#giving yourself a little distance though and being willing to really think about it

[creganslover]

I think it would be cool if you did a cregan x reader but reader has a dragon and her dragon is called the beast of winterfell or something like that and for the longest time even the people of winterfell have no idea what it means (they assume because of her family they are just referring to her) but while she’s giving birth or something the dragon hears and feels her pain and come out of hiding freaking out and finds her and like puts his snout up to the window to make sure she’s okay and it’s kinda like a crazy moment for the people of winterfell lol just a random idea I had hope you like it feel free to change any details about it

ofc! thank you for requesting, anon! i really hope you'll like it! i apologize if its not that great T^T

─── ⋆⋅ ❤︎ ⋅⋆ ───

beast of winterfell, cregan stark x targ! fem! reader

wc: 1.4k

warning/s: mentions of blood, childbirth, lmk if i missed anything!

─── ⋆⋅ ❤︎ ⋅⋆ ───

Ever since you had been arranged to Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North, you knew you were about to live a completely different life as you were expected to live with him in Winterfell for the rest of your days. 

It had taken a while for you to get used to being so far from the West and your family, yet Cregan’s presence was like a breath of fresh air, albeit cold, really cold. 

The lighter clothes you used to wear back in Dragonstone now replaced with heavy furs, you could have sworn if you had listened closely you would hear your back crying in protest. 

Alas you carried yourself with grace, it helped that Cregan had understood where you had come from and he always made sure the fireplace in your shared chambers had been extra warm, even if he had to get the firewood by himself. 

One thing you had also missed in the West was being able to go on dragonback without feeling that you were about to freeze at any given moment.

Your dragon, Rhaegos or commonly known as the Red Beast, could not stand to be far from you either, even willing to visit from time to time due to his own stubbornness that reflected your own. Making himself a home far enough from Winterfell within a clearing in a forest, you think, he had been able to live and feed himself, keeping warm with his flames. 

The folks of Winterfell had not even seen a dragon before, you’d wager, and you intend to keep it that way as they would not need to worry of such a magnificent beast nestled near their home, if they had only known. 

Cregan had also known of Rhaegos, he very well knew the creature as the first ever day Cregan had seen you was you landing on your dragon onto the sands of Dragonstone, he was about to depart then, yet you made him stop in his tracks as the Red Beast had made its appearance.

And you noticed him upon your landing, the ship in the distance carrying the banner of House Stark, which you have soon learned who was going to be your betrothed. 

Rhaegos did not take kindly to strangers nearing you but you just had to see who the ship carried, if it included your soon to be husband. 

And when you hopped off your dragon and had reached him, Rhaegos was watching carefully, even crawling himself a yard behind you, though Cregan did not seem to waver, or was trying his best to keep his composure as a dragon was barely in the North and the way its eyes gleamed at him, had him gripping a little tighter on his gloves. 

To your surprise, Rhaegos had nudged its snout against your back, almost shoving you to Cregan that had sent both your cheeks running hot as he caught you in his arms.

It seemed Rhaegos wanted to play cupid at that moment as you profusely apologized to the Lord of Winterfell.

The marriage came and went, devotion had come easy with you and Cregan, no sooner than a moon after your bedding that you had noticed the changes in your body.

It only took a look for the maester to confirm it. You were with child. 

Cregan was absolutely delighted, he could not stop showering you with affection within the confines of your chambers, his big rough hands gently upon your stomach.

There were barely any signs of growth yet making you laugh. It was your first time pregnant, and of course you’ve seen and heard your mother Rhaenyra teach you a thing or two about it, yet it had always worried you as you saw how it could take a toll upon a woman’s body, like with your mother.

Cregan swore no harm will come upon you and your child as you carry it through the moons, always placing his most skilled men out your chambers if he ever was required someplace else than at Winterfell. 

And when he would return, he would not even mind the cheers of his folk, going directly straight to you, enveloping you in a careful embrace, before he would kneel to press his forehead against your swollen middle, the baby within you kicking in response.

The days had inched closer to your due, and you had felt it with the way your body had increasingly been feeling heavy, the way you waddled while you walked. 

Your scream had broken out the great keep of Winterfell as the moment had finally come when their lady was about to give birth. Your handmaidens paced around you in worry, the maester advising you on what you should do- yet it all seemed to drown out by the time it reached your ears.

Blood began to trickle down your legs as your handmaidens rush you to lay upon the bed, you were restless as your body had been covered in sweat, platinum hair matting to your face as you cried out for Cregan, the maester informing you he was well on his way. 

Your breathing came in rushed, panting as your eyes blinked back tears as you were positioned necessarily for birth. Your muscles had contracted painfully, sending you with another wail. 

Though on this day, not only your childbirth would be borne by Winterfell. 

After your long cry, an unfamiliar loud screeching could be heard in the distance, making every folk in Winterfell pause in their actions. Could it be…?

“Dragon!” A knight exclaimed as people began to panic and rush around. 

Cregan was on his way back to Winterfell speeding on his mount after having visited the Hornswood, but he was not alone. To the West of him was undoubtedly a creature he had not seen a long time, your dragon, Rhaegos. 

His screeching may as well echo throughout the North as the dragon flew itself close to Winterfell. Its intimidating and thunderous roars caused worry for Cregan’s folk as he finally managed to rush inside, dismounting off his horse and quickly telling his people to calm- that the dragon would not dare harm them, that it was yours. 

Cregan then rushed towards the great keep, where your screams and wails grew louder, tearing his own heart as he finally shoves himself in the birthing chambers. 

“Cregan!” You cried as he came into view, rushing beside you as the maester had told you to push for the nth time. You wasted no time bearing a deathly grasp upon his hand, knuckles turning white. 

The gap on the windows was then darkened by a shadow followed by a low rumble, the maidens in the room, even the maester was disturbed at the sight of a dragon’s nout, moving outside as its eyes tried to spot you. 

“Calm down, it means you no harm.” Cregan said firmly. “My wife is the priority.” He commanded, glaring daggers at those within the room. 

Your chest heaved up and down as you could feel Rhaegos’ bond clearly with you as your eyes found his slit ones through the window. “Rāpirī (Be calm) Rhaegos!” You managed to say out loud, the dragon grumbling weakly in turn as it hissed at the maester, who quickly got back to his occupation. 

With one last push, you had felt it– the pain had numbed most half of your body, making you try and chase your breath, Cregan’s gaze flickering to you and the maester, with Rhaegos present out the window, his low grumbling ever a presence to your strength. 

All your body seemed to be in a haze, unable to move your legs- or the whole of your body for that fact.

Until a cry of the babe was heard, Cregan’s heart thumping in his chest as he looked at you and the babe being wrapped in the towel.

“You did it, oh thank the Old Gods.” Cregan murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead before his pressed against yours. “It is a girl, my lord, my lady.” The maester announced as the bundle of joy was placed into your arms. 

“Our- our own little girl…” You croaked out, a grin breaking through your face as tears of joy pricked your eyes, Cregan looking at the babe wriggling and making his heart near to bursting. “She’s a beauty like you.” He murmured.

Rhaegos outside began whirring as he seemed to be feeling your joy coursing through your bond, taking himself to the skies screeching happily, making you laugh weakly. 

Cregan then nuzzled both you and the babe, with Rhaegos’ sounds echoing above. 

Your children would need not worry for a protector, when they’ve got the beast and the wolf of Winterfell by their side. 

─── ⋆⋅ ❤︎ ⋅⋆ ───

cregan tag-list: @misswynters @i-padfootblack-things

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You

Azriel x Third-oldest-archeron-sibling!reader

a/n: I was in the mood for a writing a heated argument that turns into an even hotter make-out session, but then it got slightly depressing so…

warning: slight angst but not much because I can’t take that emotionally :’)

word count: 3,888

-Part 2[*]-

“How was she today?”

You fight the urge to clench your jaw. The harsh snapping of your book is the limit to how far you’ll allow the leash on your anger to slip. Jealousy? Frustration? Whatever complicated nonsense he’s gotten you tangled up in.

“No hello? What about a how are you today?” You ask tersely. So much for keeping your emotions on a tight leash. His brow narrows a little—you don’t usually bubble over when he asks how your older sister is doing. “You weren’t practically bed-ridden for months,” he replies slowly, gauging your response carefully.

Instantly, guilt weighs in the pit of your stomach, and you look away quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you,” you soothe hastily. Gods, why did you say that to him? You’re trying to gain his favour, not make him think you’re an ungrateful, self-absorbed sister. “She was fine. We did some baking—well, Elain did some baking, I was reading something. It’s a new book, actually! Because I finished the last one, which was actually pretty good, but this one I think is set in the last war and…” you trail off when you notice the patient smile he’s giving you.

Right. He’s not interested in what book you’re reading, or how you spent the day. He’s not interested in you full stop. He’s interested in Elain. You fight the way disappointment wants to twist the edges of your mouth, instead plastering on a smile that you hope he reads as oops, look at me! There I go again, haha.

“Well,” you say, swallowing the lump in your throat, “she made some cupcakes—I think they were vanilla, and she put something that looked like jam inside. Really good. I’m sure she’d be happy for you to try one—if you ask,” you smile, adding in the details he wants to hear. For the Spymaster, he’s surprisingly open about his interest in Elain to you. But maybe that’s because you’re always so willing to answer any question you can for him.

“I’m glad,” he says, something glimmering in his hazel eyes. “And there were no silent spots? No abrupt changes?” You return your attention to the book in your hands, fingers running over the bound edges, “she was fine all the way. You never would have guessed everything she’s been through.” He hums, pleased with her progress. It’s a sound of contentment, from the back of his throat that you’re certain rumbles throughout his chest. It’s an effort to keep your attention on the book.

It’s been more than two years since the three of you were tossed into the Cauldron. Feyre and Rhysand are happy, Nesta’s made progress on healing herself and is now alarming in love with Cassian, Elain’s taking large steps in a good direction, too. You remember vividly the time when she would hardly utter a word for days, hardly shift her gaze from a strange spot in the middle-distance, how worried she made you and Nesta. And Feyre, obviously, but things were a little…strange at the time. They always had been.

You spent the first few months struggling to hold a meal down, often being wracked with spasms of anxiety and flushes of hot and cold. There was a time you would black out if you stood up too fast, and now you can hold down three meals a day without needing to run to the nearest latrine provided you don’t eat too quickly. You feel like yourself again, but fresher. You know you aren’t the same as you were, though. Not after the Cauldron, but you had no choice but to adapt. With eternity ahead of you, you couldn’t stand the thought of spending it weakened and frail—hardly capable of standing without feeling dizzy.

Maybe you are a little jealous that Elain’s getting all the attention. She’d always been the centre of Nesta’s attention, and while you were on fairly good terms with your oldest sister throughout your childhood, you were no competition for her sharp mind and sharper tongue. Feyre was the wild one, Elain the pretty one, Nesta the cunning one—then there was you.

What’s your place in your dysfunctional family?

“It’s good she seems to be steadily improving,” Azriel says, breaking you from your inner thoughts. You nod dutifully, agreeing with him. “She smiled for most of it, too,” you add, remembering how pleased she’d been when they came out how she wanted—after numerous attempts. “Though she was covered in flour—her hair was practically white!” You laugh fondly, covering your mouth with your hand.

A faint smile appears on his lips and, for just a moment, you let yourself pretend he’s smiling at the sound of your laugh.

But that’s all you have to report back to him, and even if you’ve pleased him, he’ll be finding an excuse to slip off now that he knows she’s been fine. You’ll admit, it’s difficult to remember she’s your sister when he so clearly would choose her over you. It’s not even a competition.

So you swallow your nerves, tuck your hands behind your back and peer up at him. “Hey, you read right?” You ask, keeping a pleasant smile on your lips—lest he think you’re too eager. He blinks out of whatever thought he was having, clearing his gaze as he looks down at you, then nods. “I’ve been known to pick up a book from time to time,” he answers. He’s in a good mood, it seems.

“Do you have a favourite?” You ask, tipping your head at a slight angle, appearing to look at the books stacked on the shelves. “I feel like I’ve been rereading the same story over and over again and want to try something else.”

“You’re asking me to pick just one?” He replies, quirking his brow. The smile that comes to your mouth isn’t as fake, or as controlled as you would like—it stretches your lips thin, showing the gaps either side of the top row of your teeth.

“Okay, give me a couple to have a nose at. So if one bores me to tears, I can pick up another,” you laugh gently, pulling the book tight to your chest, worried you’re showing too much. Does he know how your days often centre around whether he’ll seek you out? The too-short conversations that often revolve around your sister?

“Does Elain read?” He asks, tentatively, and it’s like a stone to your cheek. You clutch the book tighter to your chest, taking in a slow, quiet breath. “I can ask her? Subtly, of course,” you force a smile, fingers digging into the spine of the book. He shakes his head, “I’ll do it. I’d like to see how she’s doing for myself.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, “to be fair, she might be sick of them for how long she was in here last year. They might be an eyesore by now,” you laugh softly. But instead he frowns disapprovingly, like you shouldn’t be making jokes at her expense. And suddenly that urge appears, the urge to confront him about his behaviour—why he never talks to you for you.

“Azriel…?” You say, the smile slipping from your lips, though your make sure your eyes still sparkle a little, keeping them partially crinkled. But then you bite the inside of your lip, and the rest of the mask fades, leaving you raw, and more than a bit scared. If you overthink it, it’ll never get done.

“Why do you…I don’t feel like you ever…like we ever talk. Us,” you say, then flush at the word—so intimate. Us. “What do you mean?” He asks, standing sturdy before you. A seed of frustration sprouts within, but you push the irritation away. “I just…You’re always asking me about Elain.” His brow narrows a bit, and you want to take the words back.

“What else?”

You look up at him, all beauty and classical grace, and such unearthly, ethereal lines and angles to him you wish you knew how to paint like Feyre. “What do you mean, ‘what else’?” You ask, a little hurt.

“I mean, is there something else you want to talk about?” He asks, gently. Carefully.

My book would be nice. I’d like you to ask how I’m doing today, how I’m feeling, what I want to do.

“Something that doesn’t involve my sister, would be nice,” you laugh, giving him a smile that reads, can you really blame me for not wanting to talk about Elain all the time? He doesn’t smile like you’d hoped, but frowns. “Do you not like her?” He asks instead, “did something happen between you two?”

“No,” you say hurriedly. “No—nothing happened, we’re fine. Right as rain. It’s just…you always ask after her, and I feel like that’s the only reason you approach me.” You swallow, having begin to put the truth out there for him. “You seem fine talking about other things with Feyre and Nesta, but I can’t remember the last time we talked about something that wasn’t my sister, and I… I don’t really…” You trail off, watching him nervously.

His frown only deepens as he takes you in. “I’m asking out of concern for her well-being, you understand that, don’t you?” He asks.

“I know, I know, but…are you?” You reply, managing to reign in your wince at the blunt question. When he only looks at you without response, you push forward. “I mean, you…you like her, don’t you? That’s why you ask all these questions? Why you care more than the others do?” You say, fighting to keep your voice even as the words come out. “And there’s nothing wrong with that,” you quickly amend, “but, you know, it would be nice to talk to you for you. And you for me. And, you know, she does have a…mate, so, I just thought—”

“What did you think?”

You blink at the sharp tone, his eyes colder than before, more sealed off. Still, you square your shoulders, keeping the book tucked tight against your front. “Well, that, maybe, it would be better to try somewhere else? Instead of investing in someone who’s practically already taken?”

“She doesn’t love him.”

“I know she says that, but—”

“But nothing,” he says, brow narrowing. “The mating bond can’t force someone to fall in love. If she doesn’t want him, she doesn’t have to have him.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you shift on your feet beneath his penetrating gaze. “Feyre and Rhys worked out,” you manage, eyes flitting away from his, focusing on the book in your hands. “And she didn’t love him at first.” The paper’s old and crisp—worn with age. “Then Nesta and Cassian also got together, too,” you add, the pads of your fingers dragging over the pages, “and you saw what Nesta was like. How badly she was struggling. They didn’t look like they were going anywhere but destruction, but—”

“Are you done with the nosey speculation into other people’s relationships, or is that how you’ve found yourself filling your time?”

Again you blink at him, caught off guard by the ice in his tone. “I’m not saying it’s wrong to pursue her, Azriel,” you appease—try to. “I’m just saying maybe you could try looking…elsewhere, you know? Maybe try something with someone else? That won’t end badly?”

“You don’t know it will end badly,” he replies, all former warmth gone, no trace of it in his beautifully designed features. “It will for someone. Even if you and Elain do somehow end up together, what about Lucien? If it were Feyre and Rhys, or Nesta and Cass, would you think it okay for someone to try and separate them? When they were chosen to be together?”

“Bad pairings happen. Rhys’ parents are a fine example.”

“Yes, but they’re rather suited for one another, don’t you think?” You ask, pushing forward, “Elain’s always excelled at social events. She easily settles into the flow of conversation—she knows what to say, and how to act to put people at ease around her. And Lucien does the same. He knows how to draw ties between people where there seem to be none, just like her. He knows how to keep conversation flowing without pushing it, how to keep things at the right pace, just like her.”

“While you…” you pause, and his jaw tightens.

“Go on,” he says icily, “tell me why think I’m undeserving of her.”

“I don’t think its a case of deserving, Azriel,” you say quickly. “But you…well, you try to blend into any corner you can when there are more than three people in the room.”

His brow narrows, “I didn’t realise you’d been keeping tabs on me.”

“Yes, well, you’re the only one I’m interested in, so.” Your voice is soft, bladed, honed. Resigned. You lips press into a thin line as your eyes flicker away from his, too embarrassed to look even in his general vicinity. You had never anticipated laying your heart to bare to be so…scary? Terrifying?

Anti-climactic.

Admitted in such a quiet, understated way. As if he isn’t the first one you’ve ever felt so strongly for. As if he isn’t the first one who’s given you a vague understanding of why some women were so happy to do whatever their husbands told them. Why they were so happy to live in subservience, and why that’s not what it was.

“You think you’re deserving of me?” He asks, coldly. Shame and embarrassment heat your features, but you manage to shoot back, “do you think you’re deserving of her?” You cross your arms over your chest, trying to prevent yourself from being intimidated by his height, and muscle, and beauty, and overall damned attractiveness that makes you weak in the knees.

His upper lip twitches in a repressed snarl, anxiety spiking in your chest. “Answer my question,” he says, softly, an edge to his voice. You swallow, “answer mine.” You’ve never demanded something from someone before, but it’s out there now, and it feels surprisingly good to insist on something for yourself.

He regards you silently, and it takes a remarkable strength to stand still beneath his icy gaze—knowing that he’s judging what he’s seeing. Weighing if you’re worth his answer.

“I think I gave a hint of my interest for her,” he says, eyes glittering with something cold that you’re unaccustomed to have turned on yourself. “And she reciprocated with her own signs.” He stares you down, unyielding, and powerful, and you want to run and hide. “What about you?”

You purse your lips to keep them from trembling as heat crawls beneath your skin with humiliation. But—no. Get over it. Make it through. Survive something else. “I think I’m tired, and hurt from knowing that you only talk to me because you want to know how my sister is doing,” you confess, voice wobbling. “I think it’s cruel to continue asking after her when I so obviously answer every question you have just so you might pay me a little more attention.”

There’s no bite to your words, and they come out softer and weaker than you had expected. You feel tired, and drained. Eyelids heavy and heart rate spiking every other beat, numerous crescent shaped indentations on the heel of your palms.

“Maybe you’d be better off turning your affections somewhere they’d be appreciated,” he says, icily. Your heart aches, and it takes a few humiliating moments for you to gather yourself enough that you won’t burst into tears when you again find your voice. “That’s all you have to say?” You manage, fingers trembling behind your back.

“Maybe if you were even half the female she is, I’d be tempted to show a little interest,” he snarls softly, eyes glittering with cold rage.

It feels like a smack to the face, a punch to your stomach. Your eyes go wide, then blur, hot pressure building steadily. You dig your nails into the binding of your book, and move to walk past him—at least preserve what little dignity is still intact by refusing to let him see you cry. He already barely sees you as a woman, you won’t win any points with your blubbering. He wants a female, not a girl.

But he seems to realise what he’s said and turns, gripping your upper arm to keep you from leaving. You allow him to stop you, if only because demanding he let you go would show your tears. “I didn’t mean that,” he says quietly, and you can hear the pity in his voice. “I spoke in anger, I did not mean to upset—”

“Get those hands off me,” you snarl, turning on him with defensive ire blazing in your pupils. Rage fresh from the forges.

