ones that don’t…go inside?” he asks. 

It’s impossible to keep from grinning. 

“Pads,” you say. 

He nods. 

You choose a package and place it in his hands. It’s a multipack, everything from light to heavy, and no wings so she doesn’t feel like she’s wearing a diaper. 

“Try this,” you say. “She might not like them. It takes some trial and error.”

He reads over the circle in the corner that claims it’s 100% Leak Free! You can see he’s still overwhelmed but he’s far less nervous. He really is good looking and you have to wonder how he doesn’t have a woman in his life to help him out.

“This many?” he asks. 

“She might need more.” You shrug. “Just stay away from the scented ones. And you have Tylenol at home?”

“I think so.”

“How about a heating pad?”

He shakes his head. 

“Go get one,” you advise. 

He blows out air and then steels himself with a nod, ready to face the red menace. 

“I’m awfully grateful for your help,” he says and you can tell by the look on his face, he means that. 

You feel your own cheeks heat. 

---

Joel ends up behind her in the checkout line after securing an electric heating pad and grabbing an extra bottle of Motrin. 

“What do you think?” he asks, showing her what he picked.

“Good job,” she tells him. Her smile is tinged with amusement but his chest still swells with pride. Maybe he’s not such a failure of a father after all.

Now that he’s less bewildered, Joel can’t help but notice how pretty this woman is. She’s dressed for comfort without any make up as far as he can tell but that smile and the kindness in her eyes is what does it for him. If they met under different circumstances, maybe he’d try to flirt. Not that he’s had the opportunity to practice recently. It’s for the best, though. There’s absolutely no way the combination of bumbling idiot, single parent, and menstruation makes for a romantic connection. Besides he’s here on an errand for his daughter.

Joel tries to keep his eyes from wandering over her as the teenager behind the register rings her up, the pink box and two bags of M&Ms. She gives Joel one last smile before leaving the store. 

He thought he might feel embarrassed buying nothing but period supplies but he’s too busy thinking about how helpful she was. Sarah would just about die from mortification if he told her a complete stranger gave him a crash course in maxi pads. He chuckles to himself. 

“Hey!” someone calls as Joel approaches his truck.

It’s her, the woman from the pharmacy, crossing the parking lot. Joel smooths his hair.

“These are for her,” she says, handing him one of her bags of candy. “Chocolate helps.”

Joel gives a soft laugh as he weighs the M&Ms in his hand. “That I knew,” he says. 

“And, uh, here,” she tells him, holding out the long receipt. 

Joel takes the paper. On the back she’s scribbled her name and phone number. 

“You know, I don’t know. I just thought– if she has any questions. Or maybe if you do,” she says, shrugging. She’s much less confident now than she was in front of that endless selection of menstrual products. It’s cute and makes Joel feel a little less like an idiot for the way he was fumbling a few minutes ago. 

“I owe you one,” he says.

She shakes her head. “Just be patient,” she warns. “She’s gonna be a bitch but don’t take it personally.”

Joel grins. 

“You’re a good dad,” she tells him and he doesn’t know how to respond to that.

She’s already backing away towards her car and waves again. 

Joel looks at her number, once again finding something he doesn’t know. He’d give his left arm to figure out how soon is too soon to call. 

---

MASTERLIST - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

[maxwellatoms]

Where did you learn to write for tv animation? Were you always interested in writing? Do you ever wish you could make something with deeper themes than what you write now?

I don't think that working in Kid's TV Animation prevents me from dealing with deep themes. We weren't really allowed to deal directly with death as a theme in Billy & Mandy, but it was in there. Along with fear, (ultimate) power, responsibility, and growing-up-as-horror. On Jellystone we've got episodes in Season 2 that deal with the pandemic, politics, and justice... if you're willing and capable of digging through the satire to find it.

When you're pitching shows, networks always want something "from the heart". Meaning that they get a lot of pitches from hacks looking to earn some cash who may or may not have a vested interest in making a good show. I don't have that problem because my one mission is to get what I want. That's my Mandy side. Put me on a show that I think is a destined-to-fail crapsack, and I'll still find a way to please myself and squeeze in every theme, character type, and gag that I wanted to... one way or another. Because that's what I care about.

Would it be nice not to have to fight for every little thing I want to say while also jumping through hoops to meet unreasonable schedules, to protect my crew, and to process external feedback from people who are more worried about looking good within the company than making good TV? Sure would. That's where my renewed desire to do something indie comes in.

Looping back around to the first question, I've always loved writing (and drawing). For me, it really did all start with silly comics and storyboards for amateur movies. I guess (like most things) I just learned along the way because it's what interested me. I read a bunch of books on writing and took creative writing, literature, and screenwriting classes in high school and college, but a good bit of it probably came from learning on the job and trying to improve.

[simpingland]

I WILL BE SEATED FOR YOUR ZALAGON FIC!!!! (plz take all the time u need!!!! I love your writing sm <3)

The Duty To Protect // Aemond Targaryen x Male!Reader. Part 2

Summary: after years as lovers in Essos, the peace is ended when they call for war. Aemond is left with the task of staying in the castle while he has to see the love of his life leave for battle. Angst +fluff. Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sharp sound of clashing swords had become distant in your head. Still sweaty from training, the king's words were hard to take in. And you could only think of one person, Aemond. In your imagination a thousand things happened that ended up throwing him to the ground, wounded and dead. And then you felt that you could die too, because then you would never be able to walk around your castle again, or your mountains, or even breathe like before. For more than three years now, all you breathed in and exalted was his essence.

"Son..." said your father, in the sweetest tone you had ever heard him use. "This is your duty, to protect your people. Tell me you understand."

"I understand, father." Something came back to you at the word protect. "And I will do it well. I swear this. But I have a request, and only you can order it."

He accepted your request and patted you lovingly on the shoulder and let you go. But you didn't know where to go. You wanted to go back to your Prince, but on the other hand you wanted to let him enjoy the peace that remained in his mind. So you decided to watch him from the top of the tower, where the view of the training yard let you see how he was still training. You could tell him he was training too hard, but when you trained together, he was anything but productive. You were always his biggest distraction, because you were all about talking, playing with swords and shields, and besides, Aemond felt incapable of causing you any harm. And that also included saying "no" to training together. There were few things he could say no to. And it was for that very reason that you now debated whether to tell him the news now or to delay it. There had to be a way to stop him from flying with you into battle, but Aemond would not leave you alone, and that did not reassure you.

You saw your little sister scamper around the castle, kicking you as she passed behind you and laughing on her way to kick Aemond again. Aemond was able to catch her foot, stopping her and capturing her in his arms.

"Another princess bent on distracting my training, I see," Aemond said as your sister laughed.

"Can you teach me how to fight this time?" she asked, that was her daily question, she asked it at every opportune occasion and the answer was the same.

"You are still very little, but I swear I will teach you." The prince spoke to her as if she was an adult, taking her wishes seriously.

"You always say that. But you only help my brother..." then your sister looked in your direction, and you saw Aemond turn his head as well. You saw his mischievous grin appear.

"That's because your brother doesn't have much talent. He needs it more than you do. And you need to learn to read before you learn to fight."

That made you smile. Many nights, Aemond was slow to return to bed (or often to your bed) because he entertained himself by helping your brothers with their reading. His soft voice soothed them and he had much more patience for them than the maester and septas. Sometimes he would read to you on nights when you found it hard to sleep, and of course, any lesson explained by Aemond was much easier to understand, and you were distracted by that magnificent face of his.

You went down to where he was, and he began to pick up his sword. Your sister disappeared again as she found a playmate.

"I'm sorry she's such a pain," you apologised.

