#no I’m not getting anxious about writing my own fic what are you talking about

[ghost-bxrd]

Hi, I know we don’t talk about it nearly enough but when Jason dies in Owl Song and Tim takes over as Robin, don’t think about Bruce making that awkward little half bird call he learned from Dick to call Jason back to him and Tim just looking at him a bit confused and Bruce doesn’t understand why Jason isn’t coming to him and then— oh, right. Because Robin isn’t Jason anymore :))))))))

[hyukaslvr]

right here // j. yunho

<masterlist

summary ☪︎ he’s always been there for you, he was always right in front of you. yet, you didn’t realize your feelings towards him until your last date went wrong, you didn’t realize it until you kissed him drunkenly. it was a mistake, a drunk doing, right?

genre ☪︎ bestfriend!yunho, gn!reader, bestfriends to lovers, fluff, a tad bit of angst, SMUT, reader being a little dumb

warnings ☪︎ swearing, a little panic attack, unprotected sx, blonde yunho (needs his own warning fs), dirty talk

w.c ☪︎ approx 9k

a/n: i am so so SO sorry for being so behind with writing. school is kicking my ah and i just have so much going on in my life and myself that i decided was more important. i’m slowly getting back into writing and hopefully will be better than ever with my fics!!

✧˖°.☪︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖☁︎

you needed to leave. you couldn’t handle the man across from you and his sick comments that he thought would make you laugh or agree on.

“i just need someone to use when i want to freely” the man laughed, making you cringe, “you know what i mean?”

“where do you think this is headed?” you questioned, angrily as he kept talking about his desires to use women and people for his likings, “you know what?” you scoffed, standing up and brushing your bottoms, “i need to use the bathroom,”

you walked quickly to the bathrooms, hands shaking as you dial your bestfriends number, he always picked you up from bad dates.

date after date, you still couldn’t find someone who completes you, who makes you want to go on a second, who makes you actually want to go home with them. you don’t even know why you keep trying, yunho always said you had a bad taste in men. yet, you couldn’t stop going on dates, you felt like a piece of you wasn’t there or complete. you wanted to have a love life, but it just simply wasn’t there and you wanted to keep on trying.

you wanted to cry as the phone started ringing, taking deep inhales as you tried to calm yourself down. yunho knows how to calm you down, you thought as you hear the line pick up.

���hello? y/n? is everything okay?” he spoke loudly into the mic, music blaring in the background, he was clearly at a club or party of some sort, which made you more anxious to tell him you needed to go home.

“no..” you sobbed out, reaching your breaking point as your quick to send him a text of your location, “i need to go home, yunho. i’m so uncomfortable and i can’t-” you gasped, trying to control your breathing as more tears dripped down your face and onto your arm as you held it across your eyes.

“okay, it’s okay,” he said trying to calm you down, you hear movement as the music starts to get more quiet, “i’m on my way, wait somewhere away from him, i’ll be there in 5,”

✧˖°.☪︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖☁︎

the car ride back to his was quiet, you didn’t know if you should be alone so he offered to let you stay at his, like you always do when something bad goes on. he tried to ask you what happened, or if you wanted to talk about it, but he didn’t budge once you nodded your a head ‘no’ as he kept driving.

once you both had arrived, he immediately took off your coat and place your shoes away before he ushered you to his comfy couch. he didn’t want to pry anything out of you, so he decided to get you a drink, since you both needed one. his little smirk he gave you as he lifted two glasses in the air for you both, you know you couldn’t say no.

about half a soju bottle down, you started opening up to him. you explained how he made uncomfortable comments about how he wants treat his dates, and how the date was just awful in the first place.

“i shouldn’t have gone,” you stare at the blonde, yunho nodded his head to let you know he was listening, “i just want to find love, but clearly love doesn’t want me to find it,” you slouched back, sighing as you wrap your arms around yourself.

“you just haven’t found the one, or haven’t seen who truly cares,” he said, lifting his glass to finish the rest of it. you looked at him blankly, confused on what he meant on ‘who truly cares’ when everyone in your life had someone they liked or had with them.

yunho was a ladies man, and a man’s man. he knew how to flirt, he knew how to make someone fall for him, he was exactly what you wanted in a lover. yet, all you knew was he was off limits.

he’s your best friend, and you definitely didn’t want to ruin anything between you two just because you wanted his affection just like he gave others. but you didn’t just want his affection, you wanted him.

what’s not to like about yunho? he’s tall, amazing at dancing and singing at karaoke bars when the two of you went, he’s romantic- plus a huge flirt, he’s super caring and sweet, he’s hot as fuck in your eyes and most definitely others, there’s a whole list of reasons why someone you would want him.

but still, he’s your best friend, and there was no way you were gonna ruin anything just because of your desire for him.

“what do you mean?” you questioned, reaching to fill up your glass once again, needing to clear your mind from your thoughts, but clearly the alcohol in your system was about to start talking for you, “i mean, i could just date you,” you blurt out, quickly taking your shot to shut yourself up and setting it back down on the coffee table in front of you.

“don’t say things you don’t mean,” he speaks again, standing up to get water for you and him, reaching the kitchen before stopping at your words.

“i mean it, you’re everything i would want in someone,” you spoke, watching his body freeze in place, realizing what you said, “not that- i mean, you would be a good boyfriend, i mean- from what i’ve heard you are and can be,” you shuddered, looking away once his back is facing away from you once again as he turns to face you.

“y/n, what does that even mean? like, what are you trying to say?” he lets out a forced chuckle, teasing you a bit.

“i mean, i would date you, if we weren’t best friends,” you start after a bit of silence between you two, closing your eyes as you hear movement in the room. your words were practically shattering him. ‘if we weren’t best friends’, what does that have to do with anything? he thought he was being obvious, but clearly you were just oblivious to his constant concerns and cares for you, “plus, we- you don’t see me that way and probably never will, and i’m fine with that-”

“do you even realize what you’re saying to me?” he was close, practically right next to you, and you wouldn’t dare to open your squeezed tight eyes as he questions you, “do you- do you even realize how wrong you are?”

your breathing stops, feeling the couch dent as he sits once again, the water he was heading to get long forgotten and suddenly you feel like you can’t breathe, feeling a hand softly turn your chin to face him, “y/n, look at me,”

he looked beautiful, breathless actually. the moon light was shining on his face in the dim room, making his features softer than ever. you just so badly wanted to cross the ‘best friend’ title and kiss him right there and then. his eyes search your expressions, you let yourself melt into his hand still holding your chin and you practically didn’t even notice you were allowing yourself. slience abrupts in the room as you stared at each other, both of you debating on what to say.

“i think, i think i like you,” you blurt out once again, your face and neck heating up as he didn’t move or speak a word, you felt like you couldn’t breathe, “and- i think, no, i want to kiss you so badly right now,” you gulp, watching his eyes roam yours to make sure he was hearing you correctly.

“are you-” he pauses, his hand leaving your chin, the skin of where his hand was burning as he stands up and nestles in front of your feet, “do you even know what you’re saying right now?” his hands reach for yours, cupping them in his larger ones before he squats to level his face in front of yours, “i think you need some rest, i don’t want you to do anything you’re gonna regret in the morn-”

you pulled on his hands, letting your body raise to get closer to the flabbergasted man in front of. you only speak once your face is inches away from his, his breathing tickling your lips, “will you regret it?”

“no- i mean, of course not, i trust you and care for you and it’s just a kiss-”

“then, let me kiss you,” your hands leave his grip, cupping his cheeks as you lean in into him. you couldn’t help yourself, his beautiful pink lips inches away from yours, his hands reaching to hold you waist, gripping on them as your lips connected. you felt like if you didn’t kiss the boy right there and then you would of went crazy. he pressed his soft lips against yours, sighing into the the kiss, you melted into his grip as you felt his hands tighten around your hips. your hands left his face and into his hair, kneading the hair as you kissed him deeper, tilting your head with want. when you pull away, letting your lids slowly flutter open, you gasp for air in a daze.

you figured he’d be a good kisser, but not that good. his face also tells you how good it was too, as he looks like he just died and came back to life.

it was such a good kiss, yet you felt like you couldn’t breathe. it’s like you quickly sobered up, the wetness on your lips from his hitting you like a shit ton of bricks as you realized what in the world you just did.

and god you feel terrible.

“y/n-” it was like your feet were on command, standing up as quickly started to the door, trying to slip your shoes on as his hollers get closer, “y/n, it’s okay! what’s wrong- what is happening-” you were stumbling at this point, taking deep breathe after deep breathe, his hands immediately grip your shoulders to stable you as you put your shoes on completely, “did i do something-”

“just a kiss between best friends? just two best friends where one of them is madly in love with the other, yet he can’t fucking tell-”

“what is going on? slow down, please y/n and talk to me-” you started to walk backwards, blinking quickly as tears wouldn’t stop falling, the second time you’ve cried tonight over another man.

“we’re drunk, yunho, please let me go and we can have this conversation later,” your hand already on the door handle with your coat around your arm, you couldn’t look back at him, not when you know he can’t handle that he made you upset or cry.

yet, he didn’t stop you, he knew he couldn’t if he tried. you’ve made up your mind about leaving, and yunho being yunho, he’s gonna let you go to have some space to yourself. you loved him so much for it, one of the bigger reasons you kept falling harder for him, he is the only man you’ve ever met that actually respected boundaries. even though he respected your feelings, you couldn’t help to be more upset that you confessed to his face, kissed him, and he’s still letting you walk out of his apartment in tears.

✧˖°.☪︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖☁︎

it’s has already been a week since, the thought of his lips made yours feel like they were burning in flames. you couldn’t bring yourself to face him again. how could you after confessing your love to your best friend who has been there for most of your love life that you wanted him to be in the positions of your exes or failed dates?

he was everything you’ve ever wanted. you didn’t realize it until you were sad, too drunk, and alone with him. you should of just went home if you had known the consequences of yet another night drinking with him after bad dates. yet, something like this has never happened, where you weren’t in control of your mouth and your entire body.

it was like lust and your heart took control, not letting you to be able to think twice about what you were doing. just you replaying the whole conversation made you want to crawl into a ball and never see the light of day again. so that what’s you did, for the past week.

the only time you got out of the house was to get snacks from your corner store, quickly grabbing a couple packs of ramen and drinks to last you two days, and rushing back up to your apartment.

you thought you had more time to not see him, until the bell rings in the store. you didn’t think much of it, probably just another lonely college student who was going to snack their asses off, but the shoes you were staring at that appeared next to you made you practically choke on nothing but spit.

“please talk to me,” and it sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

“i don’t know what you want me to say,” you spoke, a clear glass of water in your hand, yunho sitting on your stool behind the counter you were leaned against, back towards him- of course, “i was drunk, we were drunk, drunk people say things they don’t mean,”

“drunk sayings are sober thoughts,” he started, clearly referring to your confession, “and we both know you don’t speak that fast if you’re lying about something,”

“i don’t know what to tell you, i was upset and lonely-”

“you kissed me because you were fucking lonely?” his voice raising a bit, you felt like you wanted to crawl out of your skin, “y/n, no one tells someone they think they like them, that they so badly want to kiss them, and kisses them for godsake! just tell you at least felt something when made that mistake,” you were so out of it that you didn’t even realize how close he was, standing in front of you with his arms crossed, searching your face for some sort of reaction or regret.

“and if i did? would it be that big of a deal?” you were getting mad now, you truly didn’t see the problem here. maybe you were just drunk, at least that’s what you wanted to believe.

“yes, it would be a problem, because i’ve been pinning on you for years but you pull stupid shit like this and it makes me go crazy,” he starts, the breath once in your lungs gone as he starts to walk forward, closer and closer to your frozen body, “so tell me, are you going to keep fucking around with me and my feelings, or are you going to accept that what you did was wrong if it was truly a stupid mistake that you questioned me if i was going to regret it?” his arms pinned around your body, forcing you against the cold to touch counter top as he searched your eyes once again.

“or are you going to keep being oblivious that i practically want to eat you alive everytime i see you?”

“then eat me, maybe i’ll start acting right,”

✧˖°.☪︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖☁︎

“are you sure you want this?” his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer on his lap, resting against the bed frame. yunho’s mouth was attacking your neck and all its sweet spots, mumbling against the soft skin and making you slightly whimper, “cause i won’t be able to stop if you don’t tell me,”

your hands reached the back of his neck, plucking at the hair and letting his mouth take over your neck, “i want everything and more that you give me,” and that’s all he needed to hear.

you knew he was gonna be big, especially with all the prepping he was doing just for you to take him. his fingers plunging back and forth into you heat, occasionally curling his three fingers up and hitting your gummy spot making you see stars.

“yunho- please, i need you,” you gasp out, hands clawing at his bicep as he slowly takes his fingers out, putting those same fingers into your mouth and making you gag around your taste.

“are you sure you’re ready? i don’t wanna hurt you, baby” the nickname making you clench around nothing, you were gonna take anything this man would give you, but if you didn’t do anything in the next second, you were gonna go crazy.

you stare at the shirtless man in front of you, raising himself off you and lining himself in front of your hole. the more he inched himself in, deeper and deeper, the louder the gasps came out of your mouth, "i know, baby, i know, it's so much, isn't it?" he whispers against your lips as he pushes in to the hilt.

"you're taking it so well for me though, baby, so fucking good for me." he can't help the groan that wrenches its way out of his throat when you clench around him like a vice, moaning high in the back of your throat. his hips move of their own accord, pulling slowly out of you before he shoves himself back in and it feels like he reaches even deeper.

"god, yun! baby-" you moan, "it feels so good, you feel so big." yunho’s vision blurs, his eyes laced with lust as he convinces himself you're a mad man.

he loses himself to it, the way your cunt squeezes him every time he pushes inside, hot and tight. you scratch at his shoulders every time he presses deep, grinding the tip of his cock into your cunt while overwhelming pleasure shoots up your spine.

he wraps his strong arms around the small of your back, tugging you up into a nearly impossible arch as he fucks into you like an animal, your head pressed back into the pillows.

"so fucking perfect," he practically growls, he's not even talking to you anymore. his eyes are unfocused and unable to focus on your face or the sight of your swollen pussy as you take him over and over and over. but he doesn't stop talking.

"fucking perfect, beautiful girl, taking my cock so goddamn well. my fucking girl, so good to me with her perfect pussy, feels so good, oh- baby!"

blood pounding in your ears as he takes and takes and takes. you feel tears fall down your cheeks, choked moans forcing their way from your lungs.

your orgasm rips through you without warning, without buildup, your body just locking up and electrified like a livewire as you soak his cock, his thighs.

"good girl," he rasps. "that's my good girl."

✧˖°.☪︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖☁︎

“yunho,” you whisper, wrapped around his arms as his breathing slows, his breath tickling your neck as his head droops in it. his hum of reassurance lets you know to keep talking, letting your fingers trace shapes across his back, “that wasn’t just for fun, was it?”

he scoffs, knowing your question was stupid. he took care of you before, during, and after he tore your insides apart. he would of left in embarrassment if it was just for “fun”, no, he wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for his love towards you. so, he chuckles, his laughs vibrated in your neck and sending shivers down your spine.

“for fun? i don’t love you for fun,” he slowly moves up, resting his elbow behind your head, his free hand reaching your flushed cheek as he speaks, “i didn’t come here to fuck the shit out of you, i came here to get you back because im in love with you. but i might be in love with your pussy too now-” you quickly covered his mouth, swearing at him as he giggles behind it.

your heart was pounding, it felt like you could explode at any second. jeong yunho, your best friend, your dream, your crush, is in love with you. you could of believed it when he first stepped foot in your place to clear things up with you, but all he had to do was fuck some sense into you. you feel yourself smiling, staring up at him as he lovingly looks at you.

you could get used to this, you think as he leans down and kisses you, cupping your face with both of his hands now and it’s deep and more calm to your swollen lips. no, you know you could get used to this. everything you’ve ever wanted is in front of you, and he wanted you back.

“i love you,”

✧˖°.☪︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖☁︎

AGRHRUWHWUWHEHWKNDDNYUNHOOOOO

[sunflower-lilac42]

✧ 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 | connor bedard ♔

summary: y/n surprises her boyfriend at his first game where he scores an overtime winner

warnings: surprises

notes: connor! connor! connor! that goal was so amazing last night, my dad and i were lowkey freaking out about it and his post game interview omg. i love him so much. fuck everyone who hates chicgao because no matter what we stay loyal to our teams even if they do all suck. it was nice to take a break from writing fics about songs but I kinda miss it but I think I'm still gonna do a few without songs or at least ones for the nhl x ts. let me know what you guys want to see next!

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

Y/n sat anxiously in her seat, biting her nails and her leg bouncing as she watched the game. This wasn’t the first overtime that Connor had been a part of, it also wasn’t the second. The Hawks had been to overtime 4 times, including tonight, in the whole season, losing only one. Yet, this was the first time she was present for one, well actually any game.

Being at school it was hard to form and support her boyfriend but with the break being here she finally came to watch him. He didn’t know, which made this all the more exciting for her.

Janelle sat next to her, just as anxious as the girl, as Milana cheered for her dad. They watched and moved their eyes simultaneously for three minutes until they stopped in the Hawks’ zone. 

Tito skated to center ice before swinging back around and passing the puck to Lukas. Lukas waited patiently until his teammate was near and swiftly passed it to Connor.

Y/n prayed silently as he took the puck, easily skating through guys down the ice, getting close enough on the Jets’ side, shooting it, and making it into the goal. 

Janelle and y/n stood up cheering, the younger of the two naturally being more excited. She clapped as everyone surrounded the rookie and she held a smile on her face.

Watching his interview she couldn’t help but tear up a little because just earlier Connor had called her and talked about how he felt he wasn’t contributing much to the team. They had known each other for so long and she always stood by him so being here, knowing that he just proved his own words wrong, felt great to her.

Janelle took her daughter and y/n outside as the girl felt she was suffocating from the number of people that were still in the UC. They waited for their partners to come out, making small talk about how school was going.

They could hear the slight chatter from behind them, turning around to see the team slowly start to file out of the arena. Tito walked out with Murphy and Seth, noticing the two standing there, “They’ll be out soon.”

They both nodded and expressed their gratitude watching them walk off. It wasn’t long before Nick was walking out with Connor, talking about something that was probably hockey-related. Nick looked up and saw his wife and y/n standing there, stopping and nudging the boy, “Hey.”

Connor looked up from his phone looking at his teammate, “What?” 

He gestured to his right and Connor looked that way, “Oh my-”

He wasted no time in dropping his bag and running to his girlfriend, easily picking her up and swinging her around. She let out a loud laugh, wrapping her arms around him, hitting him so she could be put down, “Put me down, psycho.”

Connor placed her down and leaned his forehead against her own, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Nick took his family off to the side to let the two teenagers have their moment. Y/n placed her hands on Connor’s cheek, holding his face, “I’m so proud of you.”

Connor blushed and stayed silently, not knowing what to say. She gave him a look, “Connor, come on. Be proud of yourself.”

He nodded, “I am. But I’m also still in shock that you’re here.” She kissed him and he kissed back, “Best believe it Con because I’m here and I’m coming on your roadie with you.”

“No fucking way.”

“Yes way, school is closed for another week so, my family and I decided to fly down to Dallas and then I think my friends and I will go out East with you.” Connor couldn’t stop bouncing on his feet, even pulling away to jump.

Nick and Janelle walked over, Milana following excitedly behind them, “You guys want to go out to celebrate.” Y/n nodded her head enthusiastically and the five of them headed off to go out for dinner.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

@dancerbailey3 | @if-my-heart-bleeds | @sarawinson78 | @pucks-goals-penalties | @privatemythss | @5secondsofonedirection222 | @piavettel33 | @bohemianrapshawty | @mikayladavis | @hockeyboysarehot | @Whoopwhoop123

[melanthaeunomia]

Helloo!! This is 💫 anon! (Since you said we could give ourselves emoji names if we choose to stay anonymous) I saw that your requests are open!! (Btw, I loved your latest fic!) Would you write a Jason Grace x reader, where Jason has like a horrible day, he just feels super insecure, and he just breaks down into the reader's arms, and the reader comforts him and makes him feel better? It could be fluffy and angsty mixed if you want!