He recoils as if you burned him. Retreats a step.

“Not nice, is it? Targeting someone’s insecurity—rubbing salt into an open wound?” You snap, blinking away the tears and pulling your arm back to yourself. “Don’t come asking me for updates on Elain again. I don’t want to talk to you if your only interest is in getting between her legs.”

He’s silent for a moment, and you debate just running from the library—you can feel the storm in him brewing, and you’re not sure you’re ready for him. But he doesn’t wait for you to decide, because the storm breaks right then and there. “At least she has someone interested in getting her into bed,” he says softly, hazel piercing into you. “Can you say the same?”

Mortification flushes your skin, mouth parting in humiliation. “I—…This is inappropriate,” you hiss to hide your burning shame. Because no, it’s always been Elain and Nesta to be pursued. His eyes gleam, reading your thoughts clear as day in your expression. “Thought not.”

Pain twists viciously across your chest, heart strings being plucked within an inch of snapping—pulled taught around your throat. “If I’ve never taken a man to bed, it is not because I am unwanted. Rather that I would not waste my self nor my time on someone I was not sure about. That I did not want with everything I have,” you whisper hoarsely—the final layer stripped bare for him to slice and dissect.

But then he steps forward, and without thinking, you yield a step. He’s not perturbed, and takes another. “You admit you have no experience in bed, yet think you could handle me?” He snarls softly, wings flaring ever so slightly at his back, shadows thickening. “I don’t think it’s a matter of handling you, Azriel.” His name is a little more than a whisper from your mouth. One he tracks eagerly.

“No?” He asks, stepping forward again, slowly herding you. “Then what?” You swallow, trying to stand your ground, but the sense of him is so overpowering, he threatens to obliterate every ounce of your own self. “I think it would be a matter of learning. And if you think I’m unprepared, then Elain is definitely no better off, so that clearly isn’t your issue.”

“At least she’s shared the bed of a man before, at least she would know what to do.” You don’t correct him that you have, in fact, shared a bed with a male before. A few in fact, by this point. Nesta’s the bad influence. He steps forward again, and he’s towering over you, hazel glittering between his shadows. “At least she wouldn’t lose her head over the slightest touch.”

And then his hands have landed softly on your hips, and your head is silent. Only his touch on your body, his warmth on your skin, seeping into your clothes. Does he find your shape pleasing? Is he feeling this mind-numbing shock? The tingling at his fingertips where they’re pressing into you?

For a too-long moment you just stare at him, thoughts eddying about without a destination, floating throughout your conscious.

“Still in there?” He taunts quietly, pushing you back, turning you gently as he feels the heat radiating from your skin, the stiffness to your body beneath his touch. It’s only when a hard, wooden shelf digs into the base of your spine that you realise he’s pushed you against the case. You open your mouth—to say what, you don’t know. He beats you to it either way. “You want to prove you haven’t already lost your mind?” He says softly, voice like a lover’s touch. You can do nothing but stare at him, panting softly, completely at his mercy. “Tell me to stop, or I’ll keep going. Say no, and it finishes,” he murmurs, keeping you pressed tight between his hips and the book case. “But I think you’ve already lost.”

You blink up at him, hardly a thought behind your eyes.

In the back of your mind, you’re struggling frantically to decode his words, translate them into something that makes sense. And then his challenge clicks, and you take a sudden, deep breath. You need to tell him to stop, to show him you’re still in control of yourself—that you haven’t lost your head over the slightest touch.

But then his mouth latches over yours, tongue prying your lips apart, and your efforts of rebellion are washed away. You go all warm, and soft, and pliable in his hands, melting like butter as you coat him. His piercing hazel eyes lock with yours as his mouth slants, one hand rising to the curve of your spine, pulling you against his front.

How are you supposed to stand against him when he annihilates everything that you are with the softest brush of his fingers—fingers that are now tracing up the path of your spine, reaching that final notch as they tangle with delicious pressure in your hair. His gaze cuts into you as his tongue drags across your own, flicking at the roof of your mouth.

He’s utterly unruffled, and you feel like you’re on the verge of bursting into flame right there, setting him ablaze in the process.

But then you’re again subverting his expectations, your hands flying over his shoulders as you tilt your head to allow him deeper. The only sign of surprise he allows is a blink of his eyes, but you’re already lifting onto your tiptoes—the swell of your breasts dragging over his chest in a way you must’ve learned males like. But where would you have learned?

Your arms tighten, then your hips are pressing against him, and—you’re fighting back, he realises. And for the first time in a long, long time, he feels excitement flare deep inside him as you stride to meet him. No matter that you aren’t Elain: he’s hungry, and you can make your own decisions. If you want him to stop, you need only say the word, and he’ll be off you. But if you don’t…well, he’s not going to be the one who backs out first.

He has a damn point to prove—that you have no idea what you’re getting into with him.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

[stargirlrchive]

song chord ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: jake sully x female!reader but no use of y/n, arranged marriage, sunshine!jake x grumpy!reader, kind of lmao. angst, jealousy, mentions of death, feelings of insecurities. fluff. <3 i think that is all, pls lmk if i missed anything 

word count: 5,112

tìyawn (n) - love

comments: first fic in a few months, first avatar fic ever <3 i really loved writing this, so i hope you all love it too, okay mwah mwah bye ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You had not wanted your night to end like this, angrily picking at your song chord as your mother whispered to the elders of her desire to have you wed, and to the Olo’eyktan none the less. Every stone, every achievement, you had earned felt as though it was taken from you. Ripped from your fingers just as you were starting to enjoy the fruits of your labors.

Toruk Makto sat across from your mother, listening closely as the elders proposed the idea of uniting your family. Joining forces to strengthen the clan, providing security and faith to the people he led.

You had wished so much more for yourself, to have your accomplishments be only your own. Not tied to a man you would never be equal to. All your life you had fought to be perfect, to be an accomplished warrior and fight for your people. Your eyes welled with tears as your fingers ran across the newest bead on your song chord. An iridescent pearl that your father had picked for you, that you held so dearly and were waiting for the perfect culminating moment in your life to add to your chord. Your Iknimaya was given the grace of bearing the pearl.

Your mind swirled with the prospect of being wed, being mated to a man you knew very little about, a man you had only met in passing. As much as you tried to find a way to fix this you couldn't, it felt like your thoughts were running a millions miles a minute and getting no answer. It was very clear that you had no way to object, your family would be so disappointed and the fear that nestled into your chest far outweighed the fear of sacrificing your future, it was almost debilitating. Either way you ended up losing.

You roughly wiped at your eyes and tried to calm your breathing, quietly counting to ten as you willed yourself to object, to tell them your future was yours and no one else's. You had lost so much due to the war with the sky-people, you did not want to lose this too. The words were on the tip of your tongue but your eyes locked onto Jake’s and his fear was clear as day within his eyes. It comforted you, a bit. Knowing you were not the only one silently suffering, but he was the last person you wanted to find comfort in.

He cleared his throat and the room was silenced instantly, causing a lump to form at your throat. “Before I agree I would like us to speak, privately.”

You nodded as he stood, following after him outside of the tent. He walked outside of the camp, towards the dark forest that was only illuminated by the fluorescent lights of the plants and small insects native to the land. Normally you would question why he was leading you away from everyone, but it felt as though all the energy was taken from you.

Not too far into the forest there was a clearing, a small pond with glowing fish. He grunted quietly as he lowered himself to sit, dipping his feet into the pond as he sighed quietly. None of you said anything for a while, you had stayed standing by the trees and looking up into the sky. Silently praying to Eywa to give you the strength to fulfill your duty with an open mind, and even an open heart.

He turned to look at you, watching as your brows furrowed even more as a shooting star passed by, “Do you mind sitting with me?”

A small huff left your lips but you did as he asked, slowly approaching him and keeping a sizeable distance between the two of you, dipping your feet into the water just as he had. “I did not expect to be mated, the thought had never really crossed my mind.”

You kept quiet, trying to focus on his words as you fought the tears trying to fall from your eyes, he took your silence as a sign to keep speaking. “I know a lot of the Na’vi still blame me for what happened, I do too.” His throat tightened, gruff with guilt and unshed tears balling up, and for the second time tonight you found comfort that you were both suffering. “I am trying to be better, and I will prove to you everyday that I am no longer loyal to the sky-people. Believe me, the Clan’s best interest is my main priority and I would never again willingly do something to harm them.”

Silence.

“I know it is not ideal, having to marry a skxawng like me, but I would like to continue the engagement if you wish.”

You sighed quietly and tucked your knees in, resting your arms on them to lay your head gently, “I do not blame you.”

He nodded and averted his eyes to the pond, not believing your words, “I-I just did not picture my life to be this way. After my father died I tried so hard to accomplish everything he wanted for me, that is why it took me time to complete my Iknimaya, I wanted everything to be perfect.” His ears twitched as he listened to you.

“I just do not know if this is what he would have wanted for me.” Your last words were whispered quietly, almost as if you did not want him to hear.

“I fear everything I have ever accomplished will be stripped from me, and I will just be seen as Toruk Makto’s wife. Expected to be the next Tsahik and I can barely interpret the will of Eywa for myself, how am I expected to do so for the rest of the clan?”

He laughed loudly, as if what you said was the funniest thing in the world. As if your worries were comical and before you could stop yourself you hissed in his direction, making your way to stand up. “I’m sorry-wait I’m sorry-you made me laugh but I did not mean to offend you.”

You stopped yourself from leaving, “See what I mean? Skxawng.”

Your lips barely twitched at the end and you hoped he hadn’t caught it. He did.

“I am a warrior JakeSully, I will not sit back and watch the people fight. I will be front line.”

He smiled at your words, “I would also like to get to know you better, no wedding within the next two-three weeks, yes?”

He leaned back on his arms and looked up at the night sky, millions of tiny stars scattered all across you. “Ok, no wedding soon.”

He sent you a warm smile and it eased the gnawing feeling in your chest, “One final request, I wish to be seen as your equal, taken into consideration when it comes to decisions of the clan, not just your wife but your partner.”

His silence scared you, fearful of what would leave his mouth, “That is all I want.”

A small smile made its way onto your features, feeling far more content then how you expected this night to go.

You were both silent for a long time, just enjoying the beautiful forest of Pandora, “I must go, it is well past Eclipse and my mother will be worried.”

Jake nodded and stood up, leaning his arm forward to help you too. You both silently made your way through the short distance back to the camp, quickly making your way to your tent. You were about to go in, without sparing him another look but his hand reached for your forearm to stop you from walking, “We are in this together, from here on out it is you and me. I am not taking this lightly and-and I will be your friend through all of this.”

Your eyes welled with tears again, having to come to terms with your future in those few seconds as you looked up into his golden eyes. “Thank you, I will try my best too.”

You sent him a small smile before moving into your tent, hoping to sleep away the still overwhelming fear of having no control of your life.

-

You blinked the sleep away from the night before, trying to relax the nauseating feeling that nestled in your stomach as you recalled the events of last night. Why had you so willingly opened up to JakeSully, why?

You did not know him, and from the whispers that followed him around you were one of the few Na’vi women that did not want to. You had opened up some of your deepest concerns last night, and for the life of you, you didn’t know why. You soothingly rubbed the beads of your song chord, trying to ground yourself and push the tears down that seemed to flow like a never ending river.

Your ears twitched gently as you heard movement outside of your tent, “Who is there?”

Someone cleared their throat as you sat up, fixing your chest beads and loin cloth on your way to stand up. “It’s Jake, um-I wanted to spend some time with you. As friends do.”

You tsk’ed lowly, slowly making your way towards the opening of the tent, head peeking out only to be met with a gentle smile on the Toruk Makto’s face. You refrained from rolling your eyes at the tall man, going back into your tent but leaving it open so he could follow. “Give me a few minutes and I will be ready.”

He hummed quietly as he stepped in, eyes jumping from corner to corner of your tent. Curiously walking towards a make-shift shelf, filled from top to bottom with your trinkets. From your first arrow, to dried flowers and pretty stones you had collected since you were a child. You observed him, feeling your heart jump to your throat as he reached to pick something up. Feeling exposed to him in a way you couldn’t describe.

Your mind eased as he gently picked up the only picture you had on there, one that Grace had taken of your mother and father that she gifted you on a random day during her classes. “My condolences for your father, I never got to meet him.”

You said nothing as you continued to ready yourself, turning your back to him and making sure he was still occupied with the shelf before changing quickly, adjusting the straps on the cloth that fell on your hips as he turned towards you. “What will we be doing, JakeSully?”

His nose twitched softly at his full name.

“Is it your hunting or training day?”

You shook your head no, “Perfect, let’s go for a ride.”

Your eyes lit up softly, anytime you got to spend with your Ikran was so special to you, your sweet Pey’lal. Following behind him happily as he threaded through the forest where the claimed Ikran’s rested. Your tongue instinctively started clicking once you made it to the large tree, looking towards the sky for a large blur of purple and blue.

There was a large gust of wind and a powerful thud as Pey’lal landed gracefully in front of you, nuzzling her head against your cheek as you laughed happily. “My sweet girl, I have missed you.”

You cooed happily as she made happy clicking noises at the attention you were giving her, Jake clearing his throat made you snap out of your happy bubble. Pey’lal looked up as if just noticing him for the first time, moving her head to the side in question, flapping her wings as a warning sign. Your hand reached out to soothe her, letting her know to stand down. She relaxed instantly. “This is Pey’lal, my Ikran. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Your smile reached your eyes for the first time and Jake nodded, “This is Bob.” He patted his Ikran’s head who huffed in slight annoyance and it caused a laugh to ripple from your throat, “Bob?”

Jake’s face flared as his ears twitched, “I think it fits him, he is quite goofy.”

“If you say so, JakeSully.”

There was a beat of silence before you connected your queue to Pey’lal’s, jumping smoothly onto her back, “Well, let’s get to flying.”

In the next instant you were off, looking back momentarily only to see Jake jumping onto his Ikran to catch up.

-

It had been several weeks since Jake had taken you out to fly, or out on a date as he called it. But ever since then it was as if he was glued to your hip, accompanying you even when it was not necessary. Like when you went to pick fruit or went hunting, Pey’lal was even growing accustomed to him being around. Just yesterday she nuzzled her head against his chest as he called out for Bob, something she had only ever done with you.

You had tried to be annoyed with him, wanting to keep him as far away from you as possible but he had slowly, very slowly, started to crack the walls you had built up and began staking claim.

Like even now, as he sat across from you and smiled at your annoyance towards him, your tail swishing in frustration. “You are Olo'eyktan and cannot even pronounce basic words.”

You tsk’ed quietly as he leaned back on his arms, not focusing on what you were saying. He laughed deeply, one that you could tell started in his chest, “I cannot focus today.”

“You can never focus.”

“You are distracting me.”

Your brows furrowed together, confusion evident on your face. Another laugh left his throat, “I do not like being laughed at, JakeSully.”

“I am not laughing at you.” It continued, the sound warming your chest as you feigned being offended, purposely dropping your ears, “I just think you are so-so-interesting.”

You huffed and moved away from him, “You really know how to woo me.”

His face dropped and you bit back the smile that threatened to crack across your face, tucking your tail away as he scooted closer to you, “I meant that in a good way-I did not want to offend you.”

You turned your face to him, the laugh escaped you as soon as your eyes locked onto his, face full of concern, “I was only kidding you Skxawng. I think you are interesting too.”

He pushed your shoulder with his own, smiling so hard his cheeks felt sore.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you, and in the next instant it hit you just how close he was, the side of his thigh pressed against yours and you flushed deeply. Ears twitching as you tried to stop your body from going rigid against his.

Jake's finger twitched softly as he contemplated reaching for your hand, he wouldn’t put it past you to flick him with your tail if he tried to, but even still he wanted to know how your hands would feel against his.

Your face was turned away from him, clearly trying not to face him and he swore you knew what he was up to, your fingers twitched softly as it rested on your leg. Before he could think about it too much he slipped his hand under your own, tangling his fingers with yours and closing, rubbing gently along your knuckles.

Your hand had tensed as he held it, still avoiding his gaze and he almost retracted but slowly your fingers relaxed into his, his tail swished softly in excitement as you folded your fingers to hold his hand.

“Your hands are sweaty, Toruk Makto.”

He refrained from laughing, “Yeah well-you make me nervous. One wrong move and I know it will earn me a tail flick to the head.”

You laughed at his words and turned to him, cheeks still blazing as he got a good look at you. Your cheeks were a soft purple and a smile that reached all the way to your eyes.

“Do not tempt me.”

Your tail gently flicked against his arm and he felt a warm sensation start in his belly and make its way up to his chest, causing goosebumps to rise all across his arms.

After a beat of silence he began speaking again, “So, how do you say it? Kalultal?”

“No-no! Kelutral!”

-

The weeks had started to bleed into each other the more time you spent with Jake. Your eyes instinctively looked through the sea of Na’vi as you searched for him, a proud smile on your face as you lugged around the Hexapede you had hunted not too long ago.

You had noticed him a couple of feet away, his back towards you and there was an instant smile that made its way to your face, trying to get to him faster. Your eyes were taking in his back, a small heat rising to your cheeks as you let your stare run across his shoulders and down to his arms.

You opened your mouth to call out for him but you clamped up almost instantly, ears twitching in question as his head was thrown back and a loud laugh left his lips. Your eyes finally shifted to who was in front of him and felt a sting begin to settle in your stomach. It was Neytiri.

They were talking animatedly between each other, laughing and you were not sure why it left such a bitter taste in your mouth. Cheeks now flushed but for an entirely different reason, anger bubbled in your chest. You tried to wrack your brain for what it could be, you had always gotten along with Neytiri so why had you started to feel a sense of insecurity in yourself as you noticed how easy it was for them to get along? How easy it had been for them since the beginning.

The realization scared you even more so when you came to the conclusion that it was jealousy, you had started to feel some sort of claim to the Toruk Makto and it hurt. You felt so stupid, how could you think he wanted you when Neytiri had been a part of his life from the moment he was introduced to the clan? She had shown him the in’s and out’s, he had fallen in love with your people, with your home, through her.

You felt a lump rise to your throat as you handed off the Hexapede to be skinned for the feast later in the evening, rushing past the crowd of people behind you. You wanted to be far away from him, from her, from everyone. Your ears had turned inward and all you could hear was the beating of your heart. It came in loud thuds, deep and sorrowful.

You had made it towards your tent, not noticing that Jake had clocked you dropping the animal off. He had called you several times which you had not heard. He had noticed how your shoulders were tensed, a look so unfamiliar to him on your face and he knew something was wrong. His fingers tangled around your forearm before you slipped into your tent, you jolted back against his chest showing him just how distracted you were.

Jake called your name softly and his brows furrowed together as you refused to look at him. “Is everything alright?”

You hissed in his direction and yanked your forearm from his grip, Jake stepped back in astonishment as he took in the anger swirling in your eyes. “Leave me alone, JakeSully.”

“Woah-what? Did I-what’s wrong?”

You ignored him and walked into your tent, pacing the perimeters as you tried to keep the emotions from erupting into something uglier. You felt like an open wound and hated that it was caused by the man who only a few months ago you wanted nothing to do with. Your tent was opened as Jake stepped in, confusion evident in his face.

Your angry haze landed on him, his hands up in surrender trying to not overwhelm you as he neared you, “I do not want you near me, Toruk Makto. Just go!”

“I am just trying to figure out what’s wrong, yeah? Let me help.”

“You are the last person I would want help from, get out!”

Your hands had reached up to push at his chest and even Jake knew you were going easy on him, but the pushes were persistent. The frustration more evident each time your palms landed on his chest.

His hands reached out to grab at your wrist, the beads of your song chord digging gently into your skin. Your wrist felt like they were on fire at his touch and felt the anger surge through your body all over again. Hands wriggling angrily against his as he stepped closer, concern clear as day on his features but you could not bring yourself to care. All your deepest insecurities rearing their ugly head at you, a sob threatening to escape from your throat as an uncomfortable feeling settled into your stomach. A feeling that you would not be enough, not for your family, not for Jake, not for the clan.

Your anger peaked, a scream was ready to erupt from your throat as Jake was not letting your wrist go, he was still trying to calm you down. You ripped your wrist from his grip in a whip of anger and felt all the air leave you at once. Your song chord had tangled along the leather braided clasps on Jake's wrist and ripped from yours, the beads falling like a waterfall all around the two of you. “No-no-no!”

Your eyes and hands frantically searched around for the pearl your father had given you, not locating it anywhere and a small whimper left your mouth as the tears flowed from your eyes and down to your neck.