"Don't be silly, I like that she has initiative. You could learn it from her..."

You helped him pack up, and inside the vast weapons store, you and Aemond found yourselves alone. Then, with the morning light streaming in, the solitude of the place and both of you glowing from the exercise, you couldn't help but grab Aemond's cheeks to close the distance with a kiss. It was more intense than those you gave each other outside the walls of your rooms. It was a serene, deep kiss, and your need was palpable. Normally, between training sessions, you were also given to displays of affection, with calculated rubs on his shoulder or face, and the occasional peck when no one was looking. And in the face of that affection, Aemond would only blush and promise to repay you for the distraction in private. But you weren't flirting now.

"What is it, my prince?" Aemond had broken off and watched your face for whatever it was that had affected you.

"Nothing, it's just... I wanted to kiss you."

"Yeah... but there's something else."

You had to tell him. There is no person better qualified in those matters than Aemond. He had noticed it himself, and he would know better than anyone what to tell you to win a battle.

"Braavos doesn't want to negotiate any more. And neither does my father." It was enough for him to understand. And Aemond kept a distance.

"Are we at war?"

"Seven days from now there will be a battle. My father believes we outnumber their men and that the dragons will secure us--"

"Don't go," he interrupted.

"What?"

"Don't go. You can't go, they'll kill you." His tone was curt, bordering on insult.

"I must go. It's my duty as heir." You tried to forget his lack of faith in you.

"Then I will go with you."

"You can't. You must stay here, taking care of my siblings and my mother."

"What am I, a fucking septa?" He began to raise his voice.

"Don't get offended, It's you who thinks I'm not ready for battle."

"The reality is that you shouldn't go, especially not without me."

"The reality is that I am the one who will reign here and I have the power to decide about you."

"Are you ordering me to stay here because I have offended you?"

"I'm ordering you to stay because I don't want to look like a weakling in need of protection in front of the men I'm supposed to protect." That was a half-truth.

"For my duty to you is to be honest with you, and I know that if you leave you will not return."

"They won't dare to kill me on the back of a dragon."

"You could do it. They'd find a way to bring you down. You are distracted, clumsy, and you have never faced men willing to kill you before." Aemond's eyes seemed unwilling to look at you, and he remained overly serious, forcibly serious.

"This is what I have been trained for, and there is nothing that will stop me. Least of all you." You spat that last word at him as an insult, for he was offending you with his every word.

Without looking back, you left that room that held good memories except for this scene. It had not been your first argument, but Aemond had never been one of the dozens of people who doubted your ability. And to see that his biggest complaint at seeing you go was that he thought you were useless was painful enough. The rest of the day was spent avoiding him in the corridors, turning a deaf ear to your name on his lips when he saw you. In the evening, gathered in the room where your father conducted his business, he was able to sit across from you.

You paid little attention to the map, nor to your father's words, but when you turned to look at Aemond, he was attentive. He would certainly make a leader a thousand times better than you, too bad life wasn't the other way around.

"Prince Aemond," your father addressed him, "I presume you have been informed that we wish you to remain guarding the castle and the family."

"Aye, my lord. And so I will. Though it is not a role that makes me feel satisfied, your son needs reinforcements."

"I do not need them!" Your loud voice surprised the others, you were not known for your anger, nor your hostility towards the prince. And yet only Aemond seemed to put on a calm face.

"I need a proper rider," your father continued to speak, trying to ignore your anger. "And you, Aemond, are a competent swordsman, and my family trusts you. Though you may be sure that I also agree with you that my son should be helped...he is barely capable of paying attention."

That was what ended up causing you to leave the room. Ignoring your father calling you back. You wished Aemond had left behind you, but only your footsteps could be heard, and Aemond stayed in the room, with a pain in his chest at seeing you hurt and knowing that he was a cause of it.

Alone in your room you found no distractions, the sheets were still disheveled and you found a belt decorated with a dragon. You picked it up with the intention of throwing it out of sight, but ended up sleeping with the silver in your hand. And that's how Aemond found you. His weight was noticeable on the bed, and his scent made you open your eyes. Your back was turned to him, so you could only notice his hand stroking your hair and his lips planting a kiss on your neck.

"Are you sleeping?" he asked in a whisper.

"Not anymore" you whispered back.

Then he pushed you gently, turning your body to face his. Immediately his face was on top of you. And any anger was stupid in the sight of that image.

"Your father doesn't know what he's doing."

"It's not my father who offends me."

"Well, he does to me." Aemond returned to his serious and annoyed countenance, but not looking at you.

"You are very much alike. I discovered today that perhaps you are too much alike." Your tone remained unsympathetic.

"You know that's not true. Everything I do here I do for you, not for him."

"Because I'm useless..."

"No, that's not why, listen to me!" he put his hand on your cheek, begging you to look at him carefully. "It's so easy to spend my days helping you be a good heir. Teaching you things, waking up with you and sleeping with you. Being by your side makes me happy. So happy that I forget that this won't last forever. And when someone reminds me that we're not the same, that I can't protect you, that I can't help you...I feel like dying at the thought."

Then a tear fell and ended up on the collar of your shirt. You had never seen him cry before, though you had never been sent into battle before. You sat up, as if to remind him that he could lean on you.

"Aemond..." you could think of no words of comfort. It had always been you who annoyed him with displeasure and he always had the right words. He fiddled his hands on the sheets.

"We have to run away!" He said suddenly. "Let's fly away from here, explore Essos and create another dynasty..."

"And let my ancestor's die?" You interrupted him. He then seemed to snap out of that strange fantasy. "We may have been alone at first...but not anymore. I know you're nervous, but you're not thinking about my siblings. Nor my mother."

Aemond was slow to speak, the tears continued.

"You're right. I just disgraced myself..."

"Don't say that, it's not true." You took his face in your hands then, his eyes shining and one of them drenched in tears. "I'm scared too."

"Then let me go with you."

"No!" You put your forehead against his. "No...they need you, and I need you. If something were to happen to you in battle rest assured that I wouldn't survive much longer...you said it yourself, I'm distracted and clumsy." You said it half-jokingly, but Aemond felt a twinge of pain at the memory of his words.

"I don't want you to go...there always has to be another alternative. We'll come up with something..."

"I don't want another alternative. I want to protect my people. I want you to be proud of me."

"I'd rather be ashamed of you for years if it will keep you in this room with me forever."

You smiled at his comment, and he missed it. You gave him a short kiss, tasting his salty tears.

"That's not true, you're not like that. A great man deserves another great man. And I like that. A Prince with the mind of a king and the will of a warrior. I want you to be proud and look at me with that sternness and calmness of yours."

Then he smiled, shaking his head. You already knew what he was like perfectly, his sincere smiles were only for you, but his respect and affection showed in the seriousness he took in dealing with the people in question. To none of your siblings did he speak condescendingly, always taking into account their intelligence. With your mother he was gentle, and listened to her patiently and quietly. And with your father, he smiled, falsely, a short, toothless smile. And when you were finally back in your intimacy, his hair would fall down on his back, his laughter would be strange but familiar, and you would let him be awkward and bulnerable. And back in the daylight he was still as graceful and grand as the first day you met him.

He let you take off the ribbon that held his hair, and he also let you unbutton his tight clothes. That night, as on many others, you made love. But mostly, as you stroked his hair, he touched and twirled the rings on your other hand, talking until the sun began to appear. He always fell asleep first, and that night you saw him wake up too. Almost for a while you could forget the dangers that lurked.

In the days before the battle, every occasion was appropriate to steal a moment of each other's time, kissing in the corridors, studying in the library, exploring the woods, bathing in the rivers... and when you saw him eating dinner with your family, you found real comfort, for you knew well that they would be safe, and happy too.