Unseen Leader, Seen by You🏹

A/N: hello dear!! Thank you so much for requesting this 💫, and yes you can have emoji names if you want to stay anon. I tried my best to write this, but angst does not come naturally to Me, for I am a sucker for fluff, so hopefully I did good! Thank you again and I hope I did not disappoint! Fair warning English is not my first language, so please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes, still I hope you enjoy! (not proofread) sorry if this is a bit short! I’m not sure if this is what you meant but jshghj

Content: Jason grace x Reader (Reverse comfort), established relationship

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, comfort (not book accurate? Or maybe idk)

Word count: 1.3k

Requests!⚜️ Riordan Verse masterlist⚜️

It had been a busy week at camp. Jason felt more vulnerable than ever, With all the pressure of being and trying to be a good leader and be a good example, plus the added stress from the disruptive campers getting into pointless fights, his patience and temper had started to alarm you, he always seemed so distressed, fidgeting his hand whenever he appeared to be anxious, you understood why.

He had always been a nice guy, helping campers with what ever they needed, it is his duty after all, the problem was that he could never say no to their requests, feeling obligated to assist them in their journey. You’re not saying that helping is a bad thing, you just thought he needed time to relax, it would help him not be so tense all the time, You tried to talk to him about it, but he quickly shrugged it off, acting like it wasn’t a big deal, and that he can handle it no worries. What's worse is that You were the only one who could see he was struggling, even his own friends didn’t think anything of it, which just made him dismiss the subject because he thought it wasn't important. Suppressing his feelings till he is unable to. And eventually gave in and went to speak with the person he felt most at comfortable with.

He let out a deep breath, wondering if this was a mistake. He didn't want to bother you, what if you were doing something important, and he interrupted then you get mad at him?, what if he’s just making a big deal about this, but it’s all nonsense, and he’s just acting selfish and, sensitive?, what if you dismissed him saying that it’s not that big of a deal?. His overthinking, got worse slowing down his steps as he reached your cabin. He lifted his hand near the door, hesitating before finally knocking.

You had just gotten out of the shower, wearing an old shirt you stole from Jason a long time ago, You gently patted your damp hair with a dry towel trying to get the remainders of the water off, You were about to do your skin care, but then you heard gentle knocks on your door. You twisted the door knob open, a loud screeching can be heard from the floor board beneath as the door glided through. Furthermore, you saw Jason, fidgeting with the rings on his finger, looking down on the ground, refusing to look at you. “Hey…” He finally spoke glancing up at you with misty eyes, and you couldn’t help but frown, seeing the state he is in hurts your soul. You placed a hand up his cheek lightly stroking it “Hi” you whispered back, His cold hands gently squeezing your wrist as you caressed his cheek. Calloused hand wrapped around your waist as he pulled you into a tight hug. He Really needed this. For a moment there was a comfortable silence, you could hear faint whimpers from him, You stroked his hair kissing the top of his head. In your arms, He felt safe, wanted, free from his duties and obligations. “You want to go inside Love?” You suggested, as it was getting colder outside, you received a subtle nod from him before pulling him in your cabin and shutting the door behind you

“Are you okay?” you sat on your bed patting the empty space next to you, He reluctantly walked over, before sitting beside you, a deep sigh leaving him “I-I’m not sure…” he sobbed resting his head on your chest as he listened to the gentle beating of your heart, that made it difficult to resist the urge to take a nap, but he didn’t want to trouble you further. He felt so miserable, and you hated the fact you can’t do anything to help him. You wrapped your arm around him, kissing the top of his head “wanna talk about it?” you suggested, though you already know the reason why he acted like this, Jason let out a sniff, and hesitated, he felt like he was bothering you with his problems, he didn't want to burden you. You caressed his hair, not wanting to press more on the issue if he didn't feel comfortable opening up. “I-...” he stuttered not knowing how to phrase his emotions, he sighed and finally spoke “It’s nothing… i-its just things have been off lately, I don't know why but—” Tears started creeping up his eyes, slowly falling down your shirt, as your hold of him gently tightened “—I’m feeling so much pressure, even though I know there's nothing to worry about. I-i’m just feeling lost...” Jason wept feeling a hand underneath his chin making him look up at you as you wiped the tears in his cheeks away “shh... It's okay, You’re okay…”, he felt so pathetic, crying like this feeling himself be so vulnerable. But he also knew you were the one person that wouldn’t judge him.

Jason felt relieved, in your arms. He let out a small sob as he buried his face on your chest, His breathing and yours in sync, almost therapeutic. “None of my efforts are good enough… I try, I really do. To be a good leader, helping everyone… But it feels like I’m just letting everyone down...” He forced the words out, It was hard for him to open up, bottled up emotions finally spilling out. You frowned hearing what he said “Listen…” He looked up at you with moist eyes, “You are a good leader. You’re not letting anyone down okay?, You may not be perfect, but almost everyone in camp looks up at you, they admire you with or without your mistakes.” He froze at your words, a faint smile in his face, the tears lingered in his eyes despite your attempts on removing them. Still, he didn’t –couldn’t– fully believe you, he felt weak… could you blame him? “I just want everything to be perfect for everyone…” He tried to push negative thoughts away, although they kept taunting him. “No one expects you to be perfect love, You’re already the best leader there is, You’re allowed to make mistakes.” you kissed the top of his head softly humming “I’m average at best” he forced a laugh, Trying to brighten up the mood, but you knew all too well when he started fidgeting on his fingers again, You softly intertwined his hand with yours, stroking it gently, “Average?, You give and help everyone around you, even if you aren't obligated to. You have no right to call yourself average when you work 24/7 just to help people.” You were so fed up with everyone that took advantage of him.

He softly smiled, bringing your hand up to his face a drop of tear fell down and brushed your hand, as he placed a soft kiss on it, a blush on your cheeks appeared, Your words felt like magic to him, he felt so grateful to have you by his side “Do you really think so?..” His breath hitched, still uncertain of your words, but he knew it was all genuine “I know so” You were so confident on your reply, and his lips curled up into a smile, It had been a while since someone praised him for his ability to lead, it felt as if a burden has been lifted off his shoulders, he kept an eye contact, wiping his own tears away. He wrapped an arm around your waist while and rested his head at the crook of your neck “Thank you…” he let out an exhale as his head rested against you, He felt himself grow tired, yet he didn’t wanna fall asleep just yet, not when he has the company of someone like you that appreciate him for more than his worth, someone whom he loves more than himself...

Requests are open!⚜️ Main Masterlist⚜️

@melanthaeunomia

Sorry if its too short! Requests are open!

[babydollmarauders]

IF THIS WAS A MOVIE — DAWSON MERCER

dawson mercer x fem!reader

part of the Speak Now Fic List

summary: in which y/n and Dawson fought before he left for New Jersey and now y/n has regrets.

notes: this takes place in March of 2023. i cried writing this, but that could just be me because i’m a sensitive and emotional baby. (4.6k words)

i was pathetic.

utterly pathetic.

i knew so, my friends said so, even my family said so.

it’s been six months and i still can’t bring myself to do anything besides regret everything that went down last September.

*** September 12th, 2022 ***

“why are you waiting until the day before i’m supposed to leave, to tell me this?” he fumes, glancing at me with glaring eyes as i sink back onto the mattress.

“i wasn’t sure how to tell you, Daws.” i reply meekly. my fingers fumble together, an anxious tick that’s plagued me since grade school.

“how are you just gonna leave me like this?” Dawson huffs, halting his packing in order to stare me down, and i know that no answer i give him will be good enough right now.

“i’m not leaving you, Dawson. i’m just-” i pause, mulling over the right words for a moment. “deferring the move for a couple of months.”

“right.” he nods. “and then you’ll defer it for a few more months, right? until finally i get back and you never had to move at all?”

“thats not what’s happening!”

i scare myself with my unnaturally raised voice. i’m not usually one to lose my temper, but the fact that he’s not understanding my reasoning and seeing where i’m coming from, instead accusing me of things i would never do, has me frustrated.

“when have i ever given you the impression that i wasn’t gonna move at all? there are just a few loose ends i have to tie up here before i can move to another country for you!”

“for me?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “this is for us!”

“it’s your dream Dawson, not mine. but i’m willing to make the sacrifice of leaving home, if you just give me the time!”

he lets out a hollow laugh, sending chills down my spine at the empty sound.

“how much time do you need? we already did long distance for my rookie year. the plan was always for you to join me this season! it’s not my fault that you didn’t time things out accordingly!”

“i never said it was your fault! you’re putting words in my mouth!” i shout, rising from the end of the bed in order to seem more confident. “i’m just saying that i have some things to do, and i’ll drive down, with all my stuff, in a couple months!”

“it’s not that easy! i can’t help you move in once the season is going!” he reminds me, as if i haven’t already thought about that.

“i know, and that’s fine! i can do it on my own!” i tell him. “i just can’t up and leave right now! i’ll move down in November!”

“that’s what you say now.” he rolls his eyes, zipping up the duffel bag that holds some of the clothes and gear that he keeps here in my apartment.

“why do you keep saying that?” i screech. i don’t understand these assumptions he’s making, that i’ll never join him in New Jersey.

“because that’s what’s gonna happen! you don’t love me enough to move, just say it! instead of putting the move off until we’ve grown apart and you don’t have to make it!”

“get out.” the words slip past my lips before i even have the time to think them through. his eyes widen in surprise, but i refuse to keep fighting with him about this. “if you think that lowly of me, then just leave. if we’re just gonna fight, then i don’t wanna talk to you.”

i stomp through the hallways, trailing behind him, and i watch him leave my first floor apartment, heading straight for his car. i slam the door shut behind him, twisting the lock and letting my forehead fall against the door with a thud.

i turn, pressing my back against the door and allowing my body to slide down until my butt rests against the floor. thinking over the entire fight, tears fill my eyes now that i’m alone.

what just happened?

he’ll come back. he has to.

right?

*** PRESENT ***

he never came back.

in fact he hasn’t contacted me since that fight. completely ghosting me. shunning me out of his bright new life.

i still wake up most mornings, reaching out towards the cold sheets of the right side of the bed, expecting him to be there. his bright smile and his infectious body temperature, like my own personal space heater. but i know he’s not there, and i’m not sure he’ll ever occupy that space again.

and now i lay confined to the left side of the bed, my body still unconsciously trained not to sprawl out.

the thin white sheet that covers my body doesn’t do much to protect me from the cold Newfoundland air that seeps in through my broken bedroom window, but i make no move to get up.

it’s long past noon on my day off, but i only woke an hour ago; having been up late into the night, thinking back what felt like a thousand memories of Dawson and i, trying to distract myself of the deafening silence that resulted to my own heartbeat in my ears.

back when we were together and happy.

in high school, when we met.

when i attended his QMJHL games, and when we would go out to eat afterwards, him listening to whatever mindless gossip i had learned through my friends, and me nodding along to his hockey talk and the stories of what stupid things his teammates did before that days game.

when he met my parents for the first time, and when i met his.

when he would get annoyed that we were persuaded to bring his siblings with us places, and i would lace our hands together while he drove, encouraging him to tune out his brother and sister arguing in the back seat over who got to control the music.

back when we had the kind of love that i only ever thought existed in movies.

i reach over to my nightstand, retrieving my phone. and despite knowing this would only hurt me more, i click into my camera roll, entering the still open photo album of our relationship.

i restart at the beginning, the very first photo we ever took together. when we were only fourteen and didn’t know where life would take us. we were strictly friends at the time, meeting through our other friends, who thought we would be cute together.

then i get to the photos when we were fifteen. when Dawson asked me to the 2017 valentine’s dance at school. when we finally started dating. when we were in that awkward stage of finding what our relationship was like now that we had taken the next step.

getting to the pictures of us when we were sixteen was like watching a romantic movie. most were taken after his games, some taken by friends while i kissed him in congratulations of a win or hugged him after a loss. the honeymoon year.

then came the videos. seventeen year old us thought we were the cutest. two years together meant we were a lot more comfortable around each other. videos of him doing face masks with me. of us dancing around his kitchen at two in the morning, nothing providing light besides the open refrigerator.

year three of our relationship was a little trickier. eighteen and we were graduating high school, with plenty of pictures in our caps and gowns to prove it. the year he got drafted by the Devils. that was the year that it really sunk in that he would eventually be leaving. that year, i spent most nights wrapped in his arms, no matter where we were. pictures of me on his lap, his arms holding me to him tight, our friends laughing around us, but we were only paying attention to each other. that was the same year that he held me as i cried and whispered promises in my ear that the future distance would do nothing to us. ‘nothing’s gonna change. not for me and you. we’re invincible. we love each other too much to let anything come between us.’ he had whispered, and i believed him.

year four, we spent every waking moment we could together, because we knew the inevitable would happen and he would have to leave in the fall for his NHL debut. photos of him fishing, with me by his side and reading a book. videos of us singing in the car, our hands gripped tightly together, as though we thought the tighter we held on, the more likely it would be that we get through the eventual distance. videos his sister took of me at his debut game, screaming and bursting with pride after he recorded his first NHL point. lots of facetime screenshots and photos from my trips down to visit him in New Jersey.

and finally, i reach year five. a multitude of pictures from when i visited him for our five year anniversary in Jersey. more facetime screenshots as we endured the last few months of long distance until he finally came home for the off-season. those are quickly followed up by early morning pictures i took of him asleep in my bed. i longed for the nights that he would sleepover, and whenever he did choose to stay the night rather than driving back home, my heart would burst with contentment.

the trip down memory lane ends there. we never reached year six, just shy of five months away from it when we had our final fight. it was a month ago now that we would’ve reached that milestone, and i guess that’s when it became all too real for me. when i fell back into the tight hold of regret and i started thinking about him more often than i didn’t. thinking about him being out there somewhere, possibly moving on from me; from us; it feels like a kick to the gut.

we may have had the kind of love from movies, but if this was a movie he would’ve come back by now.

why didn’t he come back?

the thought rattles in my brain as i finally get up from my bed, deeming four in the afternoon an acceptable time to finally start my day.

i run my hands down my face, slightly surprised to pull them away with tears coating my palms. i hadn’t even realized i was crying.

i run through my usual routine lazily; brush my teeth, wash my face, brush my hair, get changed, make something to eat.

i spend most of the next few hours lounged on the couch, binge watching netflix, and another hour eating a snack and mindlessly scrolling through tiktok. and when the clock strikes nine, i do the same thing i’ve been doing for the past six months. the exact thing that my friends and family have told me is probably the reason i can’t move on; i turn on the Devils game.

they play against Carolina tonight, and i’m eager to watch Dawson continue his point streak. last night he officially hit twelve games, with twenty points within those twelve, and i fully believe that he could beat Taylor Hall’s record of nineteen straight games with a point.

however, as the game stretches on, Dawson doesn’t make a point. in fact, his entire demeanor seems off tonight and i flood with worry.

is he feeling okay?

is he feeling burnt out?

what can i do to help?

nothing. i remember. i can’t do anything to help, because he’s not mine to help anymore.

not since six months ago today.

when the game ends —with Dawson’s point streak officially ended— i make myself a quick dinner before popping some sleeping pills, forcing myself to sleep in order to avoid any more thoughts of my ex; and in my sleep drug induced haze, i vaguely remember opening my camera roll before i fall asleep, phone still in hand.

i thought he’d come back by now.

**

the next two weeks go by uneventfully. my days dragging on, consisting only of work, family dinners, watching Dawson’s games, and lounging in my apartment.

it’s on the fifteenth day, that my friends are able to drag me out of my bubble. coaxing me out of my apartment with the promise of free drinks and taking my mind off of my ex-boyfriend.

but despite their well meant intentions, i’m still checking my phone for the Devils vs Islanders score every few minutes.

“y/n,” Taylor starts, holding out her hand and leveling me with a disappointed glare. “give me your phone.”

“what?” i stare at her in shock, my lips resting in a parted position. “no.”

“no?” she blinks, clearly surprised by the refusal. “babes, you gotta stop checking that score. give it here.”

i hesitate, my gaze fluttering between her outstretched hand and my iphone.

“gimme,” she urges. “i’ll keep it safe. promise.”

she crosses her finger over her heart before holding her hand out again, and this time, i finally hand over the prized possession.

“i want it back when you drop me off.” i remind her, just as Kenzie comes back with a tray of shots.

“and i will totally do that, i swear.” Taylor nods.

“what are we talking about?” Kenzie chimes, sliding a shot to each of us.

“she took my phone.”

“oh good!” she grins. “i thought i was gonna have to be the bad guy and do it.”

Taylor shakes her head before raising her shot glass, Kenzie and i following suit.

“to the first time in history that we’ve all been single at the same time.” Taylor chants, and technically she’s not wrong.

since our friendship started, at the age of thirteen, at least one of us has always had a boyfriend. and for five straight years, that someone was me. but the reminder doesn’t help cheer me up, nor does it distract me from the fact that he left.

Kenzie grimaces at our friends words, shaking her head.

“what? bad toast?” Taylor asks, her nose scrunching. “sorry, hun. my bad.”

i shrug, feigning nonchalance, and we all down our shots. the burn of the liquor provides a nice distraction, taking my mind away for a moment as i focus solely on taking a sip of soda to rid myself of the taste.

“oh god, tequila?” i shudder, my face contorting in disgust, but Kenzie just laughs.

“hey! i shelled out the money for the good shit! this is no in-the-trash tequila!” she defends.

‘in-the-trash’ being a term we’ve used since we could even start drinking at nineteen, just meaning an alcohol that makes us end the night with our head in a trash can.

“all tequila is in-the-trash tequila, Kenz.” i chuckle as she hands me another shot.

“c’mon, drink up.�� she grins. “we have a whole night of wild debauchery ahead of us.”

“i’m gonna be nursing a wicked hangover tomorrow, aren’t i?”

*

it’s hours later, nearly two in the morning, when i’m dropped off at home by an uber. i’m heavily inebriated, my head spinning and my sense of judgment completely gone.

i slump against my front door, digging through my purse to retrieve my keys, before i let myself in. i’m barely into the apartment when i strip myself of my shoes, my keys being thrown on the entryway table along with my purse, which topples over on its side.

from the sideways purse slides my phone and my brows thread together in confusion.

when was the last time i had seen that?

did Taylor put that in there when i wasn’t looking?

or had she given it back to me and i just forgot?

at the sight of the device, the entire reason it got taken from me in the first place comes rushing back. i grab the phone from the table, turning it back on as i clumsily make my way to my bedroom, slumping onto my bed.

i squint, blinking a few times at the brightness that emerges from the screen within the pitch black room. clicking into the espn app, the heart plummets as i see the final score.

Devils lose, 1-5. and maybe it’s the alcohol in my system, heightening my emotions, but my heart breaks for my ex and his team and i want nothing more than to comfort him like i used to.

so with the confidence i could only have when drunk, and no one around to stop me, i pull up his contact, clicking the call button.

it rings, on and on until it finally chimes with his voicemail, and the sound of his voice makes my heart leap in my chest.

oh how i’ve missed his voice.

it beeps again, letting me know i can leave message, and instead of hanging up, like i would with anyone else, the words spill out of my mouth.

“hi, Daws. i’m so sorry about your loss tonight. and i’m sorry about your point streak too. i really thought you could beat the record.”

tears gather at my waterline, my voice beginning to shake as my throat grows thick. this is the first time i’ve called him since that night.

“but i’m- god i’m really so mad at you. you left me, and you didn’t come back. no calls, no texts. did five years mean nothing? i know people change, and these things happen; and i know i said i didn’t wanna talk to you but- this is me officially taking it all back now, okay?”

a sob wracks my chest, and i let my tears flow freely in the comfort of my darkened bedroom.