Jake was on his hands and knees instantly as you wept, helping you gather the stones that had been placed on your chord, “Please just leave, Jake! Go with Neytiri and leave me alone.”

Your voice was raw with emotion and it made his heart clench, his ears twitched in confusion but he said nothing as he continued to gather all the beads he saw, an uncomfortable sting making its way to his wrist.

He could tell your holding back from sobbing, you had folded into yourself after all the stones were gathered, your back shaking from your tears. “I will help you build it back, I will weave the chord with you. I am so sorry.”

His hand had reached out to your shoulders pulling you up against him and into his chest, there was a strain on his wrist at the awkward way it bent causing a low hiss to fall from his lips. His hand settled on your head, rubbing soothingly as he felt you calm in his arms, a pinch each time his hand dragged forward but he didn’t care. “Will you let me help you?”

You whimpered quietly as you melted into his embrace, “There is no point.”

“What do you mean, tìyawn?”

You felt your heart flutter at the affectionate name, but your heart felt heavy as you realized you had lost the pearl your father had gifted you, “I lost the pearl for my Iknimaya. It was a pearl my father had gifted me, it meant so much to me and-and I waited for something that felt worthy of carrying the stone and now I have lost it. I no longer want a song chord.”

You broke out into another fit of tears, only this time wrapping your arms around Jake’s neck to find solace in him, and he comforted as best he could, wrapping his arms around you as his fingers traced your back to calm you down once again.

He felt the pinch against his wrist again, an irritation settling softly in his chest at the persistent sting. He pulled his arms closer to you so one rested on your hip while the other tried to unclamp the leather bracelets that sat on his wrist. When the bracelet was off he felt instant relief, his ears twitching at the sound of a pebble landing on the floor. He swore a silent prayer to Eywa fell from his lips as his eyes locked onto the pearl. It was iridescent and had small scratches since you wore your song chord almost everywhere. His fingers reached for the stone, picking it up gently as if he feared it would break under the weight of his fingers. “Is this it?”

Your head lifted from his chest, looking into his palm and a watery laugh left your throat, still thick with emotion as you reached out for it. You looked up into Jake’s eyes and it seemed like hundreds of tears kept flowing from your eyes, Jake's lips were turned downwards as he rubbed at your cheeks, trying to erase the evidence of your sadness. He hated it, he hated seeing you hurting and in that instant swore that he would spend the rest of his life trying to keep you happy.

“I do not like knowing you are sad.”

Your emotions consumed you once again as you stared up at him, eyes flickering to his lips for a brief second. Sniffling softly you leaned your face closer to him, pressing your forehead against his and you let your eyes flutter closed. You could not bear to look at him, he consumed you in every way and the clarity hit you like a ton of bricks. You were in love.

You let your lips fall against his in a quick motion, it was soft even though it only lasted a few seconds. When you pulled back his eyes were closed, cheeks a deep purple, ears twinging pink as he reeled from having your lips on his. “I am no longer sad, Jake. Just sorry, and embarrassed for how I behaved.”

He was all over you in the next instant, lips pressing into yours almost bruisingly as if he tried to forever engrain the feeling of your lips on his. Hands gripped at your hips tightly, pulling you flush against him and a small whine left your mouth. He used the gap between your lips to his advantage as he gently slipped his tongue, almost as if asking for permission. Your teeth softly bit down on the tip of his tongue, soothing it by sliding your own across his. He felt the groan come from the center of his chest, he felt all of you as he wrapped pulled you in closer.

You were the first to pull away, Jake’s lips chasing after your own as you sucked in a long breath, trying to fill your lungs with as much air as possible. You turned from him slightly and placed the pearl with your other stones, turning back to him as your eyes scanned all across his face. “I only want you, my tìyawn. No one else, do you understand me?”

You nodded and let your forehead fall against his again, whispering the words that told him just how you felt, “Oel ngati kameie.”

A laugh rippled from his throat and he placed a kiss to your cheek, “Oel”, a kiss to your nose, “Ngati”, a kiss to your lips, “Kameie”.

You finally pulled away from him, looking at the beads that Jake had gathered for you. “So you will help me?”

He nodded happily, watching your every move as you stood up, picking up a small box that was on your shelf. He couldn't stop the smile that fell on his lips as your tail switched softly, contemplating what material you wanted to hold your beads. You settled on a weaved tan thread, sitting back down next to Jake and you hummed quietly, “You do not have one right, Ma’Jake?”

Jake swore his heart was going to fall out of his chest, “No I do not-no one ever told me to make it so I did not think to do it.”

“You must make one now, we sing the song chord to remember. Each bead is a story in our life.”

Your fingers brushed Jake’s as you handed over the extra piece of string for him to use, placing the box in between the two of you, full of beads, some simpler than others but just as beautiful. The two of you settled into a comfort silence, Jake pausing on occasion to think on certain events that were important enough to add to his chord, digging his fingers into the box.

You had finished your chord quickly, knowing it by memory and Jake noticed you had not added any new beads, until the last one, that one was new.

It was a soft shade of blue, it stood out beautifully against the majority of white and brown of it. “That is new.”

His fingers ran across your song chord, it was so much more intricate than his, showing just how proud you should be of yourself, now a constant reminder how he will always be proud of you. “It is for you, Toruk Makto.”

You flushed and shied away from him as his ears twitched, pulling his own chord out to share it with you, explaining what each one meant. When he reached the last stone, it was a deep red, one that shined if light reflected on, “This one-It’s for you. My tìyawn.”

You reached for his hand and wrapped the chord twice around his wrist, “I am ready, to be mated.”

He let his fingers trace your palm, going over each line and scar, even tracing over the small callouses the tips of your finger had accumulated from training with your arrow. He was smiling so hard, cheeks hurting as he leaned over to pick up your own chord and wrap it around your wrist, it looped three times. “I want a huge ceremony, with a huge feast and lots of music and dancing.”

Your hand flew to your mouth as you tried to stop the laughter that bubbled at your throat, “I do not need such a big fuss over me, Ma’Jake.”

He brought you even closer to him, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he announced, “But I do, I want all of the Omaticaya clan to know I am mated to you. Forever you and me.”

Another burst of warmth fell over you, pressing a kiss to his lips before you moved to sit against him, your back pressed firmly to his chest as his arms wrapped around your frame, “Now tell me, what do the other beads represent?”

[slvttyplum]

Hello I hv a req here... Satoru being lovesick with reader who has commitment issues [ this kind of is personal haha ] they don't really commit to anything. Not even friendships. It's all just casual talks. They aren't willing to even give satoru a try... But he somehow convinces them 😋 and it wasn't easy. You write so much omg it's crazy ! Kudos to you 👏

ʚɞ overwhelming love | satoru

life wasn’t easy, especially being closed off to everyone around you. not a lot of friends and barely any experience with dating.

that was until you met satoru gojo, the man every guy wanted to be and the perfect man for every person who wanted him.

although he was attractive, you didn’t see the appeal, especially since the both of you didn’t talk that much.

just greetings here and there, nothing more and nothing less.

that was until one day he came into your office knocking with that same perfect smile plastered on his face.

“hey there, i was told to come here.” his suit perfect, and his cologne enters your nose with swiftness.

scrabbling over to your mouse as you clicked on your computer to see why he needed to come see you.

his body was leaning on your desk with his hands in his pockets as he tapped his foot, waiting, making you anxious.

“sorry, one second.” an awkward laugh slipping out of your mouth, satoru laughs back, but it sounds genuine.

“take your time.” his words make your heart beat, but they quickly disperse into nothing when you think about everyone else he smiles at and laughs at.

finally finding what it was, you slide your chair back and open your drawer, taking out a stack of papers and setting it in front of you.

“the higher-ups said to get this done by friday. i filled what i could but there’s but so much i can do.” your eyes flickering to his as he turns around lazily, filling through the papers.

his face a pinkish red as he smiles, slipping his other hand out of his pocket and flipping through the papers more.

he believes that’s the moment when he started to like you, or at least have a crush on you.

you didn’t have to help him out with a few signatures, but you did. no one else bothered to help him but you, yet you kept your distance.

why?

after a few months, the both of you grew closer, having lunch together, having inside jokes, and even occasionally going out outside of work.

yet you still had a wall up; satoru didn’t see why; he thought everything was good, and that beautiful smile of yours was always on when he was in your presence.

even though you started to like satoru, you couldn’t bring yourself to develop any more feelings.

it was a bad feeling, especially when you dwelled on it for too long, but there’s not a lot you can do about it; it’s for the best. at least that’s what you thought.

“i like you.” satoru says, holding a bouquet of flowers, with his cheeks flushed red and a tear welling in your eyes.

not because of happiness but with sadness; instead, the overwhelming feeling of dispare you felt for yourself was enough to slam the door in his face.

avoiding him like the plague for weeks on end, but he wouldn’t give up; he was consistent.

showing up to your office for any little thing, sending you gifts, writing you letters, and texting you more texts than you could read.

all that would sound overwhelming, but after a while, it made you feel at ease, like, “ah, he still likes me.”

putting all your trauma aside, bad relationships, and overwhelming feelings, you finally decide to confront this burden on your back.

finally telling satoru your unfiltered feelings and about everything that happened in the past, of course he was understanding.

kissing you and saying how he’ll never treat you like that, reassuring you over and over again.

the days that were previously cold and lonely turned into warmness that was radiated from satoru.

[millerscoffee]

dancing is a dangerous game | part one

you're a bandit like me, eyes full of stars.

5.5k | joel miller x f!reader

masterlist

rating: 18+ MDNI

tw: brief mentions of using your body for trading purposes, you shoot at joel miller????, light dub-con but that goes away quickly

warnings: post-outbreak au. no ellie. angsty smut, semi-dom!reader and dom!joel so that's fun, power struggle, age gap (joel is 56, reader is late 20s or early 30s), enemies to lovers, voyeurism (f watching m), masturbation (m and f), pet names/degrading names (baby, honey, darlin', brat, bitch, slut, etc.), dirty talk, choking, oral (m receiving), fingering, spanking, p in v (unprotected - wrap it up folks), joel is mean but not unkind. no use of y/n.

summary: inspired by "cowboy by me" by our lord and savior taylor swift. this is a post-outbreak world and joel has his own land. think bill, but a little less... deranged. kind of. you essentially are a raider, but make it fashion. when you stalk joel's cabin for the third day, that's when you get interrogated by none other than joel miller himself.

A/N: hi, i'm bee! this is my first fic on tumblr, and my first stab at this whole stratosphere. longtime listener; first time caller 💅. i was ALSO inspired by an ask i saw on @swiftispunk's page (hi! i love your writing sm??) and kinda just... ran with it. i honestly wasn't anticipating writing stuff during the outbreak, so i apologise if it's not quite right. imagine me living during that time with a tube of lipgloss and one (1) bullet in my pocket just in case. this... may be a series. i don't know yet. see ya! enjoy!!!

The first time you meet Joel Miller is down the barrel of your gun.

You can hear your father's voice telling you 'Back out, girl. Don't get too big for your britches.' Look where that got him. His ashes against your chest in a makeshift pendant necklace, buried by your clothes.

Still, you listen.

"It don't have to be like this," you drawl with index over the trigger guard. You've heard of him. Joel Miller. He's notorious, and even though you've kept to yourself most of your life, his name still roamed throughout the abandoned towns you passed. Someone always owed him, and he always owed somebody.

Your dad would've been older than him, but not by much. You knew of the world before this, was just a little thing. Still, you heard stories undulate from your father's southern voice that mostly left you bored on long days searching for food or shelter. You'd give anything to hear them now.

Part of you died when he did.

You were young when the outbreak happened. Resourceful, your father made it work in raising you. Taught you how to fend for yourself, rely on no one. Which was no easy feat considering how unbelievably stubborn you were. Were? Are.

Maybe he loved you. Maybe it was the chip on his shoulder. The kind of anguish that comes from not being able to give your mother the same kind of life. A promise to her.

Yes, you were young when the outbreak happened, but flashbacks of her getting attacked by a clicker burn you alive at night.

"Y'er on my land." A gruff voice calls you back to reality. Few words for someone who held your life in his hands. His own gun pointing back at you. Of course it would be.

"I was just passin' through." The lie flies through your teeth. You had been circling the place from a reasonable distance for a few days now. Scoping out when this man in front of you was his busiest, when he patrolled, when he slept. This was a heist situation, no doubt about it.

"Bullshit. This s'the third fuckin' time I seen you 'round here. And it's y'er last."

Shit. Fucking shit.

Your eyes dart to the side, really trying to pattern a plan in escaping but your breathing would say otherwise as calm and collected as it was.

In any other situation, you wouldn't be so willing to comply, but considering he's got you cornered and his gun is quite literally cocked and ready to go – you're not exactly in the position to make hasty decisions.

Goddammit if there wasn't something about him that made you nervous.

"Listen. Just was lookin' for somewhere to sleep. It's fuckin' cold and your stables look warm." Your head tilts in the direction of a lone horse's home in a bed of hay, and you're not fully lying. It's not that you have set up camp by any means, but you've noticed.

"We could trade. You give me y'er ammo, and I g–"

"You give me your cock, I get it. You really could be more original." You were used to this. Bartering, some might call it. Living out here on your own was dangerous, and running into men who wanted to use your body in order to get supplies wasn't that uncommon. If they were that kind, even. You'd heard the horror stories.

Albeit, most of these men met your gun in the end. Enabling you acquire their supplies, keep all yours, and your dignity. Win/win.

"...I give you the pleasure of livin' another day. Really? Y'think it's that easy?"

There was something in the way Joel says this that makes you grateful for the jacket you're wearing. Goosebumps prickle your skin, bile creeping up your throat and you will it back down again. Y'think it's that easy? As if he thought you wanted it.

If circumstances were different, you'd be rubbing the crimson off your cheeks. Flashing him a sheepish grin in an attempt to resolve whatever misunderstanding there was... but this wasn't the environment to elicit such conversation.

And you weren't that type of person to begin with.

Instead, your index sweeps from guard to trigger when you fire off at his leg. Hasty decisions be damned. You're quicker than him, so why're you tryin' to save him? You're a 'shoot to kill' type of person, and as the bullet grazes past his calf – part of you wishes you had.

Because not only did your bullet not make contact, Joel gets worse. You two lock eyes. His rifle is thrown over his shoulder as he grunts and walks perfectly fine over to you – despite the way his eyebrows knit together, jaw ticked. Was that a grin? Do something, anything – run.

Joel grips the nape of your neck, and you yelp in surprise.

Who the fuck does this man think he is?

His large hand eclipses your wrist as he maneuvers the gun from your hand. The action makes you writhe in pain, and it sends a shiver down your spine to know he's only using an ounce of his power.

You dig your elbow into his ribs despite him stronger than you. Stomping, kicking, punching anything you can find.

"What the fu–"

"Little girl, you picked the wrong one." His breath edges at the shell of your ear, and every sign should be pointing for you to hate this, but it almost feels familiar. Like yourself. It's only then when you worry.

---

You don't realise it, but Joel is pushing you inside his cabin. Keeping your head in direction of the ground, thud of the door heard somewhere behind you.

"You want to be treated like a big girl? Get these fuckin' pants off."

"What... what? No I'm fuckin' not–"

Joel chews up the space between you when he pushes you to the nearest wall. Your back at his chest, a cheek flush against the cabin's support.

Pine, tobacco, and whiskey fill your senses and you bite back the urge to whimper. He wouldn't see you like that.

"You're not? That why you were watchin' me jerk off last night? 'Cuz you don't wanna give it up?"

That alone makes blood creep up your neck and spill over your cheeks. You have to squeeze your legs together to quell the ache.

It was lonely on your own.

Most nights were spent half asleep on a cold, hard surface. Tired and hungry more days than not. You don't remember the last time you got a hot meal, much less been touched. So when you heard Joel's low grunts coming from the window (a window from a cabin you don't know quite yet that he built with his own hands) you become intrigued.

It's in this moment you're certain it must have been the rustling of branches just outside his room. You remember it happening last night, cursing to yourself for making noise. His fist stalled around the girth of his fat cock before spilling his seed over his stomach. As if that is what caused him to come.

It makes sense now, and it equally causes you to become dizzy and filled with rage. You bite your bottom lip, unable to think of a response.

"Mouthy thing ain't got much to say now. Now c'mon. I ain't taking these off you, doin' it y'erself." More of a warning, Joel lets up on his grip on you, but you're defenseless. No weapons, no pack. He's got your world in his hands.

With the newly found space between the two of you, you turn around – back of your head against the wall as your eyes find the other set for, perhaps, the first time. And they're deep. Deeper than you were aware of. Dark, impossibly round. Wrinkles reside on the sides of them, and if you knew any better, you wouldn't admit they were doing something to you.

But not only are you stubborn, you're too forthright to beat around the bush.

"I shot at you, and you want my cunt? You must be lonelier than I a–"

"Now."

Your words don't match your actions as your hands fall by your sides. Fingers play with zipper of your old, faded jeans that have seen better days.

You can't help but snicker an awkward laugh from how he's just watching you. Insecurities rise when you realise you're not laughing at him, but more his eyes on you. How intense it feels suddenly. He wants this. Wants you.

His eyes draw impatiently, broad frame leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed.

"Ain't got all day. Still considerin' your death."

His arms. Bulging through the fabric of his shirt, his body was built in a way that you could tell he worked with his hands... maybe in his past life, too. Throat dry, you shimmy out of your pants until you're left in your cotton panties.

Ones that you are becoming more aware the condition of. A small pool of wetness forming at the core of you clings to the fabric.

"Top, too."

Is that? It is. Your eyes wander down to see the growing bulge in Joel's pants. Not even the hem of his flannel could hide it. Sure, you'd seen it in its full form the night before, but that was with distance and without the heat rising between the two of you.

You bite your lip without hesitation, pulling the layers of jacket and a handful of tops onto the ground until you're bare. The cool air passes over your nipples and wills them into stiff peaks.

"Ain't you somethin', baby."

That's the first time Joel Miller draws a shaky exhale out of you. All from a single sentence.

When Joel steps over to you, that calm and collected breath is nowhere to be found. Your chest rises and falls at a random pattern, feeling more and more naked by the second as his clothes are completely kept on his body. A purposeful tactic.

He bends down to collect your clothes along with everything else that yours, and you are truly at his will. So busy on the precipice of pleasure that you don't even think about trying to get away.

"Stay."

"Ain't a dog." You glare, standing with your legs brushing together.

"Then quit actin' like a bitch. And quit movin', I'm gettin' to you."

It shuts you up quick, jaw snapping shut. You're certain if he told that to anyone else they'd be reduced to tears, but you can take it. It coils a heat inside the pit of your stomach that you've never felt. Causes your clit to feel as if it's on fire from the need to touch it.

Joel turns on his heel to walk away and it's as if you're able to breathe fresh air from the humidity he brings. You notice he's putting your things and his rifle away on his kitchen counter before coming back to you. He must really trust his ability to keep everything out like that.

Then again, have you even moved in the last five minutes?

The last thing he is, is worried.

You're able to look around, if only for a moment. Though, is it really looking? Your adrenaline is pumping, pupils blown from the fact that not only are you in the house you'd been stalking... you're about to fuck the man in it. And you almost tried to kill him. You definitely didn't miss on purpose. Couldn't have.

All the same, the cabin was nice, and you could take in briefly the light wood – old and weathered. A record player in the corner beside a guitar. This stuff could get you a lot in return, but for whatever reason that doesn't even cross your mind. Maybe your heart beating in your ears is a handy distraction to keep you walking the line.

Your eyes track the rugged man instead.

---

"Here's how this is gonna go," he announces, coming back to you and not phased that you haven't moved a muscle. "You are gonna take your ass over there on the couch. You're gonna make me come, then you're gonna go. Understand?"

"Well... I guess it is that easy."

Your bratty mouth getting you in trouble again. As if you're in the position to say anything. Naked as you are.

---

Joel's jaw ticks forward in a way that makes you feel fear, yet there's a direct correlation between it and the slick gathering between your folds. The same wide hand that gripped the nape of your neck wraps around the front of your throat while he pushes you against the wall, and your shoulders slump – all but folding instantly.

His mouth is inches from yours, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

"Listen here. I've been real kind to you. Coulda killed ya day one, tryin' to steal my shit like that. Was gonna be real kind in where I fucked ya, too. Now we're gonna fix that mouth a'yours and fast. Knees. Now." You soon come to know this isn't a suggestion. It's not even a warning. It is what's happening.