"Is your armour heavy?" he asked as he put it on. Already the horn had sounded, warning of the enemy's arrival. His gaze was focused on the bindings and chains, avoiding your face.

"No...but of course the way you're tightening it, I'm going to need help getting it off."

Aemond let out a breath, and began to loosen it. You could see his sadness. He too was protected, and dressed to fly if need be. His hands were still nimble, but you knew he was taking his time on purpose. When he finished, he put his head on your chest and his arms around you, stroking your back, and you enjoyed his closeness.

"I'm coming back, Aemond...and everything will be even better than before." Your lips brushed his hair, and he closed his eyes in a nod.

"If you ask me right now, we can run away from here," he suggested again.

You pulled up his face to kiss him as an answer. An intense kiss that brought you closer together. Aemond tugged at your armour, and you felt his silver hair fill your hands. His tongue sought yours, and were it not for the trumpets outside, you would have spent yet another day lying in bed.

You said goodbye at the castle gates, where your mother embraced you, and where your siblings had to be separated to let you go. As your only farewell to your lover, under the gaze of the court you had to settle for pressing your foreheads together while he caressed the back of your neck and you caressed his cheek. You managed to whisper a few words in his ear.

"When I come back I will tell you of the glory and how much I love you" and you kissed the sapphire that decorated his face.

With your brothers clinging to his waist, Aemond looked up to watch you fly, Zālagon roaring in response to the roars of Vhagar, who was begging to fly with him, missing him as much as Aemond already missed you.

[sout999]

adhd talk

the third truly unsung project alongside my film and dissertation was the weird amount of targeted effort i had to put into Completing Anything Big As A Neurodivergent Person Whose Brain Is A Crazy Off The Rails Train Staffed and Patronised Entirely By Multiple Exact Copies Of The Squirrel From Ice Age

which is a description like 99/100 people reading this can relate to, but i think a sentiment i see less often and therefore feel kind of stupid and stubborn and lonesome about is "adhd is innate but is also exasperated by hectic lifestyle/modern instant gratification machines so if i fix my habits around those i can cure myself forever". which is silly and wrong but also i feel abit disconnected from adhd social media culture and cant cope just relating to it (which is all it seems to be sometimes) but learning to harness or tame it to do the things that are really important to me

i felt really cringe tbh having to look up youtube videos of HARVARD STUDENT REVEALS PRO STUDY TRICK and then narrowing it down to specifically adhd-focused study videos and keeping a planner and setting aside specific time to study studying and practising anti-academic meltdown journaling techniques and reading fucking atomic habits but i really didn't want to contribute to my abhorrent academic record following me all through undergrad. in fact i wish i had done this sooner but i was not self aware enough to consider the fact

probably the best change i made was severely cutting down or being mindful of social media time, i don't backread my tl anymore and have more moments of awareness when i find myself dumbly scrolling and realize i dont want to be doing this, and then wondering what i actually Do want to be doing. i keep a book nearby to read, and have also swapped a lot of social media time to sketching-off-pinterest time. reading about the psychology behind social media apps is also super interesting, although i always feel like a paranoid wacko conspiracy theorist talking about it. stuff like how negativity and judgemental behaviour is good for engagement (and therefore ad revenue), and how if all posts on your tl were interesting you wouldn't be as addicted to social media as you are, therefore microblogging employs a slot machine/gacha system where you "roll" for posts by logging on and hope to get a good one. it's a little full on but the more i think of it as a revolting and evil machine the more incentive i have to do something else with my time ^q^

a harder thing to do was, in the late stages of the project, the real crunch time month, avoid everything that could become a huge hyperfixation, and then eventually even minor distractions or fixations. because i know if i got super obsessed with something i'd just be up posting about it or drawing fanart. i had to bar myself from persona 3 remake and elden ring dlc and all these other shiny new releases, and the mobile games i was playing... i look forward to catching up on them now. i took up reading books a lot more because unfortunately thats just not as exciting. in the last month of film work i stopped listening to music on my computer so i wouldnt get drawing or animation ideas to distract me from film work. as of writing this i havent listened to music in like 40 days guys 😱 at the same time i am the kind of person who needs background noise to work, so i have:

watched novum's four hour hereditary video essay three times

watched novum's seven hour midsomar video essay three times

watched that one five hour bojack horseman retrospective twice

listened to audiobooks of the Britney Spears biography, Jennette McCurdy biography, three Playboy Bunny biographies (i was on some sort of lady bopgraphy kick i guess), and a few fiction books

rewatched all of bojack horseman

started on House MD and got a few seasons in before i finished the project, amazingly the perfect show to look away from bc of all the medical stuff, how many lumbar punctures do you need to show like seriously

honorable mention to the learned skill of communication and being honest and picking your battles and killing your darlings which is a larger part of managing mental illness than i cared to admit but one of the hardest ones because it involved confronting things and making big painful drastic changes and then having to tell the faculty about them. sometimes i'd be stuck on a piece of animation work for weeks/months, then go back and change the underlying idea to one i'm actually passionate about, and do the animation work in one day using newly found magical hyperfocus passion power. it's crazy! but being able to be confident about taking those steps rather than keeping on with what you're "supposed" to do went a long way.

i very much look forward to listening to a music and playing some video games properly now and being pulverized like a small victorian child from the sheer amount of fun i'm having. i'd say it was all worth it and a fun experiment in channeling the magical humours of passion and boredom and i hope it will help me with future projects too. i Am super burnt out though x__ x thanks for reading and for all your support up until now!

[moodymisty]

Hiya! Could I request some Magnus / GN! Reader shenanigans? Like the reader is trying to learn a spell (to impress Magnus), does it by "The books are just guidelines anyways", and it works. Then they go to show Magnus and confusion hell breaks loose Blease and thankyou <3<3<3

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: Magnus time! I was actually working on something just like this, so this gave me the motivation to really spruce it up and finish it. But I really apologize because when I reread your request I realized I might've gone a bit less silly than you might've wanted. I hope you still enjoy.

Relationship: Magnus the Red/Gn!Reader

Warnings: None apart from this being my first time writing Magnus so please forgive me figuring him out I'm sorry if he feels off

Word Count: 1220

Sorcery is by it's very nature, finicky.

It has no solid answer, no yes or no. It's not as if it's a machine you can turn on or off, or a star you can see is alive or dead. It's an ebb and flow- something you feel.

But how do you feel something you've never felt before?

These tomes are largely nonsensical to you; The scribblings of madmen, words with no translation and sentences backwards.

You'd once again today attempted to make sense of it all, to tempt your better judgement that kept saying it maybe wasn't your most intelligent idea, but nothing has happened yet. So now you sit in bed, flicking through pages of tomes scattered across the blankets; Attempting to perhaps make enough sense of it and not bring anymore embarrassment to yourself than you already have.

In your fussiness you've already given yourself two different paper cuts, licking your wounds both physical and mental. You should probably be sleeping, the stars are out bright, and the wind gently raps against the windows as you study.

Magnus' tower is so ethereal, you look towards the window for a moment and see nothing but the midnight sky illuminating everything underneath it.

After thinking, you look back towards the oversized tome in your lap, lying on your thighs over top of a blanket. You'd picked many of the books not necessarily at random, but attempting to find the most basic of starting places from a collection that puts most others to shame. Magnus has many shelves up here, filled with his personal collection of tomes and scrolls. You sort've wish he was here to help guide you, but at the same time, you wish to surprise him to some degree.

You try just one more time, attempting to light a small ember in your palm. You follow every word exactly as the instructions- if you could call them that, and mange to hold it for only a few moments before it flickers away as if blown out by breath.

