#will i want to add to this the moment i publish it? probably

[natcliachen]

NATALIA CHEN ( HAVANA ROSE LIU ) is a TWENTY-SIX year-old PERSONAL ASSISTANT in PARIS, FRANCE. They were brought under Richard’s care when they were only TEN years old. They are known as THE PERFECTIONIST because they are METICULOUS but also RIGID.

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: Natalia Chen

Nickname(s): She prefers Natalia. If she respects you, she can tolerate Talia. If you've called her Nat, she's plotted your murder.

Date of Birth: September 16, 1978

Age: 26, turning 27 in like 2 weeks

Occupation: Personal Assistant to fashion designer, Geneviève Brodeur

Current Residence: Paris, France

Hometown: Chicago, Illinois

Sexuality: Unlabeled

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Green

Height: 5'5"

Notable Features: Very long, wavy hair that touches her waist. She's also got freckles but they're usually hidden beneath make-up.

PERSONALITY & BEHAVIOR:

Strengths: Organized, Reliable, Punctilious, Refined

Weaknesses: Prideful, Highly Critical, Judgmental, Reticent

Quirks: Walks very softly (has a habit of surprising people because they don't hear her approach), tends to stand with her hands clasped behind her back, intense eye contact

Vices: She's unfortunately picked up smoking since moving to Paris. Though she generally manages to avoid doing it unless her boss asks her to have one or she's very stressed. Drinks socially and sometimes just for fun when she's chilling home alone because Paris or whatever.

INTEREST & HOBBIES:

Interests: Greek mythology, Victorian antiques, Baroque art, fashion, culinary arts lowkey (she likes that you have to be very disciplined and precise)

Hobbies: Fruit carving, horseback riding, visiting museums, reading

Special Skills/Talents: Superb gift wrapper, can tie a cherry stem with her tongue, really good at needlework but specifically embroidery

MISCELLANEOUS

Pinterest

Playlists - What She's Listening To / Vibes

BECOMING A WARD

There's a lot of mystery surrounding how or why Natalia came into Richard's care. He left for one of his usual trips, gone for a few days or so, and simply came back with her. It's not the first time it's happened, and it's certainly not the first time he was tight-lipped about why someone was taken in. All Richard really shared with the others is that Natalia is an orphan. For the first few years Natalia was at Woodrow, a detective and former student of Richard's made occasional visits. There was an air of familiarity between Natalia and this visitor, suggesting a shared history. When questioned by the others about the detective's identity, Natalia would simply refer to her as a friend of her mother's.

LIFE AS A WARD

Natalia was non-verbal for the first few weeks upon arriving at Woodrow House. However, when she finally spoke, it was clear she wasn't the talkative type. She was largely unproblematic growing up — well-behaved, enjoyed quiet hobbies, and did well in school. It was once she became a teenager that she started showing more personality. While she was generally much of the same at her core, she more readily revealed her wit and distaste. (Read: embraced being kind of a bitch<3.) Natalia did well to position herself firmly as one of the competent and capable wards growing up when she noticed there was a distinction between them. She always knew where to be and what to do. You never had to worry about her. Her unwavering competence was both commendable and exasperating, especially to those who could never quite measure up — ahem, The Mischievous.

DYNAMIC WITH THE OTHER WARDS

For someone who likes to set themselves apart, she's not normally alone unless she wants to be. Was very close to The Scholar growing up and was always seen with them until they fell out. If she likes you, she'll find a reason to be in your space. Considering Natalia's inclination towards being perceived a certain way, she definitely tried to align herself more with wards that were less openly problematic. She doesn't like people who are messy and attention-seeking, like The Melodramatic. She's also not a fan of people who are insecure or unsuccessful by her standards. For this reason, she's The Misunderstood's #1 bully. <3 I imagine she was also drawn to the wards that were older and more responsible like The Guardian and The Protector. However, considering Natalia's age, she was probably grouped in with the younger wards most of the time for schooling and outings, which she lowkey hated. She always made the best of a bad situation however and used it as an opportunity to underscore just how capable she was, subsequently becoming something of a guide or example for the younger wards.

GENERAL VIBE

She's not unfriendly, she's just... particular. She has very little patience for things that are messy, whether it's behavior, your appearance or your space. Will be the first to call something 'tragic' in judgey ass tone. Bit of an elitist honestly. The better you carry yourself, the more willing she is to associate with you and be nice. Is also generally very terrible with vulnerability. She's not good at dealing with it, nor is she particularly known for displaying it.