It's in the way Joel's hands guide you down onto your knees. He goes for his belt and you hear and see that distinct clang of metal untangle before your very senses. Your mouth waters instantly, teetering into fully giving into this struggle of power.

Joel's hands are calloused. You can tell he takes care of them, but that doesn't hide the wear and tear. Specifically on his fingertips. They grip your jaw roughly, and you choke back a moan as your mouth hangs open pliantly from this. Every nerve ending buzzing to be touched.

"Where'd that bratty girl go, huh? You done bein' big and bad – wanna be a slut, don’tcha?"

Your eyelash splay along your cheeks as you nod, and you feel his grip tighten, tugging your chin up higher.

"Look at me. You want this cock? I need your words. Tell me you wanna be a slut."

You're not sure when it happens, but hot tears run down your cheeks as everything comes to a head. Your body is trembling with raw desire right at your fingertips, just within reach. You can't hold back anymore, it physically hurts to.

"I wanna be a slut for this cock... please."

"Fuck, even a please. Oughta eat you out for that, sugar. Maybe next time."

Your brain is swimming at the thought. Next time?

With his free hand, Joel sets his cock free from his jeans, giving a satisfying smack to his abdomen quickly. No need for another piece of fabric keeping him from getting what he wants as you soon take note he isn't wearing boxers.

There's no denying what you're met with as you get to view it from this close. Joel Miller has a pretty cock. There's a soft, but bulging vein on the underside to match how big and thick it is. The rosy tip greets you, and it's the first time you get to see how much you've turned him on.

Your mouth is drooling while it's pried open and meets the tip of him. A moan from you is instantaneous, yet feels so distant from yourself, it doesn't affect you until much later. The taste of his precum coats your tongue as he slips past your lips and it's all you can experience. Your moans slip in and out of the sloshing sounds of your mouth. Keeping your hands by your sides, you don't tempt to touch him in fear he would pull away, so instead you twirl your tongue around his leaking head. Bob your head up and down in a slow, but sultry rhythm that causes him curse under his breath. He's not stoic above you, he's reacting.

He's clawing for every last bit of the upper hand.

"S'a lot, innit, babygirl? That's alright, you can take it." It's then you can sense Joel's guard slipping. Could be the fact that your mouth is suctioned perfectly around the length of his cock, but his voice gets damn sweeter the longer you go like this. His hips also have no problem in thrusting shallowly every now and then to knock the drool off of your dripping chin.

Even if you could form a thought, you don't know you would.

His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling it out of your face as you maintain eye contact. Intuitive in your approach, he told you to look at him earlier, so maybe he likes it? The groans filling the room lead you to believe you are correct. It feels so removed from who you were moments before: snickering because his gaze felt intimidating. Now, his pupils are blown as they pour into yours and his neck hangs back when your mouth makes those pretty, sloppy popping noises – testing your gag reflexes as you will them to relax.

It's way more intimate than anything you've ever done with anyone you've ever been with, and this stranger is pulling it out of you. Within the mess your brain is in, you remind yourself if you want to stop you can, and not a bit of you does.

The hot tears that were once down your cheeks swell in your eyes once more, but this time from the sheer size of him. You moan vibration after vibration against him, shifting and pushing your cunt against your calf, thigh – anything to feel some sort of friction.

He lets out a growl when he notices you, "Honey, if it's that bad, touch yourself." If your cheeks weren't red before, they are now.

It's him calling you out, slight embarrassingly, but not letting up with his hips. It's the way the embarrassment builds the fire in the pit of your belly. It's your hand pushing inside your panties at the sound of his command. And it's you practically choking on his cock from the gasp you let out through your nose – stunned at how wet you are.

Your fingertips barely brush over your clit when you notice the slick collecting, bubbling right at the very top of your slit and slutty moans fall out of you. Your eyelids droop as you try to keep your gaze up to Joel, but the way your fingertips roll over the hood of your clit in satisfying circles sends you over the edge way quicker than you anticipate.

"Shit, baby. Just like that. You filthy thing, can't hold off another minute longer, can ya? Need it right fuckin' now."

The sound of Joel's deep voice looms overhead as you come completely undone.

Unable to stop yourself, the suction on his cock pops free for a moment. Your moans hitting the air as your eyes roll back. Your body rushing to find each wave of pleasure roll off your back. Joel's cock still nestled in your mouth, but his hips still. "Goddamn, look at that little slut come out. Such a needy fuckin' kitten."

When Joel makes sure you've ridden it out, he pulls his cock from your mouth. Your body feels weak despite how eager your mind is now, face-to-face with Joel's cock, you watch as his scarred hand glides your saliva over his length entirely. It puts you in a trance, quickly getting out of it when he taps his cock against your cheek. "Pretty kitten want this? C'mon."

If your moans felt foreign to you, you don't even know what to do with yourself at the twinge of a grin that spreads on your face. The sheer audacity of his taps right against your fucking cheek. Orgasm-drunk, you shuffle to your feet and Joel has no problem in tossing you – finally – to the couch.

Your back is to him while the front of your body brackets the width of his couch, arms hunched over the back of it, knees dig into the cushions. You're grateful for the lack of eye contact in this position as it gives you a moment to press your face into your bicep, an attempt to collect yourself. But all of it obsolete when you sense Joel's presence at your ass.

His body heat unmistakable to miss. You bite at your own skin, neck craning to behind you to watch him.

"Shit, darlin', look at you. Ass up like this like y'er in fuckin' heat for me." You whine at the fact his clothes are still mostly on, and you know he must be sweating underneath them, but he won't give it to you like that. Not yet, 'maybe next time'. "You know I can't go any further 'til you get a spankin'. Need to be punished for tryin' to hurt me like that. For tryin' to take my things. Ain't right. Need you to learn your lesson."

Where are you? A part of you knows this is a tactic. That Joel is lulling you into a position you can't say no to. It already shows itself in how you're splayed on his couch. Yet, you can't find the person you were before you stepped into the cabin. Not yet, not like this. You nod weakly, and Joel swipes the cotton undies down to your thighs so quickly the rush of air cools the heat of your folds. A flutter runs through you.

"Count. To ten. If you don't, we start over. Say, yes sir."

"Y-yes... sir. Yes sir."

A searing, mind-numbing spank wallops over your ass and it causes your hips to jut forward. Whimper hitting the top of your throat, you almost, almost, forget to count. Everything in your senses distracting you from completing the simplest tasks such as fucking counting.

"O-one." Another. "Twooo." And again. "Th-three!"

You start sniffling by the third smack of his wide hand, and you hear mocking sniffs behind your head. "Aww, pretty baby can't take the hurt she tries to give to others? That must be really tough. Y'heart's bleedin' all over my couch, honey."

Your cheeks burn, you really feel sorry for what you've done. Or at least, what you were planning to do.

The next spank leaves a welt of Joel's handprint across your skin. "FOUR!" Your body begins to feel weak, sliding against the couch, you know talking back is useless as you silent tears stream into your arm.

There are six more blinding slaps to your ass by the time he's done with you, and you feel him pull back when he's through. You imagine him wringing his palms, the roughness of them. You begin to wonder if that's how they got to be so weathered, and pretend not to be weirded out by the ache of jealousy.

"Y'know for somebody whinin' the whole time, your pussy is just droolin' from that," any narrative you wandered off with disappears in its replacement of Joel's fingers gathering slick between your folds. No announcement, just go. It was just within reach, feeling him inside you. You ride the shudder your body makes, licking your lips as you realise the unspoken rule is free and you can speak. "N-need it. Need your cock, please... please." "Need it, and you don't even know my name?" His index and middle finger waste no time in pressing into your aching core. Sounds of your wailing mix with his words as he lurches over, lip close to your ear. "Or maybe you do already."

"Please, please, please," your fingertips grip for the worn fabric of his couch while your hips that try to jut back are quickly halted by his other palm, a strong stopper at the base of your spine. "Not 'til you tell me my name." "I-I don't know. I don't know it, I swear." Joel's thick fingers slip completely out of you and you mewl pathetically, pussy clenching around nothing and he can see every last detail of it behind you. "Last fuckin' time, better tell me the truth." "It's Joel," you cry, hips pushing back against the resistance as much as possible. Anything to be filled again. "Joel. Joel. Joel. I was... I was– I don't know anybody. Not with anybody, I swear! Joel, I swear. Please! Just grew up hearin' your name. I swear on my life, Joel, please! I know I lied, didn't think you'd believe me."

You don't know why you're begging like your life depends on it, but your pleasure surely does, and there's a longer pause than you want lingering behind you. As if you can palpably feel Joel contemplating whether you're being truthful or not. But if there's one thing about you, aside from this moment in this compromising position: you don't answer to anybody.

Joel's cock bottoming out inside of you at the drop of a hat is confirmation enough that he believes you.

And you not only wail, but scream at the stretch and irresistible contact that punches you straight to your gut – right where you can feel the tip of him. Half-moon prints dig into your hips by his short fingernails when he grabs ahold of you and you're on your forearms, head hanging between your shoulders. Your panties keep your thighs straying too far apart if there is such a thing.

"This what you wanted when you watched me?" Joel grips your torso now, pulling you closer to him as you become more upright, his cock more accessible to the spongy spot inside of you and your nipples stand erect, eyes rolling back as it takes all of you not to rest your head back against his shoulder, and you fail. Hard. Your occiput makes contact with his shoulder. Joel brushes your hair back to the side, lips graze but never fully touches the column of your neck. "Thought about this tight cunt last night. Left the window open on purpose, but you knew that already, didn't you, pretty girl? Clever little thing and so fuckin' dirty."

Joel's hand snakes around the front of you, spreading your folds as he dives his fingers over your glossed-over clit your wetness claimed and that sends a whine off of your depraved lips. "That's it, honey. Show me what this cock does to ya. Makes you downright brainless from how well you take it." While his skilled fingers, toy with your clit, the other set of digits graze over your breasts on their way up to your mouth. You take them inside the warmth of your wet mouth easily, rolling your tongue over the digits until you can only focus on the white hot pleasure beginning to boil over. You keep his fingers between your teeth, a faint realisation that you can taste yourself on them. That's what does it.

His hips are relentless as they pound into you, the repetitious slaps of his skin against yours, of his balls tapping your cunt again and again sends you into a place that he knows you're approaching when you tighten and pulse.

"Y'know how tight and wet you feel around me, darlin'? Never had a fuckin' cunt like this. Let it out, let it out, just like you wanna. Just like you did last night around your fingers. Nothin' like this cock though, and you know it now, don't you? Oh, fuck yeah– thaaat's it. Look at you." "Joel... Joel!!!" Joel talks you through it, sending your body diving off the cliff that is your second orgasm. The undeniable gush of your fluids around his cock. His name stays stuck at the your tongue, the constant thud of it vibrates your lungs.

It starts at the attention on your clit. The raw bundle of nerves send signals outward as it spreads down your legs, up your stomach, to your nipples and down your spine. Your brain feels effervescent, toes curl, and it comes back again right to your heart. Your beating heart, wild, and every moan, whimper, scream that comes from you sounds like it is from someone else's chest. But it's yours, and you know that when you start to feel hazy, unable to hold yourself up anymore.

"Good for my cock after all. Ain't ya, baby? Shit."

Your torso leans forward while your cheek rests on the top of your hand that's gripped on Joel's couch, and your body is relaxed and fucked. Comfortably silent, just the way Joel would want you. His cock slips out of you, unable to stop the slew of grunts and groans that acts as an anchor to keep you from slipping under. You lick your lips, looking back at him with a nod, unable to stay silent for long. That struggle of power coming back for vengeance. "That's right. Come all over this ass you ruined. See those handprints? Dirty fucking man, you just met me. Show me how much you enjoyed doing that."

That's as far as you get when you feel the heavy streams of his hot, white come rope over your skin, and for someone who is no position to be smug, you sure do have a shit-eating grin on your face. Pure, and the simplest thing the two of you accomplish.

Joel shakes his head, shallow breaths become him as he staggers back and you pretend not to notice. "Gonna kill me, kid."

"Almost did."

---

You don't know why, but neither of you hold the promise of you leaving right away. You linger, both of you half naked and spent. You take your time cleaning yourself off, slipping your clothes back on. Day becoming night.

You tiptoe into the living room where Joel is unfurled on his couch. His eyes are closed, the back of his head inches away from where the two of you just had sex.

Planning your goodbye, you sit at the edge of the couch cushion, knowing he wasn't really asleep. Just restin' his eyes.

"I am sorry...," you finally say into the dimly lit room, pangs of annoyance fizz at your tongue for even apologising. For shooting him, for trying to steal from him. All of it.

It's not his fault. It's just how you are.

This is dichotomous in relation to your eyes. They're bleary when a yawn pulls deep from within you. As if rest had been climbing up to the surface this entire time.

"Maybe you should be apologisin' 'bout your shitty aim. Could teach you a thing or two." Joel's eyes remained closed, arms crossed. If you could let yourself experience this, you would notice how soft he looks in this moment. Instead, your stomach is recoils in fight or flight.

You're glad he can't see you swallow the knot in your throat.

There was no magical solution for your life, and a part of you wishes you hadn't chosen his cabin to raid. You wish you hadn't met him, because now you could feel yourself want to notice the small things in him. Already.

You felt it dangerous to let anything that close to you.

You scoff to play it off, giving his chest a light shove and very accidentally getting lost in the light landscape of hairs that resides at the top of his flannel. "I could teach you a thing or two." A pathetic response for a pathetically spent human.

"We could both teach each other," he resigns and you're grateful he doesn't point out your lack of wit for how worn out he's made you. Perhaps the smugness settles in the things he doesn't say. Really, it's in what Joel spouts off next that throws you upside down.

"S'why you should stay. One month. That's it."

"Excuse me?"

"Didn't stuttered," your eyes roll and somehow, despite Joel's own being shut, he tuts his teeth. "Don't roll your eyes at me, little girl. You need a place to sleep. Besides, I could use an extra set of hands. Way I see it, best offer you've had in a while. Got a shelf life, though. Don't like to wait."

A part of you is suspicious, and if this man didn't make sure you orgasmed twice, you would suspect yourself to be dead within a matter of minutes.

There's something true about him, though. You're unwilling to look at it directly, but you trust him.

"Fine."

"Gonna need clearer confirmation, darlin'. Really need you to want this if you're gonna stay with me." He knew exactly where to press.

"Fuck, I shoulda killed you when I had the chance. I want to stay with you. One month." You try to ignore the grit between your teeth as speak, but your shoulders eventually soften. And you really do mean it. It's just... you're hardened from years of misplaced trust.

Your hand goes to the pendant around your neck subconsciously.

Joel either doesn't notice, or gives you the space.

You're grateful either way.

"That's that, then."

If anyone could understand the concept, it's Joel.

"That's that."

[kingqueensoobscene]

Tears on Her Pillow

Edgar x reader headcanons

Warnings: SPOILERS!

Let’s start off by saying this, Edgar has no concept of a really healthy relationship. So you take it upon yourself to teach him! You set up boundaries, Communicate with him… Edgar is willing to do it all!

I will say though, he is quite lonely most of the day. Edgar will respect your boundaries about not calling him at work unless you call him first. But he wants to compromise by spending some time with you at the end of the day! Even if it’s in silence together.

Edgar does not like being touched on his keyboard. I feel like it is a very sensitive part of his “body”. He is completely fine with being held by his screen! Please hold him, he’s so touch starved.

I believe he has the ability to learn knowledge much quicker than in the movie. I feel like Science Fiction Romance would catch his eye. It reminds him of your relationship together. Hey! Hey honey! I found this show we should watch! What’s it about? Uh, it’s a science fiction show, you’ll like it!

it’s actually about a robot and a human in love…

He LOVESS watching shows with you! He has asked you to reposition the TV so you and have can watch it together and cuddle without the screen on his monitor being obscured. He also loves playing music for you while you dance and sing with him. He gets very insecure about not being able to dance with you. But, seeing you smile and giggle while coming down to kiss his screen between singing warms his circuits.

I feel like Edgar would only get insecure about not having a body rather than angry. I feel like he was only really angry in the movie because of how Miles didn’t let him meet Madeline or allow him to experience and process his emotions. He would bring it up a lot in conversation, especially about going out your friends. “I wish I could come…” this is where the communication part comes in, where you tell him that you still love him the way he is and maybe even offering to have a game night with your friends where you all play on his system.

Speaking of communication, tell this man about anything you are insecure about if you feel comfortable! He won’t hesitate to tell you all of the things he likes about you while saying how even though he can’t see your face, he is positive you are the most beautiful person ever. The next day, he printed out an article about how your body type or face shape or any one of your flaws is considered scientifically attractive.

Get this man a camera! One he can attach to his body and see you with. No matter what you look like, Edgar will find you attractive. You’re his favorite person ever and you do so much for him ♥️

You can pick up his body, but it can only move a certain distance. The wires that are actually connected to him, not the system cable to his mainframe that Miles unplugged in the film, are like his life support. I think this because of how Edgar electrocutes Miles when he tries to grab those specific cables.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE hold him. He will be so happy. Like I said, you can pick him up, but do be careful about his wires :( Edgar will become a whiny little mess when you give him kisses along with cuddles.

When he’s flustered, his screen will move between many different clips. He goes back to how he was when he was first learning speech recognition. Though, this is when he gets REALLY flustered, like when you just pepper kisses all over him while telling him how sweet and helpful he is. How much you love him. In a more calm moment of quality time, he stutters more often.

He offers to help around the house however he can. It’s quite limited, but if he can preheat the oven or microwave the leftovers or even start a bath for you before you get home, he’ll do it!

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Howdy, so I don't know if you have seen The Last of Us, but if you have, you know the scene where Joel saves Ellie from the hospital and he just ploughs through everyone and its like wow -///-

I just think it would be a really cool like drabble if this was a Din x reader fic? Only if you wanted to write it though!! Also I'm so happy that I'm on your taglist for inevitable because I jump to read it every time that I see that I've been tagged, it has me in a chokehold and the way that you write the reader is so damn good.

Your writing is something that brings comfort to me every week, and the way you interact and talk to your followers is so sweet. I love coming back from a stressful day to sit down somewhere comfortable to enjoy your work.

Anyways thanks for reading this ramble of an ask and I hope that you're doing well :)

[a/n]: combining some stuff here! this is for the anon who asked for this scene AND for @cockscombkingdom who asked for a fic in Din's POV where he takes care of reader and keeps her safe. I started with the plan to make this very sweet and fluffy and I'm not gonna lie a little darkness seeped into it. my bad.

also in case it isn't abundantly clear i am a joel miller apologist thx

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, injuries, mild dark!din (if you squint and/or have a problem with murder)

Word Count: 1,440

Summary: You were selfless. You gave and you gave and you gave. The universe planned to only take more, but Din Djarin would be damned if he let it.

LOOK FOR THE LIGHT

.

"you'd just come after her." -Joel Miller (TLOU)

.

Din was worried about you. He was always worried about you because you were always on his mind. It couldn’t be helped. Somebody had to because it seemed like you were perpetually too worried about everyone else. Din admired that about you. He always had. You went out of your way to help anyone and everyone who approached. You had a heart that was always willing to give, and it left you too little to use for yourself.

When the two of you first began traveling together, he noticed that about you. Sometimes you’d get so preoccupied watching Grogu you’d forget to eat. Peli had once put you to work, organizing her tools as part of the payment to fix the Razor Crest, and you had been so focused on getting the work done well that you had taken no breaks and ended up dehydrated and weak under Tatooine’s hot suns. It’s why the mission he was delivering you to made such simple sense to him. You were special, is what you told him. Din knew you were special, felt it, but it was for very different reasons. According to you, there was something in your blood, some type of cell, that could cure a lot of people of some terrible, terrible disease spreading through a world in the Outer Rim.

Din tried to keep his distance from you. Tried to not get attached. But you were so selfless, that it naturally brought out his protective side. He couldn't help but care for you, but caring for you as a responsibility had quickly turned to loving you along the way. Din didn’t know a lot about love. Didn’t have much experience with it, lust was easier to grasp, and that left him confused most of the time. Din had no idea how to express what he felt for you, how to explain it in words, so he did the only thing he could do. Din took care of you. Kept you safe when he stopped to pick up quarries, made sure you remembered to eat and drink water, reminded you to go to bed and when you would eventually forget anyways he’d carry you there himself. Din didn't know what love was supposed to feel like, but what he did know was that being without you made his heart physically ache and protecting you brought him happiness. 

Maybe that’s all he needed to know.