"Ugh!"

You drop your head, it coming quite close to hitting the pages of the tome.

"What is this?"

Your head suddenly whips upright, seeing Magnus himself standing in the doorway across the room. You don't know how you hadn't heard his footsteps, though you suppose you were far too distracted for your ears to prick to any other sound than what was right next to you.

Entering the room and closing the massive door behind him, Magnus takes in the scenery he's missed while aboard Photep, traveling the stars. After his quick glances he focuses on you cross legged in his bed, surrounded by opened and unopened books.

"Magnus!" He slowly walks closer to the beside, one finger brushes a tome he's clearly familiar with and opening it to a particular page; Glossing over it before he lets it gently fall back shut.

"Now, what are you concocting in that little mind of yours that requires so many spell tomes?"

Magnus watches amused as you close the book in your lap, legs cross underneath it and look at your slightly burned palm.

"I was trying to call fire. But it seems it's a bit harder than I thought." His smile fades a bit softer, watching your expression. The fabric of his robes is weaved with gold string that shines in the soft candle light.

"You seem to have had it, from what I saw."

You can feel his long red hair brush against your arm as he sits beside you, his massive height and weight difference forcing the appropriately massive bed to dip heavily to his side. It almost makes you roll, but you quickly adjust to prevent that. Now in your atmosphere it's a bit easier to look him in the eye, but you still have to crane your next a decent bit.

"I was following the tomes exactly like they said, and the best I can do is a little baby kindling. I'd have trouble even setting a letter alight."

You look up towards him, hands playing with the edges and filigree of the old, worn tome in your lap. Magnus speaks up, his tone curious and a bit surprised.

"Exactly?"

His eye glances down to the front cover of the tome in your hand, and recognizes that one instantly. With one hand, he gently reaches underneath the covers and gently clamps the tome shut, the top of his hand laying against your thighs before he pulls the tome towards his chest.

"Then you are taking it all far too literally." Perhaps the book shouldn't be written so literally then, you rebelliously think. He lays the tome aside, and uses the same hand to gently cup your jaw between his fingers and look up at him.

"it's far more of a feeling that anything, my love. If you keep just following the tomes, you might end up burning something down. Or as you've noticed, burning nothing at all." He lets out a laugh, feeling your cheeks move under his finger tips.

"I never thought you to be so studious in following directions. Perhaps you'd prefer Primarch Guilliman to myself?" You let out a harsh puff of air through your closed lips, making an insulting noise. Your hand grips his wrist and tries to pull it away, but to no avail, and instead you just grip the massive muscles of his arm and scowl.

"Funny."

He smiles wider. How you speak to him so casually now, compared to months ago. Perhaps his teasing makes it easier for you to forget who he is. He doesn't mind it.

A testament to your determination, you'd been able to cast something despite a lack of knowledge; But you could do well in having someone set you on the right path. Afterall, Magnus knows simply treating something with such an ebb and flow as sorcery as rules you can memorize will never bear any fruit.

Magnus can guide you, and truthfully, he would love for nothing more than to.

His sons don't need to be taught. They learn from his actions, and most are more than capable of progressing on their own and honing their own skills. To be able to teach his beloved something that is such a core part of himself, to guide your hand and your mind to touch something greater- he finds himself almost, dare he say excited.

He's rough on his sons, he knows they can take it. That they're built for sorceries and touching the warp. But with you he'll have to be gentle. The thought of it, to sit with you and show you wondrous things that your home planet kept from your eyes, he would start right now if not for one thing.

Magnus lets go of your jaw. He leans down and gently brushes a kiss against your temple, his fire red hair brushing against your skin again.

"Now, as much as I don't wish to part you from your reading, I have returned from Terra at my absolute wits end and desiring some rest." He smiles and vaguely gestures to the mess you've made of his bed during his absence. He can see other little messes throughout his chambers, as well.

"So my love, perhaps you could move your research, off the bed?"

[anundyingfidelity]

PLEASE if you find the time could you do perv!adam warlock x reader i would literally go feral also i love your work you’re amazing<333

oFCOURSE, i'm happy to know you like my fics! 🥹 i also received these other 2 requests about perv!adam so yeah. i am making short headcanons, hope you enjoy it! under the cut for you... 😼

if you'd like me to write a long fic just lmk, and i'll see if i can do it 🤓

pairing: adam warlock x fem!reader.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

warnings! corruption kink, fantasies, rough sex, overstimulation, dumbification, manhandling, slut shaming.

adam now knows a lot about the universe, life and ofc sex.

when he met you, you woke up something inside him.

you were cute, kind and naive but strong and smart and gorgeous. you were the perfect warrior and the perfect addition to the team once rocket asked you to join.

after you were rescued from your long destroyed planet, you absolutely said yes.

and there's where adam saw the chance of his life to approach you.

he got to know you and teach you the things he learned.

and you were so excited and happy adam was there.

but as time went by, he couldn't stop thinking about you.

he couldn't stop thinking about your laugh, your pretty lips, your beautiful face, and your body, all of him just wanted to ravage your perfect, tiny, silly being and make you his and only his.

his dirty thoughts started to become usual little by little.

you'd be preparing some breakfast in the ship in the middle of a mission, wearing your comfy clothes, shorts and a tank top on and adam's mind would go wild, yearning for you. he would restrain himself to grab your arms and force you on your stomach on the counter, rip your shorts and panties and just fuck you right there, while he whispers how much of a dumb slut you are for him.

or when you're having the ice scream or popsicles quill taught you to prepare while he was visiting knowhere before going back to earth. his dick twitches at the way you lick and your tongue rolls around the flavored ice, wishing your mouth could take his cock as good as that.

but of course you're none of what he thinks and fantasies about. you're just too innocent to give into him and to let yourself go for carnal pleasure, right?

until one night, you're up because of the same reason as adam: you cannot sleep.

he talks to you and he feels something different coming from you. you're nervous, more than ever and he senses that.

"you don't have any idea of what you do to me, do you?"

only one question was enough for you to let him in your bed.

you become addicted to his touch and his roughness.

the first night he made you cum at least four times and ohhhh, once you began this, it never stopped.

he loves your hands all over his golden skin, when you caress his hair and pull him for a kiss, but he is always a step ahead, pinning you down to the mattress - or any surface in the room - to fuck you hard and rough, for you to experience the longest orgasms you ever had, all that while he whispers the dirtiest shit in your ear.

"this is what you do to me, you dumb fucking slut," adam continues to pound into you, your walls pulsing and squeezing his cock after another breathtaking orgasm he gave you. "i wish i fucked you earlier."

each time, he leaves you exhausted and aching for more.

nobody knows the new cute, little naive girl is being fucked by the most powerful man in the galaxy.

you're so cockdrunk and such a slut for him, he points it out each time he's fucking you and you certainly love it.

[wateroflifefrommountains]

Oh No, Grappling Hooks!!

I've figured it out, Cassandra Cain's kryptonite. What item was used to incapacitate her during the 1st few issues of Batgirls? It was a grappling hook, she got tied up in it. Bruce probably looked into the fight and learned that despite Cassandra's ability to read body language and, in turn, dodge bullets, she CANNOT dodge grappling hooks. That's why when he decided to take her out he didn't hesitate in using it against her.

Do you want proof? It worked, didn't it?

LOL. Seriously, I dislike it when that happens but after I vent, and I vent like a MADMAN, mind you, I try to recall Stan Lee's discussion about who would win in a superhero fight. "There's one answer to all of that; it's so simple. Anyone should know this! The person who'd win in a fight is the person that the scriptwriter wants to win!"