WHAT WAS THEIR RELATIONSHIP WITH RICHARD LIKE?

Despite her reserved nature, Natalia shares a special warmth and closeness with Richard that she doesn’t easily extend to others. There's a softness to her when she's around him. His guidance and steadfast support played a significant role in shaping the goodness in her character growing up. She sees him as a mentor and despite herself, a father figure — though she'll never say it out loud.

AESTHETIC

Natalia takes great pride in the way she presents herself. She dresses very prim and proper. Lots of matching sets and dresses. Short heels. She loves light colored clothing and pastels. She's very rarely seen in casual clothing, and even then her most plain shirts are collared. She doesn't have a signature accessory per se but she's often seen wearing a pearl pendant necklace. When she was a child, she used to wear a cross necklace that Mrs. Tristan gave to her. She transitioned it out of her attire when she started to learn more about religion, but she still has the necklace. She normally wears her hair half up, half down, with a neat bow tying her hair together. Having naturally wavy hair, straighteners are her very best friend. She goes through a whole process of straightening her hair only to then curl it in delicate waves that she prefers. Always smells good. A Diptyque bitch through and through. She wears L'Ombre dans l'Eau.

EDUCATION

Natalia chose to attend a private school when it came time to pursue secondary education. However, she only attended it for two years before opting to receive schooling on Woodrow’s grounds again. She'll claim it was boring but in truth, she was just kind of homesick. She did go on to attend Richard's alma mater, Kingsbury College, and double majored in Art History and French.

EXTRACURRICULARS

Natalia took gymnastics, piano, French lessons and horseback riding growing up. She's always liked horses, and to learn how to ride and work with them was a dream come true. #horsegirl Not that it was an official extracurricular she took up, but she spent a lot of time observing and learning how to prepare food in the kitchen growing up. While she initially spent time in the kitchen to practice her French with Chef Pierre, she eventually starting helping with mise en place because it was fun and relaxing to her. Her knife skills go crazyyy.

THEIR LIFE NOW

After graduating, Natalia didn't have much in mind for a career, so she decided to help Richard with the Woodrow Foundation. She functioned as an administrative assistant for him for several years. While she didn't gravitate towards the volunteering and charity work, she thrived in the administrative side of the foundation. She would have honestly been content to do that for many years, enjoying the work and that she got to repay Richard in some way for changing her life. But of course, Natalia had other interests, and Richard was always one to encourage a person to explore their passions. He connected her with a rising fashion designer in Paris named Geneviève Brodeur, and she then left to intern for her. The internship was only meant to last half a year, with her learning the ins and outs of fashion design, but the designer liked Natalia so much that she was kept on as a personal assistant. She's been living in Paris since and hasn't had time to return to Woodrow. Note: Natalia quit her job to be able to attend Richard's funeral. Detailed in her first task. She's currently hiding the truth about her lack of employment from the other wards.

[kierongillen]

General Player Advice For RPGs

I published this in my newsletter here a while back, and discourse reminded me I wanted to put it more public. I probably should get around to actually doing a proper blog for this kind of stuff. You can sign up to the newsletter here.

One of the things which I’ve been chewing over since getting back into RPGs is that there’s so much advice for GMs and so little advice for players. I keep thinking over why - though the whys aren’t what I’m about to write about. However, some other folk think any worthwhile advice is system/genre specific.

This got me chewing over whether I agree with that. As the list below shows, I don’t.

The first four are ones where I think I succeeded, and as principles generally guide you towards better play no matter what game you’re playing. The last three are mainly applicable to games with a significant story component (the last especially). There’s a few more I played with, but they were more about being a good at the table generally – about being a better player in any game rather than specifically about role-playing games. I also avoided ones which were more GM-and-player advice rather than just player advice (if there’s a problem in game, communicate out of game, use appropriate safety tools, etc).

I also didn’t include “Buy The GM Stuff”.

Anyway – here they are. See what you think.

GENERAL PLAYER PRINCIPLES FOR BETTER PLAY

1) Make choices that support the table’s creative goals

If you’re playing a storygame, don’t treat it like a tactical wargame. If you’re playing a tactical wargame, don’t treat it like a storygame. If it’s bleak horror, don’t make jokes. If you’re in a camp cosy romp, don’t bring in horror. It also varies from moment to moment – if someone’s scene is sincere, don’t undercut it.