“i just— i love you so much. and i miss you. i thought you’d come back. you can still come back, if you’d just say you’re sorry. please, come back.”

my thumb smacks down on the red button, ending the call, and i power my phone down, chucking it beside me on the bed.

my cries grow louder and i feel as though i could drown in my own tears. rolling onto my side, my body curls into the fetal position and i wrap my arms around my legs. it feels like i lay like that forever until i’m cried out, my eyelids growing heavier and heavier until i can hold them open no longer, letting myself fall asleep.

i’m woken in the morning to the sun peeking through the curtains that i seemingly forgot to close last night in my drunken stupor.

when did i get home last night?

how many drinks did i have?

stretching out my body, i sit up in my bed, reaching over to my nightstand to retrieve my phone to check the time, but it’s not there. my hands pat through the sheets, finally discovering the device on the other side of the bed, and i power it on.

my head pounds, the room spinning and light nausea flooding over me from my hangover.

i’m never drinking again.

the time on my phone reads noon, and i’m not shocked by how long i slept. considering i can barely remember anything that happened after my seventh shot last night, i’m surprised i’m not still dead to the world.

i notice some notifications, but refuse to scroll through them, not ready to face the ‘how dead are we all feeling?’ texts from my friends yet. so rather than staying on my phone, i leave it on my bed as i get up and run through my routine.

i brush my teeth before hopping in for a quick shower, hoping that it’ll help rid me of my hangover, before i get dressed and go to the kitchen to retrieve a gatorade and make myself breakfast.

i stand in front of my living room window as i drink my gatorade, peering through the glass at the gray sky. it seems that the weather is matching my gloomy mood, as it begins to pour rain from the dark clouds.

sighing, i return to my couch, turning on the tv and flipping through the channels until i get distracted by the NHL Network, which replays last nights Devils game, and i can’t convince myself to change it.

the camera pans to Dawson’s face and he looks entirely disappointed by the low score of his team.

if only i could cheer him up.

how i would love to be able to hug him again.

how i would love to see him at my front door again, like i would’ve a few years ago after a QMJHL game. when he would show up after a lost game that i couldn’t attend, and my mother would just shake her head at his appearance but ultimately smile at the way he wrapped his arms around me.

but that was then, and this is now. in an alternate reality, maybe i’m in Jersey with him right now, his head on my chest as i talk him through the loss, but in this reality, we’re broken up, and that doesn’t seem to be changing any time soon. eventually, i’ll have to accept that our lives weren’t meant to intertwine forever. time wasn’t in our favor, and fate wasn’t in our cards.

it’s four in the afternoon when a knock sounds at my door, loud and obnoxious as i try to focus on the movie that now plays on my television. grumbling to myself as i stand up, i assume it’ll be Taylor or Kenzie stopping by to check in on me after i’ve avoided their texts.

but when i open the door, time seems to freeze, and i decide my eyes must be deceiving themselves. i slam the door shut again, blinking a few times before i open it once more, but my eyes are working fine.

standing in the rain, outside of my apartment door, is Dawson.

“i— what—” i stutter, unsure of what to do or say. my heart races in my chest and i can’t decide whether i’m more nervous or excited to see him. “what are you doing here? why aren’t you in Jersey?”

“you asked me to come back.” his voice is like melted butter, just as smooth as i remembered it. his eyes accentuated by dark circles from apparent lack of sleep, but they’re still that soft brown that i’ve always loved so much, his gaze soft as he stares back at me.

“what?” confusion drips from the single word, but then the memory comes flooding back to me. getting home last night, checking the game score, calling him. “you came back… because i asked you to?”

he steps forward, and with the light from inside reflecting against his eyes and lighting up his face amongst the gray clouded skies, my heart drops. i’ve missed him so much, and now that he’s back here in front of me, i’m questioning it?

“i would do anything if you asked me to.” he speaks hesitantly. “i’m sorry, y/n.

“i’m sorry i accused you of not wanting to move with me— of not loving me enough. i let my insecurities and my fears that you would get tired of barely seeing me and leave me, get the best of me. i’m sorry i left that night without fighting to stay. fighting for us. i’m sorry that i didn’t talk to you, i thought it was what you wanted, but i see how stupid i was for that now. i’m sorry that i made you wait so long for me to come back, but i’m here now. to apologize and to get you back, because i still love you so much and i don’t know if i can take another day of not having you anymore.”

tears roll slowly down my cheeks at his words and i open the door farther, ushering him inside before i speak. my hands come up to hold his face, my eyes gazing into his.

“i’ve been waiting for you every day since you’ve been gone.” i whisper, my voice shaky. “i thought you were gone forever, and i was still waiting. because deep down i’ve always known that you are it for me, Dawson Mercer. if i didn’t have you, i didn’t want anyone else.

“i didn’t think you wanted me anymore. and some part of me accepted that, but a larger part of me just kept hoping and praying that you would come back. Daws, i would much rather spend nine months only having some of you, than forever having none of you.”

his head dips down, lips meeting mine, not even minding the salty tears that have run over my lips. kissing him again is like breathing for the first time in six months. like a natural instinct that i finally gained access to again, and when he pulls away, i pull him back down, not ready to give it up again.

finally, i pull back just enough to breath in deep, replacing the lack of oxygen in my lungs.

“i love you.” he whispers, his lips still brushing against mine, and a smile breaks out upon my face, pecking a kiss on his own small smile.

“i love you too.” i tell him, retreating to look in his eyes. “i do have a question, though.”

“anything.” he nods, prepared to answer anything i throw at him.

“are you stupid?!” i lightly smack his arm and his brows furrow in confusion. “shouldn’t you be in Jersey, practicing so you can beat the Rangers on thursday?”

he laughs, pulling my body in closer against his.

“i should.” he nods. “but i took a maintenance day, so i could win back my biggest fan. i do have to be back for practice tomorrow, but, i was hoping maybe you’d come with me.”

my heartbeat picks up at his confession and the nervous expression painted across his face after he says it, but i nod and his face lights up.

“really?” he questions, and i’m overwhelmed with excitement, nodding again.

“yeah, Daws, i’ll go anywhere with you.”

“in that case, our flight leaves in a few hours…” he grimaces and my eyes widen as i step back.

“i gotta pack. i gotta go online and put in to use my paid time off.” i freeze, dread filling my senses. “i have to tell Taylor and Kenzie i won’t make girls night for a month.”

Dawson’s head drops back in laughter before he looks back at me again, sporting a smirk. “a bit longer than that, i think you’re forgetting, we’re going to the playoffs.”

“oh my god, two months.” i stare back at him in joking horror. “oh they’re gonna hate you.”

“me? you’re the one skipping out on girls night!” he calls out, following me into my bedroom as i begin throwing clothes into a suitcase.

“yeah, but they could never hate me. you? they’ve already disliked for six months.” he shrugs, nodding at my words.

“fair enough.” he replies, helping me grab shirts off of hangers and pack them away into my suitcase. “you think they’ll ever like me again?”

i hum in thought, “i don’t know, maybe once they hear about how you flew back for only a mere few hours to apologize to me in the rain.”

“and i’d do it again.” he grins, pulling my body to his, my back against his chest. he buries his face in my neck, nipping at my skin and making me laugh.

maybe our love is like the movies, we just had to suffer through the ‘third act breakup’ in order to get to our happy ending.

[chishiyasleftnut]

I love your writing smmmm <33 could you do chishiya with girlfriend who suffers from anxiety? (Social anxiety) one and kind of introverted type?? Thank youuuu.

Hi there! Thank you for your support and request (-^〇^-)

This one is really short, but I still hope you’ll enjoy it. Please let me know if you’re fine with the occasional short fic! Life has been quite busy lately as I’m both moving apartment and writing my bachelor’s thesis, so I haven’t had much time and energy to write for this blog, sadly. 

Nonetheless, I managed to finish this cutie! I hope you’ll enjoy it ( ღ’ᴗ’ღ )

(It wasn't planned, but there's no gendered language regarding the reader, so this time it's a gn!reader story!)

Silly Thoughts

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 Warnings: None! Pure fluff. Pairing: Chishiya x gn!reader.

Plot: gn!reader suffers from social anxiety, leading them to cancel an event hosted by Chishiya’s work. Chishiya, who does not understand anxiety, tries to figure out why and attempts to help gn!reader overcome their anxiety.

1090 words. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“I just don’t feel like it.”

For the past week, your mind had been filled by nothing but the big event you had agreed to attend. Chishiya, your boyfriend, had been invited to a seminar run by the hospital he worked at - invited was a kind word, as it was definitely not voluntary whether or not he attended. Luckily for him, he was allowed to bring a guest, giving him a tiny sliver of hope that he wouldn’t be completely bored out of his mind.

“Why not?” Chishiya asked while tying his tie in the mirror. He had never understood why you were so anxious about social gatherings. Sure, he didn’t like them either, but he wouldn’t say he was anxious about them. Annoyed would probably be a better word.

He watched you in the mirror as you fiddled around with your hands, trying to come up with an excuse that could be somewhat believable. As always, you didn’t meet his eyes when you were anxious. He had yet to figure out why, but his best guess was that you were scared he could read your mind or something.

“I don’t feel like it today,” you repeated. “I feel sick.”

“Sick?”

Chishiya turned around to face you, immediately springing into his well-known role as a doctor and taking a few steps closer to you before putting his hand on your forehead to feel your temperature. Just as he suspected, you didn’t have a fever. You were, however, shaking enough to hit a 6.5 on the Richter-scale, trembling as if your body was the epicentre of an earthquake.

“Why don’t you want to go?” he asked again, his hand moving around your face as he continued to feel for a fever.

No reply came out of your mouth, your eyes glued to the floor. With a gentle finger on your chin, Chishiya raised your head, so you were looking him in the eyes. You were expecting him to look angry that you were trying to get out of a promise; to be pissed that you didn’t want to do this one thing for him; but he didn’t look mad. No, quite the contrary - he looked… concerned?

“Tell me,” he insisted again, his tone softer than you’ve heard him before.

Your mouth kept opening and closing, no words coming out as you tried to figure out how to explain to him what was wrong. Your own fears felt silly to you and admitting an irrational fear like that to someone as chronically logical as Chishiya felt like defeat - even though he was your long-term boyfriend whom you loved dearly. Surely you should feel open with him at this point, no? So far, he had yet to belittle any of your thoughts, no matter how small and irrational they were. He was safe and you knew that.

“I don’t like big crowds.”

“Really?” your boyfriend asked, sounding slightly confused. Chishiya had never suffered from any type of social anxiety. Mostly he just found unnecessary social interaction bothersome to deal with - not anxiety provoking. “Why not?”

“I’m… I don’t know. I’m scared people will talk to me and I won’t know what to say, or maybe I’ll fall flat on my face in front of everyone and they’ll laugh, or I’ll-“

Chishiya interrupted you with a finger on your lips and a small chuckle, slightly amused by the way your brain was spinning itself into death, circling around every hypothetical scenario.

“That won’t happen. You’re intelligent and very much capable of walking without falling over your own feet.”

“But what if I’m not?” you asked with a small voice, almost sounding like a child.

Although Chishiya was still smiling, you didn’t feel as if he was making fun of you. Instead, it was clear that he just enjoyed getting a glimpse into how you worked. From the first time you met, Chishiya knew that you and he were very different people, and truth be told that was what he loved about you the most. You were almost like a puzzle to him - a constant riddle he couldn’t wait but solve. He was almost itching to figure you out, excited by the way you were led by emotions instead of logic like he was.

“Okay,” he finally said after a while, his hands immediately working on loosening his tie. “We’ll stay home. I’ll call and tell them I’ve gotten sick.”

No words, not even ‘pure and utter relief’, could adequately describe your facial expression. You let out a breath that you didn’t even know you had been holding, immediately feeling ten times calmer and lighter at his words.

“But,” he continued while placing his tie on the table and slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt. “You’re starting therapy for this.”

“Therapy?” you asked, now sounding slightly anxious again.

“Yes, therapy. You can’t avoid crowds forever, you know? I’ll help you find someone who can help you with this.”

Chishiya’s eyes darted all over your face as you took in his ultimatum. At last you decided that potential therapy sometime in the future was way less scary than the concrete social event you were otherwise forced to attend. Hence, you nodded and accepted his demand.

With his white dress shirt open, Chishiya pulled you into a hug and placed a tender kiss on your forehead, pausing with his lips pressed against your face to savour the serene moment. You allowed yourself to melt into his embrace, letting the remnants of his aftershave travel up your nose and overwhelm your senses, effectively grounding you in reality and melting away every lasting remain of the anxiety that had previously paralysed you. All that mattered right now was him - not some stupid medical seminar. Crisis averted.

“You know,” he finally said after a minute of silence. "You can always tell me if something is wrong. Even if you think it’s silly.”

“I know, I just feel stupid admitting silly stuff.”

A sharp exhale of air huffed out of Chishiya’s nose and travelled over your forehead as he half-chuckled at your words.

“You can be silly without being stupid. You’re never stupid.”

For a few seconds, you let his words calm your mind. You didn’t want to admit it, but that was exactly what you needed: to know that Chishiya didn’t find you to be unintelligent just because of the way your anxiety was dictating your life at times. You felt Chishiya’s lips graze your forehead again, sealing in his words and cementing them in your mind.

You are never stupid.

[uhohwhathaveidone]

What if Sebastian with an slytherin reader but who is shy and how he is and how he helps-

Your tea, M'lord ^o^

Shy Slytherin (S.S)

My internet died and It's asking for the password but Idk it and now I'm hot spotting my laptop to get this to you. I have to wait for soemone to wake up in the morning to fix it for me, because i sauck at technology. Anyway, I want to explain that Sebastian's begining actions are based off this girl that greeted me every morning at 8am for English class, like she even remembered my name, and so I had Sebastian copy of the things she did, even if we only had one class together. This is also my apology for the bad Poppy fic lmao I won't write during personal situations now because that was just shameful of me. Gender neutral reader, with a Jealous Sebastian? Adorable. I'm going to chug more bang now.

   You stood in the back of the group, head down as names are called to get sorted into their houses. Every now and then someone would brush up next to you as they moved closer to the front, and you shuddered each time. When your name was called, you quickly rushed up, eyes to the floor as the hat was placed on your head. “You have potential, great potential. I’m sure you will find your place in Slytherin!” The hat yelled, and your eyes widened as it was taken off your head, quietly heading to the farthest side of the table, sitting down. You kept your eyes on the table, waiting for the sorting to be over so you could find your things.

     Sebastian watched you from the other end of the table, his sister Anne beside him as they both watched you, puzzled. “Slytherin? They don’t really seem like a Slytherin to me.” Anne said, eyeing you as you tapped your fingers on the table. Sebastian nodded, intrigued. A Slytherin that can’t even sit with their classmates was peculiar, and he became determined to be your friend.

     Sebastian kept an eye on you as you made your way through classes, getting your work done quickly and quietly. He watched as you would nod to people every now and then if they waved or greeted you, but that seemed to be as far as you would go. Anne had tried to talk to you a few times, barely getting much from you as you tried to concentrate on the assignment you were working on, and had complained about it to Sebastian and Ominis. Sebastian had most of his classes with you, and had formulated a plan to get you out of your shell a bit.

     One day in Herbology, he set his plan in motion. Finding you already seated at your table, he made his way over. You watched him from the corner of your eye, growing anxious as he made his way closer. “Hello there,” he said as he placed his bag onto your table, taking a seat next to you. You quickly whispered a hello back, brows furrowed in confusion at his sudden change of seating. Sebastian didn’t falter, “My name is Sebastian.” You looked up at him looking at his face. “Y/n.” You whispered, quirking an eyebrow. Sebastian smiled at you, taking out the book needed for class. “Say, y/n, do you know which chapter we’re going over today?” He wanted to keep you talking. He already liked how your voice sounded, quiet now, but he was already thinking about how loud you would get if he told a joke, maybe your laugh would be contagious? You brought him out of his thoughts as you flipped through the pages of your own book, reading the top of the page. “I think it’s chapter 12 today.” Sebastian nodded, opening his book and following your movements.

     “So, do you like this class?” You nodded, reaching into your bag to grab your quill and parchment. It wasn’t the response Sebastian had wanted, but he knew to take small steps, humming to himself. “We share a lot of classes, you know?” You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.” Sebastian smiled to himself, glad to know that you were aware of who was in your classes. “Which one is your favourite?” You raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” “Which class, you have a favourite, right?” You relaxed your face, a small “ah” leaving your lips. “I suppose. Charms is quite fun. I’m waiting for Defense Against the Dark arts, though. That class seems really cool.” You smiled softly as you talked, thinking about the class. Sebastian’s smile grew, “Me too! I can’t wait to get there.” He said excitedly, finding something in common with you.

     Sebastian continued to make small talk with you throughout the class, sometimes asking you questions about what Professor Garlick was talking about. You would answer him quietly, feeling put on the spot each time he asked you something. You were curious as to why he suddenly grew an interest in you, but you weren’t quite complaining. You knew you needed friends, you couldn’t go through the whole year alone, but it was also hard for you, so Sebastian stepping up and leading the conversations made it a whole lot easier. You sighed as Garlick asked a question, searching for someone to give her an answer. You felt her eyes on you, and you felt yourself sink in your seat. “Y/n, why don’t you give it a go?” She asked, gesturing to you. Your eyes widened and you felt your cheeks heat up, your hands beginning to shake. “Um, it’s…” You stuttered, trying to speak. Sebastian gave you an encouraging smile, trying to ease your nerves. “Mandrake?” You asked, afraid it was the wrong answer. Garlick smiled as she nodded, “Correct! Ten points to Slytherin!” You sighed as you tried to steady your hands, glad that you had the right answer. “Nice job, ten points!” Sebastian whispered to you, and you smiled.

     You waved to Sebastian as you existed the classroom, disappearing into the crowd. He felt accomplished, and headed off to tell Anne and Ominis his progress. “Wait, so you’re trying to…socialize them?” Ominis asked, confused. Sebastian nodded, “Yes. It’s going rather well, I think.” Anne smiled happily, glad that you were slowly becoming friends with her brother, hoping that you may become friends with her too. “We should invite them to eat lunch with us today!” She suggested, noting the time. Ominis nodded, “That would be nice, but we don’t want to overwhelm them.” Sebastian thought for a moment, deciding that at lunch they would invite you to eat with them. “Sure, we’ll ask them at lunch!”

     They did not, in fact, ask if you wanted to eat with them. Sebastian led his two friends over and took a seat next to you, smiling at you. Anne took the seat next to you, and Ominis on the other side of the table, sitting across from you. Your eyes widened, confused. “Y/n! I want you to meet my twin sister, Anne!” He gestured to Anne, who smiled and waved at you. You smiled back shyly, “Hello.” “That right there is Ominis, he’s our friend.” Sebastian explained, pointing to Ominis, who only smiled. You recognized the two of them, knowing who Ominis was and seeing Anne around the common room. “Nice to meet you two.” You said, looking at Sebastian. “We were hoping we could eat with you. If you’re ok with it.” You nodded, seeing as how they were already sitting with you. The three of them smiled and talked with you about random things, trying to learn more about you.

     You finished your first year of Hogwarts with three friends, who stayed by your side until Anne had to leave in your fourth year. It set you back a bit, becoming distant again, seemingly throwing away all the effort Sebastian put in to become your friend. You didn’t talk to anyone else in the four years you had been there either, still too shy to actually talk to anyone else. Sebastian became frustrated, having been stuck to being waved and nodded at whenever you passed him in the hall. It took him half the year to get you back again, and he was determined to keep you by his side.

     “Next year, we’ll be having more Defense Against the Dark Arts, y/n, isn’t that exciting?” Sebastian asked, sitting next to you on the couch in the common room. You nodded, reading a book. “We can duel with each other too, you know. Then I can show you what I’ve learned so far.” You raised an eyebrow, looking over your book and glancing at him. “That’s assuming you could beat me, of course.” Ominis nodded listening to the two of you in one of your many banters. Sebastian scoffed, “I can, definitely.” You hummed, a smirk on your lips as you continued to read your book. “Just you wait, then. After our break next month, we’ll see.”

     When you made it to your fifth year, you became closer to Sebastian and Ominis. Sebastian had suggested trying to talk to more people so you wouldn’t get bored of him, but you would shake your head, claiming that you had enough. “You might think that, but I still think you need more friends.” You shook your head, sighing. “I would rather not go through the process of trying to talk to people again, thanks. It’s bad enough the teachers still call on me in class, I can barely answer their questions still.” Sebastian sighed this time, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We need to work on that. You have the right answer to the questions, I still don’t understand why you can’t say them.” “Because what if they’re wrong?” “How are they wrong if the answer’s right in front of you?” You shrugged, unable to explain. You frustrated Sebastian sometimes, but he wouldn’t trade it if it meant he could stay by your side and help you with small things like asking a question.

     Truth be told, Sebastian had begun to develop feelings for you, his quest to become your friend had quickly taken a turn and became a quest for your affection. When you weren’t hiding away from people, you were laughing and talking with him, and he would listen to the random rambling you would do if he mentioned something you liked. And he was right about your laugh, it was rather contagious. Although he wanted you to make more friends, he was glad he basically had you for himself, knowing that he would be one of two people you would turn to if you needed someone to talk to.

     He sat on the edge of the fountain, looking down at the pages of the book in his hand. He wasn’t paying much attention to the words, however, as he watched you in the corner of his eye, crouching down and petting one of the many cats around. You do that quite often really, seeing a cat in the distance and rushing towards it, scratching it behind its ears and cooing at it. You did the same thing now, having left Sebastian’s side by the fountain to interact with a tabby cat that had walked by. He watched with a smile, looking back to his book, your voice cooing in the background.

     A few moments passed and he couldn’t hear you talking to the cat anymore, but you hadn’t returned to his side yet, either. He glanced back up from his book, scanning the area for you. His eyes widened as he saw a boy clad in Gryffindor colour talk to you. You stood there awkwardly, fiddling with your fingers as you listened to him speak. Sebastian couldn’t hear what the boy was saying, but he watched as your cheeks turned a light shade of pink. You looked down at your feet, speaking softly and then nodding to the boy, making your way back to the fountain and Sebastian.