We all knew it was going to happen. It was predictable and disappointing. It was predictably disappointing, but we were able to brace ourselves for it so the blow was not as hard.

This makes me feel a little bit better until the cringe gets to me and I start rambling again. We can demand better stories and more consistent characterizations. This is a given; however, the writers are gods of their stories and who wins is decided by the narrative they wish to tell. Gotham Wars is a conflict between Bruce and Selina as well as the stress and psychological damage the mantle places on Bruce. Hurting his kids, going too far, becoming the thing he wished to defeat, that's what the story wants to show us.

Now for the theory crafting and storytelling practice, what if they didn't turn on Batman? What if we are looking at this like an epic War Story but it's actually just Family drama? It was clear that Dick and the rest wanted to talk to Bruce before escalating any further. They are not on Selina's side per se; rather, they just do not want a war.

Here is the Thesis for Batkids [aside from Jason]. They are uncertain about what to do, but they don't want Bruce to go too far. Jason on the other hand wants to escalate things and is fully on Selina's side. [It still upsets me that Cassandra and Duke's thoughts on this were never shown]

Jason being Jason confronts Bruce and tries to beat his message into his father's skull. Bruce reacts not only by fighting back but by insinuating Jason's death. This is when things got out of hand. This is the point when his kids decide to stop Bruce, but they are not questioning the mission by stopping him here. He uttered a threat to his kid's life. That's something Bruce/Batman wouldn't do and his family knows this. So when they realize that it needs to stop, they tell him to back off and stand down.

Now that I've reread it, this could explain the battle. Bruce is not holding back and is treating his kids as criminal threats; on the other hand, his kids still treat him with care and want him to stop hitting Jason and take a damn mental health break.

The way they all get bodied is silly and uncharacteristic [rage-inducing even] but that may be intentional as they are shown as the centrists in all of this. There is a twist in the middle there though and that may lead to other things. I can't believe I am writing this, but Gotham Wars might get better. It might explore the other Batkids and if this is copium talking, then I saw potential where there was none and fabricated a good story in my head at least.

[lalachat]

"And there you were..."

Author's note: I am starting to understand writers block... How does SJM and my fellow fic writers do this! This story was just a silly little thought i had in my head and now i'm writing thousands of words about it! My brain is running empty😭 But all of your love and support has made me want to keep writing! Luckily I popped some tunes on and one of my favorite songs came on! I encourage you to play it while you read this chapter because it what inspired it(hence the title)! It's called Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson! But I have a couple of ideas to get more plot in this story, both dramatic and smut. For now just sit back and enjoy this short relaxing blerb before we start to kick the heat up a bit! LOVE YA😙

Summary: You and Lucien wake up slow and have a nice breakfast over banana pancakes.

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: the tension increases, flufffy fluff fluff, use of profanity, some typos

Word Count: ≈1,740, I’m sorry it’s not longer! I’ll make up for it later🫶

Chapter 3: "Banana Pancakes"

You were woken up by the sunlight peering in through Lucien’s bedroom window. However, you didn’t want to move. You looked up to see Lucien still peacefully asleep with his arms around you. You couldn’t help but smile at the male. His beauty was so unique compared to the others. Sure, Azriel was handsome, but Lucien was handsome in a different kind of way, and you loved him for it. After your conversations, you truly learned how much he was put through. No one recognizes his trauma or spares his problems a glance. He was put through just as much, if not more, as the others he’s surrounded by. You looked at the long scar on his face and frowned. How you wanted to take all the burdens he hides beneath the surface and put them on your shoulders. This male deserved so much better. Even after everything he has been through, he still puts himself last for anyone, especially Elain and Feyre. Hell, he was even here putting you first by offering you a comforting night. You don’t know how you survived without him as a friend the past couple of years. You are not letting him go again.  

You decided to be bold and reach out to cup his face and trace your thumb across his scar. Why couldn’t the mother have blessed you with someone as caring as him? Instead, you got Azriel who doesn't even spare you a glance. How are you supposed to feel comfortable telling him he's your mate if he won't look at you? You sigh and keep tracing Lucien's scar. Your fingers start to travel from his scar, to tracing along his jaw, and through a couple strands of hair. Your eyes follow every move your hand made. Your fingers start to move to his lips before you stop. His lips... you wondered what they would feel like against yours again.  

“Why did you stop?” You practically jump at the words as he looks up at you and smirks. 

“FUCK ME! Lucien, you scared the crap out of me! Don’t do that!” you swat his bare chest playfully, and he chuckles. Oh my god... his morning voice. The deep scratchiness of his chuckle had heat wanting to spread throughout your body. Gods you wanted to hear it again.  

“If the lady wishes, I will gladly fuck her, but how about some breakfast first?” he slowly started to get out of bed.  

Did you just hear that correctly? Was he joking or was he being serious? Before you could finish your questioning thoughts Lucien sensed your concentration on the matter. 

“Y/n I was just teasing you! Not about the breakfast part though, I am starving!”  

“Oh... okay. It just threw me through a loop for a second.” you smile as you wave your hands around.  

“my, my, my y/n... You seem a little disappointed.... OMG YOU WANT ME!” Lucien circled his finger around and booped your nose. 

“Ugh, as if!” as you got out of bed and stood next to him. You reached your arms above your head and stretched out your body from sleeping all night. “Man, that was the best sleep I have gotten in a while.” You looked up and smiled at Lucien, but his eyes were glazed over.  

While you were stretching you didn’t realize your shirt had come up a bit, giving Lucien a little show of your upper thighs. You looked at him again, “what?!” 

He shook his head, “Its nothing, I also slept soundly. Now, how about some breakfast?” and smiled at you.  

You followed Lucien to the kitchen. Eyes scanning over the muscles on his back, and gods, those slutty little gray sweatpants were not helping you stop your oogling.  

You finally reach the kitchen, and he turns around to ask, “So what are we craving this morning?” Your brain went down the gutter when he asked that question and it caused a giggle to escape your mouth. 

“What? What’s so funny about breakfast y/n? This is no joking matter!”  

“Right! Sorry... how about some pancakes and fruit?” 

“Sounds like a plan!” as he starts to grab all the ingredients and utensils you will need to make breakfast. “Would you like to cut the fruit while I start the batter?” 

“Sure!” as you grab the cutting board, knife, and a couple of fruits. You saw Lucien had picked out bananas. You start peeling all the bananas and place them on the cutting board to start cutting. As you cut the bananas you help but to snag a couple of slices. You sneak a couple more in your hand and walk over to Lucien making the batter. “Open!” you demand as you point to his mouth. He looks at you mischievously and does as he's told, never stopping his mixing of the batter. You pop a couple of banana slices in his mouth and smile at him.  

“Thank you,” he says with a mouth full of banana.  

“Chew with your mouth closed Lucien, no one wants to see that.” You laugh. He swallows and dips his finger in the batter and turns towards you. 

“Your turn!” you roll your eyes and open your mouth, only for Lucien to put it on your nose while chuckling. 

“Lucien, are you kidding me right now?!” 

“Sorry, I saw the opportunity and i took it. Here, let me help you.” he swipes the batter off your nose with his finger. You can feel his hot breath on your face, a hint of banana mixed in. “Open, for real this time. I promise.” Your brows furrow at him but you decide to trust him. You opened your mouth, and he placed the tip of his finger in letting you lick the batter off. You decided to get him back for all the teasing he’s done. You closed your eyes and moaned. Lucien’s body tensed at the sound as you sensually licked the rest of the batter off his finger and let it go with a pop.  

“That’s really good Lucien!” You smiled at him, knowing this time you were the one teasing him. You grabbed another dollop on your finger and really played up the innocence roll as you started to lick it off your own finger. Lucien’s eyes follow your every movement.  