2) Be A Fan of The Other Characters

This is GM advice in almost all Powered By the Apocalypse games – for the GM to be a fan of the characters. It’s a good trait for a player to cultivate. Be actively excited and interested in the other characters’ triumphs and disasters. Cheer them on. Feel for them. Players being excited for other players always makes the game better. Players turning off until it’s their turn always makes it worse.

3) Be aware of the amount of spotlight time you’re taking

This is a hard one for fellow ADHD-ers, but have an awareness of who is speaking more and who is speaking less. A standard GM skill is moving spotlight time around to players who have had less time. Really good players do this too. Pass the ball.

4) Learn what rules apply to you, to smooth the game, not derail it.

To stress, this isn’t “come to the table knowing everything” but learning the rules that are relevant to your character along the way, especially if they are marginal (looking at you, Grappling and Alchemy rules). Doing otherwise adds to the facilitator’s cognitive load and hurts the game’s flow. The flip is being aware that knowing stuff isn’t an excuse to break the game’s flow with a rules debate either – that’s an extension of the third principle.

5) Make choices which support other characters’ reality

If someone’s playing a scary bastard, treat them like a scary bastard. If they’re meant to be the leader, have your character treat them like the leader , for better or worse. A fictional reality is shared, and you construct it together.

6) Ensure The Group Understands Who Your Character Is

This is the flip of the above – having a character conception that is clear enough that everyone gets who you are, what you want to do and how you want to do it. If you don’t, the table will be incapable of supporting your choices. This links to…

7) If asked a preference in a story game, a strong choice is almost always better than a middling choice.

Don’t equivocate. If asked “You’ve met this person before. How do you feel about him?” either “I love him” or “I hate him” is better than anything middling. The exception is if it’s something you’re really not interested in pursuing.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

I’ve read a variation of soft and rough König and I’ve enjoyed both but I’d love to see your take on his character.

I can’t deny I have a preference for soft König. I think his size is a major concern, especially if his partner is on the smaller side, which leads me to believe he’d prolong the inevitable and the pining and anticipation would be off the charts on his end. But maybe his SO thinks he’s not as interested as she initially thought.

Add in the fact that he’s gone for long periods of time in which there is little or no communication and perhaps she considers moving on. The ol’ miscommunication trope if you will, with a happy ending. Thanks!

Overflow the Stars

Pairing: König x F!Reader

Synopsis: One more abandoned date night later, you're left wondering if the man you're infatuated with is really interested in you at all.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Angst, feelings of insecurity, body issues, allusions to König's past w. bullying & his anxiety, size difference, fluff, soft!König, happy ending

A/N: This is my apology to the German-speaking people out there - I think I butchered your language (feel free to correct me). I'm so sorry lmfao. But, Anon, this request was adorable to write, hope you enjoy it!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wanted to say you were surprised when he didn't show up – really, you did – but in the back of your mind, you already knew he wouldn’t. It was hard not to feel disappointed when you swirled your tiny cup of Franziskaner tensely, watching the whipped cream sink away into the concoction of dark espresso and milk; calling attention to the same feeling in your chest.

König had a strange habit as of late, and with a delicate furrow in your brow and perhaps even a smidge of sadness in your eyes, you wondered what you had done wrong. Why had he been avoiding you so…violently? While you wouldn’t have called yourself perfect by any means, nothing you had done over the course of your meetings was strange or downright embarrassing. 

You admitted that the man had never been the type to run away from something, and sighed as you brought the cup to your lips and sipped. Caffeine sits on your tongue along with a bitter revelation as the rain begins to pick up in velocity outside. The small and quiet café where you’re spending your afternoon is warm and unburdened by the weather. 

Do you think…he’s even interested in me anymore? The sharp thought brings a pang to your chest, fingers over the warm cup flinching back as if struck with lightning. O-or he doesn’t like being around me?

Your relationship was still new, very new, and if you were asked you would say it wasn’t even dating yet. König hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend. 

But it had still been going well.

“Or so I thought,” you take a breath, watching the fog on the window as the streets of Vienna are rapidly being emptied of tourists and locals alike. Your shoulders are painfully tight.

Aggressive rainfall like this into the cold seasons was unusual, but it wasn’t like mother nature cared about the whims of anyone but herself. It’ll freeze overnight, leaving a bitter chill that puffs from breaths and a shaky few steps out the door across hardened ice. You’d probably go out – alone – for a walk in the morning to clear your head, or try, at any rate.