     Sebastian glared as the boy walked past the two of you, sending you a smile. He turned to you, eyebrow raised. “What did he want?” You sat there, confused as you tried to wrap your head around it yourself. Sebastian felt a pang of jealousy as your cheeks grew darker, watching as you went through the events in your head. “He said hi to me, first. I didn’t expect it.” Sebastian nodded, closing the book. “And then he asked me out-“ “He what?” “I don’t even know who he is, but he said I was cute, and wanted to know if I wanted to go somewhere with him.” Sebastian felt the jealousy grow even more, whipping his head around in search of the boy. “Did he say where?” You shrugged, “I wasn’t really listening, it was very sudden.” Sebastian sighed in annoyance, looking over at your face. “What did you say when he asked?” You bit the inside of your cheek, “Maybe. I don’t know why I said that, I really don’t want to, but he put me on the spot, and you know I don’t like being put on the spot like that.”

     Sighing heavily in both relief and annoyance, he bumped his shoulder against your own. “You know, you can’t just say maybe to everyone. One of these days you’ll find someone that’ll ask you that you actually like, and you’ll probably do the same thing.” You shrugged, “I really only want one person to ask me out, but that’s also scary to think about.” Sebastian raised an eyebrow, “You want someone to ask you out?” Your face heated up, stuttering, “Not just anyone- like, like a specific person!” Sebastian deflated, unsure if he should ask you who it was. You sat there, playing with your sleeve, cheeks still pink. “You could ask me. I’d say yes.” You whispered, barely audible to Sebastian. His heart skipped a beat and his face felt warm. “What? You want me? To ask you out?” Your eyes widened as you shook your head frantically, trying to change the subject. Sebastian smiled, watching your flustered face as you freaked out, not meaning for him to hear you.

     “Ok then.” Sebastian said, placing his book into his bag and standing up. He offered you his hand, smiling. “Let’s go somewhere.” You looked up at him, worried. “Where?” “A date.” Your face flushed even more as you reached out to grab his hand, shakily. “But what about that guy-“ Sebastian held your hand as he found the guy that had originally asked you out, walking over to him with you trailing behind, shaking. The boy smiled as he saw you walk over, waving. “Hey! Made a decision?” Sebastian glared at him, “Yeah, they did. It’s a no.” With that, Sebastian turned around, taking you out of the courtyard and leaving the boy standing there, shocked. “Sebastian! That was rude.” Sebastian only shrugged, smiling at you as the two of you walked through the halls. “You said you wanted me to ask you out, so I had to take out the competition.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Where are we going then?” “The Three Broomsticks. Sirona’s been wanting to see us.” In truth, Sebastian had told her about his feelings, and Sirona had offered free butterbeer to the two of you if he ever managed to ask you out on a date, and Sebastian was eager to show her that he had finally done so.

[lipglossanon]

The anon who sent the long puppy boy Leon blurb is back and brain rotting.

Imagine bringing Leon back to the shelter for a visit. You make sure to stress to him that you aren’t returning him, that he’s still your good boy, that you’re only bringing him to visit the other hybrids that he misses. You make sure to have his collar on him, maybe a little tighter than usual so he can feel the weight of it on him, grounding him through it all that he’s still yours.

Once leon knows that he’s not going back permanently, just to visit, he’s excited! He wants to help the other puppies train so they can be good boys, wants to brag that his owner is so sweet and nice and lets him scent her by hugging her! But more importantly, he wants to talk to the dog men about how to help his puppy cock. See, Leon has had boners before you, but now, it feels like every time you make his tail wag, he’s leaking cum into his pants. You’re gonna notice the amount of laundry soon, and Leon is worried you’ll actually return him if you find out just what his puppy cock is doing. So he goes to the older dog men, and asks how to make him stop leaking cum every where. The older dog tease him for his over excited puppy cock, but they see how anxious he is about this and tell him there is something he can wear that’ll stop his puppy cock from getting hard, which should stop him from cumming every where every time you so much as look at him. He gets one from the shelter (after begging the volunteer to not say anything to you, and he’s making himself sick at the thought of you finding out so the volunteer has to agree).

He puts it on, and though it feels wrong to not have his puppy cock out and ready to hump things the second you so much as look his way, he’s hopeful that this will stop his leaking. And it does! Kinda… he’s not getting hard (though he wants to, he can feel his dick wanting to swell, the knot begging to form for you) but he’s still cumming whenever he gets too excited or close to you. Actually, it might even be making him worse because he’s more sensitive now, and he’s found himself trying to hump even when in his device. His puppy cock is so sensitive and filled with even more cum because of the sensitivity. But he doesn’t want to risk not wearing it when you’re home because then you’ll find out and you’ll hate him!!

Finally, one day you come home to see puppy boy Leon humping your pillow with the cage still on. Every other hump has cum leaking from his puppy cock, yet he still keeps going. You coo and call for your puppy to tell you what’s happening, and he does, even as he keeps cumming because your near him with his puppy cock exposed. So you tell him he doesn’t have to be caged up, he can use his puppy cock and fill you will all the cum he’s been wasting and the words make him cum for like 8 minutes straight, the largest load you’ve ever seen, and he’s still in the cage. Getting him out of the cage and inside you, it’s like you bought a fucking machine because even when he’s cumming, he just keeps fucking into you nonstop, and your tummy is swelling a bit from being so filled with cum and he’s not stopping, mind completely broken and all he knows is to hump and cum as he whimpers and whines.

(I tried to not add any piss stuff this time around, even though I love the idea of subby little puppy boys not being able to control what leaks out of their dicks because they’re too dumb and horny to control themselves, just in case some people dislike that stuff)

Anon!!! 🫣

I love your blurbs!! And send whatever you want into my inbox (within reason, I don’t legally need to know if you’ve killed a man 🤭). So if you like piss, then add it to your thoughts no sense in censoring yourself hehe

But anon, holy moly! 🥵😵‍💫🫠🫠

A cock cage for little puppy Leon cause he just can’t help himself???? 💀 🤤 and he keeps going and going? 😮‍💨 damn anon got me thinking silly thoughts now 🥴

I’m serious about you writing your own fics 👀 I think you’d do great 😌 but I’m more than happy for you to keep swinging by instead 🤭

[aemondsvisenya]

Okay I NEED more girl-dad!Aemond - headcanons or a full on oneshot, I don’t mind, I just need more of it

YESSSS, girl dad Aemond is THE BEST

I absolutely WILL write one shots/fics about it, I’m just super busy right now and headcanon posts usually help me figure out how/what to write anyway, hope that’s okay!

I also included a reader who is AFAB/pregnant because I wanted to touch on some pregnancy headcanons, but I’ve tried to avoid reader pronouns, hope that’s okay!

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy

💚 Aemond Targaryen as a girl dad - Headcanons 💚

This man lives for his daughters, quite literally LIVES for them

When you’re pregnant for the first time, Aemond is so ridiculously happy, he truly doesn’t think he can get any happier.

He’s admittedly somewhat anxious because he wants to be a good father, and he’s a little worried that his child will fear him because of his eye and scar, or even that he’ll be a terrible parent like his own father, but you set him straight and tell him that your child will adore him as much as you do.

He will be nothing like his own father, he vows - he will never make his child feel unwanted or unloved, like they aren’t good enough

The whole pregnancy he’s so attentive to you and your needs, talking to your growing belly in High Valyrian and stroking it softly; he’s in awe when he feels the baby kick against his hand, eye wide and an involuntary smile curling his mouth

He picks out the egg for her cradle himself, spending hours looking at all the eggs before choosing a sapphire one that you think matches the one in his eye. He makes sure it is incubated and ready for the arrival of his child, determined that they will have a dragon and not suffer like he did when he was young

When the baby is born, he insists on being at your side so that you’re not alone; it disgruntles the maester but he’s firm that he wants to be there the moment the child enters the world, he wants to be there for their first breaths. He also wants to make sure you’re not alone, he knows all too well that childbirth is a risk and he can’t bear the thought of you being alone for something that might potentially endanger your life

It all goes well, thank the gods, and as the maester lays the baby in your arms, he says to your husband, “congratulations, my Prince; you have a healthy daughter” - Aemond thinks he’s about to weep as he looks down at his daughter, falling in love with her immediately because she’s so perfect, she looks every inch a true Targaryen with her pale hair, and she has inherited his eyes. He vows he will always protect her, will always make her smile, will be the best father he can be to her - and you know he means it.

She is named Visenya to honour his dragon’s first rider, a true Targaryen warrior and queen

Aemond does everything with his little Visenya; it’s common to find him reading with her tucked in the crook of his arm when she’s a baby or on his lap as she grows into a toddler, smiling fondly as she babbles away to him. He insists on being in the nursery with her whenever he can, much to the surprise of the ladies who are charged with looking after her, and he can never part from her for long

He introduces her to Vhagar a few weeks after her birth - you’re extremely nervous, it must be said; you trust your husband, you have no doubts he knows what he’s doing, but Vhagar is so gargantuan that it’s hard not to worry a little about your baby. But Vhagar is remarkably calm as Aemond shows her his daughter and says she is called Visenya, and when he decides to take his daughter on her first dragon flight, Vhagar glides slowly and rather gently for someone of her size, like she knows to be careful of the fragile baby her rider has strapped to his chest

It’s obvious that your daughter LOVES Aemond just as much as he loves her

Visenya is a total daddy’s girl, she has him wrapped tightly around her little finger and she knows it: he will do anything she asks, whether it’s read a book or give her a hug or even take her dragon riding. She is so spoilt, his little princess

A couple of years after Visenya, you deliver another child - another daughter. You’re slightly worried that Aemond will be disappointed, that he wants a son, and you know that people will whisper; but the second he lays eyes on his second baby girl, he’s absolutely smitten. He loves her so much, just as much as her sister, and suggests that she be named Daenys after Daenys the Dreamer

A third daughter follows, this one named Naerys, then another who is called Jaenara, and then finally comes little Saera… and he’s so overjoyed with each of their births, so happy with all of them, far happier than he’s ever been in his entire life

People do in fact whisper - they say you have not done your duty, you have not given the Prince a son, that there must be something wrong with you and that it’s the gods’ way of cursing the marriage. At first you pay no mind to it, but eventually it becomes too much and you tearfully apologise to your husband for it

Aemond has never been so appalled in his life - he’s furious at everyone who has said such things, extremely furious, but he’s also perplexed because how could anyone think he doesn’t love all of his girls? How could he not love them, all five of them? And how could he be disappointed in you when you have delivered five healthy babes? The gods have blessed the two of you indeed, with five incredible girls and you surviving all of their births.

Anyone who dares mention “trying for a son next time” in front of Aemond ends up with his sword against their throat, his single eye cold as he calmly demands they apologise

Visenya is Aemond’s double; she grows tall and lithe like him, her eyes exactly like his one, and her face is almost the mirror of him with high cheekbones and sharply defined features. Her blue egg hatches into a sapphire coloured dragon that she names Starswift. Her father is so proud when she becomes one of the youngest dragon riders in living memory, and he even trains with her in the yard when she asks him to teach her: he tells everyone around him how excellent his Visenya is, what a fierce warrior she is. He is quite literally the proudest father in all of Westeros

Daenys is a lot like her aunt Helaena, which means Aemond adores her like he adores his older sister. She’s somewhat shyer than Visenya, and she’s very studious - just like her father. She has a big imagination, and Aemond always listens to her when she describes a dream or thought she’s had, no matter how small or silly it may seem to others - he never makes her feel like she’s being ridiculous. Her first egg didn’t hatch, but before she could even get upset about it, Aemond was already whisking her off to pick out a new one that did eventually hatch - a little dark purple one that she calls Nymrax.

Your middle daughter Naerys is very much a princess; she loves dresses and dolls and prides herself on being beautiful. You can count on Aemond buying her whatever fancy toy she wants, letting her have any dress made that she desires, because he can’t say no to his daughters. Being super feminine doesn’t change the fact that she is a Targaryen, however, and she is every bit a dragon rider like her family before her; her egg was a pale pink one and it hatched into a pink male dragon she named Moonfyre - a clever and sly little thing who hates everyone but his rider. He will literally snap and blow smoke at anyone who comes near unless Naerys is there, he is literally like a little kitten with her and she treats him like a spoilt house cat, cooing at him and rubbing his scales.

Jaenara is quite literally the total opposite of her older sister; she’s very much a tomboy and likes to play rough. Aemond chuckles when she, aged three and a half, follows him to the training yard and rather cutely demands that he teach her how to spar. “Like Senya,” She says firmly, picking up a stick; her oldest sister is her idol, but not as much as their father is. She’s not particularly loud or aggressive, but she’s curious and adventurous, she works hard, which are all traits Aemond admires about her. She bonds with a dark green hatchling from the Dragonmont when she’s young, and she calls him Shadowspine, and as soon as he’s large enough to ride that’s it - she disappears for afternoons on end, exploding the world around her, though her favourite places are the ones that have forests and nature.

Finally, there’s Saera - she is quite literally the baby, and she knows it. She knows she’s cute and adorable, and she’ll go up to Aemond when he’s reading or doing something, and just pout until he chuckles and lifts her onto his lap. She even does it at some banquets and feasts that she’s allowed to be at (only for an hour, and she’s escorted by a nursemaid), going up to her father with her big eyes and pulling at his sleeve. Most men would be annoyed at their children bothering them - never Aemond though. He always smiles softly and gives all of his attention to her, all of his daughters. Her pale hair is an absolute mess of curls and tangles, which Aemond fondly brushes for her every morning - he’s gentle, careful not to tug too hard with the brush. Her hatchling is black, much to everyone’s surprise, and she names it Midnight.

It’s not just for his youngest daughter: Aemond does ALL of their hair, braiding it into whatever hairstyles they want, helping them brush it, his fingers deftly weaving and moving through the pale hair they all inherited from him.

Aemond knows what it’s like to be treated differently, the second son, and he’s determined none of his kids feel like that, especially his younger ones. He tries to spend an equal amount of time with each of them, to be certain not to favour one over the other, and to make sure they all grow up knowing they’re loved and protected. Even when they’ve misbehaved and need a stern talking to, he is sure to keep calm and never say something that could make them feel unloved, he never has an unkind word for his girls ever

He’s the kind of father who takes his daughters’ education VERY seriously and will oversee every aspect of it himself if he has to.

They have only the very best tutors and maesters teach them, of course, but Aemond insists on teaching the girls High Valyrian himself. From the time they’re babies, he talks to them in the language of his ancestors - their ancestors. To add, if are to be dragon riders, they must know the language to communicate with their dragons as well as each other

And then there’s his eye… you know that before your first daughter was even born, he was worried that any children he had would be horrified and disgusted by the sight of his missing eye, even when you insisted it wasn’t true at all

Visenya sees his eye by accident when she’s four and sitting on his knee as she pretends to brush his hair with her hand; her fingers accidentally pull at the strap until it comes loose - and then her eyes widen, aghast. You can see Aemond’s eye also widen - in fear, fear that his daughter will look at him and see a monster instead of a loving father. “Oh, kepa, your eye!” She looks worried for him. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?” And to his shock, she hugs him and buries her face into his shoulder

None of those girls think he’s a monster or hideous or even remotely scary, of course; they all find out as they get older that the patch is covering his missing eye, they learn why the scar is so big and why sometimes he’s in pain, and they do everything they can for him when the pain flares up. Visenya will send one of her sisters to find you, another to fetch a maester, and then she and the remaining two will stay with Aemond and try to distract him, comfort him even. He appreciates it more than even he can put into words - the girls may all be very different from one another, but they are the same in that they are good people at heart because of how they’ve been raised

It warms his heart far too much when Jaenara announces at breakfast one day that she wants an eyepatch like her Kepa and all of the girls then decide they’re going to have eyepatches too. They all just really want to be like their brave amazing father who loves them 🥺

All in all, Aemond is truly the best dad in Westeros to his daughters, he would burn cities to protect them from harm, would murder anyone who dare hurts them in any shape or form, would conquer the world if they asked

{my ko-fi}

[keysmashingfantasies]

Hi hi. I’m not sure if you do request like this and this isn’t detailed or anything so I get if you don’t want to but like could I request something smut chishiya? Maybe him and reader are friends and get into an argument about their feelings for each other and they end up having really romantic love making and confess to each other or something. Probably makes like zero sense sorry.

i do requests like this, yes! just bear with me because i am not the most skilled smut writer but i am absolutely open to writing it, ask away! and it makes perfect sense, don't worry! also, i assumed you wanted fem!bodied reader but since you didn't specify, i didn't. so hopefully i think everyone can read. this is so fucking long i'm sorry. was it good? i don't think so, no. is it the best i could do? absolutely. enjoy!

ok, content warning/this fic contains: sexy times, non descriptive penetrative sex as a way to keep this as inclusive as possible, no body descriptions for reader, unprotected sex (not good! don't do this!), chishiya being vulnerable (or, as the kids call it, a bit subby), a smidge of angst at the beginning, probably kind of shitty aftercare bc i don't know how and i'm going off of vibes. absolutely not proofread so most likely grammar mistakes.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS POST OR I'LL CALL YOUR MOM!!!

"What do you mean? I'm being careless by talking to people?", you exclaimed. Chishiya was being more and more unreasonable lately. You knew he thought you were gullible and naive, and you suspected that's why he decided to get closer to you; who'd suspect you, after all? You weren't all that wide eyed ingenue, you just believed that people could still be good in this world. Kuina shared the same belief, and he wasn't nagging on her like he did with you.

"Of course you can! But not so much to make yourself vulnerable to threats! What are you doing, cozying up to someone you don't even know during a game?", his tone raised the slightest bit, what was already a lot for Chishiya. He may have been acting unreasonably but he knew what he was saying had reason. Chishiya had feelings for you, and once he got to know you the desire to protect you only grew. He knew that you were selfless to the point of bordering stupidity, and would sacrifice yourself for someone. What made Chishiya's heart clench even more is that you'd sacrifice for him given the chance. Without even thinking. The flame of his anger was fanned at the thought that someone may have used your good will to trick you into dying in their place if he wasn't around.

"I wasn't cozying up! I was talking to a teammate! On a game of clubs! You know, one of those we depend on other people to live?", you said, exasperated. You took a calming breath and sighed. "You know what, think what you want of me. I'm tired, I don't want to fight", you started to pace around, something you often did to release anxious energy after a game.

"We're not fighting. We're having a conversation", Chishiya deadpanned, raising his eyebrows when you turned to look at him.

"A conversation of you laying it thick the implication that I'm some dumb thing with stars in my eyes? That I can let anyone trick me into sacrifice?", you said, and his eyes darted across the room, avoiding your eyes. Red-handed. "Chishiya, listen to me", you sat besides him, taking his hand in yours. "I may still be a bit too hopeful of people sometimes. Everyone copes in their own way, right?", you earned yourself a dry chuckle. "But I am hopeful because of what I've seen. Yeah, there's death and sadness and betrayal but there's good things. Friendship and love. For every bad person there's a few good ones, I truly believe that. And don't worry about me. You and Kuina drilled in my brain to be street smart", you smiled. Now it was your turn to avoid his eyes. "The only person in this entire world that can trick me is you, Chishiya. I trust you wholeheartedly", you whispered, clenching his hand in yours tight but still refusing to turn your warm face towards his. He was your lifeline but made you mortified at the same time.

"I don't think you're dumb. I'm sorry if I came across that way. I wouldn't have made an ally out of you if I didn't trust your abilities. And... I wouldn't made a friend out of you if I thought you're stupid. I just didn't want to lose you, that's all", he said. "I trust you too. Wholeheartedly", he said, giving you one of his Monalisa smiles. Sutil enough he may not even be smiling at all.

"Not in the way I trust you. Not by far", you said, finally managing to gather yourself enough to look at him. You may die at any point, Chishiya was kind enough to remind you. So what if he didn't love you back? You had the right to say it and he had the right to know. Even if he scolded you for wearing your heart on your sleeve. Even if he betrayed you.

"Why do you say that?", he asked, frowning. Did you know believe him? After all this time, he thought he was opening up to you. That you saw something more inside of him, the optimism, the sliver of hope he kept hidden for emergencies and you.

"Because I love you. And I trust you. Blindly", you said after being in silence for a while, and the atmosphere of the room shifted. You could feel the hairs in your body standing in attention, the room felt colder, the air felt heavy and sticky when you breathed in and you thought that if you took a deep breath like you've been dying to, you'd choke. You could hear a pin drop. And Chishiya was still as a statue.