“You are positively evil; you know that right?” he huffed and finished stirring the batter. 

“I do not know what you are talking about, I was just trying the batter...” you smirked and walked back over to finish cutting the bananas. Soon the kitchen started to smell like pancakes, and you started to realize how hungry you were. 

“Almost ready over here, did you get all the banana’s done?” Lucien asked as he flipped a pancake in the air.

“Sure did! Do you need me to do anything while you finish up flipping them?” 

“You can set the table and I'll bring everything over.” You nod at his answer and start to set the table with two pairs plates, silverware, napkins, cups, and lastly your freshly cut bananas you put in a bowl. Just as you placed the bananas, Lucien was right behind you with a stack of pancakes.  

“Oh, those look delicious! Do you have any syrup for the pancakes and juice to drink?” 

“Yeah, go look in the fridge! I'll start setting our plates.” You walk over to the fridge and open it to grab the syrup along with a bottle of apple juice. You walk back to the table, place the syrup down, and look to see Lucien had made you and him both plates. You smiled. 

“Thank you," as you decided to somewhat return the favor by filling up his glass with juice. You bend over slightly and pour the juice in his cup. Lucien's cheeks flush at the sight of you bent over, giving him a clear view of your cleavage due to how loose his shirt hung on you. He picks up his glass and takes a sip after you're done serving him.  

He coughs and says, “Thank you.” Trying to hide the ever growing blush on his face.

“You’re welcome.” You walk back to your spot across him, pour you a glass of juice, and start cutting into your food. You both sat there and enjoyed breakfast. Casually giving each other compliments about the food. You swear after this morning you had a new favorite breakfast food, banana pancakes. They will always remind you of this past night and morning with your friend. You smiled at Lucien as you both had finished. “That was lovely!” 

“Yes, it was, we should do this more often. I have missed you.” 

“Awe, ladies and gentlemales, the Lucien Vanserra missed y/n y/l/n!” 

“Way to ruin the moment y/n,” Lucien said with an eyeroll, and you chuckled. 

“You know I miss you too Lu, but I should probably get going. I’m sure mother Rhys is worried sick about me.” You laughed.  

“Most likely, here let me get you a bag for your dress and a pair of pants.” He walks away to get them for you. He comes back not a moment later with a bag and a baggy pair of old pants “Those should fit you! I believe you left them at my place a long time ago!” your cheeks burn at the thought of why you left them. One of your previous little rendezvous nights.

“Oh my god I have been looking for these for so long! Thank you.” you say as you took both items from his hands. You place your dress in the bag and walk to the bathroom to put your old pants on. You can’t believe he has kept them all this time. He could have easily tossed them out but didn't. "That's sweet of him," you thought. You walk back out and grab everything you came with and turn towards Lucien waiting for you by the door.  

“Thank you for everything you have done for me, it means a lot. I will give your shirt back the next time I see you.” You smile at him.  

“Keep it, it looks better on you anyways,” he winks, “I will see you next time then?” 

“Till next time Lu!” You smile as you give him a hug. He wraps his arms around you and places his chin on the top of your head. 

“Till next time doll!” as he places a soft kiss atop your head. You both let go and wave at each other as you make your way back to the Town House knowing an anxiety driven Rhysand and an overly excited Mor await you.  

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[flowercrowngods]

In which Eddie likes words that are pretty or funky or weird, and Steve goes on a treasure hunt for Good Words after learning that they make Eddie happy. They are utterly in love.

🤍 also on ao3

Eddie, with his bright eyes and brighter mind, has opened Steve’s eyes to a great many things. Steve just never anticipated that words would one day be included in that. 

It starts with his name. They’re hanging out at Eddie’s and Wayne’s new place, and his boyfriend is pouring over something — Steve can’t quite tell if he’s doing school work or working on his DnD campaign — when Steve hears it. 

“Stevie.” 

He looks up to see what Eddie wants, if he needs anything or if he wants to run something by him, ask for a different word, the time, anything. But Eddie isn’t looking at him. 

Steve frowns slightly and takes to watching his boyfriend instead of turning back to the magazine he’s been reading. Eddie is more interesting anyway, even when nothing’s happening. And, well, he’s right there for Steve to look at. How the hell is he supposed not to watch the way the light catches in those pretty curls and makes them shimmer, thanks to the new conditioner Steve bought him last week. 

Eddie is beautiful. So Steve watches. 

And then he says it again, quietly, as if testing how the word feels on his tongue. “Stevie. Steve. Stevie. Hmm.” 

Eddie doesn’t even seem to be aware of it, and it makes Steve smile, leaning back into the armrest of the couch, his head against the backrest, his view of Eddie unobstructed and perfect. He just wishes he could see his face, but there is a curtain of hair that sort of prevents that. 

“Stevie.”

It’s quiet, somewhere between contemplative and certain, playful and serious. Steve has absolutely no idea what’s happening, but he likes the way Eddie says his name. 

After a while, he can’t hold back on the affectionate amusement anymore and gently calls for Eddie’s attention. “Are you just saying my name?” 

And when Eddie looks up, he almost looks like a little kid that has been caught trying to sneak into a candy shop even though his parents said no. 

“Uh.” He leans back slightly, his pencil landing on the table and Steve follows it with his eyes, when— 

His smile grows, and so does this fondness inside his chest, the affection, the want and need to go over there and wrap Eddie in the tightest, longest, most intimate hug and never let go. 

“Babe, are you writing my name, too?” 

He knows he sounds terribly besotted — because he is. All of that is extremely endearing. 

Eddie, seeing that Steve isn’t mad or annoyed or demanding an explanation, relaxes immediately and shoots Steve one of his shy smiles. The ones that are for Steve’s eyes only. 

“Yeah? I mean, it’s a good name, Stevie, what can I say?” And then, with a different smile, his lips form the word again. “Stevie.” The smile grows, like it just makes him really happy to say it like that. 

“Hey, if it makes you happy, don’t let me stop you.” 

Eddie chews on his lip for a moment, not looking away from Steve, before he shrugs very slowly. “It does.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I like it when words end on that ‘ie’ sound, y’know? I’m not even sure why I like it, but. Steve just feels too short, too crass, too… Too King Steve, if you know what I mean. Adding that extra syllable makes it feel more complete, more rounded, more… I don’t know, it’s just better like this. Stevie. You’re not Steve, you’re Stevie, because those feel like very different names to me.” 

Eddie shrugs again and then looks at the paper, huffing a laugh and nudging it with his pencil, smile still in place, though it’s a bit sheepish now. 

“And then sometimes when I like a word, or when I’ve made it better, I have to write it down. Or, don’t have to. But I want to, and it’s fun. Sometimes it makes me feel very accomplished afterwards.” He chuckles, scratching at the light stubble on his chin. “It’s a bit silly, I know.” 

Steve has been listening with rapt attention, soaking up every new detail about this boy that he likes so much, only to like him even more in the end. 

But he gets up at that last point Eddie makes and walks over until he’s standing between his legs. His hands find their way into Eddie’s hair where he’s tucking it behind his ear, caressing his cheeks, making Eddie look up at him with those bright, trusting, vulnerable eyes. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, hoping that Eddie doesn’t feel ridiculed or exposed just because Steve can’t ever stop being so damn emotional about him. “Eddie. We’ve been through hell and back. Fuck, we’ve been to hell and back. It’s kind of a miracle we’re still alive, okay, so, frankly, if saying my name like that makes you a little happy because it feels right, I am not going to judge you. I’m not asking you to stop. In fact, it’s kinda cute.” 