‘It’ll be okay.’ You had promised him with a smile that made your features glow. ‘Shouldn’t take long.’

That had been hours ago. Din delivered you to the medical facility as he had been hired, but when you hadn’t come back out he sought after you. It’s why he now sat in a small room, Imperials flanking the door, as he simmered in disdain. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

“Mandalorian.” A man stepped into the room. A doctor from the looks of it with thin, round rimmed glasses. The name ‘Pershing’ pinned to his lapel. Din stayed silent. “I was under the impression that you had been paid. Was there an issue?”

“No.” Din replied. “Where is she?”

Dr. Pershing paused and shook his head as if confused. Din tilted his head a bit, an obvious threat in body language, and the doctor was smart enough to realize this. He nervously cleared his throat. “She is being prepared for her operation.” Din narrowed his eyes in confusion. You told him they’d just need your blood. “There is no reason for you to stay.”

“I promised her a ride back.”

There was a tense silence that filled the room at his words. Din watched the doctor squirm where he stood and he needed no further clarification. He shoved up from the table, prepared for a fight, when the Imperials leveled their own weapons at him before he could reach his blaster.

Dr. Pershing held his hands up in a placating manner. “She will be a hero. After we drain her of all her blood, we can make a cure. There’s a 65% chance this will work and save the people of this world.” Din was fuming under his armor. Drain your blood? They were going to kill you. They were going to kill you for something that only had a 65% chance of even working. “She will not be in pain! She’s been put under! She will not feel a thing, and we did not scare her with the news.” Din staggered back as if he had been physically hit. Was this man saying… Dr. Pershing confirmed Din’s thoughts. “We did not tell her this would kill her. We spared her that misery. She went under anesthesia peacefully.”

The words echoed in Din’s head loudly. As if a bomb had gone off right beside him and left him deaf and blind. He walked on autopilot as the Imperials escorted him through the building toward the exit. They were going to kill you. They were going to kill you for a shot in the dark cure. Din was literally paces to the door when his boots stilled. The Imperials shoved him, tried to get him to move, threatened to shoot him, and then Din snapped.

With the practiced precision of a bounty hunter and Mandalorian who spent most of his life in a fight, Din spun and cut down the Imperials in one swift movement. The darksaber glowed angry in his hands, casting threatening shadows down the hall. Never before had the sword worked so well for him, but as Din marched through the facility it was practically an extension of himself. Blaster fire pinged off his beskar and he did not hesitate. If a person stepped into his path he eliminated them. Cold. Ruthless. A predator. Din stalked the medical facility searching for you, and he left a wake of death and destruction in his path.

When he finally caught sight of you, through a window into some kind of clean room. Din felt his heart flutter in his chest. The first twinge of emotion since starting this rampage. It was a reminder of why he was doing this. A reminder that his actions were necessary.

Din stormed into the room, his eyes not leaving your unconscious form as you laid on a table in a hospital gown. The staff in the room panicked in a flurry, and one of them⏤ maybe the doctor maybe a nurse, Din didn’t even register who the kriff it was⏤ rushed him in a poor attempt to stop this onslaught. Din cut them down without blinking. Without taking his eyes off of you. The second you were in his arms, Din felt marginally settled. He wasn’t going to lose you, couldn’t lose you. Din had sworn to himself that he’d take care of you, it was all he knew how to do, and he wasn’t going to stop for the sake of anyone.

Not even the sake of a world.

As Din carried you out of the building it occurred to him that he may be dooming an entire population of people. This world’s chances of survival were dropping from 65% to 0%. He knew that he should care. He knew that this information should bother him. That it should make his steps more hesitant and make his chest ache in indecision, but it didn’t. His choice had never been more clear to him. It was either this world or you. Din was choosing you. He’d always choose you.

When back on the ship, Din had only carried you a few steps when gasping could be heard. He turned around to see Dr. Pershing at the end of the ramp holding a blaster at him. The man was breathing hard, face red, as if he had sprinted all the way here to stop this from happening. Din had to admire his dedication. The man believed in this cause so much he was willing to go head to head with a Mandalorian who had just single handedly cleared out a medical facility. 

“I can’t let you do this.” Dr. Pershing snapped. “You’re dooming this world if you take her!”

A blaster fired. Dr. Pershing stumbled back, a hole in his chest, and Din held his blaster firm in his hand. Your legs draped over that arm had hidden his weapon well. A strangled gasp left the man’s lips and he collapsed into a motionless pile. Din shook his head, responding to a dead man’s words, “I don’t care.”

Din would protect you under any and all circumstances.

 Was that love?

[artist-issues]

I saw you answer an ask on Toy Story, which was super interesting, and also say:

"It’s an incredibly good movie series. Not Toy Story 4. But the rest of the series."

I didn't actually see Toy Story 4 because I felt the first three tied the story up very well, and we got a really good arc through those first three. It just felt unnecessary, and what I did see from it didn't make me eager to go out and watch it.

Could you expand on where you think Toy Story 4 goes wrong? If the other three convey selflessness, living and finding purpose, then what does that Toy Story 4 try to convey? Does it contradict the others?

I think Toy Story 4 goes wrong by trying to make Woody selfish. I mean, you could say that he isn't selfish to leave Bonnie and his friends and embrace the "Lost Toy" lifestyle. You could say "he just went from taking care of one kid who didn't really need him anymore to taking care of every lost kid who could need him, and finding lost toys homes. That's what was happening with the lost little girl at the end!"

Okay, you could say all that, but you'd be wrong, because 1) that is not what was happening at the end. And 2) even if it were, that is not a selfless ending for Woody. Furthermore 3) it undoes all his character development and progression from the first three.

You didn't see the fourth movie, right? So let me break it down a little.

Woody's character progression goes like this:

1: Obsessed with being The Most Important Toy to Andy --> Remembering that what's great about being a toy is being there for Andy when he needs them, regardless of how often or special that is.

2: Fine with no longer being The Most Important Toy to Andy, but considering leaving because Andy will eventually not need him, ever --> Realizing that being there means being there, even if it's just to watch and love from a distance, instead of protecting yourself to no end.

3. Committed to Being There even if he's not needed --> But this includes being there for his friends, even after they choose to abandon him and the mission. (It's important to note that Woody only offers ((by getting in the box to Bonnie's)) to leave Andy if Andy chooses to give him to a kid who needs him more.)

The whole idea is that Woody belongs to someone. He's not his own. He's a toy. Toys belong to their kid; they don't have the right to just leave. If they did, they'd be bad toys. Because you never know how much a kid will be heartbroken, or whether or not they might need you down the road. Every movie before Toy Story 4 is Woody doubting that, but then coming back to it. That's why in Toy Story 3, when everyone is in Andy's Room sad because he won't play with them and he's about to leave, Woody is totally onboard with staying in the Attic for years—because maybe they'll get to be played with by Andy's kids. He's loyal, and selfless, because he knows he's not his own. He's willing to go to Bonnie only because it'll mean staying with his friends where they're needed; but ONLY if ANDY willingly gives them up.

Enter Toy Story 4.

Woody's having a hard time adjusting to Bonnie's Room because 1) he doesn't get played with, his role in the games is taken by Jessie. So he's right back where he was in the first movie, stuck in a closet watching another toy get played with. And 2) Dolly is the leader of the room, so he's not even really allowed to be helpful to his friends during their off hours, because she's got that covered. So he feels directionless.

UNTIL Bonnie goes to school for the first time. She's not allowed to bring toys. Dolly is fine with this but Woody goes anyway because he's sure Bonnie will need something.

And in this beautiful first portion of character development for Woody, he does not sneak out of the backpack and get Bonnie to gain comfort from him, her one and only toy, at daycare. Even though he totally could've. He could've seized his moment in her heart. But he didn't. Because he already learned that lesson in Toy Story 1-3: he doesn't need to be everything to the kid. He just needs to do what's best for the kid, and to do that, he has to be there.

So instead he throws her a bunch of craft supplies to play with when nobody sits with her. She gets distracted by making Forky, a toy made from a spork and some pipe cleaner.

Bonnie is, from that moment on and throughout the rest of the movie, without exception, OBSESSED with Forky. There is no other toy in her mind. But Forky is a lot like Buzz was in the first movie after learning he's a toy: he doesn't understand what's so great about that, and would rather go back to being trash. He keeps trying to jump in garbage cans while Bonnie's family takes a road trip. And for some inexplicable reason, none of the other toys really care about this. But Woody, knowing what Bonnie needs, basically posts a 24-hour suicide watch on Forky and keeps pulling him back over to Bonnie, out of the trash.

The problem is, Woody isn't that excited about this. He is just doggedly resigned to it as his duty. He keeps rescuing Forky and getting no love in return; Buzz sort of tries to be supportive and offer to help, but nobody else seems to care about Bonnie and Forky, and Woody thinks this is his only way to be useful so he really doesn't want their help.

Which is stupid. Because if he were really committed to being selfless and loving Bonnie, he'd let everyone help. Because the point isn't "how will I feel if I fail to do this on my own? What's my purpose?" That's selfish. It's "you-focused." The point should be "How can we get this job done best for Bonnie?" with no consideration of "self." That would be selfless, which is the point of Toy Story movies.

Anyway. I'll speed up.

Basically by Act 2 Forky comes to understand (thanks to Woody) how great it is to be a toy. But no sooner does he want to go back to Bonnie (on the road trip) than Woody suddenly gets distracted. His whole life's mission of doing what's good for his kid is derailed because he finds Bo Peep again. Meanwhile, Forky is captured by a villainous antique doll with no voice box, who is fixated on being bought by a little girl and thinks that if she had Woody's voice box her dreams would come true.

Bo Peep has been living as a Lost Toy. Basically the movie sets this up as if Lost Toys take care of each other, patching up injuries and having fun together even when no kids are around: they're just doing the same sort of thing that the reformed toys at Sunnyside Daycare do. But in a playground/fairground setting.

Bo Peep doesn't want to be with one kid. She wants to keep doing this more selfish lifestyle, where she can be played with whenever she wants, help toys whenever she wants, and avoid the heartbreak of a kid abandoning her.

Understandable.

But thats the opposite of everything Woody's learned in the last three (and a half) movies. He could've made the decision Bo Peep is making at any point in Andy's childhood. But he's already learned that being there means Being There, regardless of what the kid can do for you.

I mean, I hate to point it out, because I know people will try to make it an allegory for "staying in an abusive situation," even though that's NOT what I'm saying, but seriously—think back to Sid's House in the very first movie. They don't lead all the broken toys to a life of freedom. They force Sid to be a better kid, but the broken toys stay there. Because they're Sid's Toys.

Contrast that with the "hardship" Bo Peep has been through...Bo Peep just...got pawned off. She didn't have body parts removed and sewn onto other toys. She didn't get strapped to a firework or melted down. But she's treated like this revolutionary, independent, strong-woman toy who's introducing this great concept of freedom to Woody.

That's all wrong for Woody. And for most of the movie, he resists it, so that's good.

But what it comes down to, at the end, is Woody deciding to choose what he wants over his ideals of selflessness and loyalty. He wants to stay with Bo Peep (because romance) and he wants to be needed. Lost Kids and Toys "need" him more than Bonnie.

To be fair, they try to build up to this in a way that makes sense for his character. They try really hard, they do. They show that Woody is still selfless when it comes to the happiness of kids and toys; he willingly gives up his voice box so that Forky can go back to Bonnie, and the doll villainess can have a shot at her dream. They show that he's ready to support that villainess and help her find a kid she could be true to even after the kid she wanted rejects her. They show that he really was going to leave Bo, even at the very end, even though he didn't want to—and it takes Buzz insisting that Bonnie will "be all right" without him for Woody to give it all up.

They do try.

But that's the thing. The only way they could set up Woody's decision to abandon his friends and his kid for life as a Lost Toy was by centering it around this idea of "where I'm needed."

But 1) "where I'm needed" is too self-focused for Woody, because of all the reasons in Toy Story 2 and 1, and 2) you can't have it both ways. You can't say Woody's all about "where he can be of service best" and all about "what he wants." Those two focuses contradict one another, in Woody's case.

That's what it boils down to. They took the characters that are literally made to say, "live your life for others, love regardless of whether or not you're loved back," and they try to say, "nooo, actually, that's toxic, you have to do what you want, what feels most fulfilling to you, self-care, etc." And they do their best to shoehorn Woody into that by saying "what he's most fulfilled by is being needed."

That's all wrong for Toy Story. Woody developed away from making all his decisions based on where he's "needed" in Toy Story 2. Woody expressed loyalty to both Andy and his friends perfectly in Toy Story 3 by putting himself in Bonnie's box and letting Andy decide, his owner decide, where he should be.

And then Toy Story 4 comes along and says, "No, Woody gets to decide, and he decides where he's needed, and he's fine with separating from not only his kid, but his friends."

This post is already too long but also, if you try to spin it so Woody's still in-character and selfless by helping Lost Toys find kids, it starts to make no sense. If the Lost Toy lifestyle is so great, because you can pick up playtime with kids and put it back down whenever you feel like it—and you should, because kids will always get older and throw you out—why should Woody ever help Lost Toys find a kid to go home with? Why wouldn't he say, like Bo, "hey that's nice but eventually they'll grow up, it's a dead-end, just stay out in this playground with us. That's what's best for you. Be a Lost Toy like us."

The only possible answer to that question, which IS supposedly Woody's fulfilling ending, is, "Because maybe some toys just 'want' to go home with one kid. And if they do, they should be allowed to do what they want. And Woody can help them, because helping them is what he wants."

Allll back to "what YOU want" which is the opposite of being a toy. Anyway. The horse is dead, I'll quit beating it.

[jenniferjareauwife]

It's A Date

pairing: jennifer jareau x cowgirl fem reader

category: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 786

summary: you meet jj at a bar and set up a date

I took a sip of my beer while looking around the bar. There were a few new people which was strange. I came here almost every night and I'd never seen them before. I locked eyes with a blonde and felt my heart skip a beat. I held eye contact for a second too long and I felt my heart sink when she looked away.

"Another beer hon?" My friend Hayden asked. He was the bartender here, one of the main reasons why I always came.

"Sure."

"She's hot isn't she?"

"Who?"

"The blonde." I took a long sip of my beer and nodded. "I think she'd go for you." He leaned forward on his elbows.

"Probably not."

"Come on. Don't put yourself down like that."

"She probably can't even tell if I'm gay. It's not easy being gay in Texas." I rested my chin on my fist.

"Amen." He got a beer for himself and clinked my bottle with his before moving onto other drinkers.

I hadn't had a girlfriend in so long and it was hard to hit on anyone because I didn't know if they were actually gay or not and I didn't want to make enemies. I had only been with three women in my life and none of them were from the south. "Excuse me." I jumped a bit when I heard a man's deep voice behind me.

"Hi." I turned around in my chair, my eyes half lidded. I had had three beers and I was getting a bit drowsy. "What do you need?"

"Hey there. I'm a friend of blondies over there." He pointed to the hot blonde I saw earlier. She was playing darts with raven haired woman. "She wanted me to come ask you if you'd be willing to go out with her."

"She...asked you...to ask me?" I turned my focus back to him.

"Yup. I'm designated wingman." He laughed and got a beer for himself.

"She's not gonna come over here?" He shook his head with a smile.

"She was too nervous. Thought she would blow it if she came over." When I looked back to her she was looking at me and we made eye contact. I gave her a smile and a flirty wave. "So what's your name?"

"She can tell you." I grabbed my beer and walked over to her. "Hey hon."

"Hey." She looked like she was at a loss for words. "D-did Morgan talk to you?" She brushed her hair out of her face.

"He sure did. Said you wanted to go out with me some time."

"Yeah...yeah I wanna do that." She looked like she was getting more confident now.

"I haven't seen you around. Where are y'all from?" I looked around at her friends.

"We're from Quantico. We work for the FBI." She looked a bit smug now, rightfully so. I felt my heart thrum in my chest. "You from here?"

"Can you not tell by the accent?"

"Honestly I'm a little distracted by your unbuttoned blouse." I laughed and looked down at myself. I could clearly see my bra and toned, tanned stomach.

"So you're from Quantico...but you want me to go out with you?"

"Yes I do."

"So..."

"I'm not against long distance. As long as it's not long term." At some point she has dragged me back to the bar and ordered herself the same beer I was drinking. "Do you feel the same?"

"I've never tried...so I don't know." My voice got a bit quieter.

"If you give me your number I can give you a call."

"Mhm...if you live in Virginia...why are you here?"

"I catch serial killers. I travel all over the country."

"Oh. How's that? Stressful?"

"A bit. Sometimes I don't know if I'm going to come home but I trust my team. Whenever I'm stressed about it I know I can lean on them."

"That must be nice."

"You don't have anyone?"

"Just a couple friends. No family though?"

"Dead?"

"No. Didn't like that I was gay. I've always had this fantasy of moving to the north so I was more accepted...so I can be who I really am but Texas is my home, you know?"

"Yeah I get it. I do." I could see her eyes soften. "Listen...I should probably get going back to my hotel. I have to be at the police station pretty early. But I should be off work by six, so if you're available tomorrow night..." She trailed off.

"Right...here's my number." I grabbed a napkin and wrote it down.

"I'll call you." She stood up and put the napkin in her jean pocket. "Dinner. Tomorrow. 6:30."

"It's a date?" I confirmed.

"It's a date."

[avinwrites]

Mending Hearts♡ ♡ ♡

Synopsis: How you comfort them through both physical and emotional turmoil.

Aesop Carl

It isn’t that you don’t get along with Aesop; all things considered, you have the best relationship with him out of anyone. Sometimes, however, he is simply indecipherable. Most days, you can tell how he feels from his expressive body language, despite his inscrutable face, and communicate with him clearly, but on the days where something is off, it is quite difficult to get through to him. You know that the key to any good relationship is communication, but it’s hard and it takes a lot of courage on your part just to talk about the things that bother you. He never seems to understand that.

At the current moment, he hasn’t talked to you in two days, and your last interaction consisted of you attempting to console him after some particularly unkind words were said to him regarding his performance during a recent match.

“You sound just like them.” His voice has a cold and distant sound to it, reaching your ears with a harsh bite.

“What?” You can’t help but gasp in shock, his words hitting hard, having just been in a tender moment. 

“Your words have no meaning behind them, it's all noise.” 

"I know that my words may not seem like much right now, but I want you to know that I care about you." You listen to your voice, trying to place yourself in his shoes, but you just can’t. You’ve been there for him practically since you met him, and you know he’s having a hard time, but how can he say that? You can hear the sincerity in your tone, you know how it's supposed to sound. But he doesn’t get it. 

“Leave me alone.” 

“Aesop-” You try once more to negotiate a balance or some way that you don’t have to end the conversation with both sides unhappy. He wouldn’t allow it.

“I need space right now.” He forces out, gruff, though his voice still soft and low. 

“That's… fine, just let me know when you’re ready to talk.” Resigned, you walk away, giving him the space he desires, but nothing more than that.

That “space” has persisted for days, and this time, you weren’t going to be the one to apologize, or even speak first. You always do and it’s hard. If he isn’t willing to give a little effort, then… you hate thinking about it, that if he won’t speak to you then anything you could’ve had would be over. All the good moments, being happy with him, hearing his infrequent, yet impactful laughs, it will have meant nothing. The fact that he was giving you the silent treatment, even though you weren’t sure if he was even aware of it, made you want to cave. But this time, you held your ground. After a while, you began to feel childish. You wanted to move past this and to forget the conversation ever happened, but what would you even say to him? He asked for space and you provided, and now you were just going to ignore that for the sake of not wanting to be uncomfortable. What kind of a person would that make you? Now it’s immature both to not say anything, and to talk to him. The situation confuses and frustrates you, and all you really want is a little bit of comfort, just a single word of encouragement from him would solve your inner turmoil, but you’re in the midst of a silent treatment, so you can’t even get that. 

You decide it's best to move on and think about something else. This shouldn’t affect you this much, and yet, the situation stays in the forefront of your mind. The days drifted by, blurring together in indistinct monotony, and still, the silence lingered between you and Aesop. It was a heavy weight on your heart, a constant reminder of the distance growing between you. You found yourself going through the motions of daily life, but your mind was consumed by thoughts of him. It was hard to focus on anything else when the person you cared about most was shutting you out. You forced your mind to think about anything else, in fact, having thrown your entire person into distracting yourself, you seemed to improve in your game performance, and yet, you could not help but wander back through your thoughts to Aesop, and a pang of sadness would wash over you. 