It happened in a blink of an eye. Chishiya was tense, his lips pressed against yours and shoulders almost up to his ears, like someone had pushed him into you and he was still trying to process it. You had your eyes wide open, looking around the room, hands up like someone was pointing a gun at you, not knowing where to place them. For a few seconds it was like this, until something clicked. Chishiya kissed you. Chishiya was kissing you. You parted for a second before looking into each other's eyes, bewildered like you had been possessed. And then you kissed him.

This was much more like an actual kiss. It was soft, slow, steady. You cupped his face between your hands and got up on your knees to get closer to him, his hands snaking their way up to your waist. Soon enough, you had to breathe, breaking apart just enough for your mouths to disconnect but staying close. Neither of you thought you could let each other go after what you knew it was about to transpire.

"Chishiya... I...", you were breathless, you brain had turned to mush and you couldn't speak, and Chishiya took the opportunity to kiss you yet again.

You could've been kissing for ages. The games might've been over, everyone dead, the land completely taken over by vegetation at this point. But you were still kissing Chishiya, slow and deep, melting and molding into his arms, straddling his lap. Not letting your hands leave him not for a second, as he did with you. Your hands were on his face, his on your waist. His hands moved up your back, yours into his hair. Your hands on his chest, his in yours.

The kisses started growing hot and sloppy. You needed each other bad. So when Chishiya pulled apart to catch his breath and you couldn't stay away from him, you started to kiss down his neck, hands pulling off his hoodie off like it was offending you, desperately mouthing at the parts of his collarbones and chest not covered by his shirt. And the sounds were driving you insane. The little sighs and moans made you want to beg him to fuck you already but you decided to contain yourself. You wanted him to feel appreciated. Loved.

"Ah... That's good", he whispered, and when you parted from his neck to see his head thrown back, his mouth slightly opened, eyes half lidded like he was intoxicated, you couldn't help but to slip your tongue into his mouth yet again, shifting your hips against his slightly, making you both moan in each other's mouths. "Can I undress you?", he asked between pecks on your lips, and you nodded so hard you made yourself dizzy. "No, no. I need to hear you say it", he said, stopping to look at you looking at him. How you were still bashful at a situation like this he couldn't figure out for the life of him, but he gave you a low chuckle when you hid your face in his neck, only to shiver after feeling your teeth pressed against his pulse point. If the room wasn't so quiet he wouldn't be able to hear the small "Please, Chishiya, undress me" that followed.

His hands were fast as they were precise and in no time you were fully naked in his lap, kissing him like your life depended on it. Your hands made your way down his chest, getting to the hem and making their way up again, now under the fabric, lifting it up and off of his torso, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over his head.

You proceeded to kiss every newly discovered inch of his warm skin. From his fingertips, up his arms, his shoulders, nipping and sucking and licking down his chest, over his sensitive nipples, down his stomach and the soft trail of hair that dissapeared under the waistband of his pants.

"Y/N...", he sighed, hand coming up under your chin to pull you off of obsessively mouthing him over his pants. "Y/N...", he sighed yet again when you came up, making eye contact with him and giving him a peck on the lips.

"Can I finish undressing you, Chishiya? Please?", you were desperate, and Chishiya hissed at the thought of what was to come. How could he hold back when you were so sweet, so beautiful, so eager, looking at him like he painted the sky midnight blue and hung the moon and stars up there?

"Yes. Yes, please", he breathed. You touched your forehead to his, fiddling with the ties of his loose pants. Meanwhile, he pressed two of his fingers to your lips, slowly but surely shoving them inside your warm and wet mouth. As you sucked them, you started to pull his pants and underwear down his slim hips, and he lifted his hips to aid you.

Soon enough, you were both naked, you straddling his thighs. There was nothing in between you anymore. He took his fingers off of your mouth as you looked down to take him in, all the parts hidden that you'd been fantasizing about. His chest with a bit of hair, now covered in red splotches from your sucking, his stomach and happy trail covered in love bites, his pale hairy legs, his cock that now slapped against his stomach, not too long but just enough to make your mouth water, with a leaking pink tip, girthy and veiny, nestled in his pubes, his balls hanging low, filled with cum.

"Chishiya, you're so beautiful", you moaned in pure agony. His body, the way he was looking up at you so reverently; he looked like an angel. He wasted no time in using his fingers lubed by your spit to start prepping you, carefully but firmly shoving them inside of you, finger fucking you in efforts to find that sweet spot inside of you.

"You're beautiful too. Ah, that's it, take my fingers inside you", he moaned as you started to move your hips in tandem with his hand. You slowly started to play with his balls, earning yourself a low groan.

"Chishiya. Chishiya", you moaned, convulsing when he managed to graze what he was looking for. "I'm going to- ah! Kiss me, please", he placed his hand in the back of your neck and pulled you to him, his tongue messily meeting yours while you mewled into his mouth and you shivered from your orgasm.

You only parted after you finished riding out your orgasm, after your lungs were burning, and you felt weak and feverish. You looked into his eyes for a little while and Chishiya opened his mouth to speak, only to come up with nothing but shallow gasps and a smile. His heart jumped when you smiled back.

"Chishiya, make love to me, please", he'd think you were in pain if it wasn't your smile. The way you were looking at him.

"Of course", he said, laying you down on the floor on your back, parting your knees, taking a moment to just look at you, making you feel shy. "You're so gorgeous. Are you ready for me?", he asked.

"Yes!", you moaned. You couldn't believe this was happening. Not in the Borderlands of all places.

Slowly, he started to put it inside of you, and the stretch of him was amazing. You blindly reached for one of his hands that was bracketing your head, him holding the back of it to his lips for a second before continuing.

"Almost there. Are you ok? Fuck. Does it hurt?", he said. He wanted nothing more than to fuck you into the floor but he wanted to be gentle with you. Wanted to see you fall apart slowly for him.

"Ah... You're amazing. It feels amazing", you sighed, dreamily; you never felt so full in your entire life, it was an all encompassing feeling, you couldn't do anything but to lay there and feel him inside you. Your eyes meeting his with another dazzling smile, and he almost came on the spot.

"Ah, ah!", he bottomed out inside of you and he couldn't believe how warm and wet you were. "So good...", he started to grind his hips into yours, not really pulling out. He couldn't pull away from you right now, not when you felt so good.

The both of you were in a frenzy, hips grinding into each other desperately, the both of you sweaty and moaning. One of you hands was tightly clasped in one of Chishiya's, the other with their nails deep into the skin of his shoulder, the other hand of Chishiya was gripping your tigh, his arm wrapped around it. Your mouth was open in ecstacy, moaning like an animal in heat. Chishiya didn't know where to place his mouth. Dragging across yours, on your neck, your shoulders, your collarbones, down your chest.

"Chishiya, Chishiya, Chishiya", you wanted to let him know you were about to cum, but your mind was numb and the only thing you could say was his name over and over.

"Are you close?", he breathed out and you nodded feverishly. "Me too. Will you cum with me?", he moaned and it was the most beautiful sound you heard in your life. You didn't stand a chance, clenching around him with a desperate cry of his name while he pressed his hips to yours, pumping you full of his cum.

It felt like you both were locked together, standing still against each other like a statue for ages. You didn't know how long until your soul returned to your body but when it did, you knew yours and his were intertwined. "Hi", you breathed, and he smiled. Not a quirk of his lips, a full fledged smile, teeth and all. "I should clean you up", he said, using his shirt to clean the cum seeping out of you, being mindful of how sensitive you were. "Hurts?", he asked. "No, I'm fine", you said. After dressing you and himself, discarding the shirt and zipping his hoodie with nothing underneath, he held you to his chest.

"I believe there's good in this world too", he said.

"Hm?", you asked, sleepy, your cheek pressed against his chest, with his arms around you.

"I believe there's good in the world too. Maybe less than you but I do. Believe that there's good out there. I'll go back with you, if we get lost I'll find you. And then I'll make love to you again, and hold you close, to remember that there's good in the real world too", he said. "I love you too", he said, squeezing you to him.

[rorywritesjunk]

I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. Also, I’m not nice to Buggy when he tries to flirt. I definitely write him as a bit of a disaster when it happens. It’s just going to get a bit worse from here. This chapter is just kind of fluffy but also Buggy is kind of young and anxious and has a bit of an attack but Sunny gives him love. Bath time chat as well. A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be.

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness @uhnanix

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 11

“If you’re hanging out here today, I’m putting you to work.” Miss Pins told Buggy as she glared at him as he leaned back in the chair in the shop. You were working on an order for a customer, patching holes in a jacket while Buggy sat and watched you, but your boss wasn’t having any of it.

“Do I get paid?” Buggy asked. She shook her head.

“Your payment will be getting to spend time with Sunny while at the shop.” She told him. “Now, there are some things I need put away in the backroom that Benji can’t reach with a ladder, and I’ve seen some of what that Devil Fruit of yours can do, so go help him.”

And that's how Buggy (begrudgingly) became a shop worker for the day. If it meant he got to spend the day with you, then fine. He helped organize things on the top shelves, cleaned windows, and even helped paint the front exterior of the shop with Benji (while managing to get covered in paint). The only upside was you bringing him lunch once he was hot, sweaty, and covered in purple paint. 

“Looks like you could use a bath.” You chuckled as you set a plate of sandwiches down for him and Benji. 

“What? No.” Buggy took one of the sandwiches, shoving it into his mouth as he continued talking. “I'm fine without one.”

Benji made a face as he picked his own up. “You sure?”

“What’s the damn point? I'm just going to get dirty again.” Buggy told him as he ate. You shook your head and went inside to grab them both something to drink. “Besides, life on a ship doesn't allow for such a thing.”

“You're on land now.” Benji pointed out. “And you stink.” He pinched his nose and stuck his tongue out at him. 

“Yea? Well, that's because I'm a man and you're just a kid!” Buggy shot back. “I smell manly, got it? You just can't handle it.”

“No, he's right.” You said as you came back out with their drinks. “You do stink, Buggy. You need a bath.”

His jaw dropped at what you said. Did you really think so? He wondered if you were teasing him because you sat down and kissed his cheek. 

“One bath on land won't kill you.” You told him, smiling. “And getting caught in the rain doesn't count as one, okay?”

And he really did love you because he was nodding in agreement with whatever you told him. Benji was pretty impressed that he listened to you and was convinced you had magic powers for a moment, because at the end of the work day, you had Buggy in the bathroom and in the tub, washing his hair for him like you would a stray dog.

“Don't you trust me to do it myself?” He asked as you ran your fingers through his hair, making sure the shampoo was able to reach his scalp. 

“Of course I do.” You told him as you tugged on a lock of hair gently. “But why would I miss the chance to play with your beautiful hair?” 

He turned red and covered his face with his hands when you said that. Why did he have to blush every time you said things like that to him? You said nothing after that, just humming softly as you made sure his hair was fully lathered before using a cup to pour over his head, rinsing the shampoo out. It took a few minutes, but once it was done you grabbed a towel and began drying his hair.

“Buggy, can I braid your hair?”

“What? Why?” He asked as he turned to look at you. You twirled a lock of his hair around your finger with a shrug.

“Keeps it out of your face while you wash up.” You replied innocently. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at you before nodding, wondering what was going on in your mind. Honestly, you just wanted to braid it because you thought it would look nice in a crown braid on top of his head. You got up to grab a comb and some hairpins, humming once more before returning to your spot outside the tub. He turned around to look at you with a frown.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked. “Why are you… so nice all the time to me?”

You looked at him curiously, frowning a bit before you shrugged. “I don’t see a reason not to be nice, Buggy.” 

“Yea, but-”

“I only thought you were an asshole once, Buggy, and you apologized to me for it. Other than that you’ve always been nice to me.” You leaned in towards him and he leaned back just a bit. “I think you’re sweet for a scary pirate captain.”

Buggy’s face turned red as he glared at you. “Are you making fun of me?”

“What? No.” You smiled and put your hand behind his head, pulling him back to you for a kiss. He tensed up, turning redder, and when you pulled back you weren’t sure you’d seen him turn that shade of red before. “You okay?”

“Y-Yea.” He looked away from you. “I’ll finish up. Uh, you probably have things to do.”

You raised an eyebrow but nodded, kissing his cheek before getting up. “Come find me when you’re done, Buggy.”

~

Buggy found you in the kitchen a little while later as you started on dinner. He stood and watched you for a moment, scratching his chin, wondering if you really would marry him if he asked. Would you want to live on a ship for months at a time with him? Would you be happy with him? Why would you even think of leaving this life to join him on a ship? His mind was starting to race as he started wondering why you would even consider being with him, and he almost started to panic just a bit. 

“What’s on your mind, Buggy?” You asked, not turning around and interrupting his thoughts. “I heard you walk up.”

He hesitated but walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you carefully, letting his head rest against yours. You touched his arm softly, stirring the pot of stew with one arm carefully making sure not to spill the contents. 

“Would you really marry me?” He mumbled against you, refusing to move as he tightened his hold. You stopped what you were doing and pushed him away from the stove before turning to look at him.

“Do you not want to suddenly?” You asked with a frown. 

“I-I do! I just… wanted to know if you really want to!” He said. “Or are you just saying that to be nice?!”

You sighed softly and put your hands on his shoulders. “Buggy, honey, I do. I am not saying it to be nice, I'm saying it because I want to marry you eventually. I want to wait until I'm finished with my apprenticeship, okay? And after that you can propose however you want, but I want to marry you.” 

“Really?” He asked. You leaned in and kissed him, catching him off guard for a moment, and when he tried to hold onto it for a second longer, you pulled back and patted his cheek softly.

“Yes, really.” You insisted. “Remember, if I didn't like you, I wouldn't be this nice to you, Buggy. Feeding you, sharing my bed, all that kind of stuff. I do it because I care about you.”

“You really want to live on a pirate ship?” Buggy frowned. You shrugged and smiled at him.

“I wouldn't mind. Besides, my mom was a pirate and she used to say she could see me ending up on a ship one day like her.” You told him as you kissed him again.

“Wait, what?” He jerked away and looked at you, confused by what you just said. “Your mom was a pirate? You never said your parents were pirates!”

“My parents weren't, just my mom.” You chuckled as you smiled at him. “She was a member of the Cook Pirates under Captain Red Leg Zeff.” 

“What?!”

“I guess we got a lot to learn about one another, Buggy.” You said as you turned back to the stew you were making. “But I like that we have the time to do so.” You looked back at him. He looked like he was still processing what you told him. “You okay?”

“Your mom was a pirate?” He asked. “Really?”

“Yea, for a few years.” You shrugged. “Met my dad on a merchant ship they were raiding and fell in love. Decided to stop being a pirate and married my dad.”

Buggy stared at you for a moment, his mind still processing what you said. Your mom was a pirate but wasn’t anymore? Did… did he need to stop being a pirate to marry you, like your mom chose to do? He didn’t want to stop, but he loved you. Was this a choice he was going to have to make? His mind was starting to race; you looked back over at him, saw he was becoming distressed, and walked over to him.

“Hey, stop thinking for two seconds and sit down, Buggy.” You told him as you led him over to the table. 

“I don’t…. I can’t give up the sea!” He blurted out. 

“What? I wouldn’t ask you to do that!” You told him, looking surprised. “Why would you think you had to?”

“Your mom-”

“Yea, she chose to because it was what she wanted to do.” You told him as you made him sit down. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that, Buggy.”

He looked up at you, uncertainty in his eyes. You ran your fingers through his hair and sighed, letting him wrap his arms around you. What was going on, why was he suddenly so panicked? 

“What’s going on in that brain of yours?” You asked softly. “You still will be a pirate if you marry me, Buggy. I wouldn’t ask you to ever give it up and no one should.” 

“I can’t give up being a pirate.” He muttered as he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. While you were touched that he was this comfortable around you to drop his guard like this, you were a little surprised how anxious he could become over small things. 

“You aren’t going to.” You assured him as you stroked his hair softly. “I promise. I want you to become the most feared pirate, Buggy, and I won’t let anything stand in your way, okay?”

He just nodded, refusing to look at you as you held him. This was such a contrast from when you first met him, when he demanded services after storming into the shop. Now he was sitting in your kitchen, letting you hug him after thinking he would have to give up his piratey lifestyle for you. 

“Are you okay, honey?” You asked. He could only nod. “Okay. I need to finish dinner. You can hold my hand if you want.”

“I’d like that.” He mumbled as you pulled away, his hand slipping into yours and popping off his wrist as you returned to the stove. Buggy stayed at the table, watching as you worked. You were adding a few spices into the stew before checking the flavor. Once you seemed satisfied, you took Buggy’s hand and put it on your shoulder while you set the table. He watched you, wondering now what you thought of him. He felt pathetic, getting worked up over nothing, but you were there for him, comforting him, which made him feel better in the end. 

He was starting to think he didn’t deserve you, but you finished setting the table and reached over to brush his hair out of his face, tucking a lock behind his ear before kissing him on his forehead.

“Dinner’s ready.” You told him. “I can walk you back to your ship after, okay?”

He didn’t really want to leave after dinner, however.

[spectersgirl]

I just read ‘life’s like this’ and it got me thinking…. What would Harvey be like as a dad? Like I’ve never read of fic of Harvey being a dad to like a 6 year old?

Okay true and real and I’m here to answer the call 🫡

This was actually harder to write than I expected?? I also had no idea how to end it so I hope it isn't stupid lol ok hope u like it love u <3

First Day Fears

Harvey Specter x Reader

It was almost a full hour before your alarm was set for, but you couldn’t sleep any longer. Today was your daughter’s first day of kindergarten. You had been trying to play it cool, but you were anxious.

You sighed, finally getting up out of bed and getting into the shower. By the time you finished, you were glad to see that Harvey was awake.

“Morning gorgeous” he greeted you, his voice still thick and gravely with sleep. “Why’d you get up so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep. I’m so nervous for Y/D/N’s first day of school” you answered, sitting down on the bed.

“Y/N, you know she’s gonna have the best time. Our kid is a badass, I mean look who her parents are” He said smugly.

You were about to reply when the alarm on your phone rang out, letting you know it was time to go wake up your little girl. You quickly threw a simple outfit on, and walked with Harvey to her bedroom.

She slept peacefully, and watching her sleep brought you back to the days when she was just a tiny baby and you'd watch her sleep on Harvey's chest. Seeing the look on his face now, you were pretty sure he was taking that same trip down memory lane.

You nudged Harvey and nodded your head toward her, indicating for him to wake her. Gently, he sat down on the side of her bed, running a hand through her light brown hair. She wasn't a heavy sleeper, so she immediately stirred.

"Hi sweet girl, it's time to get ready for your first day of school" He said softly, a small smile on his face. She slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes, putting an arm out to ask him for a hug. He was, of course, happy to oblige.

You weren't sure if you'd ever been as in love with both of them as you were right now. These were the moments you'd dreamed about all those years ago when you'd first met Harvey.

"If Daddy wants to help you get dressed and ready, I can go make you both some breakfast" You offered, her eyes went wide and nodded her head aggressively. She loved your pancakes more than almost anything in the world. Harvey and you both laughed, and you left to get started on the food.

Harvey went to Y/D/N's closet, looking through the mostly-pink options to put her in for her first day. She sat quietly on the edge of her bed, picking at a loose thread on her comforter. Harvey frowned when he noticed.

"You okay baby?" He asked, sitting down next to her.

"Am I gonna make friends like at my old school?" She asked Harvey quietly, and he heard the nerves in her little voice. He knew he had to hype her up, and quickly, before it turned into tears.

"You're going to make sooo many new friends!" He said excitedly. "You're the funniest, smartest, coolest little girl I know, everyone's gonna be begging to be your friend!"

She giggled, and Harvey smiled a big smile of his own.

"What do you say we go brush your teeth and do your hair, and you can put on the new pretty dress you got?" He said, and she nodded excitedly.

Not an hour later, you and Harvey were standing together, watching as Y/D/N climbed the steps of her school bus, waving goodbye before disappearing into it. You looked up at Harvey, who was visibly holding back tears as he waved back at her.

The rest of the day dragged on for both of you. Harvey was secretly a wreck all day, unable to focus on his work as he kept an eye on his cell phone, worried he'd miss a call from you or the school in case something went wrong. The call never came though, and he was home just in time to greet Y/D/N in the driveway with you as she ran off the bus and into your and Harvey's arms.

The three of you spent the rest of the day talking about how much fun she had on her first day, and all the new best friends she had.