Lately, all you could think about was the bear of a man that was supposed to be sitting in the empty seat ahead of you. The cursed wooden chair burns your eyes; its dark wood and red cushion stab your vision over and over until you’re sure you’ll bleed tears instead of water. 

He was supposed to be here.

Taking another shaky sip of your drink, one that König had recommended to you himself a few dates ago, the brief moments of warmth it brings to your bones does little to satisfy you. You doubted anything short of a hulking figure trying to stick their knees under the small table could do just that.

The giant man you called your possible future boyfriend was avoiding you, and your subconscious was breaking itself to try and understand why. As if that gracious plea had been heard above the glossiness of your eyes and the gentle hum of the café workers who shuffle about, the phone in your pocket jumps. 

You don’t want to admit how fast your hand snapped to your thigh, sneaking under the layers to draw out black metal. A single link to König when he was overseas or out of sight that you were told was unwise to use. He was rarely able to answer you, but for what it was worth, he always tried to call back later. 

Even if recently, it had been a brief state of events. 

“I-I can’t talk right now–”

“Forgive me–”

Your lips thin.

Pulling the phone out, you immediately look at the contact, though you already know the message before you read it. The sunken whipped cream finally falls under deep chocolate-colored waves.

“Sorry, Bӓrchen, I’m stuck in the building for the day! I swear I’ll make it up to you for missing–” You don’t bother reading the rest, thumb already scrolling upward to see the numerous times other excuses have been made. 

His parents were needing some help moving furniture, he was drowning in post-operation reports, or simply just too tired. You weren't stupid. But every time you had stuffed down your pride and responded cheerfully, dressed to the nines and standing in your living room while your fingers shook over the keys.

Holding back tears. 

It would hurt less if he’d just tell you to your face what you were thinking. Maybe all of this was just… 

Your thoughts trail off. 

But that didn’t make sense – König was never malicious!

Placing down the phone, you leave him on read, feeling the pitying eyes of the baristas burning into your skin like a brand. They knew as well as you did that he wasn’t showing up.

When he calls sometime later, you shut the device off completely. Staring out the window at the dimming light, you lean your head into the glass and try not to cry as you watch couples rushing for cover from the rain; laughing and holding the other close. 

The empty chair stays motionless in the corner of your eye.

—

The first time you met König, you were left gaping at the sheer size of him. 

Towering over ninety percent of the other patrons in the art shop, he had looked down at the package of charcoal pencils in his large, scarred, hands. Turning them over to read the description on the back like an expert with delicate eyelashes that you’d kill for. 

You yourself had been cast in his shadow quite by accident, looking along expansive shelves for a sketchbook – your friend had gotten into a watercolor phase lately, and what better to give her than a birthday present she could actually use? The only problem was that you had no idea what was considered good quality or not, but had a strange suspicion the man beside you did. But what a happy accident it all turned out to be.

König had a black surgical mask on, but the milky-white scar that ran up his right eyebrow and disappeared into his auburn hairline was still starkly visible. Expressive dark eyes blink down at his object from a surprising height. Between picking up multiple books, running your fingers over the paper and whatnot, you can’t help but stare at the pure strength the man emanates. Compared to you, he was utterly gargantuan in both mass and height. A bear and a bee, you thought with a stifled giggle.

He blatantly appeared to know more about this stuff than you did as he placed the charcoal pack down and picked up another.  

“Erm,” you begin, and his head snaps down to yours immediately, head of hair falling into gentle curls near the ears. He had looked partially surprised to hear you speak to him, and his eyes had flickered around instinctually. But it was only the two of you in the aisle. “I’m sorry to bother you, Sir, but you seem to know a helluva lot more than me about art supplies.” Your voice was cautious, and you were afraid you’d seem rude for disturbing him, but all he did was stare and wait for you to finish speaking. Feet every so often shifting, or his hands twitching as if he never was able to stay still; he blinks a few times like a rabbit. “Any suggestions for watercolor?” A small laugh meets the air as you move your hand to show off the wall of possible options for paper. “I’m not much of an artist, but my friend’s birthday is coming up – thought I’d get her something she’d actually use this year. She wasn't too enthralled with the plant I got her for her twenty-third. Killed the thing in a week.” 

A nervous chuckle is softly met and your face heated as his own did. There’s a moment of a clearing throat before the man nods carefully, and the sparse freckles over his forehead shift. His biceps flex.