Eddie flushes and tries to hide his face, but Steve keeps him where he is and catches his lips in a tender kiss, then his nose, his forehead, his temple. 

“And so what if it’s a bit silly or whatever! You’re right, actually,” 

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to look surprised. “How do you mean?” 

“It does sound better like that, the way you say it. Nicer. I like it. So don’t stop on my account, yeah?” 

The surprise melts away and leaves in its wake something softer, something tender, something more. More than relief and understanding and affection. 

“Okay, Stevie,” Eddie says, still looking up at him with those big, brown eyes, illuminated by the desk light, and Steve can’t quite catch his breath. 

So he steals Eddie’s instead when he leans in for another kiss. Slow, careful, because something has changed between them. And it’s a good something, that’s for sure. 

Over the next few days, Steve realises that Eddie refuses to call him anything but Stevie for a while. No pet names, no exaggerated made-up terms of endearment, nothing. And he loves it. Loves seeing the small, shy smile on Eddie’s lips every time, loves the way his own heart skips, because he’s never been Stevie. 

He never got to be Stevie. It was Steven for his parents, Steve for school, King Steve for high school, and Dingus for Robin. This new name, handed to him on a satin pillow of trust and affection, brings something new to him, something softer. It makes him believe, hope, that he could be something softer, too. Soft because that’s what Eddie sees in him, because Eddie believes in him, because Eddie makes him all of that and more. 

Because Eddie makes him Stevie. 

And he thinks he’s falling in love with that boy. 

One night, as they’re holding each other, trying not to fall asleep because the night is fleeting and they barely saw each other today, Eddie refers back to that day a while back. 

“Y’know, I think the whole… Ordeal has done quite a number on me.” 

Steve freezes. They don’t usually do this before falling asleep, they know better than to challenge the nightmares like that, but he’s sure Eddie has a point with this, so he waits for it. 

“The almost dying part, or…?”

“Maybe, but actually just the whole thing. Because during D&D today, I… Or, well, not during DnD, because nothing can break the Dungeon Master, thank God! But before and after, it’s like I’d forgotten how to talk again.” 

Steve blinks. Eddie, forgetting how to talk? Eddie who’s always rambling, always muttering something or other, always keeping the conversation going even when there’s none to be had — forgetting how to talk? Again? That’s what trips up Steve the most, so he finds himself asking. 

“Again?” 

Eddie shifts in his arms, rolls Steve onto his back and crawls on top of him, his head on Steve’s chest, hands still finding his and drawing patterns on his palm. 

“When I was a boy, I was… Well, let’s say, I didn’t quite understand how basic communication worked, and no one really bothered to teach me. I’d just repeat words, repeat questions, entire sentences without really getting my point across, y’know? Like, I knew the words a lot of the time, but connecting everything was a bit overwhelming. It got better in time, I had a pretty great teacher, too, and then learned to just. Mask it. I’d be the crazy guy, sure, the one who’s not making sense when you ask him a simple question, the one who will answer in terminology he read in books because characters there can talk, right, and they don’t get made fun of, and they just. Get to live. By the time Wayne took me in, I knew how to say what I wanted to say, how to answer questions, even though I would still evade them if I didn’t know the answer.” 

“The Shire is burning, so Mordor it is,” Steve says quietly, and Eddie lifts his head to meet his eyes in the dim light of the room. 

“Hm?” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… But when. At Skull Rock. Dustin asked you to come along and I said we can’t just take a walk with you because you were still wanted, and then he asked you. You just said—“ 

“The Shire is burning,” Eddie fills in, as though realisation only just hits him. “So Mordor it is.” He swallows and puts his head back on Steve’s chest, where Steve’s hand immediately finds its way back into his hair. “Yeah. Like that. You got it.” 

“I always thought it was just a quirk. But it’s not?” 

Eddie sighs and seems to want to bury further into Steve. “I mean, I don’t even know at this point. But you understand what I mean.” 

“Yeah,” Steve says, though he’s not sure he really does. Doesn’t think he could, really. “So, what happened with the kids today?” 

“Remember how I have this thing with words? Where I’ll just say them over and over again because they feel good or funky or weird, all that jazz? Well, today’s word, apparently, was luminous.” 

“Luminous?” 

“Luminous. And boy, I think Dustin was mighty annoyed with me. Thought I made fun of him the whole drive home. And I used to have this under control, the funky words and the non-answers and the fucking quirky Munson freak show. Turns out, I don’t. And I blame Vecna.” 

Eddie is done, and he’s quiet, and Steve doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t think there’s anything he can say, could say, to help. 

And he feels stupid when all he says after a while is, “Luminous is a good word, though.” 

But Eddie laughs, and the tension between his shoulders leaves, and he presses a kiss to Steve’s chest. Maybe not so stupid then. “It really is.” 

“What’s it mean?” 

“It means that something’s shining or glowing. Radiant. Bright. Something to do with light.” 

Steve smiles for some reason, forming the word with his lips again. “Good word.” 

Eddie just hums, and Steve mulls over everything that Eddie just told him. They lie there in silence for a while longer, before a thought strikes him. He braces himself the way he always does when he’s about to be vulnerable, when he’s about to expose himself and hope that no one is gonna strike where it’ll hurt the most. 

“Is that why you’re so patient with me?” 

“Come again?” 

“Your… Your difficulty with, uhm, with communication sometimes, right? Is that why you, why you don’t mind when I need a moment to get things, or to say things, or when I need you to use different words? You never make me fee stupid about it, not like… Anyway, I always wondered why you didn’t mind. Guess it makes a little sense now, huh?” 

Eddie is still for a moment before he raises not just his head but his entire body, coming up to straddle Steve’s hips and look him in the eye. 

“You deserve patience, Stevie. First of all. And second of all, it’s not a hardship — and it wouldn’t be a hardship for the buttheads either if they weren’t a bunch of self entitled teenagers. You’re not stupid. You hear me?” 

Steve nods, and Eddie cocks his eyebrow. “Not stupid,” Steve concedes, a smile forming on his lips. “Thank you.” 

“And don’t you forget it,” Eddie threatens, before cuddling back into his earlier position on Steve’s chest. “But yeah, I think you might have a point that you and I, we just…” 

“Match?” 

“Yeah, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, the smile evident even in his voice. “We match.”

They fall asleep like that, holding hands, not willing to let go.

And that is how Steve finds himself looking at words differently. He listens to people differently, still oftentimes not catching their meaning, but he’ll catch their words as though they’re separated from any sort of meaning. He’s collecting them, and remembers that Hop once told him what he and El used to do. 

They’d have this word of the day deal going on, where El would learn one new, possibly big word each day. 

Maybe it’s silly, maybe it’s even offensive or patronising, but he still ends up telling Eddie about it, and the boy’s eyes are, well, almost luminous. 

“You’d want to do that?” 

“Sure,” Steve shrugs, tugging Eddie in for a hug because he never wants to stop holding him, dammit. “Maybe I could learn a thing or two, improve my vocabulary just to defy Dustin one of these days.” 

And Eddie just laughs into Steve’s throat, sounding happy and bubbly and excited. 

Steve realises he would do anything just for Eddie to laugh like this. 

They make it a routine. If Steve wants to get a goodnight kiss, he has to tell Eddie at least one Good Word, as they’re calling them now. The rule gets omitted more often than not, because Eddie simply cannot resist kissing him. Ever. Steve still collects the words for him, catches Eddie writing them down sometimes, over and over again, and just hooks his chin over his shoulder, never interrupting him. Never judging. 

Sometimes when they don’t know how a word is written or what it means, they’ll have a look at the dictionaries in Steve’s mother’s library, or call Nancy or one of the Wonder Whiz Kids with their endless wisdom; though even Dustin doesn’t know how to properly pronounce iridescence. They don’t care, though, because it looks pretty enough. 