[theraggedygirl11]

Baš ja, koji nisam verovao da za nekim biću lud

Bojan's POV

Kris' POV: AO3 - Tumblr

SUMMARY: In a world where Heaven and Hell exist, angels and demons are constantly fighting and killing one another. What if a demon easily dominated by his emotions falls in love with a stoic and cold angel trained to kill demons?

PAIRING: Bojan Cvjetićanin/Kris Guštin

WARNINGS: swearing, blood, implied violence, hurt/comfort, implied suicide, emotional rollercoaster, enemies to lovers, hint of jance in the background

WORDS COUNT: 5.094

LINK: AO3

NOTES: Hello! Welcome to my first ever BoKris fic. It all started from this post by @arctixout and that damn tag (for reference: #stoic angel!kris and demon!bojan who's slave to his emotions and then they somehow fall in love wait who said that). And what could I do? It was too juicy to not write something out of it! So here we are.

Besides, as you can see from the title, I used Bluza (Youtube video and lyrics+translation) as my inspiration (and background music while writing), and this songs plays a role in the plot too 👀 yeah, I know we all think this is a BoJere song, but in this fic it's a BoKris fic, you'll understand why

Also, thanks to my beta @anxious-witch!

Last but not the least, I did this aestethic/moodboard trying to match @arctixout gifs

“You should talk to him.”

“Why? He's a demon. He's impure, a damned soul.”

“And you love him.”

“Angels can't love. He started corrupting me.”

“Angels can love and they must love. It's not corruption.”

“How can you tell it's not his corruption, Jan?!”

“Because I fell in love with a demon too. And I accepted it. Go to him, speak to him. He’s singing for you.”

When humans think about demons, the mental image they have is that of a terrifying creature, maybe with huge bat wings, a tail with an arrowhead at the end, claws, horns, red skin, maybe even hooves instead of feet.

Well, we do have a tail, and wings, and claws, but nothing alike of what you see in those pictures, and not every demon has them. We own a human form, just like everyone on this planet, that we use to roam among mortals. We have feelings, desires, hobbies, friends and families. Our only drawback is being born a demon from demon parents. We are guardians in Hell, we just watch over the damned souls who doomed themselves to suffering.

Heaven knows this, angels too, but they deliberately chose to not see this, to hate us, and they kill us with no hesitation when they find us on Earth. They think we are impure beings that don’t deserve to live.

And this is what led me, a demon, to meet the most beautiful creature ever seen on every plane of existence. I fell in love with an angel, I don’t even know his name, but I will discover it.

He almost killed me, I was terrified for my life, but he stopped when our eyes met, the sharp point of his dagger barely touched my throat. Something exploded in my chest, my heart was beating so fast. I've never felt something similar to what I felt at that moment.

And since that night I find myself staring at the sky so often, during both daytime and nighttime. Am I a hopeless romantic that waits for his angel to come and get him? Oh yeah, you can bet on it. And I'll wait for him to appear for eternity, if necessary.

* * *

“Bojan, come on!” Shouts Nace, one of my dearest demon friends. “We are late!”

I turn my eyes in his direction. I was staring at the sky, again. As always, no signs of my angel. He will appear, I’m sure of it, but this is not that day. I sigh, then reach Nace and Jure.

“Still looking for that feathered ass?” Jure asks.

“I…yes. I’d like to meet him again.”

“It’s better if you forget him, he will try to kill you again the next time he sees you,” says Jure while looking me in the eyes.

“He’s different. I’m sure of it. He didn’t kill me.”

“No, but he was about to,” replies Nace. “You know better than us that those winged assholes can’t be reasoned with.”

I lower my eyes, aware of the truth behind Nace’s words. We lost so many of our demon friends because of angels. But maybe…maybe he’s not like the other angels. I saw something in his eyes, something different, this sparkle.

With this thought in mind, I followed Nace and Jure to our destination: there’s a concert of a human band we all like, so we decided to go. We enjoy music so much, we also joke about forming a band together and tour together on Earth, among mortals, but that would put too much attention on us. It’s too dangerous. But at least we can enjoy concerts and gigs!

I’m dancing, taken away by the rhythm of the songs, when my gaze meets familiar eyes in the crowd, two amazing blue-green seas. I completely stop, and so does he. The music and every other sound disappears along with the people around me.

We stare at each other for moments that seem to last decades, blue into brown, light into darkness, Heaven into Hell, a perfect but forbidden combination, something that should never exist.

This magic spell breaks when I feel a hand on my shoulder and immediately after a tight grip. I turn and see Nace on my side, who is harshly staring at my angel. Jure appears on my other side.

I turn again towards my angel and I see two other people near him, one of them with dark and long messy hair and a beard, the other one with shorter hair but well combed and a trimmed beard. They are definitely angels. And they know we are demons.

The guy with messy hair steps in our direction, but my angel stops him, raising his hand and using it as a barrier. The dark-haired angel steps back and quickly glances at his friend. No one says a word.

“Bojči, let’s go,” Jure whispers into my ear, then grabs my arm and pulls me away.

I keep looking at my angel until I can no longer see him in the crowd.

In the next weeks Nace and Jure forbid me to go to the surface, but I sneak out. Every other demon could tell that my self-preservation instinct got fried because I want to talk to that angel, at all costs.

I keep looking at the sky, searching for him. Waiting for him to show up. And every single time nothing happens. But I’m stubborn, I won’t give up.

Tonight the sky is clear, stars are shining bright, and there's a small crescent moon. I'm lying on a patch of grass in the middle of nowhere, around me only trees and mountains. 

Suddenly a shadow partially covers the sky above me.

“What are you doing here all alone?”

I startle and stand up immediately, recoiling scared. When I recognise the person in front of me, I wide my eyes and open my mouth in surprise.

“Angel,” I whisper.

It’s dark, but I can sense his piercing blue eyes on me. He’s tall, taller than Jure and Nace too. His cheekbones are prominent, I can for sure cut myself while stroking them. Maybe I’m a masochist, but I want to touch them and feel them under my hands and bleed for him. He’s standing straight, rigid like a soldier, or maybe a general, I can’t tell his celestial rank.

“I repeat, since you seem to not understand my words, what are you doing here all alone?”

Shivers run down my whole body, his voice is…ok, this might sound cheeky, but yes, his voice sounds angelic, a slow caress of a lover on my back down to my waist. 

“I was looking for you.”

“For me?” He’s surprised.

“Yes, for you. I wanted to talk to you, angel.”

Now he’s confused. Well, not every day a demon comes looking for an angel. I go closer to him, moving slowly.

“I’m not armed,” I show him my hands. “You can check on me. This is not a trap.”

His eyes follow every single movement I do, even more carefully when I’m in front of him. I stare at his face, stunned by his beauty. I lift a hand to touch it, but I stop mid-air. No, I can’t touch him, my dirty hands can only ruin his perfection.

“Why do you want to talk to me, exactly?”

“I…I want to know you, angel.”

“I beg your pardon, you want to know…me?”

“Yes,” I nod. “You are amazingly beautiful, angel,” I let slip this comment, without realising. 

I notice a weird red-ish colour on his face. Did I just make him blush? I chuckle, he replies with a shy smile. Oh, he’s so wonderful! That smile almost made me melt on the spot. 

“Would you like to…I don’t know, come grab a coffee or anything else to drink?”

Who said that angels and demons can’t get along well? They must have never met an angel, then.

My angel, whose name is Kris, is a pleasant company. Well, he’s still a little bit rigid, but since that night when we had a couple of drinks together in a bar he became much more open and relaxed and he smiles so much now! Oh, I adore his smile. And his laugh too! 

We started going out together here and there, but every time it happens, my heart almost explodes out of joy. I can’t wait to see him again and again and again. Jure and Nace are worried for me, but I feel safe around Kris. He’s not like the other angels.

Our “dates” are pretty diverse. Sometimes we just hang out in some park or in the middle of wild places; once we sat on a cliff for hours, we talked and we observed the environment, at least Kris, I was too busy looking at him with heart eyes. Some other time we choose a city and we explore it, we can just appear anywhere in the world, a perk of being supernatural creatures!

This night though is special. Tonight I will confess my feelings to Kris. By now we have been seeing each other for some months and I’m completely sure about my love for him. Yes, I, a demon, fell in love with an angel, I’m not afraid of saying it, I want to shout it from the top of a building.

I’m putting on some makeup. I’m in front of the mirror in the bathroom of a small apartment I rented for when I’m roaming around on Earth. Jure and Nace are with me in the room, they are still worried for me.

“Are you sure of what you are about to do?” Nace asks.

“Yes, never been so sure in my long demonic life,” I reply.

“But he’s an angel, Bojči,” Jure whispers. “He’s dangerous. What if he’s playing with you?”

“He’s not, Jurček. I see how he looks at me, he…I think he’s in love with me too,” I glance at him through the mirror. 

“Angels are sly creatures, you can’t trust them,” Jure adds.

“They say the same stuff about us, you know?” 

I smile at my reflection. That black eyeshadow with glitter is perfect for me, my eyes are shining. “I love him, I’m going to tell him this. Tonight will be a special night, nothing can change this.”

We hear the sound of wings in the living room. He’s here.

I almost run in the room, a huge smile appears on my lips when I see him. He’s wearing beige trousers, a shirt with light colours and floral designs and a silver jacket. He’s from Heaven, no one can be mistaken. And his clothes collide with mine: I’m wearing black trousers and a black t-shirt, when we’ll go out I planned to wear a bright red leather jacket. He’s the good boy, I’m the bully, the bad boy.

“You are stunning, ljubavi .”

“You…too, Bojan.”

I notice his eyes passing over me. I turn and I see Jure and Nace.

“Oh, yeah, these are my dearest friends. This is Jure,” and I point to the blonde demon. “And this is Nace,” I move my hand towards the tattooed demon. “They are safe, they won’t hurt you. I ask you to do the same.”

“...fine,” he grants. His eyes turn back to me. I notice hesitation in him.“You put on makeup.” 

“Yes, just for you. Do you like it?”

“You…look good.”

I grab his hand. “I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes and follow me.”

I practically pull Kris to the bathroom, where I make him sit on the edge of the bathtub.

“What are you trying to do, little demon?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise,” I reply while I take the palette I bought the other day. I start putting makeup on his face, I chose a wonderful golden eyeshadow for him. I admire my work.

“You are otherworldly, ljubavi . Open your eyes.”

Kris opens his eyes and looks in the mirror. I observe his reaction: I can read astonishment in his face.

“Gold is your colour. It suits you perfectly.”

“I-It does,” he whispers.

I smile and kiss him on the cheek. “We can go, then. I have other surprises for you, my angel.”

Our first stop is at a wonderful restaurant where we had already eaten so many times because it’s Kris’ favourite. I let him order whatever he wants and then pay for the whole dinner. We talk about many topics, but Kris is weirdly more silent than usual.

“Is everything ok, ljubavi ?” 

“Yeah, sure, don't worry. I…had a rough day in Heaven, that's all.”

I smile fondly at him, then gently grab his hand and slowly stroke its back.

“Now it's time for you to relax, then. Enjoy this night out.”

Our eyes lock. I see him relaxing a bit, the shadow of whatever happened retreating.

Once dinner is finished, we take a long walk into the city centre. It's almost summer, the temperatures are pleasant, so many other humans are around. We blend in, looking like a proper couple, even because we are holding hands.

When we arrive at our final destination of the night, I bring Kris to the top of a building, so we can be alone and closer to the sky, his home.

“Why did you bring me here?” Kris asks.

I shake one hand in the air, around us many candles appear and some slow music starts spreading, embracing us. I turn towards my angel and offer him my hand.

“Would you like to dance with me, Kris?”

He looks at me, confused, but then takes it. I lay my other hand on his waist and smile at him. We start dancing, slowly. My angel is a bit embarrassed, but he tries to follow my lead.

“Just let the music flow over you. Hear it inside of you and allow it to take control over your body,” I whisper to him with a tender voice.

A few seconds later Kris is more relaxed and we are dancing more fluidly, following the rhythm and the melody. I can’t stop smiling while I look at my angel. He’s so beautiful, so ethereal, so perfect. I can see stars reflecting into his eyes, an entire galaxy in which I could lose myself, bewitched by its beauty.

We keep dancing along with the music, but the more we dance, the more I see a shadow coming back in Kris’ eyes, until he leaves my hands and takes two steps back.

“We can’t go on doing this, Bojan.”

“Why not? I don’t understand.”

“Because we can’t! You are a demon, and I’m an angel. We are not supposed to…mingle.”

“We are not mingling, ljubavi . This is a romantic date between two creatures who have feelings for each other.”

I grab the angel's hands and look him in the eyes.

“Kris, I'm not the monster Heaven teaches you to despise. You saw me, you got to know me.”

“You are still a demon, Bojan, no matter how you behave or what you do.”

“And so? What does it change between us?”

“I'm a freaking angel! We are supposed to fight each other, not…doing this, dancing alone like two teenagers in love!”

“Only because we are not human teenagers? Because we come from two different places? Because others tell us that we should hate each other?” I clutch his hands between mine. “You know me,” I repeat. It’s the truth, we have been seeing each other for some months now. I bring one of his hands on my chest, right over my heart. “This heart is yours, ljubavi , and no one else’s.”

“Bojan, this is wrong .”

“Kris, I love you. What's wrong with that?” I feel my heart sink into my chest. “You…don't love me?”

“No, Bojan. I don’t love you. Let’s stop pretending.”

My heart stops beating in that exact moment and I feel my head spin. The ground under my feet is crumbling. I’m falling even if I’m right in front of Kris, my angel. I struggle breathing.

“I-I’m not pretending.”

“Don’t lie, Bojan. You are a demon, all demons do is lie. You know who and what I am, you saw weakness in me because I didn’t kill you that day. You are corrupting me because you want me to lose my wings!”

“I know you are an angel and nothing else! I-I don't want you to lose your wings!” There’s panic in my voice, and maybe it’s showing on my face too. “I’m not lying!”

“You want to bring me to the path of perdition! You want me to fall, just like Lucifer.”

I let Kris' hands go and recoil, stuttering. My heart is clenched, it can’t beat.

“I-I’m not, Kris. I-I don’t want to-”

“Stop lying!” He shouts and his eyes begin shining out of celestial power. “You are a filthy demon. You don’t change, you just want to destroy us.”

I recoil again, scared, I even fall on the ground. I stand up then turn and run away as fast as I can. Tears sting my eyes violently, they want to come out and a few seconds later they manage to do so. My makeup is for sure ruined and dripping down my face. 

I feel like an idiot. I hoped that Kris would be different, but what was I thinking? He's an angel, those creatures are heartless killers when it comes to demons like me. Their hatred for us is blind, almost innate. I just got another proof.

Nace and Jure were right. Angels and demons are not meant to be together. Then why did I, a demon, fall in love with an angel? If we are supposed to be mortal enemies, then why was I destined to lose my reason for a celestial creature that would slaughter me just because I am what I am? Just why? Will I ever get an answer? 

I’ve been locked in my room in a building in Hell for…who knows how much time. I don’t want to see anyone, neither Nace nor Jure. I keep crying, stopping the tears coming out of my eyes is difficult, or dare I say even impossible. My heart is shattered.

Why are demons born with such intense feelings? Why can’t we control them like angels do? Or are we cursed to be dominated by our emotions exactly because angels don’t have them?They teach us that the universe needs balance, so if angels can’t feel, someone else must feel double the time. 

I wrap my body with my arms, trying to look smaller. My tail is out, wrapped around my leg. It’s a pathetic endeavour to not feel so alone and abandoned. 

I wince when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I open my eyes and see Nace sitting by my side. He’s visibly worried.

“Bojči, what happened?”

I sob. “Y-you were right about him. He-he’s a heartless angel, just like anyone else of them,” I stutter, my voice is trembling.

Nace lays on my bed, facing me, then pulls me over to hug me. I plant my face against his chest. I feel his hand running up and down my back.

“Not every angel is heartless.”

“He is, Nace!” I shout, utter despair in my voice. “He is! I showed him my love and he accused me of trying to corrupt him! I-I gave him my whole heart and he laughed at me, he stabbed it with his ice dagger and killed me-” I stop. I can still hear his words in my mind. “H-He called me a filthy demon, Nace. After all I did for him and showed him, I-I’m still a filthy demon to him.”

My friend says nothing, he just stays there and cuddles me, attempting to make me feel a little bit better. 

And since that day I kind of started feeling better. Well, it’s more of a euphemism. Let’s say that I was barely surviving. I came back to my chores as a demon, but now I don’t smile anymore, or very little. I’m quiet. I prefer to stay alone than in the middle of a crowd. With me I have a small notebook in which I write my thoughts, ideas, feelings, and also lyrics. I can’t be a singer in the human world, but no one can stop me from writing what I feel, what I experience. 

This is how I wrote a song about my angel and how I fell in love with him. It has a stupid name too. I can write good songs, but I’m not able to name them. I will find a better one, one day. Hopefully.

“What are you writing in that notebook?” Asks Jure while sitting next to me.

We are in the human world, more precisely in a park. We needed some fresh air and some sunlight. 

“It’s nothing…” I answer.

Jure leans forward to read. “Is this about him?”

I nod. There’s no one else in my mind. I don’t like his presence, he’s haunting me, my mind is working against me. 

“It’s really intense,” Jure whispers. “Do you really love him?”

I nod again. “I know I’m a stupid demon. I should move on, forget him, but I can’t. He doesn’t love me back, he said it,” I sigh. “I’m just hoping to forget him as soon as possible. Maybe writing this stuff will help me process this stupid feeling.”

“Love isn’t stupid!”

“My love is absolutely stupid. An angel, Jurček! I’m a freaking demon and I fell in love with an angel.”

“You are not the first one.”

“Yeah, and how many of them survived? Are they here to tell their love story? No, Jurček, because angels killed them. I’m lucky I’m still alive.”

Jure pushes me with his shoulder. “Don’t lose hope, Bojči. There’s always time to change.”

I look at him. I don’t believe his words. Months have passed since my last moment with my angel, his shiny eyes are still impressed in my mind. He was about to kill me that night. 

No, he won’t change. Kris is an angel, full stop. He’s born to despise demons like me. I just need to accept that, but it will take time.

Is this despair that is guiding my actions? Possibly. Will I regret my decisions? Almost certainly. But if I can’t be with my angel, then I’d rather be dead, maybe slaughtered by him directly. That would be pretty ironic, wouldn’t it? A demon executed by the angel he’s fallen in love with. There’s poetry behind all of this. Maybe demons will use me as an example to the younglings to warn them to not fall in love with angels if they want to live.

I tried to forget him, move on, but every time I close my eyes, I see him. He's haunting me. And with him also the lyrics of the song I wrote for him. 

I’m in the middle of an abandoned industrial area. I prepared an amplifier with a microphone and a computer. I recorded some music for my song and I will perform it for the first (and last) time here, hoping that my angel is listening to me and will come to…I don’t know, to do anything. I’m ready for whatever he will decide to do to me. Included death.

I test the volume and the music. Everything sounds good, so I play the music and I start singing, looking directly at the sky.

“ Stolicu primakni, ruku mi dotakni, noćas ti si moja muza, ja u ritmu tvoga bluza ću da plešem bez prestanka .”

Nothing. The sky is blue, there’s not a single cloud, not a single sign of feathered wings. I continue singing.

“ Soba nam je mala. Ja ko pijana budala, a ni čaše nisam popio. Ja mislim da sam se zaljubio u tebe. Baš ja, koji nisam verovao da za nekim biću lud. Za tebe, kao u pesmama i filmovima ljubavnim, staviću zvuk .”

Still nothing. But I won’t lose hope, I will keep singing for him. He will show up, eventually. I just need a sign, Kris, please, I’m begging you.

“ Samo se okreni, baci pogled prema meni. Preći će tišina sama kilometre među nama dok jednom srce otkuca .”

Now it’s again time for the refrain. Some tears started running down my face, but I continue singing, I must, even if he won’t appear. I need to take these feelings out of my heart or it will explode. Maybe it will be my heart to kill me and not my angel.

“ Soba nam je mala. Ja ko pijana budala, a ni čaše nisam popio. Ja mislim da sam se zaljubio u tebe. Baš ja, koji nisam verovao da za nekim biću lud. Za tebe, kao u pesmama i filmovima ljubavnim, staviću zvuk .”

I see something in the sky, then the clear sound of wings hits me. I lower my eyes and I find Kris right in front of me. I see his three pairs of wings. A seraph, I should have guessed. Of course, I fell in love with one of the most powerful angels in the sky. When I do something, it’s always something big or I’m not happy with the result.

I kneel in front of him. Now I’ll sing the last part of my song.