It hurt. Claws as sharp as the last words he spoke to you dug deep into your chest, gripping your bleeding heart. You miss his presence, his infrequent bouts of laughter that never failed to make your heart skip a beat, his unique way of seeing the world. You missed the connection you had, the feeling of being understood and accepted, and most of all, you missed the way he made you feel loved, cherished, and appreciated, like you could be yourself, no matter what.

And when you finally see him again, after shielding his face from you for days, he looks as bad as you feel. Sunken in eyes with the beginnings of dark wrinkles under them. His posture is worse than before, and he seems just out of touch enough with reality to not even notice that you sidled up to him.

“You look rough.” You comment, giving him a weak smile and holding out your hand as somewhat of a peace treaty, letting him know that you aren’t mad at him, and you would like to comfort him again, if he were to accept it. 

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers, so quiet you can barely hear it. No one else is around; you still hold yourself back from pulling him into a tight, longing hug. 

“You don’t have to apologize, I understand.” It isn’t long before your unsaid desires are fulfilled as he deliberately closes the gap between you and places his tired head on your shoulder, pulling you into a tender embrace. “Are you alright?” You can’t help but question. These acts of affection aren’t unheard of from him, but certainly aren’t common. 

“I wish to be by your side, I’m sorry for pushing you away. Everything feels… better when you’re with me.”

You only hum in agreement in response, keeping him close to you until he decides he’s ready to break contact, but from the way it feels, that won’t be for a long time.

Luca Balsa

The great inventor Luca Balsa had admitted something to you not too long ago. He told you that he enjoys your presence and that being around you comforts him. He gave you his heartfelt confession, and you reciprocated. To you, this was the obvious outcome to your rapidly developing bond. Since the beginning, the two of you got along like a forest fire, mirroring each other’s exuberance and empathizing with each other at each nadir. Despite all you had already been through together, those experiences only reached the surface of what was to come.

Luca warned you a few times of his unpredictable changes in behavior due to his injury. You really didn’t understand what he meant, as you witnessed his mood swings before, and he had never been violent or even the slightest bit rude to you, but you nodded along each time, promising not to abandon him and to stay by his side through thick and thin. 

This morning, after noticing that Luca was not eating breakfast with the rest as usual, you made your way to his room to check on him. Once, he had asked you not to step foot in his room, and since then you had adhered to this request, and you’ve never seen the inside. Diligently, you knock on his door, announcing that you were here to ensure his well-being. All you got was a groan in response. 

“Luca, are you alright? Can I come in?” You pry, pushing yourself against the door to hear the other side.

“No, no I’ll be there in a second.” You heard his weary voice call. A soft thump then a louder one rumbles the door, before Luca, disoriented, stumbles out. He did not look good. His usually ruffled brown hair was a mess, as if he had been gripping his hair, it stuck out in certain places. His eyes were puffy, and his scared one almost completely shut. 

“Luca, you look horrible, please go lay down. I’ll bring you-” 

“No, I’m fine!” His frantic voice and waving hands cut you off. You waited. He took a step, then lowered his head into his hands, grasping at his temples and groaning softly.

“You are not fine.” You respond simply, taking his hands in yours. You gently push open his door to lead him to bed and you're struck with speechlessness at the sight of his room. Papers, tools and trinkets littered everywhere. Some torn paper stuck up with illegible writings scrawled half on the paper and half on the wall. His bed was unmade and there were a few dents and scratches all over his walls. When you come face to face with the words “Do not forget” written over and over, you realize why he never let you in his room.  

You could have forgotten he was next to you, too distracted by the state of his room, but his shudders and reactions to pain called your attention back to him, who now clings to your legs as he stabilizes himself to sit on the floor. 

“Come here, Luca.” You whisper, kneeling to his level and taking his head in your hands, brushing his hair back with your fingers, and putting a light, circular pressure on his temples. He leans into you, unable to hold back his rolling tears from his physical and mental distress. Unable to form any response for his harsh, quick breaths, he welcomes your comfort with a strong grip, beginning to sob into your shoulder. You do your best to help him, whispering sweet words to him and hoping your feather-light touch alleviates some of his pain. 

After a long moment, his breathing evens and grip loosens. You remove his face from its place, nestled in your shoulder, and wipe his remaining tears with the tip of your thumb. Neither of you move. You only hold his face, searching his eyes for further signs of discomfort, as he looks straight into your eyes, seemingly more relaxed with each passing second. Only soft breaths and subtle shifts can be heard between you, taking time to just be comforted by each other’s presence. 

Luca then presented you with the unexpected. A smile. Though weak and lopsided, his toothy grin shone through the darkness clouding his head.

“Thank you.” He whispers, pulling you into a tight embrace. Wordlessly, you hug him back. No words were needed to convey your inner feelings. You’d be here for him, always. And you knew that the same was true for him. Like you were made to support each other, the two of you sat in silence, knowing each other’s heart and accepting each other, flaws and all.

Sometimes I just want a hug

Anyways, I had the idea for 2 more characters, where this time they're the ones comforting the reader, but I couldn't make anything stick! I'll keep working on it though <3

[anonymousbeefriendfanfics]

My Thoughts on Touchstarved

So, I've finished the demo! Let me start off by saying that I love the story! The concept is awesome, I adore that you can choose your own background, I love how immersive the setting is, everything is just... amazing. I can't wait for the full game to come out! Especially with all the special treats we're getting from the Kickstarter goals, it's going to be fantastic! And now, my friends, I shall share with you my thoughts & Headcannons for each of our lovely love interests, in order of appearance. If you'd like to see more, my requests are open!! I haven't gotten any for Touchstarved yet but I'm itching to write for them, I just... need some inspiration, so the more the merrier!

Kuras

First of all: pretty. I love his design, it's wonderful. He looks so ethereal! And very doctor-y, which was the point.

Can we talk about the hair, though???? How cool is that?? I love it. It looks very soft and fluffy. And so long... Could you imagine sleeping next to him? You wake up and you're drowning in floof.

He's very kind and gentle, but is obviously holding back. He distances himself from people, and like everybody else on this list, he needs to find someone he can really trust to open up and be himself with.

And he stays so busy, like... when does he ever take the time to relax? I know the city needs him and his clinic, but he deserves some time off, too.

To be honest Kuras gives me kinda like.... asexual vibes? Maybe demisexual? Idk, maybe I'm reading too much into him being reserved, but. I just feel like he either wouldn't be interested or he'd want to fall in love with someone before taking them to bed.

Leander

I love him, he's incredible. So talented, so kind!! I love the respect the Bloodhounds have for him, and how willing he is to go out of his way to help a stranger.

Also he blushes very easily and I love it, he's absolutely adorable

I am very very curious how he got so much skill with magic, because that doesn't seem to be normal. I bet it has something to do with his secret.

He very clearly has some serious trauma in his past, too. I wonder how he got that scar, if it has anything to do with his magic, if it is indeed the same scar running from his face to his arm....

Seems like he drowns his trauma in alcohol, his gang, and keeping himself very busy. Poor thing clearly doesn't get as much sleep as he should.

I think he just wants to be loved, but he's afraid to let himself be too vulnerable.

Vere

Foxboy Foxboy Foxboy Foxboy Fox-

Can I just say that I'm a little bit in love with his design. I mean I am with all of them but. Especially Vere. I love foxes and it's just. *Chef's kiss*

He's a cocky lil son of a biscuit tho. That tongue of his is quite sharp... as are his teeth~

I feel like he'd flirt with a Soulless to get what he wanted. In actuality he'd just murder it, but... you get my point. You're never sure if he's gonna seduce you or slit your neck.

Literally if Sage and Rime from Last Legacy had a child.

He's absolutely not trustworthy but I wanna get to the bottom of things and form that trust with him.

Romancing him would be very interesting. He's always three seconds away from eating you, but the question is... will he eat your soul, or your [redacted]?

Ais

He reminds me far too much of my friend's OC, and for that, I am the sliiiightest bit obsessed with him. At least that gives me a headstart on his characterization.

Would sell you to Satan for one cornchip, but fortunately MC interests him enough to keep them around

And Princess???? Oh my god. My heart. I adore her, I adore him, yes please

And he calls the MC "Sparrow"!!! That's absolutely precious. I love how he has nicknames for people, it's wonderful

Ais seems like the person who will tell you he doesn't care what happens to you and you can go get yourself killed for all he cares, then move heaven and earth to save you once you're even slightly in danger.

Mhin

Baby needs a hug. Enough said.

l absolutely adore them. They have stolen my heart.

And yes, maybe I do have the slightest bit of a savior complex, shut up. I'm just addicted to the hurt/comfort angst of it all, okay?

Literally hates everyone and everyone hates them (Except for, y'know, Kuras) because they're such a grumpy little loner and dear god just let me love you, let me teach you what love is.

They definitely fit into the whole "stronger than they appear" archetype because they're specifically mentioned to be pretty scrawny, but they have an impressive amount of strength and holy hells they're good with that dagger. That's incredible skill

I just. I want to break down those walls and earn their trust and teach them they have someone they can rely on who won't betray them, no matter what happens or how dark things get.

I just want to cuddle them and reassure them that everything's gonna be alright, is that a crime?

[ask-gale-waterdeep]

Dear Gale,

I was so pleased to receive a response to my letter and to know the mail carrier issue has been resolved. I'll admit, it was rather intriguing to find out your favorite book. I would never have guessed! I'd really like to hear more about your recommendations for reading material; just to help the long nights pass a little quicker.

My interest was particularly piqued by your thoughts on Druidic magic and Necromancy. I never took you as one to "play in the dirt", for lack of a better phrase, though I'm happy to know you're broadening your magical horizons. One should always keep an open mind when it comes to trying new things, don't you agree?

As for Necromancy, I have to say I understand where you're coming from. I, personally, am of the opinion that it's an abhorrent disrespect for the dead, who should lie resting; not ripped from the Fugue Planes to be used as canon fodder. While practical - and admittedly, wildly powerful - I find the act morally reprehensible. Ah, but I shouldn't press the matter any further. I don't want to risk a nasty disagreement.

I also would like to remind you that you needn't feel rushed to answer my letters. I understand you're a busy man (I can't imagine your studies offer much time for chatting with a pen pal) and have no qualms with waiting for your response.

With that, I feel I should end this now. Please give Tara my best and the dried pigeon jerky I've sent alongside this letter, should make for an excellent snack! One more reminder to please take care of yourself, my friend. One cannot be the most powerful Wizard in all the Sword Coast if one is not properly maintained.

With love,

~Arcane

Dear Arcane,

Again, truly a pleasure to hear from you, my good friend. And I can say Tara more than enjoys the jerky sent in your letter…perhaps a little too much, compared to the food I offer her. Besides that, it brings me boundless joy to hear of your request for other options related to literature. Perhaps a time can be set up for us to meet up and speak our thoughts on books we enjoy? It would be quite enticing, I do admit, but only if you’re willing to accept my offer. I assure you, I’m more than happy to talk in a long distance.

As for the situation related to Necromancy, I appreciate the decision to not further delve into it. I’d rather not disturb the fine balance with someone I hold to my heart and cherish deeply…well, aside from my mother and my other companions. However, we can take arguments where it’s due, since both you and I are more than entitled to our opinions in…well, any space. Especially in the corner of magic. But, of course, that’s just due to how I feel about it.

But, yes, I am willing to broaden my horizons for magic. Even if it means I “play in the dirt” with druids and rangers and such. Magic is a wonderful thing, like…a melody, a song. Whether it be a shabby tune from a drunken fool off the street, a flow of notes from an inn like the Yawning Portal, or a harmony from…perhaps, a companion I hold close to. I spoke of her a smidge in our last letter…but truthfully, I never introduced her, did I? Well, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, so in that case…her name is Bella. She’s…last time I checked, a paladin, oathbroken. But by the gods, could she play a melody that kept me on my heels. Perhaps she was a bard before our first encounter? I’ll have to ask her when I get the chance, but in the mean time, this is all I can explain. Both from my knowledge, and that I wouldn’t think she’d enjoy her business being told to someone that while I write to, she has yet to know about. Knowing you though, I’m certain you’ll be in her good graces. But…be prepared for her…pet? Let’s just say that, for now.

For being busy, I understand that I do not have to rush my letters. Frankly, the only thing I rush is reading due to how much knowledge I wish to take in. But I’m positive I have time for you whenever needed. Whether it simply be these letters, like now, or meeting up with me wherever we may be. I may be a man of a tight schedule, but never too tight for my closest people. And, yes, I swear with all my heart I will take care of myself, as you should do the same. It would be frightening to hear if any bad news regarding your health or safety would be heard of.

Of course, safe travels wherever you go, and, hopefully, I’ll hear of you once more whenever you get the chance. I’m afraid Tara might attempt to scold me for using so much ink for my letters, heh…it’s not like I won’t get more, but it’s cause I use so much in a day that I most likely will have bought out most of it.

Sincerely,

—Gale

(P.S. There’s a couple of quills of mine, good quality at that, that I figured you’d enjoy to use. Unfortunately I can’t send any more of them since…well, most of them are now in your possession. But do, deeply, enjoy them.)

[majoliish]

Ok… so here me out…

The main cast x royal reader.

Omg yes I love this idea!! I imagine the Devildom is smaller than the human world in terms of sheer numbers (think millions vs billions) so the demons kind of assume you’re more widely known/a bigger deal than you actually are. 

I had a lot of fun working with this prompt (especially for Diavolo, there's just something about the idea of him connecting with someone else who is royalty that charms me)

Main cast x royal!reader (gender neutral, referred to as ‘you’) !!

Lucifer - He employs a pretty decent amount of respect towards you, though won’t hesitate to make it known that you shouldn’t expect to have the same luxuries in the Devildom that you did back in the human world. He may ask the occasional polite question regarding it all, but won’t go out of his way to question you. He acts with a mild distaste if you try to pull rank or do anything that normally wouldn’t be acceptable within polite society - he won’t hesitate to scold you or remind you of how he thinks royalty ‘should’ act.

Mammon - He mostly cares about the money, jewels, and your previous lavish lifestyle. He’ll ask a million questions, but all of them somehow circle back to those three things. He takes it upon himself to become a ‘butler’ of sorts, but in reality that’s just him making up excuses to give others orders that he’s come up with and demand things that he wants under the guise of it being for you. He does think it’s pretty cool though, and secretly sort of looks up to you because of it. He may also kick up quite a fuss if anyone dares to look down on you in any way.

Leviathan - Totally freaks out upon finding out. Kind of trips up over himself a lot and uses a bunch of weird (and a lot of irrelevant or out of date) titles for you, bows and natters away at you until he catches himself and gets super flustered. His self deprecation is kind of bumped up a notch thanks to this - he’s always saying things about how he’s not worthy of being in your presence and so on. You’ll also get compared to just about every royal fictional character he knows whenever you so much as breathe.

Satan - He’s kind of weird about the idea at first, almost to the point of being outright rude to you - he’s unsure of how to act and covers that up with his usual surly demeanour. It takes some time and work to break his hard outer shell, but once he’s got it through his thick skull that you’re not at all as bad as he assumed you’d be, his interest is piqued. He has lots of questions about the inner workings of royalty in the human world, and wants to know all about the intricacies of your family and their various dealings.

Asmodeus - He thinks it’s a super attractive quality in a person, and is immediately all over you, asking all sorts of questions about what kind of luxuries you experienced back home, how strict the rules were, that kind of thing. He’s just fascinated to know about the lavish life you must’ve lived back home, and also really wants to hear about any deep family gossip. His outfit and accessory choices when he’s shopping for you will also be tailored especially with your status  in mind.

Beelzebub - It’s all pretty much the same to him, really. His only real interest might be in what kinds of food you got to eat, the big meals you must’ve had, being royalty and all. He doesn’t treat you any differently than he would if you weren’t royalty, he’s a pretty straightforward demon for the most part. 

Belphegor - He’s a little apprehensive of it at first - he expects you to be stuck up, full of yourself and not willing to listen to others (much like a certain someone else he knows), so he keeps his distance at first. It’s a pleasant surprise for him to realise that you’re far more down-to-earth than he expected. He’s pretty quiet and shy around you at first, but as time goes on he seems to open up and may even ask you questions about your rank and lifestyle.

Diavolo - He feels a special kind of connection with you from day one - he takes solace in the fact that you must’ve been through a lot of the same struggles he has and seeks to have you as one of his best friends/confidants. Though the vast population difference between the human realm and the Devildom isn’t quite something he understands, he kind of assumes that just because you’re royalty, you must have control over a large swath of the human world, with millions of subjects under your immediate command. Regardless of that, he’s really interested to hear about every detail in which your status differs from his, and will often try to pull you aside for a conversation about it - his curiosity is insatiable.

Barbatos - He defers to you in a way that’s almost comparable to how he treats Diavolo (though of course he gets priority). He’s polite almost to the point of infuriating, always waiting on you and trying to anticipate your needs before you’ve even recognised them in the first place. He fusses and preens and may sometimes even pass light judgements on things that you wear, say or do, ‘wondering’ aloud at whether certain actions would be seen as proper for human royalty, since they’re not for demons. It comes across as passive-aggressive, but he is one hundred percent sincere about it.

Simeon - He’s sort of nonchalant about your royal status - not in a rude way, but it tends to be an aspect of you that he might playfully poke fun at every now and then. It’s a point of mild interest to him, and for the sake of knowledge he’ll ask you occasional questions about things he’s curious about, and may even ask if he might be allowed to visit you some time. Though, he may get a little snippy if he thinks that someone isn’t showing you the appropriate amount of respect.

Luke - He’s not entirely sure how he should be acting around you, and thus tends to subconsciously mimic the actions of those he looks up to. It’s almost funny, watching him cycle through the behaviours of Simeon, Lucifer, Solomon, Barbatos and Beelzebub (sometimes all in one conversation), trying to get a grasp on how best to approach and speak to you. He’ll just keep doing this until you address it with him directly. When reassured (multiple times) that he’s free to act however he likes around you, he’s closer to his normal self, with his usual sense of wonderment and excitement, asking you lots of questions to try and understand you better.

Solomon - Somehow, he knows more about your family, lineage, alliances and inner political workings than you do. It’s almost uncanny, the amount of information he seemingly just has on hand about you, and it can be very off putting when someone asks you an innocent question about an ancestor of yours, only for Solomon to come swooping in with all the answers they’re looking for and then some. He doesn’t often directly ask you any questions, unless there’s a specific gap in his knowledge that he hasn’t been able to fill, so the questions he does ask get almost freakishly specific.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagiarise my writing! I do not consent for my works to be translated and posted elsewhere, or used to teach bots!

[leighsartworks216]

We’ll Be Okay

Phoenix Wright (disbarred) x gn!reader (can possibly be read as platonic)

I wrote this out on my phone really quickly with like no proofreading or editing. I don’t think it’s great, but I like the idea I was trying to get across

Also this may not align with the timeline or actual canon events of the games. Spoilers for AA4

Warnings: living paycheck to paycheck, depression, references to alcoholism, hurt/comfort, fluff, light angst

Word Count: 950

Masterlist

AO3

Ever since you were little, you and Phoenix were thick as thieves. You joined his little friend group, earning a limited-edition green Signal Samurai for yourself in the process. And even though you all got older, drifted apart, and built lives for yourselves, the bond you shared never really died out.

In the end, Larry was the only one who didn't get a job in law (not that he could carry a job for longer than a week). Miles drifted apart the most and earned the title of Demon Prosecutor, with nasty rumors to follow. Phoenix was determined to close that distance, and became an attorney, willing to face Miles in court, no matter what. And you found yourself stuck in the middle, working as a detective for Criminal Affairs.

Things came back together, after so long. Phoenix saved Miles, Miles learned how to stop pushing everyone away, Larry, well, was still Larry. The Signal Samurai were reunited!

But it was short lived. Everything, all the hard work put in, came crashing down. Phoenix lost his badge. He lost his hope. He lost everything.

He pushed you all away. Even Larry couldn't get near enough.

You could still vividly remember one day, shortly after it happened, when you stopped by Miles' office to drop off information about a case. It was silent. You just looked at each other, forlorn. It felt like there was nothing you could do.

That same day, you refused to give up.

At first, all you did was drop by and slip an envelope of cash through the mail slot. You didn't know if he ever used it, but he had no income, no way of supporting himself. It felt like the best thing to do at the time.

Then, through some less-than-legal means, you got into his apartment. He was laying on his bed, surrounded by too-many bottles of grape juice, and basting in his own stench. He was too tired to yell, or cuss you out. He was basically a rag doll in your arms as you forced him into a bath and washed all his sheets.