The questions rise, people demand to know what’s up, and one day Steve tells them. Not the entire story about Eddie’s struggles with words and communication, but he tells them that, “Sometimes words that look or sound pretty, or funky, or weird, delight Eddie.” 

“Is delight one such word?” Lucas asks, and Steve flips him the bird. 

“Fuck off, Sinclair, or you can leave if you’re going to make fun of this.” 

They all realise pretty quickly that Steve is serious, and thad this is important to him. No one makes another snide remark and they all listen carefully as he tells them about how he and Eddie have been collecting the words.” 

“Like me,” El says, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips and Steve melts as he turns to her. 

“Yeah, El. Like you. I told Eddie how you did it back then, and he absolutely loved it.” 

Eleven looks so proud when he tells her, and Steve just really fucking loves these kids. Most of the time, at least. 

After that, nobody questions them anymore when Eddie or Steve call, needing their help with a word or two. Especially when they see how genuinely relieved and happy Eddie is when the remarks, the questions, the teasing stops. Even though he tries to hide it. 

One by one, everyone in their chaotic little group contributes to their treasure of words. They try to be sneaky about it, but Eddie finds out, of course. 

It’s on a Trauma Family Bonding Night where there’s pizza and ice cream in abundance and they all come together at Steve’s place, even Hop and Joyce joining them for the night. They talk the whole night through, and everyone will have brought their word. Ineffable, from Mike. Philanthropist, from Nancy. Epiphany, from Max. Catharsis, from Will, which quickly sends Eddie into a happy little spiral, rambling like he did that first time about Stevie. 

“It’s just, it’s a great word! Starts with a weak syllable, almost unimportant, but it’s crass, a harsh beginning even in its irrelevance. But then you get to the ‘tharsis’, and it’s big and bright and you can’t ignore it, can’t not open your mouth and by extension your mind and heart to this change, this realisation, this complete opposite to where you started. And then the end, the last syllable, and you don’t even have the chance to be harsh about it, to be crass, to be curt. Because the ‘sis’ needs you to take your time, making sure you end the word almost on a smile.” Eddie finishes his rambles and looks almost embarrassed about it, but Steve can only stare at him and find the most beautiful, most wonderful, most intelligent looking back at him because Eddie doesn’t quite dare to look at anyone else.

Steve moves to him, right into his personal space, and kisses him. It almost feels like catharsis, the word still hot on Eddie’s lips. 

“Told you it was a great word,” Will says and they all laugh, even when Eddie and Steve are breathless from just about everything. 

It’s that night that Eddie finds out that they all know, that they’re all in on their little word treasure hunt. 

He looks at Steve when everyone is gone, El leaving them with effervescent, and thinks, I want to spend the rest of my days with you, Stevie. 

Steve drops the spoon he’s been holding, half-empty tub of ice cream on the counter abandoned as he stares at Eddie. 

They’re both staring, because Eddie is realising what he’s just said out loud, and Steve just busy processing. 

“Forever,” he says after a moment, sounding dazed, feeling dazed, dizzy, floating, as he walks towards Eddie. “It’s a pretty big word, hm?” His hand finds Eddie’s cheek, caressing, mapping, promising. 

“Feels just big enough, honestly,” Eddie says before catching Steve’s lips in a kiss. 

They’ll talk about this. Of course they will. But not now. Now, they just create their own little forever. Just the two of them and the love they share.

--

written for @bethespark who wanted to see Eddie with echolalia, but then this ran away from me. well. you're not surprised.

[seungbinbin]

in the morning - h.j.

han jisung x fem!reader

in which han jisung takes care of his best friend after a night out

a/n: hey besties i wrote this to practice my writing bc it's been some time and i am RUSTY !! feedback is appreciated, i want to improve bc i like doing this and would like to actually b good at it <33

warnings: mentions of being drunk, mentions of anxiety, crying, it might make no sense </3

genre: girl idk ?? fluff ? angst ? something !

word count: 808

if there was one thing han jisung loved with all his might, it was being your best friend. 

he thought you were the funniest person to have ever walked this earth, and also the smartest. you were probably the first friend that had shown him what real friendship was. the only one that was always willing to hold his hand when he felt nervous, and to stop him from biting at his fingernails. you had learned him inside out; you knew when he was anxious, you knew when an anxiety attack was about to happen. you had seen him at his lowest and at his highest, and had been by his side through it all. you took care of him, so he vowed to take care of you. 

which was why you were currently drunk on his couch. crying. 

he had tried to give you water and a little snack (your favorite!). tried giving you your favorite blanket of his and the good pillow for you to cuddle and fall asleep with. he even attempted to hold you until you calmed down. unfortunately, all his efforts were futile, and there were still tears flowing down your flushed cheeks. you had chosen to curl up into a ball at the end of the couch, opposite to where he was sitting, and covering your face with a cushion because apparently you didn’t want him to see you cry. as if he hadn’t seen you cry hundreds of times before. as if seeing you in this state could ever make him think you were any less beautiful.

“why are you so sad?” jisung questioned, sighing. yes he had seen you cry before, but he couldn’t stop his chest from tightening with worry. it hurt him to see you upset, and he wanted nothing more than to fix whatever was wrong. 

han heard you mumble something from under the cushion. he moved from his spot on the couch, crouching down in front of you and gently removed the cushion from your hands. 

“i couldn’t hear you, sweets, what was that?” 

“i said i don’t know!” you whined, dramatically covering your face with your arms. “everything sucks sungie.” 

he couldn’t help but chuckle at the way you complained, words slurring and cheeks adorably pink. jisung didn’t think he was the best at comforting people, but he knew he was good at comforting you. maybe it was because you were the one person he knew best. maybe because he was in love with you, who knows? taking your hands in his, he pulled your arms so you would sit up straight. 

“take a breath…let’s talk, yeah?” 

he watched as you nodded, taking deep breaths until your sobs turned into sniffles. your tears stopped falling and you were able to look him in the eyes with your puffy ones. he thought he had it under control now, so he smiled at you. 

and then you frowned. 

“don’t smile at me like that, han jisung!” you shook his hands off, and his eyes widened as he watched your eyes well up with tears once more. 

“[y/n]. what’s wrong? you know you can tell me anything, right?” he cupped your jaw, swiping your messy hair out of your tear-streaked face. “talk to me!” 

“jagiya,” you said, closing your eyes, “why don’t you love me?” 

han laughed, doing his best to gently dry your cheeks with the sleeve of his hoodie. “is this what this is about? i do love you, silly girl!” 

“no, sungie, why don’t you love me?” 

jisung froze. he froze because the girl that made his heart beat faster in a good way was asking him if he loved her. like he didn’t wish to hold your hand every day. like he didn’t lie awake every night, wishing you were there next to him. like he didn’t want to kiss you every day. like he didn’t want to kiss you right now at that very moment.

“i…[y/n], you-”

“no.” 

“wha-”

“no, sungie, i don't wanna hear it.” you ran your fingers through his already messy hair. “if you’re gonna reject me, do it when i’m sober.” 

“but i-”

“please, i need my best friend right now.” you laid back and pat the spot next to you. “you can be the guy that breaks my heart tomorrow.” 

jisung stood and sat next to you. he knew he loved you back. he knew he was dying to say it, to scream it, to kiss you. he also knew that wasn't what you needed. han jisung was your best friend, and if you needed him to be that over anything else, then he would.

“okay…we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

he hugged you, and you nodded. 

han jisung loved being your best friend, but he was sure being more would be worlds better.   he couldn’t wait for the morning.