“ Ne palite još svetla, još samo jedan tren da se nagledam lepote te. Ne palite još svetla. Ne prizivajte dan. Spasite me, smislite neki plan. Ako svane sunce, ostaću sam .”

The music stops. I’m looking at my angel, finally here for me. I’m breathing deeply, my heart is racing in my chest. My hand that’s holding the microphone is shaking. I’m afraid of what might happen, but at the same time I’m relieved. 

“You came,” I whisper.

“You called.”

Silence falls again between us. Kris slowly approaches, his facial expression is cold, hiding every emotion. I have pure angelic power in front of me, a deadly machine trained to kill my kind, and I’m looking at him in adoration.

“You know I should kill you right now because you are on Earth and not in Hell, right?”

“Then do it. I won’t fight, I won’t run away. If I can’t be with you, I’d rather be dead.”

Kris averts his eyes and presses his lips together, then talks. 

“You are an idiot, Bojan.”

“Yeah, I know, ljubavi . Love made me lose my mind in a way I didn’t think possible.”

“You said that in the song.”

I chuckle. “Maybe it’s just one of the many flaws that make us demons so imperfect in front of you angels. I was so unlucky to fall in love with you, but I don’t consider myself unlucky. I had the best moments of my life with you, I don’t want to change this for anything else in this world, not even a place in Heaven, if this means that I will lose my ability to love so strongly.”

I let the microphone fall on the ground and grab Kris’ sword, he has it in his hand, then I lay his sharp point right on my heart.

“You are here for this, no? Killing another impure soul that doesn’t follow the rules.”

Kris looks at me, finally. I smile, those eyes are so cold and so beautiful at the same time.

���Don’t make me do this, Bojan.”

“It’s ok, ljubavi . It’s ok. It’s…it’s your nature, you have been trained to do this your whole life.”

My voice trembles with emotions. Tears keep running down my face. No, I realise I’m not ready to die. I want to live, to be with him, but I know I can’t. It’s not allowed.

I feel the point of his sword pressed against my chest. In a few seconds it will reach my heart, and it will stop beating. I close my eyes.

But nothing happens. I’m still here, alive, breathing. I hear a metal sound against the ground, then two hands cup my face and I feel warm and soft lips pressed on mine.I open wide my eyes. Kris is kneeling on the ground in front of me and he’s kissing me.

I close my eyes again. I kiss him back, desperate to feel him, to make him feel my love through that act. I gently grab his wrists. 

When we interrupt the kiss, I touch Kris’ forehead with mine. I keep my eyes closed, trying to process what just happened.  

“Please, let it be real,” I whisper, without even realising it. “Please, please, let it be real.”

Kris chuckles. “It’s real, Bojan.”

I open my eyes and part a bit from him, just to look him in the eyes. “Real-real kind of way or…real-I’m-in-some-sort-of-Heaven-for-demons-because-I’m-dead kind of way?” I ask.

My angel gently strokes my cheeks, then leans forward to kiss me again. 

“This kind of way, my little demon,” he whispers against my lips. I shiver thanks to that lovely nickname. I hate being called little because it reminds me of my lack of height, but I’d let Kris call me whatever he wants, just to hear his voice again and again.

“I’m your little demon, then?”

Kris nods while looking me in the eyes. He caresses my lower lip with his thumb. His touch is so gentle, shivers run down my spine again.

“What made you change your mind?”

“Your song. I had feelings for you, they developed pretty early, but I…wasn’t acknowledging their existence because I never had the chance to fall in love with someone.”

I jump on Kris to hug him, sending us both falling to the ground, so I end up on top of him. I burst out laughing.

“Well, now you have someone right here.”

My tail appears behind me and shakes in the air, showing my happiness. I kiss him on the cheek, then giggle when I see him blushing. A couple of tears run down my face, but this time they are out of pure and simple joy.

* * *

I've been a demon my whole life. I grew up fearing angels, but nothing could have prepared me for what fate had planned for me. I fell in love with Kris, an angel, a seraph. Our relationship began with the worst scenario possible, with him trying to kill me. And yeah, I might be dumb, because I fell in love with him in that moment, but now we are happy together. And I wouldn’t change a thing about us.

Heaven and Hell finally united thanks to the love between an angel and a demon.

[effortandmore]

worth all your while (ch.5) | knj x f!reader

chapter summary: you and namjoon have been going along to get along, but you've yet to really define your relationship. so, when you meet your idol, namjoon gets jealous, and the shit hits the fan. ~jeon jeongguk finally appears in this fic~

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: smut, fluff, angst

au: celebrity

chapter warnings: namjoon is a bit jealous! this leads to: biting, marking, pinching, implied unprotected piv sex, oral (f!receiving) which includes biting, there's some hair pulling (but not like... aggressively), they don't communicate well—surprise!, angst

chapter word count: ~5.8k (total 31.7k)

a/n: hello, idk what to say. apparently this one will hurt. i don't write a lot of angst cos of that, so here we are. thanks to my friend, @ugh-yoongi for looking this over, you're the jin to my namjoon!

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In your new normal, a few months into your situation with Namjoon, you spend long hours on your laptop writing articles from the couch in his studio. Work has been nonstop crazy for him in the weeks since you got back from your weekend away, and after not seeing each other for ten days, this was the solution you came up with. 

(You missed him those ten days—missed him enough that it was a little bit embarrassing, that you became a little unbearable. It all sort of came to a head when you snapped at Jimin during a pointless argument about the drama you were both watching. He looked at you like you’d kicked a puppy and Taehyung muttered something about taking matters into his own hands as he walked Jimin down the hall, leaving you to stew in your own embarrassment and annoyance. 

About fifteen minutes later, you got a call from Namjoon, and he was using his deepest tone—the one he saves for when he either wants something, is just waking up, or is a little drunk—”Baby, can you come by the studio? I miss you…” he’d said. 

“Did Tae call you?” You’re a lot of things, but not oblivious. 

“...Maybe.” 

You huffed, indignant. “I’m just having a bad day,” you explained.

“Me too. But I think it would get better if I could see you.” 

You rolled your eyes, but you were grinning for the first time in days. It didn’t take any more convincing than that, and you’d gotten dressed, packed up a small bag of essentials, and headed out to see him. It helped the weird, anxious tension you’d been feeling, so you just kept going there.)

And while it’s not much, being in the same room while you work is nice. And if it’s all you can get of his time, you’ll take it. The perks are that you get to have lunch together, you get to spend some time with Yoongi and Hoseok—both of whom you like very much—and you get to meet some of the people Namjoon produces for, including your favorite singer, Jeon Jeongguk.

“Is he coming today?” you ask Namjoon, excitement not even concealed a little bit as you throw yourself on the couch. 

“Hmm?” 

“Jeongguk-ssi. Is he coming?” 

Namjoon swivels around to face you, one eyebrow raised. “I think he is, yeah. That exciting for you?”

You nod furiously, not even trying to suppress your enthusiasm. “He’s so nice,” you say, and it almost comes out less dreamy than you feel. You’ve met him once before and he is nice, and unbelievably pretty, and you never even thought you’d get a ticket to one of his concerts, let alone watch him sing into a microphone in the small recording area of Namjoon’s studio. It’s surreal. You’re starstruck by him in a way you aren’t usually by the people you meet in your line of work. It’s a little annoying—you don’t like feeling that way, but Jeongguk is… well, he’s special and he knows it, but he’s still seemingly really humble about it. You feel like a fangirl. 

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Namjoon says curiously. “You talk to famous people all the time.” 

“But he’s…” You just sigh, unable to find the word you were looking for.

Namjoon laughs. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I wish you got all starry-eyed like that about me, though.”

It’s absurd, you think, because you feel so much differently about Namjoon. You’re not intimidated by him, you just respect him. And you know him better than you know almost anyone else, which changes things. You may not be starry-eyed for him at every opportunity anymore, but what you are is so much more than that. You love him. He has to know that. 

“Maybe you should get some tattoos like Jeongguk,” you tease. “They’d look good on you.” It comes out before you can stop yourself. For a second, you regret it, you think maybe you should have said something sincere about how much you care for him. But he knows. He definitely has to know. 

“Hmm… Maybe,” he hums, turning back to his screens. “Maybe I should get your name right on my asscheek.” 

“Forget I said anything,” you deadpan. And you hear him laugh one more time before you both slip your headphones on and get to work. 

Jeongguk comes by a couple of hours later, as gorgeous and quiet and polite as ever, and you try try try to be cool about it, but you’re barely containing your excitement. Or not containing it, maybe, judging by the way Namjoon has rolled his eyes at you a half dozen times since the singer showed up. 

When they’re done working, Jeongguk and Namjoon pull their headphones off and start chatting—Jeongguk takes the chair opposite you and Namjoon sits next to you on the sofa. You cringe when he puts his bare feet on the coffee table—it’s his, but it had to have cost more than several months of your rent. And sometimes you eat off of it. So… you know. 

You tune back into the conversation just as Namjoon says, “... an autograph?” 

And your head shoots up from where you’d been staring at his feet, your eyes wider than wide. 

It makes Jeongguk blush and his teeth burst out of his smile. “Of course, hyung. You don’t have to ask.” 

“Yes, he does,” you say enthusiastically. They both turn to you, and you feel a little on the spot, a little nervous. “I mean… It would mean a lot to me, and he knows that. So, it’s…” You trail off, not even sure what you’d planned to say. You’d mentioned in passing to Namjoon that you’d basically kill to get Jeongguk’s autograph, but he seemed to think you were just being ridiculous, that there was no reason to need it when you’d already met the singer. You weren’t sure he would even ask—you definitely didn’t think he would ask in front of you. 

But, he did, so you swallow your dignity and pull your copy of Jeongguk’s most recent album out of your bag and hand it to him with a marker. Of course you’re prepared. Of course you watch Jeongguk sign it with a beaming smile on your face. Namjoon lifts an eyebrow and you see him clench his jaw, staring at nothing in particular. It’s not a look you see him give too often, and you haven’t had it directed at you before—it’s hard to tell if it’s for you now, but there’s no one else around. Sure, he’d teased you about this, but there’s no way he’s actually bothered… you hope. It makes you feel nervous in a different way… an almost unpleasant one. 

Later, after Jeongguk is gone and your newly signed album is tucked away back safely in your bag after an embarrassingly high number of thank yous, you and Namjoon both work. The air is thick, a little tense, and you’re pretty sure it’s not only in your head. He’s always quiet when he’s working, always focused, but tonight he’s quieter than usual. Everything you say to him is met with one or two word responses and he barely makes eye contact. It’s after midnight by the time his manager peeks in to see if you’ll be leaving soon, and you nod affirmatively while Namjoon just waves him off without even turning around. 

You have to come stand next to him to get his attention. “I think I’m done for the day,” you tell him, trying to stifle a yawn as you stretch your arms overhead. 

“Fine. See you at home?” 

And what a funny question, because he definitely seems irritated, but also expects you to be at his apartment when he gets home? You don’t even live there; it’s not your home no matter how many nights you spend there each week. “You want me to stay over?” you ask, trying to get a better read on the situation. 

“Sure, why not? Someplace else you need to be?” 

Now, you’re the one raising a brow. He’s being weird. It all seems fine on the surface, maybe to someone who doesn’t know how you usually are with each other. He’s tense and short and his tone is clipped and he’s not looking at you and you sort of hate it. 

Fuck it. Might as well just ask. “Is everything okay?” 

He finally looks up at you, swiveling his chair around so he can face you, and you know the answer to your question is no before he even says anything. Mentally, you brace yourself a little for what he might say. But then he doesn’t say anything for a while, just looks at you, eyes tracing your face, down your body and back up before he lets out a long breath. He does that thing, the one where he tugs at his own neck, long fingers pushing into the flesh there like he can physically push the stress and tension out of his muscles if he tries hard enough. 

Then he’s reaching out to you, hands landing on your hips and pulling you forward between his knees. With one hand, his thumb digs into your hip bone almost too hard, and the other pushes your shirt up so he can press his lips into the skin across your ribs, the soft swell of your stomach, the tops of your hips. “Mine,” he says into your skin—you think that’s what he’s saying anyway, because you barely hear it, could almost be in your imagination, the soft sound muffled by your own body. 

You lift your hands and run your fingers through his hair, brushing it back the way he likes with the soft strokes he always says are his favorite, but this time, he pulls you down by your elbows until your foreheads are pressed together. Just like his thumb in your hip before, his grip on your arms is almost too tight, almost crossing the line into painful, but the look on his face is soft like a plea before his lips touch yours. 

“Mine,” he says again, and this time it’s unmistakable, urgent and possessive before his tongue slides into your mouth, licking like a claim more than a promise. 

While you kiss (if that’s what this even is… it feels more like a branding—hot and a little angry on your lips and tongue) you lower yourself into his lap. You both don’t really fit in his chair, but it just forces you to be pressed in close against him, thighs tight around his. 

Something strange is happening, it’s so close to being the way it always is between you, but everything is just slightly off-kilter. He’s pulling your head back by your hair to give him access to your neck, and it’s not kind; not sweet. He starts to bite along your pulse point, your throat, little nibbles harder than usual and he’s surely leaving marks as he goes. 

Underneath you, you feel him getting hard in his joggers, you hear his breath starting to come heavier and faster, you see his cheeks flush, but they’re not dimpled with the smirk he usually sports while you’re in this position. 

“Joonie,” you whisper, “what’s going on?” 

“Doesn’t it feel good?” he asks in return, his fingers traveling under your shirt, under your bra so he can pinch and twist more than softly at one of your nipples. You moan without even meaning to, because of course it feels good, of course he knows exactly how to touch you even when he’s doing all of it a little too hard. “Sounds like it feels good. Sounds like you like it, baby. Want me to mark you up?” He’s starting to ramble now, a little desperate, leaving more marks on your collarbone, your neck, as you grind down into his lap. 

“Feels good, Joon. Always feels the best with you.” 

It’s the first time all night you think you’ve said the right thing. You can almost feel him relax under you a little, but only a little. He’s still got a different kind of urgency written on his face, he’s still hard under you, and he’s still making marks on all your skin he can reach with his lips, still pinching and twisting at patches of skin under your shirt. 

“Gonna fuck you,” he whispers, moving you off his lap and following you up. It’s different because usually he asks. Usually, he lets you make the calls, lets you decide the when and the where and the pace and the pressure. That’s what’s off—this is all him without asking. You know he’d stop if you told him to, and you don’t want him to stop, but you do wonder why things are different this time. 

He pulls you across the room near the couch, the one you sat on just hours earlier, getting an autograph from his friend. It clicks for you then, what’s gotten into him, or what you think has, anyway. 

Standing there, you watch him unbutton your jeans and slide them down your legs, and he’s focused, focused, focused, quiet and intense, his hands steady and a corner of his lip tucked under his teeth as he strips you. 

You don’t ask then, you wait until you’re on your knees on the couch, until you’re both naked, until he’s behind you and licking into your core with his fingers kneading at the tops of your thighs, spreading you open. 

This too, is different. 

Normally he takes his time with you, likes to tease you with his tongue, with his fingers. Likes to press kisses to your clit that don’t do anything except make you smile and wiggle around under him, likes to lick you open and then slide one or two long fingers in you and talk to you about how wet you are, how good you feel, how you taste like ripe fruit or syrup or something ridiculous. 

He likes to get you begging, likes you to want him so much he can see it in the way your muscles twitch. Likes it when you set the rules and then hand over the control to him. 

Not tonight. 

It’s all purposeful strokes with his tongue, it’s him pulling and twisting the flesh of your thighs, it’s silence and no sweet murmurings to make you melt. It’s fast and a little rough and it’s making your head spin when he licks and sucks and even bites a little right on your clit. It’s good, he’s always good, always knows how to make you come… But it’s different.

So, it’s the wrong time (or the right time) and you don’t really know why you finally say it as a response when he says, “Mine,” again before sucking your clit between his lips one last time and drawing out your first orgasm. 

“Are you jealous, Joonie?” you ask between labored breaths, “You think I want to fuck your friend?” 

Behind you, where he had been still nestled between your legs, he comes to a halt, tongue and fingers and breathing all stilled for a moment. Then a quiet, “Yeah…” The word long on his lips and the air behind it floating like a whisper across your core.

“I’m yours, though,” you say, turning your head to try and catch a glimpse of his face over your shoulder. “All yours.” 

That earns you his hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you down so your weight falls on your forearms in front of him, ass up and your face pressed into the sofa so that you can’t keep trying to watch him with your neck turned back.

You’re still cum-slick and sensitive—you know he can tell by the way you let out an involuntary shiver when he drags the tip of his cock along your clit. 

“He wouldn’t be enough for you,” Namjoon says quietly, so serious. “You’re mine, baby. Gonna fuck you like you deserve.”

It’s not quite angry anymore, he’s no longer gripping too roughly or biting your skin—feels like he’s finally just about present, like he’s finally with you instead of just next to you. He’s teasing his cock at your entrance now, and you push back against him. “Yes, yours… Only for you. Please, Joon.” It’s a little needier than you meant, a little more desperate than you deserve, having already come once. But he’s a tease, and he’s so so hard, and it’s making you a little crazy that he wants you for himself like this, that you can make him go a little wild in this way. You’ve never seen him possessive like he was today. Maybe it shouldn’t turn you on, but calling you his, trying to claim you, it’s the closest thing he’s said to, “I love you.” He makes you a greedy, desperate thing, and you’ll take what you can get. You’ll take this from him if it means even close to what you want it to mean. 

Once more, he wraps some of your hair around his hand and pulls. You groan as your head tilts up and your back arches under the pressure. It’s not hard, it doesn’t hurt, but it still carries that same frantic feeling as he has since this started. “What do you need?”

“You to fuck me… Need your cock, Joonie… Please…”

And he’s always giving you what you say you need. It’s nobody’s fault but your own if you lie.

So, he thrusts into you and uses his grip on your hair to pull you onto him at the same time. It’s so fucking deep, and he feels as heavy and thick as ever inside you as you whimper in time with his thrusts. He’s been hard for what seems like an eternity, so you know it must be as much relief at this point as it is pleasure for him. 

“Want to make it last now,” he says, slowing his movements, being more prescribed, more precise with where he hits inside of you. His hand loosens around your hair, and your head falls down—you’re starting to tire now as you’re teetering on the edge of your second orgasm, about at the most you can take, because while he’s slowed, he’s still deep inside you and it’s so so much. Must be for him, too, because he’s still not talking as much as usual, just letting out short moans mixed with your name and broken, skipping record sentences all beginning or ending with “Mine.”

As he fucks you, he slides his hands under your front and pulls you up tight against him. You’re essentially sitting in his lap now, and it’s usually one of your favorite ways to fuck because it gets him so close to you. His hands on your breasts, his face buried in your neck. When you’re like this, when he’s all you can smell, all you can taste, all you can feel—it’s heaven. It’s all of your best fantasies come to life. And this still feels like a fantasy, like a dream, because it’s standing on the boundary of the familiar, because everything has fluffy, blurry edges and seems right and not right with him all at the same time. 

He turns your head to face him and cranes his own to meet you halfway. Your kiss is softer than you’ve been behaving—it’s tender and slow and you want to make a home in his mouth where it’s sweet and safe and his syrupy sappy words are supposed to come from. You tease him about being cheesy sometimes, but you like it; you like it better than today when he was upset even though it led to this. But now this finally feels almost right, this finally feels almost like you and Namjoon again. 

“Joon, I—”

And you’ve done this a million times, so he cuts you off with another kiss. He knows you’re his now (you hope this is the convincing he needed, anyway) and he knows what you need from him. He brings his fingers to your clit and strokes you there, gentle and steady like your kiss. It’s your way of talking, it’s his way of telling you everything you mean to him and everything he wants to be for you. He probably knows it’s not enough, not forever anyway, and that could be why it feels like a promise and an apology at the same time. You think maybe in spite of all the words that must be floating around his big brain, that this is all he knows how to give, so he gives it everything. 

Under his hand and while he’s buried deep inside of you, you come for the second time. It’s quiet—no noise in the fluttering of your walls around him and the way your eyes fall shut—the second time is pain and pleasure combined, and he’s told you before he sometimes wonders if it’s too much when they happen in close succession like this. 

It’s only seconds until he comes too, squeezing every muscle in and around you. It’s all-consuming—he always is. 

You lift yourself off of his lap when he’s stopped pulsing inside you, and let yourself spread out on the sofa under him, offering him a hand to do the same, half next to you and half on top of you. He’s heavy and warm and solid, and he’s the physical manifestation of the biggest love you’ve ever felt. You still don’t know what happened, why he got so worked up, not really, but before you fall asleep, you hear the quiet, “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers into your hair. You don’t really know if you should have said it first.  