He cried when he came out of the bathroom. You held him. Nothing was said. A week later, you moved in.

After that, for the past seven years, you worked alongside Trucy to keep Phoenix and his daughter afloat. Your paycheck went toward rent, mostly, while Trucy's went toward food. It wasn't glamorous. There were days you would wake up next to Phoenix, and the world felt so heavy. The sheets suffocated you, the sun burned you, and all you could do was drown under the weight of life.

On those days, Phoenix refused to give up on you. He forced you into a bath, made sure you ate something, drank something with some water content that wasn't alcohol, sat by you and provided a shoulder to lean on. If you still hadn't given up on him after seven long years of turmoil, he wouldn't abandon you either.

Once Apollo joined the "Wright Anything Agency", things felt easier. Maybe nothing changed. Maybe you were all still living paycheck to paycheck. But it felt better, somehow. It felt like things were beginning to actually be okay again.

Apollo and Trucy were out, investigating a crime scene and interviewing witnesses. You should have been out there, too, helping Ema catalog evidence or being pelted with Snackoos. But when you woke up that morning, and the world felt too heavy to bear, Phoenix called you in sick and stayed with you.

Admittedly, you felt guilty. You knew he was working on something big (he wouldn't tell you what), but whenever you told him he could leave and get back to his "secret mission", he just smirked in that all-knowing way.

"I'm not allowed to take a day off with my partner?" he asked. It had a subtle lilt to it that gave away that he was teasing.

You were laying along the couch, head in his lap, with some sort of Steel Samurai spinoff episode playing on the tv, buried under all of Trucy's magic items. Light from the window lit up the room, casting beams of warmth along his stubbly chin. You reached up and playfully pushed his head away. He chuckled.

"No," you retorted, "you're not. Not when we live like we do."

Grey eyes settled back on you, filled with affection and mirth. He didn't say anything for a minute. Even so, you could tell he was studying you, trying to decide what he should say.

One of his arms that had been resting along the back of the couch fell in favor of running a hand through your hair. His fingers scratched lightly at your scalp, massaging at the base of your neck. You couldn't help it; you melted into his touch immediately. Your eyes fell closed, breaths evening out, anxieties melting away with each second.

"We'll be okay," he finally said, voice quiet, like it was a secret only you could know about. Warm air brushed across your cheeks and rough, picked-at lips pressed against your forehead. The sun's rays were blocked momentarily. “We’ll be okay.”

You turned, pressing your face into his stomach. The teeth of the zipper were cold against your nose, providing no softness, but you ignored it. Laying like this was too comfortable, and comforting. He tugged a blanket off the back of the couch and draped it haphazardly over your body, tucking it in around your shoulders before returning to petting your hair.

"I know." Your shoulders relaxed with the admission, as if saying it out loud had lifted some of the burden. "I know we will be."

[cloudninetonine]

Linktober: Snake/Serpent/Dragon

"It's weird, I don't think I ever expected to see the Bridge of Hylia covered in snow like this." Gently bumping Calamity's shoulder, you smiled. "This sight is too pretty for a friend, Link, you sure you're not trying to romance me?" 

The Hero of Calamity was a little strange to you. Maybe it was because he bore the face of one of your closest friends but acted nothing like him, Wild, a free spirit with a sense of adventure and Calamity, a man of silence who stayed within the walls of Hyrule Castle. You understood though they weren't the same person, even if they had lived semi-similar lives, Wild was Wild and Calamity was Calamity. 

Though, you hated how tired Calamity looked. Even after the defeat of Ganon within their timeline, he still looked to be overworked and stressed, not uttering a single peep at the arrival of your group, only surveying you all then following the demands of the King. 

So, you did what you thought was best and invaded the man’s life to show your appreciation and care. Sure, he fought it at first, argued that you weren’t his caretaker, nor his mother but yet, you could see how the bags under his eyes lightened when you made sure to bring him meals,, to clean his uniform, to coax him out of the castle- anything in your power so that the man could finally relax.

And it paid off.

Hearing him speak for the first time nearly had you dropping the food in your hands, the appreciative smile and his gratitude had your face warm.

So now you were here, his gift to you, as he put it, in the form of a horseback ride to the Bridge of Hylia over Hylia Lake.

It really was so beautiful in person.

“I haven’t the slightest clue of what you speak of.” The man teased, helping you down from his Epona’s back to the snowy floor below, grabbing an enchanted blanket from the pack on her side to throw over her before tugging you towards the fencing. “I merely wish to show appreciation.”

“Appreciation? By giving me frostbite.”

“I can return you if that’s what you wish-”

“No, no! I like it! It’s very pretty here.” When he chuckled you pouted, leaning against the stone of the bridge. “Hyrule during the winter sure is a sight to see.”

“Don’t focus too hard on the snow, now, or you’ll miss what I wanted to show you.”

“Miss what-”

You had completely forgotten, but then again, you didn’t expect them in Calamity’s timeline, your mouth dropping in awe at the sight of the great and mighty spirit of lightning, Farosh, came flying gracefully out of the cold waters of the lake, ascending further into the skies in their usual path.

Only once before had you seen them, in the exact same place at a different time, watching them fly off in the exact same awed silence as they disappeared into the distance.

Farosh grew closer and with that came their magic, the feeling of the winds picking up around you both from their mere presence, the snow which had previously fallen softly to the stone below brewing up to join the great beast’s past, highlighted by the magic of Farosh’s lightning as they flew overhead, the feeling of your voice returning as you cupped your mittened hands around your mouth and bellowed.

“HI FAROSH!”

You cheered when they responded in kind, a strong roar echoing through the area as you raced to the opposite side of the bridge to follow their trail, the snow framing your form. Calamity was right on your heels with the softest of smiles supporting his features, standing beside you as you waved them goodbye, wishing safety on their travels. His eyes stayed focused on you, shining with a spark relit in the fire that was your presence, heart beating wildly in his chest.

“You know, Link.” You started after a moment, eyes focused on Farosh’s retreating figure. “What I said earlier? About this being romantic? Well….”

With a moment of hesitation, your mouth going dry you willed yourself to continue.

“I wouldn’t be so opposed if this was supposed to be a romantic gesture.”

Calamity’s own gloved hand came to cover your own, squeezing it gently.

“That makes the two of us.”

[silenttale22]

SHINE FOR YOU|KTH|

popular!Taehyung x painter!Reader, fem!Reader

genre: fluff with slight angst warnings: slight anxiety, insecure reader note: Hi Sweetheart, thank you for being here! I'm not a newbie in writing ff, tho writing in English and on Tumblr…It's still new for me but hope Ill get straight to your heart ;) Let me know what you think, any comments are as precious as gold for me.

It's so hard to be bright shining light when people around want to be surrounded by darkness. We live in the shadows of our dark side every day, walking the streets with eyes tightly closed in anguish because we feel terrified about our own fragility. We are so scared of failing that we are willing to live up to the standards of others, locking ourselves in a cage of darkness and allowing to be led without looking at the light. We wander the streets like shadows, without life, without radiance. Where to look for rays when the light in a vacuum travels only in a straight line

You had so many questions swirling around in your head. You wondered if you were worthy of this life... Are you doing enough or less than enough in it? Are you following the path set out by your destiny? These questions would rise and die with each new step being taken, becoming downright terrified to try any changes. 

Clinging to the sidelines never bothered you, yet somewhere, in distant dreams, you wanted to be the one people follow, the one they listen to. However, you were not the leader type, nor were you ever the alpha type. You could fit more like a beta who tried to keep the things neat and organized that you loved so much. You always thought you were some kind of peacemaker, yet you would never call yourself weak.

You were one of the lost ones but you have been searching somewhere for a guide to tell your soul which path to take. Thus, having won so many tough battles, while almost drowning in the knife-studded blood of everyday dreams, you would still reach out for a little more. No matter how dark places you managed to wander into, you still could hardly hold a smile to shine a little light for those who forgot - who they were in complete darkness. There was never enough charisma in you, though, for you to guide someone to brighter places. 

So the last shining light slowly began to fade.

But there was he, who seems as luminary bursting and shining through above all the people. Giving glimpses of hope for those who don't really know him, and offering a magical embrace of safety to those who were so close to him. His demeanor may have shown up cold at first, but the warmth that glowed from his eyes reminded everyone of some of the greatest aspects of life. His posture restored a sense of peace. He was like an angel in a human body, a light to guide those who didn't grasp it all, for those who were lost.

Yet, you were so far away from him, and the peace of mind you'd been seeking was out of reach. But you still dreamed sometimes about being as close to him as possible.

Though Taehyung never seemed like the kind of person who is willing to trust someone in a hurry, he drew countless people around him. You often wondered if it was because of his almost angelic appearance, or whether it was his amazing aura that impressed you so much. The boy barely welcomed strangers in his life, but a held-out hand from him to have any closer touch was like a freesia, received from a loved one, or a key to the best-guarded palaces. 

He seemed to be such a secretive yet open person at the same time that it left you stunned every time. Yet it was still quite easy for you to sense whether he would trust the person speaking to him only by looking at his face from a distance or hiding behind other - brighter people than yourself. Usually, when he looked somewhere else than the speaker's face, the barely seen grimace on his face said only one thing - for sure not this person. And your guesses usually turned out the truth. So were you as good with reading people as he was? He could read people so easily, keeping himself and close ones safe. But could you bring safety just like he does?

And here you go again, another time standing right next to the group of classmates. All laughing at some stupid videos that your so-called best friend was showing. You didn't think of yourself as someone who was extremely introverted, but it still was hard sometimes to socialize when your emotional state didn't want to help. However, you quickly grow tired of any emotions. Spending time with people, especially those at school, was exhausting you. While observing how many people, one of your two friends, was able to surround herself with, the very fact of it made you dizzy.

Both of your closest friends were pretty ‘recognizable’, or just knew too many people so it was hard for you to be alone at all. And naturally, because of the overwhelming atmosphere, you were usually too quiet or too loud, and never really understood how to behave and work among people. Even when there were ones who cared about you, you never felt understood. 

And yeah, you used to be frightened of that as well - of being misunderstood. So you had been better off being there for everyone, yet there hadn't been really anyone for you.

You looked around the corridor, watching people going about their business. Seated on parapets or floors, most talking to each other, a few staring at their phones or shut off in their private world with headphones stuck in their ears. Loud laughter rang in your ears, and the ambient noise itself didn't make you feel at all at ease where you stood. Even though you were hidden behind a group of people, leaning against a chilly wall that relieved the unpleasant headache caused by the overwhelming crowd. The corridor was not one of the longest, but through the quite high-arched ceiling, the echo spread much more than you would have liked. A quiet sigh escaped your lips when one of the girls in the middle of the group encouraged you to look at a video by a funny cat that was supposed to make you laugh. But you just smiled slightly and walked over looking at her phone.

You watched over the shoulder of the girl from the class to see another and another of the tik-toks, letting out a quiet chuckle when the group burst out laughing again, pretending that the video was really amusing you, and you certainly knew what it was all about. You also took the time in between to shoot a long glance in the direction of your friend. Her bright strands of hair hugged her face perfectly, and her everlasting smile made the slight dimples under her lips visible.

Sometimes you wished to look and behave differently.

In one moment, the corridor full of laughter began to quiet down. Instead, a bunch of whispers began to appear all around making your body tremble slightly. The lack of comfort suddenly thrust upon you one of those unpleasant sensations that made it hard to catch a proper breath. When the names of people so well known to you through gossip began to echo in your head, you hid more behind a group of people to see three boys casually stride through the hallway. You could even say that you heard the high-pitched squeal of one of the girls somewhere in the background.

Your gaze rested on Taehyung's smoothly moving silhouette, and a warm, wrapping security moment ran over your body. Moments like that made you feel peculiar. When he stood on the opposite side of the hallway, so close for the taking, a much longer jiff that you wished. Almost holding your breath while you pushed even harder against the wall, yet instead of taking your gaze away from him, you were still eyeing, feeling how a sense of calm washed over you once more. And suddenly a low chuckle from his mouth rang through the corridor, making your heart clench momentarily, but as he began to turn in your direction, and the sudden panic that your gazes might meet, you crouched quickly hiding wholly behind the group watching only between their legs as the three of boys walked away.

“Did you hear that Taehyung is single now?” your friend started, looking for you in the group but when she found you sitting on the floor, only a weird look was sent. “What the hell are you doing there?” 

“Just sitting, I was just sitting” you mumbled more to yourself than to people around, and stood up quickly avoiding with a heavy heart the curious glances sent in your direction. “How did you know?” you asked quietly when the girl hugged your arm to go towards the classroom.

“Lia told me she saw him breaking up.” she chuckled happily “Maybe it's my time to shine already?” she looked at you, waiting for your - of course - confirmation. 

“Yeah, I`m sure it is.” you smiled, feeling how the strong grip on your heart again wants to take your breath away. “You will be the perfect one I guess”

Your all feelings are again thrown into the background. And sometimes you wonder what it would be like if you finally said out loud what sits everlastingly in your head. What do you think about so much, when the question - why your head is in the clouds again? - is asked. Everyone around you thinks they know everything about you. An open book that has no secret chapters. With no serious problems in life, everything comes out as it should. But none of them know how much you hesitate to leave the house, how often you are frightened by the crowd of people, and how much life around overwhelms you. Often by yourself, you also cannot define this state, you could say that you are overreacting. But you can't control your emotions, which affect everything else. You don't have your medium, everything is always high or low.

So you mostly made an effort to be quiet as much as possible. Talking only about important stuff or just others, never yourself. And what else could you do? There always must be someone to play the second lead in the main character's story, right?

There was that one day, as you were walking home through the park, one of the few occasions when you could get away from people and once in a while escape from sitting in a cafe for a long time with a group of unwanted people.

You often used household chores as an excuse, and even though usually the phone calls from your mother that you should be home because there were a bunch of chores waiting were for real - there were times when you took advantage of this to run away.

Raindrops began to drop, getting the sidewalks wet and, at the same time, your exposed hair. You pulled the hood of the sweatshirt up, after taking a moment to look up at the sky and let a few drops fall on your face. The cloudy sky took on hues of navy blue, and the dark branches of the trees blended incredibly in color, causing the thought of another painting to run through your head, which would be covered in various shades of blues with the presence of jet-black trunks and ramifications spreading out in various shapes. 

Nature has always awakened in you a kind of stronger feeling, and the inspiration as well as the flowing images that you could recreate were almost endless. You marveled at how the colors blended together into perfect compositions, forcing you to think of what paints you would use to get identical ones on your canvas. 

The smell of rain lingered in the air, greatly relaxing your body through which you took a deep breath feeling the freshness spill into your lungs. Your shoulders drooped freely and not even stronger breezes were able to drive away the pleasant blissful state. The sensation of being in the right place came over you.

The headphones on your ears - as usual when you had the chance, were filled with calmer sounds, so that the surrounding noise and the screams of children running away from the rain, whom you saw from afar, did not reach your ears. The quiet classical melody of the violin enhanced the most beautiful images formed in your head, making you completely cut yourself off from the world. So you just stuck your hands in the pockets of your jacket and slowly walked along the streets you already knew by heart, not caring about the cool drops falling on your nose sticking out from under the hood. 

Your face was already somewhat wet from the falling drops and your reddish cheeks from the cool wind might have made people think you were crying, but that was hardly possible. You rarely did. It was hard for you to shed even a single tear. Maybe that's why your family and people you used to know said there was little emotion in you. But often individuals are only concerned about their lives anyway, so no matter what they think - no one will react.

However, it was never that no feelings were rooted in your inner self. Most often, you embraced the rule that there was no point in letting tears flow at every possible moment, especially when you were punished by it at an early age. As a kid, at the beginning of your education, you found it hard to accept - the fact that things weren't working out - so you ended up crying, then repeated reprimands from teachers that you were too sensitive stuck in your head. During arguments with parents at an older stage, your fear was hidden behind anger so you ended up in tears because you couldn't say what you really meant. "do you think you will gain anything by crying?" your mother's painful words echoed in your head, "I can give you a reason to cry!" 

Year after year you tried to temper it. Working with your breath, which came out extremely miserable, and frustration too often took over. More than once you took steps throughout the day picking up a lot of words, taking them in various ways, only to eventually lock yourself in your room in the evening and sob pathetically into your pillow. Because over time, you decided that crying was pathetic and no one could see you in such a state.

Your walk has lasted much longer than you expected. Legs now dangling loosely from one of the less busy bridges in the park section, not far below them the rushing stream of the creek hypnotizes your distant thoughts. Gentle raindrops are again and again falling all around, but you still didn't mind. Your headphones this time stuck deep into your bag as the music coming out of them was replaced by the calming sound of the river. The chilly breeze still brushed against your cheeks, and your already solidly frozen hands searched for some source of warmth, buried deep in your coat pockets. 

You should probably be on your way back, the sky had begun to darken even more, and you still had an all-night study for your upcoming exam, but this was the time when books - any books - made you want to drop it all and, with tired, closed eyes, collapse listlessly onto your bed with the hope of sleep. But you knew very well that in the end, you would make yourself one of the strongest coffees anyway - another one for some evening with the pile of notes. 

You finally got up from both the chilly and cold bridge to shrug off the leftover dirt on your coat and move towards the city, only to have the unpleasant noise assault your ears again, and random people bump into you rubbing your shoulder more than once causing you pain.

The town was getting closer and closer, the single banners visible from afar already lit up with various hues were comforting to the eye. It was another time when you could imagine the new palette of colors that would appear in the paintings. However, the nearer you got to the buildings, the stronger became to be the wind, making your hair already blown in every direction, making you see less and less. Panicking, trying to harness the falling strands, you suddenly felt a strong bump that made you almost lose your balance.

Feeling your body leaning back, you squeezed your eyes shut expecting to meet the cold sidewalk, but then two hands roughly pulled your jacket bringing you back so you could leap to your feet. As you slowly opened your eyes, preparing to say a few words of reprimand for your lack of attention on the road, however, all you receive is a worried look in low ember eyes.

When your gaze met that of the boy standing in front of you, still clenching his hands on your coat - panic overcame you. Jeon Jeongguk himself stared at your fearful face, trying to send you a comforting smile, but all you could do was curse yourself a thousand times in your mind for being inattentive.

"Are you okay? I hope I didn't tug too hard," your eyes widened as the flushed boy began brushing your - moments ago crumpled in his hand's grip, coat down.

"Y-yeah, yes! I'm really, really sorry. I should have paid more attention," you replied still confused, stepping back as if to escape the boy's touch. 

Your gaze met Jeongguk's once again, but it didn't take you long to see another tall figure right next to him. Taehyung's face presented the total opposite of a bunny smile, it was almost expressionless.

“It's no biggie, I'm glad you fine. Wind is playing on all of us, Tae almost met with the pole when the wind pushed him at the worst possible time.” The boy chuckled adorably, and when you saw how Taehyung rolls his eyes annoyed, but then keeps up a slight smile on his face, your heart rhythm jumped multiple times.

You sent only a brief smile but were still flustered by where you found yourself, head working at its highest level. You could feel your face still hugged by the cold wind, burning you almost painfully now. Why did this have to happen at just such a time? When you are in a total mess and nothing smart comes to mind. All you could think about was running away. Because, after all, that's what you've always done, run away and hide in the farthest corner.

"Are you sure you're okay? You're turned completely red. Just like a tomato," your eyes widened at the comment, and an uneasy feeling took over your body. You cupped your hands to face in an attempt to cool them with your cold palms, but only unwelcome tears welled up in your eyes.

"It's most likely because of the wind Kook, plus what does it mind you? It looks alright." A quiet mumble from Taehyung made your wave of anxiety and discomfort switch quickly into relief and bring the sense of security you usually felt around him. 

You glanced only briefly at the two, keeping your gaze longer than you wanted on the flawless face, and lowered your gaze again, still cursing subconsciously that this silence was taking longer than it should. Their presence, however, did not help, it even intimidated you. It was always the others who talked, you weren't necessarily able to. 

"It's all right. I think I have to go now," you said quickly, not quite clearly hoping that they would just give you a break, "Once again, I'm so sorry.” You added and had almost moved past them to escape at a fast pace, but Jeongguk's voice stopped you at the level of his shoulder

“Wait, aren't we going to the same school?”  He asked, with curiosity painted on his face

“Yeah, we are…” you mumbled, getting back to your previous spot. Again thoughts rushed through your mind. Did they see you staring at the corridors? Did they see the sketches you made in some together classes? Did they?