“O-of course, Ma’am,” his accent is quite strong, and you like the guttural raspiness of his tone. “I prefer Saunders Waterford, though I don’t manage to use it often. Better, eh, was ist das Wort?” He stumbles for a moment over the proper descriptor. “Beständig. Durable.”

A tilt of his head later, and you’re beaming, picking up the large pad with careful fingers, testing the weight in your palms as one would an apple. 

“Wonderful! It looks like I owe you one, eh?” Looking back up, you watch his eyes widen as you notice him blatantly staring. Face crinkling into a shy display of heat and curiosity, he slightly moves back, a large hand going to scratch at the base of his neck as his sweatshirt bunches. 

Chest tight, you stick out a hand and offer your name with a smile. It was only customary, but the action was pure instinct more than thought-out. All the while restraining a shiver, his limb encompasses yours so completely and radiates a large amount of heat.

“A pleasure,” your voice wavers, but it’s not so much nervousness as it is genuine intrigue. For a man so blessed with the tall gene, he really had a considerate hold – barely squeezing your skin in fear it would break. 

The action makes your chest squeeze.

“Ah, guten tag,” he utters, nodding with a firm shake, though his eyelashes caress his cheeks as his eyes rove away, “König.” 

A bit awkward, isn’t he? You have to ask yourself. Not that it was a bad thing – in fact, you found the nervous tensing of his thighs to be cute, along with that red tinge that was over his pale ears. So very opposite of how you expected him to act.

That was when you noticed the dog tags, as well, though you found no purpose to say anything. But everything about this man had caught your attention as a large billboard would, and the comparison has you practically bending in laughter. He probably could be a billboard with a build like that. No doubt he’d catch a lot of attention.

You tilt your head and release his hand, nodding to König’s charcoal pencils. 

“I bet you can make some killer drawings with those things, huh?” The beast twists them in his hand and turns down to stare at the supplies as if he’d forgotten they’d been there at all. “You draw often?”

“Ja,” his eyes brighten, and the crinkling of his eyes tells you that a small smile pulls at his lips. “Whenever I’m able. I,” König pauses before his shoulders move in a soft movement akin to a shrug. “I…find it calming.” 

Your ribs move in reaction to an interested sound. 

A bear that likes to draw.

“You’re better than me, I’d just get frustrated if something doesn’t look right.” A deep laugh echoes off the shelves before a lapsing silence settles like a bird’s wings. Overcome by a sudden urge to speak, yet having no other words to say, König’s voice meets your ears before you can find something to say.

It’s slow, the tone, bathed in hesitation and even a smidgen of armor; like the outcome of your response was already measured and taken as null compared to the giant’s own thoughts.

“I…don’t suppose I could show you some if you’d be interested.” At your widening lids, his twitching hands come up to his sides, eyes blinking rapidly as a vermilion hue blossoms like a flower over his visible skin. Dark eyes like broken obsidian pay more attention to your shoes than your face.

“N-not, eh, scheiße, I only meant I–” Watching him stutter was similar to what a high schooler would do when he was called out during an assembly. Though, your giggle makes him clear his throat and pause with a stiffening spreading to his legs. His body seems to deflate, taking your reverence for his soft inward nature as making fun or at worse, a blatant rejection. The delicate makeup of his psyche was on display, though you didn’t know. “I’m…I’m sorry, Ma’am–”

“I’d love to see your artwork, König,” you begin, pulling the watercolor pad closer to your body instinctually, cheeks hot. The man perks up, and you can see his heart hammering through his clothes when his eyes blaze with light. “How about I give you my number and I’ll text you a day I’m free and we can work something out? A local café or library sound good?”

“I…yes, that sounds wonderful.”

—

You throw your soaked coat on the hook as you shut the door, hating how the frigid rainwater had wetted your hair, though still holding it as a blessing. At least no one could see the tear tracks as you walked back to your apartment. 

Kicking off heavy boots and peeling the slick layers of fabric from your chest with a sloping sound, you flick on the lights with a shaking finger and a sniffle. Wet footprints are left over the rugs and hardwood as the phantom shuffles over them, beelining to the bathroom to strip. 

Your mind was preoccupied as you slipped out of heavy fabric, the pile already on the floor creating a large puddle that you threw a towel on and left as it was. 