It’s close to sunrise when you and Namjoon make your way back to his apartment. You’d slept uncomfortably on the sofa of his studio for a couple hours, cleaned yourselves up in relative silence and then called for a car. Between you, things don’t feel quite right. He looks sheepish, you feel embarrassed. It’s not quite bad enough to be uncomfortable, but it’s close. When you tumble through his front door and kick your shoes off, he pulls you into a tight hug. You sigh in tandem and you hope it lets the weird feelings out. It’s the kind of thing you should talk about, but you don’t know how to start the conversation. So, you don’t. Namjoon doesn’t either.

It’s probably a mistake. 

It feels like a mistake when you wake up early in the afternoon and he’s not in bed with you. It feels like a mistake when you get ready for work alone, and the sound of Namjoon murmuring on the phone in his office across the apartment is the only company you have. It feels like a mistake when you ask if he wants to ride together to the museum party you’re both attending, and he says you probably shouldn’t, that it wouldn’t be a good idea. Feels like a mistake when you both deposit the rings you’d bought for your 200 days into the small dish by his door (never in public, you know you never wear them in public… and still—a big gesture reduced to something secret feels like a mistake sometimes. Feels like you’re betraying yourselves somehow). 

It feels the most like a mistake when Tae texts you to tell you he’s waiting in the car outside and Namjoon kisses your cheek in goodbye instead of your lips. 

Taehyung, to his credit, leaves you alone on the drive after he realizes something is wrong. He doesn’t bother you about what’s bothering you, instead catching you up on things you’d missed around your own apartment in the last couple weeks. Jimin’s been busy, picking up a couple of more advanced classes, but Tae says he likes the challenge, likes the students. It’s good—Jimin works hard, deserves good things. The stories are enough to distract you from your own potential problems until you get to the event. 

It’s never fun to go into things like this in a bad mood. Makes it hard to focus on your job, makes it hard to enjoy things you normally would. This should be easy, but it’s a big party. The yearly member/donor party for the museum is complete with celebrity appearances (including Namjoon) on a red carpet, a silent auction on rare prints and originals, and an expensive plated dinner you’re usually excited about eating with your boss and Taehyung by your side. This year though, it’s different. None of the prints for auction seem as special, the food doesn’t taste as good, it’s not even much fun to make fun of the stupid shit famous people wear because some designer said they should. 

You’re sulking and you know it. 

The weird thing with Namjoon turned into a sour mood for you, and it’s been made worse watching him flash his dimpled grin to models and singers and artists across the room. You hadn’t been on the receiving end of it all day (or the night before), and it’s throwing you off. Seems like a gift he can give so easily, like something you’re missing out on. 

An ugly pit that feels like resentment starts to settle in your gut where your food should be. Instead of eating or talking or having a good time, you sulk more; you push the food around on your plate, and you try not to watch him in an obvious way. 

Taehyung solidifies his status as one of your best friends when he smoothly talks around the idea of you grabbing Namjoon for an interview even though your boss suggested it. Tae is the best because you haven’t even talked about it, but he knows something isn’t right. He knows on instinct that you shouldn’t be trusted with that job tonight. The last thing you need is to have to interview Namjoon when things are already weird with you. You’d probably pull it off just fine under usual circumstances, probably be able to control your face when you think about all the times you’ve seen each other naked, all the times you’ve pressed laughing kisses to his lips and his dimples, all the times you’ve tripped and stumbled and fallen further further further for him. 

But not like this. Not with the questions you didn’t ask (and can’t right now) hanging between you, not with your brain fixated on the way he pulled your hair and bruised your neck enough that you’re wearing your least favorite turtleneck dress. 

All you want him to tell you is why, all you want to tell him is that you love him so much that why doesn’t actually matter. None of it matters and you wish he knew and you wish you’d said that. But you can’t say that in an interview, can’t tell him that all you need is for him to love you and to say it so you can safely say it back. You need him to be brave, to make you feel brave in turn. You can’t print that, though.

The problem with you not pulling him for a few questions is that someone has to. You can’t be an art magazine and not talk to him here. So, if it’s not you, it will be someone. Someone who won’t be as gentle with their questions, someone who won’t know what to ask about his collection, what he’s passionate about right now. You know you could do the job best, if only you could ask the professional questions, if only you could get him to look you in the eye. 

You’re about to change your mind, about to tell Tae you can do it when you see your boss and your asshole, book-writing colleague approach Namjoon. There’s no way it’s going to go well—you know Namjoon doesn’t like him. It had basically been the first thing you’d ever talked to him about. 

That knowledge in mind, you can’t stop yourself from getting a little closer to where they are. It doesn’t make sense, it’s not like you can or would intervene if your co-worker asks something weird. Not like Namjoon needs you to protect him. But you know your colleague. You know why Namjoon doesn’t like him. You know he treats celebrities like commodities, their private lives to be bought and sold. You know he’ll directly ask Namjoon about his personal life, and if Namjoon doesn’t answer, he’ll look for the answer elsewhere. It’s why he’s successful—there’s a never-ending parade of people willing to trade in peoples’ secrets. 

Someone’s always willing to be bought. People are always willing to consume rumors paraded as facts. 

You linger close enough to hear, but not close enough that your boss realizes you followed. Tae tugs at your arm, hisses, “What’re you doing?” in your ear so only you can hear. But he knows. So, before he even waits for a response, he adds, under his breath, “Just don’t let her see you.” He’s right, you don’t know how you’d explain to your boss that you were eavesdropping instead of doing your actual job. 

The first couple questions are the right kind: “Anything you want to bid on tonight?” And, “You’ve seen the upcoming exhibitions for the year, which are you most excited about? Why?” And then you hear the next question, “Who’s your plus one tonight?” 

Namjoon, even though you can’t quite hear him, seems to brush it off. Says something about just spending the evening among friends. It’s the right answer, the one he’s given a million times, the one that’s actually true as far as you know. Your colleague seems unimpressed, seems like he wants more. He presses into the subject as you press closer to them. “Come on, there are rumors you’ve been spotted out with someone recently.” 

That’s true, too. Namjoon’s management has a policy of ignoring them, but they’re out there. LIttle snippets on social media, people saying they’d seen him leaving restaurants with someone, seen him in the back of a car, but not alone. They’re probably true. You’ve been careful—no one’s mentioned you, no one has pictures, but you’ve also been out a lot. He’s told you he’s getting older, he’s not an idol, he doesn’t care if people know he’s dating. He’s an adult, he’ll do what he wants. You mean too much to him to stay tucked away in his apartment or his studio… He’s said all those things and you’ve gone on living your lives, and someone’s probably seen you doing it. 

Sometimes, to your colleague’s fortune, rumors are facts. 

“I don’t pay much attention to rumors,” Namjoon says in response. That’s true, too. He’s good at this, the deflection that’s also honest. He’s not often accused of being untruthful and there’s a reason for that. 

“Well, just for the record, we’d love to know who you’re dating. If there’s anyone special…” Your boss adds that one on. It’s far more direct than your colleague would normally be. She doesn’t like feeling manipulative, she’d rather just ask the straightforward question and hope to get a straightforward answer. She won’t get it, you think. 

Then Namjoon spots you watching, eyes you over the rim of his glasses as you take a drink from your champagne flute. At every other event, this is when he smiles at you, small and private, the kind of smile that makes him look his age with the deep lines of a practiced movement forming around his mouth. You smile first—it’s almost Pavlovian. You’re anticipating his move. 

But you’re wrong this time. He doesn’t smile back. He swallows and smooths his tie and looks back to your boss and gives her the straightforward answer she wanted; the one you absolutely weren’t expecting. 

“No, not dating anyone seriously. There’s no one special.”  

It feels like a mistake. All of it. 

You don’t move, not a muscle. Your champagne flute hangs in mid air, your eyes are stuck on him. Behind you, Taehyung is saying something whispered and frantic, but you don’t even really hear him, just pieces of it. “...what he has to say… Not a big deal��� reading too much into it.” 

The sentences finish themselves, and part of you knows he’s right. Namjoon probably does have to say something like that, it probably isn’t a big deal, you probably are reading too much into it. And you’d believe him, believe yourself, if things hadn’t already felt wrong, if he’d just smiled back at you. All he had to do was smile back. 

“I think I should go,” you say, voice low and talking to no one in particular. 

“Okay, yeah. Let’s get you home,” Taehyung says, and he grabs your elbow, right where Namjoon had the night before but in a softer, kinder way. As he starts to walk, he guides you, and you indulge yourself, let yourself keep your eyes locked on Namjoon, the person you love, the person who might not love you. The person who was jealous when you wanted an autograph from his friend, but who won’t hold your hand on the sidewalk. The person who raps and writes and says words words words but never really talks to you. Never tells you the one thing you need to hear. The person who says so much and so little at the same time. You watch him and it’s like you’re willing him to look back, to see you. 

But he doesn’t. He fidgets and messes with his cufflinks and you know he knows you heard him, you know he saw you there, and he can’t even bring himself to give you a non-verbal denial or confirmation of what he said. 

It feels like a mistake. 

It feels like heartbreak. 

Feels like shattering into a million petal pieces and no amount of gilded glue will be able to piece you back together into something as pretty as you were before. 

Namjoon texts you that night—a string of messages that you don’t read come after you’ve cried into Jimin’s chest on your couch, after Tae has wrapped himself around you in your bed and let you tell him every secret thing you love about Kim Namjoon as you sob and mourn something you’re not sure was ever really yours. 

Namjoon calls and you don’t answer. Calls you again while Tae sweetly suggests you could just give him a chance. That it didn’t mean anything. That you know Yoongi says it all that time, too, and you’ve met his partner. That maybe you don’t have to take it so personally. 

You fall asleep with Tae’s arm around you, pulling you close, and your tears drying on your cheeks. 

You wake up to a new message from Namjoon. “Please don’t push me away, baby,” it says. 

A long time passes while you stare at the message. A million thoughts run through your head of what you should or shouldn’t do, of how upset you have the right (or not) to be. But the one thought you can’t kick is wondering how hard you can really be pushing someone away if they were already pulling back. 

[2-sleepy-for-this]

Our little brother pt.4

here it is folks! Finally I’m back and writing for my surprisingly popular au :)

Sorry I took so long to post, but the hiatus is done. I’m pretty stressed at the moment though so fics may take longer than usual..

Now without further ado…

tw~ panic, dehumanization (??), unintentional fearplay, having a crisis

word count~ 1.5k

Wilbur was panicking. Sunshine was gone, and he had no clue how it had happened. He could’ve sworn they were in his pocket the whole time, but somehow the little escape artist had gotten lost…

Techno will be suspicious if he isn’t at the apartment in a few minutes… but how can he go without the small creature? Techno will know he screwed up immediately.

Wilbur continued to search the halls, but with the few people still lingering, it was difficult to not draw attention. He didn’t care much, but he had the feeling that he didn’t want anyone else to see Sunshine… he didn’t know why, but it just felt wrong to reveal them to anyone else.

“C’mon, little guy… where are you?”

He whispered, more to himself than anyone else. They couldn’t have gotten so far… with how tiny Sunshine was, it was hard to believe they could have gotten far or… hopefully not out of the building. The outside was frosty with a chill in the air. Wilbur shuddered at the thought of Sunshine being out there, lost again.

… then Dream walked up to him. 

Now, Wilbur didn’t dislike Dream but… well, he kinda did. Not for any reason in particular, but Wilbur just didn’t like the more extroverted guy. Wilbur was surprised that Dream had come up to him with such purpose until… the color yellow in the corner of his eye. 

It was Sunshine! Right there… in Dream’s hand.

Wilbur gasped slightly as he looked at Sunshine.

“Sunshine! You’re.. you’re alright.”

He said happily and reached out to grab them from Dream. He snatched up his sunshine from the other hold and held them against his chest in a makeshift hug. He didn’t notice the minuscule trembling of the tiny body in his palms.

Wilbur looked at Dream. He wasn’t even thinking in the moment as he glared.

“Dream..”

He greeted the shorter coldly.

Dream had the decency to look slightly sheepish.

“Uh.. hey, Wilbur… sorry about the surprise, but, uh, I found Tommy on his own and heard he was looking for you so…”

Dream tried to explain, but Wilbur stopped listening after that. Tommy? His Sunshine had a name? Had Dream given it to him?

Wilbur looked down at ‘Tommy’ with a confused look. The small thing looked up at him with a wide eyed one. 

Wilbur had never noticed the little shine in his tiny blue eyes before… he looked so human.

Dream was still speaking and Wilbur thought he should tune back in to that. He might be saying something important about.. Tommy.

“-and then he said he was looking for a ‘Wilby’ but I knew he was talking about you. I mean, who else would have that yellow of a hoodie on, right?”

“Says the guy in bright green..”

Wilbur shot back, not appreciating the fashion slander before processing what was just said.

“Wait- said? He.. can speak?”

Dream looked surprised for a moment before raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah? You… knew that, right?”

Wilbur looked at Dream before lying.

“Of course I did! I’m not saying- he just-… yeah..”

Dream looked unconvinced at that stuttered answer, but Wilbur didn’t care. Right now, he just needed to get Tommy home and figure out whatever he just heard. He sighed.

“Look, Dream, you can’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

“…I get that.”

“Good… now I’m gonna take.. Tommy.. home, see you later.”

Wilbur walked away without hearing Dream’s reply… he couldn’t help but feel like the little weight in his hands felt a lot more.. real to him than before.

———————————

Tommy was anxious… more than anxious, terrified even. 

He was back with his previous human captor, back in the hands that took him from his secretive borrower life… 

But now… now he knew. The one thing he had control over, his voice. The human, Wilbur, as Dream has said, knew he could talk now… what would he do? Would Wilbur force him to tell him everything about borrowers? Tell the pink haired human about it? 

Wilbur knew his name now… 

And what could Tommy do about it? Nothing…

He was out… he had escaped; he was gone away from everyone…

He was caught.. twice now. He was a terrible borrower.

Tommy was deep in his self depreciating thoughts when he felt the prodding of a giant finger he started to get familiar with. He was nervous. He looked up at Wilbur and met his gaze. Wilbur was looking down at him, conflicted, before opening his mouth to speak.

“I… I’m gonna put you in my pocket now… alright, Tommy?”

Wilbur spoke his name… gave him a warning before doing something to him…

He kinda liked it…

Tommy nodded slowly and watched as Wilbur still looked shocked at Tommy actually acknowledging his words.

Then Wilbur gently placed his hand into the joined pockets of his hoodie and shielded Tommy with the yellow fabric of the pocket and the human’s hand. It kept everyone else from seeing even a glimpse of Tommy.

———————————

Wilbur walked back to the apartment in a hurry, trying to get there quickly to not seem suspicious about the amount of time he’d been gone. 

He walked through the door and closed it quietly before carefully crossing the living room space, hoping to make it to his room without being seen and lectured. Then there was the deep clearing of a throat and Wilbur winced, turning to face his twin sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, an unimpressed look on his face.

Wilbur immediately put on a smile of mock innocence. 

“Hey, tech, didn’t know you’d be home so quickly today…”

Techno sighed. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Wil, where’s the thing?”

Wilbur felt the minuscule boy tense against his pocketed hand. Yet he pulled him out into the open anyway.

Tommy looked up at him and then to techno with a wide-eyed gaze, an expression that was a cry for help, surrounded by the two humans.

“Relax, tech, Tommy’s right here… see, I’m responsible.”

He acted like he hadn’t lost Tommy after only a few hours…

Techno sat up straighter and leaned closer to see Tommy, a raised eyebrow and a slightly confused expression on his face.

“You named it already?”

Wilbur looked down at Tommy at the same time the little guy looked up at him. They shared the same anxious look of ‘shoot’. Wilbur had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to convince techno of his findings about Tommy without taking a bit to process it himself. So he lied. Again.

“Uh.. yeah! Yeah, I named him Tommy.. he looks like a Tommy, right?”

Techno looked at Tommy for a moment with an unreadable look before nodding in agreement.

“I guess so. Looks like one to me.”

Wilbur let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Great.. now, uh.. I’m gonna go to my room.”

Wilbur started tensely walking away before techno stopped him, standing and walking in front of him.

“Aren’t ya gonna put ‘Tommy’ back?”

“Well.. uh.. actually I was gonna let the little guy keep me company for a while…”

Wilbur subconsciously ran his finger down Tommy’s back, not noticing the way Tommy leaned into the touch hesitantly, too focused on acting not suspicious to his very hard-to-lie-to twin.

Techno shrugged and sat back down.

“Alright, but don’t hog the thing. I wanna see it sometime too.”

Wilbur nodded and continued to his bedroom, closing the door a bit too fast for his calm act and walking to his desk. 

He sat in his desk chair, using his one unoccupied hand to shove the sheets of half written music off of his desk. He could clean those up later.

Then he gently set his other hand on the desk, watching intently as Tommy climbed off and took a few scrambling steps away from him nervously.

Tommy looked up at him from the desk in anxiety and confusion.

“Alright… okay, okay, okay… wow..”

Wilbur covered his face with his hands in exasperation with a long sigh before taking a second and looking at Tommy, finally processing everything.

“You… you can.. talk?”

He asked with apprehension.

“Dream said you can talk.. Tommy? You… are you…”

Wilbur didn’t know how to word this the right way…

“You’re sentient?”

——————————

hope you liked this one!

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[crazylittlejester]

What's Twilight's take on Warriors and Warriors' and Time's relationship in your series. I'm curious how he and the others fit in and view the pair in your take on things.

Anon I am SO glad you asked because I was thinking about writing a fic about this about like, an hour ago (i’m gonna apologize for weird spelling errors or oddly autocorrected words because i typed all this out on my phone and i’m dyslexic)

So with how I write and interpret them, Warriors and Time recognized each other immediately, but didn’t like, talk about it. They’re bad at emotions (and a bit dumb, both of em), so they just “got to know each other” as two new people for a while. Eventually those two got over each other and got a lot closer

Twilight and Time are very interesting because for me, Time didn’t recognize Twilight as his descendant, Time has never met Twilight before, but Twilight recognized him immediately as the hero’s shade and got spooked. He knows what happens to this man, he’s seen him dead essentially, and now here he is alive and Twilight can recognize parts of his own face in Time’s which definitely freaked him out a bit at first

With how I write them, Twilight looks up to Time as a mentor and father figure, and one of his biggest worries is disappointing him. He wants Time to think he’s capable (Time does), and he’ll stop at nothing to prove it. Twilight to me deals with a lot of anxiety and a fear of abandonment, and in some way, he’s a little afraid of Time. Time seems almost like an untouchable figure to him at first and he didn’t think he could ever form a relationship with him the way Warriors did because Time is a bit quiet and withdrawn in general, and Twilight just didn’t know how to get close to him

Warriors was the bridge to that gap. Warriors and Twilight have a lot of similarities to me, and they make a great duo. They’re close in age (with my headcanon being that Wars is 27 and Twilight is 22-23), and they definitely have a brotherly relationship that’s formed right off the bat. They tease each other and poke fun of each other, and Warriors’s laid back nature and dramatics help Twilight relax and not be so anxious. Similarly Twilight helps Warriors calm his own anxiety because both of them are the kind of person who are soothed by taking care of someone else, and Warriors likes being able to comfortably fit in a big brother role. It makes him feel needed.

As for how they feel about each other’s relationship with Time, they’re very different. Warriors will never really look up to Time the way any of the others do because that’s his little brother. In a way, Warriors views himself as the ‘oldest’ because his brain still refuses to fully comprehend that Time is now much older than he is. Twilight views Warriors as the one person he can talk freely to because he isn’t intimidating like Time is, and he’s not younger than Twilight either. Twilight feels a bit bad in the beginning about breaking down in front of the captain and letting him see how worried he really gets, but Warriors is always there for him when he needs it. Later when Twilight realizes Time is literally Just A Guy and stops idolizing him as much, those two get much closer, and he feels like he can talk to Time just as much as Warriors

You might’ve been expecting me to say something about Wars and Twilight being jealous of each other, but for how I write them its actually Time who sometimes feels a little jealous that Warriors can talk to Twilight so easily in the beginning. He doesn’t understand why Twilight can be so relaxed around the captain but so tense and nervous around him. Time sees a much different side of Twilight than everyone else does because in the beginning, the rancher is much more closed off from him than he is with literally any of the others. Eventually when Twilight starts relaxing around Time, they really develop a Father Son relationship that just makes Warriors happy to see

(Time of course teases him that if Warriors is going to call Twilight Time’s son, that would make Warriors his uncle)

Thank you for the ask!! I love any excuse to talk about how I characterize the blorbos :)