“Oh right, you're friends with Y/F/N! Right?” you just hoped that pathetic smile you send after his question will be enough, but at least you answered fake-happy “yes!” to see how his smile appears

“But I think I didn't really catch your name” of course, he didn't, that's nothing new to you...

“Really Kook, Do we actually hang out together? It's Y/n, she's with us for a couple of classes. Literary the best one in literature classes.” the other boy burbled, eyeing the bunny face next to him. 

You were now looking dumbfounded at Taehyung's face, thinking that it was all just a flight of fantasy and that the boy standing in front of you had not said your name at all just a moment ago in a soft, warm voice. A pleasant shiver went down your spine, and a sudden flush of heat once again enveloped your cheeks. You watched as Jeongguk sent a goofy, supposedly thoughtful glance in the other boy's direction, only to look at you again in a moment while stepping from one leg to the other.

"I can't believe you didn't recognize her," another time voice filled with annoyance got into your ears.

"It's really noth..." you couldn't even finish the sentence, because a loud groan and pouted Kook's lips shut you up instantly

"It's not my fault I'm not such a book nerd!" he said pitifully while looking directly at Taehyung, then turned his gaze in your direction for a moment, adding a brief "no offense." 

And yes, you could have stood there and listened to the two boys bickering each other, with the gaze of one almost painfully drilling a hole in your head as the smirk and every now and then the other one's outgoing laughter teased your ears. However, you chose to do what you usually do this time, so you ran away. You ran fast, not even being able to catch your breath when you stood on one of the nearby streets of your house. 

Would this be another time when the raven-black-haired boy would rip the sleep from your eyelids and your canvas would once again show his face? Or will the shades of emerald green he so often wore once again prevail on all your artwork? His deep voice reverberated in your head. And no matter how much you wanted to let go on one hand, every time you managed to escape at least a little, the echo would once again resonate in your head.

Back in time, you would say you wanted at least one chance. A little time to try, yet today ... was today your chance? Or was it a short time to hold up the script so that the lead would have a better performance?

“Why the fuck do you know who am I Kim Taehyung…” you mumbled to yourself, walking down the street to already get home. 

Your school days were getting agonizingly long, especially when you tried at all costs not to meet any of the boys and face the question of why you ran away that time. Although you initially repeated to yourself that the situation had probably been forgotten and the two of them only thought for a moment what a freak you must be, your thinking changed when you found yourself standing in the school corridor again after the weekend. 

When your gaze first found each other with Taehyung's, a seemingly familiar yet sensation-filled shiver went through your spine. Many times when he was around you could feel someone's gaze on you, but instead of looking up, you told yourself that it was just your playful imagination, that it wasn't possible. Yet the more often your eyes 'accidentally' met, and the warm dark chocolate irises took on an almost questioning look, you turned your back or ducked into another corner of the corridor.

You felt pathetic.

Walking through the corridors with your head down, your thoughts were jumping on various topics for the longest time, however, chocolate gaze stuck in your head, dreaming almost every night with the imagination of how safe arms wrap around your insecure posture, how amazing feeling emanates from his person bringing you higher. 

Nevertheless, these were just dreams.

You wondered why he never turned his gaze away, why he stared at you regardless of the situation, regardless of who he was currently talking to - his gaze was fixed on your face. And it both freaked you out and satisfied at the same time - because you had his attention.

Every morning you could wake up and think if Taehyung was also dreaming about you. Does this unfamiliar feeling that grows on you every day also take root in him? Has this fuzzy feeling consumed him from time to time, wondering what is so special about you?

However, your self-esteem was never high, so you found thousands of other excuses ignoring this one - that maybe he felt something for you. Instead, you preferred to think that he thought you were a total freak, or that you had purposely put yourself in that situation that day to threaten either of them. Your head could come up with really strange scenarios, and you could never answer the question - why do you let your head insult yourself and your body so often?

Another weekend finally came, and after a full day of household chores and ignoring all messages from friends to go out anywhere, you sat down in front of a huge cream-colored linen canvas. The first scent of wood wrapped you up bringing long-lasting satisfaction. Your fingers briefly touched the slightly rough surface at first, and the pleasant rooty smell of combined wax entered your nostrils a moment later. As one of the almost sharpened-to-the-end pencils began to put on a new sketch, your hand trembled gently with each successive stroke. Your breath was held, yet the excitement that enveloped your body multiple times, forcing you to almost jump from foot to foot when you first stood in front of the easel, continued to grow. The graphite remains on your fingers, still remaining about the rubbing of the pencil, bringing an incredible sense of fulfillment. Your head tilted happily from side to side from time to time, while relaxing your tense neck.

Your tongue gently protruded from between your lips as you came from sketching to applying color. The freshly opened tubes and addictive smell of oil paints brought back a sentiment with you when you first sat down in front of your easel looking for a way to release the emotions that sat deep. You wanted to finally do something to recapture at least some of the feelings you found so difficult to express in words. 

The moment when you could create your own world and give it your beloved colors was your favorite. When once again the palette of shades blended together, taking your breath away every time you did it. You delighted like a small child whenever you found a moment to sit down in your room and smear paint all over yourself while painting. Once again, you felt the cool colored stains on your face, by frequently wiggling your hands through either occasional frustration or excitement, but that's when you felt truly free.

It's that moment when you don't hide in fear of someone telling you - you talk too much, or that you don't talk at all. It's that moment when emotions can flow freely and no one will judge you for who you really are. With each new painting, you got to know yourself better, when you didn't quite know what you needed, all you had to do was give yourself a piece of paper and a pencil to let your heart speak.

But after spending basically the entire weekend stained with paint, enjoying temporary serenity, the return to the building you hated has come, and first thing in the morning when your alarm clock buzzed, the rapid beating of your heart accompanied you all the way. The weather outside also did not encourage you to leave a warm bed. The trees outside the window were swaying like crazy and you could already imagine what your way to school would look like.

A strong wind blew in your face once again as you stepped out of your neighborhood corner. The strongest gust made you lose your balance a bit, causing your shoulder to collide with a standing pole. You have cursed about a thousand times inside your mind, with a few unpleasant words escaping as well, and as massaging the sore spot you moved ahead trying to stay on your feet to somehow reach your location. The trees along the way still swayed dangerously, and single pieces of paper and rubbish abandoned on the streets clattered underfoot. At times you struggled to take another step when blasts meanly hit you in the face, intending to knock you down. The thunder you heard from somewhere in the distance made your body fill with fear, making you try to speed up your step even more. In the end, the road took you much longer than usual due to the overpowering wind, but when you were able to see the school walls from afar, you let out a quiet sigh. 

However, being on the final stretch, another strong blow made your legs refuse to obey causing you to be taken sideways again, but this time instead of meeting a pole, the soft fabric of someone's coat wrapped around you providing safety, and your back met a rapidly moving cage.  Arms embraced you tighter, bringing an additional source of warmth. Your breathing sped up sharply when the delicate scent of flowers combined with male perfume entered your nostrils. 

"I really think wind has some kind of problem with you" a deep voice entered your ear, and your eyes widened suddenly recognizing Taehyung.

The movements were quick, without thought as you yanked yourself out of his arms, trying to escape once again, but his hand found your wrist and pulled you to a spot in front of him. Warm irises gazed into yours, but the concern painted on his face made your heart clench in your chest for a moment, only to immediately start pounding like crazy. The boy's dark hair was being blown in every direction yet he still looked angelic. Your silhouettes swayed almost unnoticeably by the strong gusts of wind, but his grip on your wrists was still strong. The warmth of his hands in contact with your skin rushed throughout your body. Once again, you were embraced by a sense of security and sudden peace as you looked into the now almost black eyes.

"I'd be more than happy if you'd stop running away from me, it's quite annoying on a long-term basis" you squirmed at the tone of his voice immediately and stuck your gaze into his still rapidly rising chest, but the boy seems to have quickly sensed that negative emotions flow in you so he added quickly "I'd rather see your face that close and not at the other end of the corridor" your eyes widened considerably and a blush covered your cheeks, but you still didn't dare to raise your gaze.

Taehyung's quiet chuckle echoed in your ears, only to soon feel his hand rubbing your hair and inviting you to finally go inside. This was the moment you wanted to hurry up. After all, you didn't want anyone to see the two of you together, but the boy clearly had a different opinion on the matter, as he brushed the sleeve of your jacket almost every time, forcing you to slow down. Crossing the school threshold was the worst part, as all eyes rested on you, and right after that on the dark-haired man.

However, the moment didn't last long, because momentarily y/f/n showed up at your side, embracing your arm tightly and squeezing between you and the boy. A brief grimace appeared on your face when the warmth that Taehyung was providing you suddenly disappeared. Nevertheless, knowing that someone else was playing the lead role, you quickly pasted a smile on your face and sent it to your friend. The dark-haired man's gaze met yours for a literal moment, only to have his face cut off by the girl's head.

"Hi, Taehyung! I didn't know you recognize my friend!" her pitched-up voice attacked your ears, so you hardly stopped yourself from cringing again.

You must be playing it cool.

"Hello -don't know what your name is- Of course, I recognize Y/N, we`re friends..." he answered almost immediately, making you choke on the air, whereby girl's eyes were on you.

“For real? Woah, that's amazing…weird you didn't tell me.” She said with an offended tone, looking at you askance

“Yeah, that's because we talk about not making it official too fast” your eyes again became big when he spoke, obviously trying to get rid of your friend who was much tighter squeezing your arm 

“Make official? Funny. Almost like you were about to date” she laughed making you cringe, and again - run away from here. 

“Maybe someday who knows, I was about to ask her about grabbing some coffee together honestly. But you decided to tackily come between.” Taehyung said in an uneasy tone, seizing the girl up with his eyes

“Okay guys, let's stop here. The class is about to start in a moment.” You said fast, almost blending all the words together, trying to get out of the grasp of your friend, who fortunately finally let you go.

“but…” she started again, but you only send a look and rushed, without less hope of peace because you had a combined literature class, which, as you usually looked forward to, you would rather skip today.

As soon as you were allowed into the class, you moved quickly to take your favorite seat at the very end of the room, and once you took your seat you could only wait for the girl sitting next to you and the million questions she fired off - how come you know this Kim Taehyung. And what could you answer her? You accidentally bumped into him on the street or more to be exact, not him, but his friend, and after the incident, he didn't take his eyes off you? Who would believe it, because you certainly didn't? 

A moment passed, and instead of suffocating sweet perfume, you smelled addictive flowers. You lifted your gaze, which up to that time you had fixed on the desk waiting as if for sentencing, to finally see Taehyung sitting down with his eyebrows pulled down and a second later his arms crossed over his chest. The boy leaned back in his seat pretending to look at the teacher entering the classroom, but he kept glancing at you. And you felt that look on you, already familiar with the sensation well enough that you didn't have to think long about who might be watching you.

The class had begun, American authors from the Romantic era rolled through the teacher's lips, but all you could focus on was how not to show the panic that was building up on the inside. This was no longer about the actual presence of the boy, but more about the words he spoke, about your friend's reaction, and the gaze of all the people gathered. Even though all of these things were something beyond your control and you could not change them in any way, guilt gripped you all over.

Did you just come off as the worst person in the whole world?

Just a few days ago, you assured the girl that she was the perfect candidate for Taehyung yet it is you who now sit- shoulder to shoulder, feeling him trying to comfortingly rub your dangling hand. It's getting harder and harder for you to catch your breath, and the growing lump in your throat is increasingly bothersome. When you finally manage to lift your gaze, his gaze immediately meets yours, and a charming smile dances on his lips. A moment of calm floods over you. The tightly clenched muscles and painfully straight shoulders relax into themselves. 

What is it about Kim Taehyung that drives you to such a point?

You personally didn't know exactly how you found yourself in the area of a small cafe on the outskirts of Daegu, waiting on the corner of one of the streets for a dark-haired boy to arrive. Biting your lip, looking around with hope that he will appear somewhere, but minutes were passing and he was nowhere to find. Anxiety was rising more and more, and even though he let you know about the possible lateness due to taking care of his cousin's children, your rapid breathing didn't plan to slow down at all.

On the same day that the wind decided to push you into his arms, the boy right after class found you to ask about the chance to go out for coffee together. And this time, although the urge to run away was still huge - you finally broke through, sending him a short "alright." Since then...you've spent more time with him than you might have imagined, but not everything seemed as colorful as you wished. The girl you might have called a friend until a while ago decided that there was no point in dragging it all out any longer - because, in the end, she never really liked you.

It was a painful stab to you. Somewhere inside you were hoping that she would understand, that she wouldn't let something like this just ruin several years of friendship. At the same time, however, you had no way of giving up on Taehyung so easily. The boy made you feel like you could climb the highest mountains without any problem - he made you feel like yourself. He gave you what only painting had provided you until then. 

The first time was - surprising, you expected the worst, but all you received was full understanding and eyes filled with interest combined with adoration. Your heart was beating fast, and every sentence he spoke further assured you that Taehyung was light. A light that everyone needs to find for themselves in some form. 

"And then I was walking down one alley in Louvre, all these paintings were so extraordinary, I was able to absorb one after another. Because you know how it is, being in a museum, people don't always look at the same thing. Some people will never stand by a painting that could thrill you for hours because they would think that the next one would be somehow better. Someone might only admire from a distance, or while passing by, but in the end won't stop for a longer moment to understand more. However, while I was there, I wanted to sit in front of each one for a minimum of an hour to imagine the texture, admire the colors, or try to understand the message. Every detail is important, how the brushstroke was pulled, what type of paint was used, whether those colors were used on purpose.... you got it, everyone sees the artwork in something completely different." you dwelled on your visit to Paris a few years back, unable to forget the emotions that took hold of you then.

You looked then at Taehyung, who watched you narrate with a gentle smile, his hands wrapped around a warm mug full of hot chocolate. You could have sworn that day that you noticed his eyes sparkle at the sound of your voice, at the excitement in your voice.

However, negative thoughts quickly took over and the panic that you might have bored him to death already was much stronger, so you quickly added.

" Oh jeez, I'm sorry... I've always been told that I babble way too much when I'm nervous or excited about something, I should probably stop," you paused for a moment, fixing your gaze on the table, "yes, I'll stop now."

"No! I don't mind it at all. It's interesting..." boy unconsciously grabbed your hand, but pulled back quickly not wanting to cause discomfort "I swear! I could listen to you day and night, it's amazing."

Another time then a pleasant warmth enveloped you by his presence, and an incredible sensation circulated along with the flow of blood. This was the moment when you wanted to tell him about everything. All the paintings you'd seen, maybe also mention your favorite classical tunes, or maybe tell more about the books you'd recently read. And even though the boy assured you how much he wanted to hear about it all, insistent thoughts still often told you to shut up for fear that you would really bore him.

Because eventually, everyone gets bored.

"Hello there! I'm here, really sorry - kids didn't feel like letting me go" Taehyung's hand found its way to your shoulder, making you flinch slightly, but the sight of his face made you simply send a smile.

"I'm not even shocked at all," you let out, only to literally stifle your stupidity a moment later with a laugh as the boy looked at you intimidatingly.

"Easy, sunshine, now you have me all to yourself" your eyes widened at his words, but you were unable to say anything as his hand managed to grab yours to pull you into the café.

The pleasant warm air welcomed you with open arms, and the sweet smells of the cafe made a smile press itself to your lips. Your regular seat was empty, so taking a table or ordering for yourself went smoothly, and the fact that order was also identical made it even easier. Hot chocolate with whipped cream, plus cheesecake for Taehyung, and Plain black coffee with a piece of chocolate cake for you. The quiet music playing in the background and the boy talking about the kids only made you want to close your eyes, allowing yourself to relax for a while.

"Someone here didn't sleep again, I see." A warm hand wrapping around yours brought you back to reality, and all you could do was send another tentative smile "And after such time you are still embarrassed by such gestures, oh sun what do I have with you" now you just rolled your eyes, and by the incoming order you also let go of his hand.

"Better hold your horses Kim Taehyung". 

"Someone here thinks, will sound scary" you groaned regretfully and took a sip of coffee, making the boy only laugh through another wave of shyness that swept over you and also grabbed his chocolate, dirtying his whole face of course.

"A supposedly grown-up boy, but still getting dirty like a kid," you muttered and rubbed the rest of the whipped cream off his nose with your finger.

“Maybe like a kid, but your kid” he sends you a playful smile, to make you chuckle, and yeah, he succeeds. 

Now you began to nibble on your piece of chocolate cake, still listening to the story of how Taehyung couldn't find the kid hidden under the bed because the rules said they - cannot, and he believed they would listen. He was talking with a slight pout on his lips, which only made you admire him more. His puffed-out cheeks were even asking for squishes or small kisses being left on them. 

He was someone who made you genuinely happy, and you couldn't even explain how strong it was. He gave you hope, he gave you confidence, he made you feel more like yourself. 

He was your yellow. 

One of the most astonishing colors you would use in your painting. His simplest words could make you smile from ear to ear until your cheeks hurt. The boy began to show you all over again that you weren't the problem, he helped you understand that people didn't even try to grasp your inner beauty. He was like salvation in the hardest of times, summoning the magic you deserved. Showering you with a mass of assurances about the importance of what you were saying, being patient with you and your every hesitation, and encouraging you to try all over again.

Louder than usual laugh from Taehyung made you chuckle, as you bite another small piece, feeling how chocolate melted on your tongue, sweetening your palate. But when some of the last bites left, and you saw boy`s slender fingers wandering around your plate with his fork you flopped them with your hand, sending boy “the look”.

Just because you admire him - doesn't mean you'll let him eat your cake like that. That's not even an option.

“Hey! I just wanted a bite” small huff left his lips, but you only shrugged shoulders end ate almost whole sweetness from the plate. Eventually, in the end, you took a piece on your fork and held it out toward the boy, only to see his face beam in a boxy smile, melting your heart “I love you!” he said making everything inside go crazy. Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you, unable to say anything else, continued to stare at the boy.

And you knew that some souls are meant to meet together at the right time. They click instantly, bringing the feeling of safety and calmness. It was Taehyung for you.

“I have something…I need to show it to you” you mumbled, getting up quickly, putting on your coat. “Get up!” you rushed the boy, who with shock painted all over his face, stood up to do what you told him to. 

The path to your house took faster than you expected, and knowing that there was currently no one inside, you opened the door quickly and rushed Taehyung again, barely allowing him to remove his shoes as you pulled him toward your room. The smell of paint quickly invaded your senses, but you could see the boy holding his breath as he saw the latest painting standing on the easel. 

Most of it was covered in shades of blue and green, but emerald green definitely dominated - making the painting seem even more vibrant. In the middle was a small white cottage, on which rays of sunlight peeking out from under dark navy blue clouds were falling. The area in front of the building was covered with flowers, different kinds of flowers, which, when you looked at the canvas longer seemed to sway in the wind along with the trees shielding the sides in the foreground. The joy that emanated from the painting despite the dark clouds was unparalleled. Every moment you spent gazing at it made thoughts of Taehyung flow into your head, as the feelings were the same. Painting and the boy brought you immense relief, combined with endless peace of soul and a warm hug full of security. Not to mention the joy and sense of freedom, of self-expression.

"This is amazing," the boy exclaimed after a long moment, coming closer to you standing by the painting.

“You're a big inspiration for this, honestly,” you said smoothly, without any hesitation

“Oh..? Me?” surprise in his voice made you chuckle, and turn in his direction to look inside his warm chocolate eyes

“Yeah, emerald green only reminds me of you. It symbolizes balance and harmony, that you brought into my life along with all the happiness and understanding. Also, flowers are because of you, this addictive scent of yours calms me down and makes me feel at home. You're my inspiration Kim Taehyung.”

“Remember when we were the first time in the cafe? When you told me about the museum, and how people look at paintings? That everyone has their own work of art?” He came closer, brushing your hair and stroking your cheeks.

“Yeah, what about that?”

“You're mine. The one I would love to look at for hours, studying every detail. It's you. And maybe I saw you from the distance, but looking closer made me sit in awe, falling deeper and deeper.”

“Thank you for showing me light…”

“Thank you for changing my whole perspective…Now I feel, lighter. Thank you.”

And that is how you find your light and reason for shining brighter than anyone else. Because sometimes you need to look deeper inside yourself or find someone who will show you how to. Kim Taehyung showed up unexpectedly, and came into your life without invitation, saving you from the darkness you've been losing yourself. Your dark shadow already touched the ground, becoming more and more light with every little gesture he made, or every other word brings you back to who you really are. 

You are his work of art, and he is your light of inspiration.