“He…he’d tell me if he didn’t like me anymore, right?” Whispering, the broken words meet air as you toss on a large shirt – the hem meeting your knees as a pair of thick sweatpants follow. 

Quite the look for someone who was having an internal battle. Your friends would say you looked like you were minutes away from grabbing a tub of ice cream and sobbing over a rom-com. The quick-witted part of you confessed that the idea wasn’t even that bad if you threw in a glass of beer. Preferably the shitty kind so you could complain about it and distract yourself.

“Get it together…” You would not cry over a guy that hadn’t even asked you out officially, but with that familiar sting in the back of your eyes, you hissed that König wasn’t just any guy.

You’d really liked him, and for what it was worth, your heart would have exploded if he had asked you out. 

He was kind – respectful. Utterly adorable when he was speaking so passionately about his artwork and his parents who he held on a larger-than-life pedestal. König’s heart was just as big as his body, that gorgeous, bear-like body, and…oh, you’d wished he would like you just as much as you liked him. 

Before you could stop the wave of hopelessness, the tears were already dribbling down your face, and the dark apartment was echoing with the barely-there sobs that hit the walls.

—

When you hadn’t answered him in the next two hours and his calls were going to voicemail, König was hit with a train’s worth of worry. Feet tapping faster than unusual and eyes were finicky as they passed over documents.

Although his contract with KorTac wasn’t exactly like his own had been in the military, the hyper-vigilance was still ingrained bones-deep. The Austrian man held his personal relationships tightly – and if someone wasn’t answering him, the anxiety reserved for large, uncontrollable, crowds reared its ugly head. König wasn’t sure when it had happened, but you had entered that loyal group consisting of his parents and a few work friends in an incredibly small amount of time. 

He really should have bit the bullet and gone out with you today, the man acknowledged as he slipped out of his office and tried once more to get in contact with you. König watched the icon of your smiling face go straight to the familiar voice that in any other circumstance, he would have wanted to listen another moment too.

“...Thanks for calling! I’m not able to speak with you right now, but go ahead and leave a message–”

“Come on, Bӓrchen.” König lightly growls, hanging up and stuffing the infernal device into his cargo pant’s side pocket. 

His usually hidden face was twisted up with worry, so commonly lit with bloodlust on Ops now left in a state of unknown. It was stupid to think like this, but how could he not? In such a small amount of time, you’d made him fall for you like a bird does the sky; that thin line between falling and flying caught underwing. 

That was why he’d been making excuses, you see. 

You were so…good…that he’d been worried about the way he carried himself; second-guessed small actions like a hand on the small of your back in public, or a comment about how nice you looked. 

Did she take that the wrong way?

Why did I tell her that?

I hope she doesn’t think that I’m rude…

You were messing with his mind with every turn, but it wasn’t even all that, either. His size also played a part. Your form was so small as it trailed beside him on walks through the city – it fit in the clutch of his arm easily. 

König was just scared he might break you, he’s never had to be…gentle so often before. It was against everything he’d been taught in the last decade or so.

Pushing open the front door of the KorTac: Private Military Contractor building, the man pushes on with a frown over his scarred lips and a drawn-in expression. He hadn’t even noticed he’d forgotten his surgical mask in his office, along with a jacket, and braved the volatile winds and slapping rain in a slight jog, an athletic shirt tight across his chest. 

By the time he’d reached your apartment building, his hair was dark and stuck to his skin, slight puffs of breath escaping his lips and wracking shivers along his spine. König ascended the stairs in double steps, agile as his heart pounded. 

Being ex-military left him with an undeniable state of readiness.

With heavy knuckles and panting breath, his hand quickly rasps against the door, and after a second of no sound, he does it again. 

“Bӓrchen, it’s me. Are you there?” König’s shoulders are set, ready to batter the door down at the barest hint of something wrong. He calls your name but like a voice on the wind, there’s no answer. Not even a shadow under the barrier, a whiff of your shampoo.

Grunting, strained eyes going grim, the man’s hand encompasses the handle, arm and body going parallel to the wood. His hips tense, feet grinding over the floor as they set. But the nearly missed footsteps that his ears twitched at gives him pause. 

After a few moments of intense listening, his body stone-stiff and eyes spaced out, there’s a clicking of a lock. 

König moves back swiftly, hands going to rest at his sides, and when your face graces his vision, a large weight is lifted. Until he realizes that your eyes are red-rimmed. His lids go startlingly wide, fingers coming up to curl into themselves near his middle, but you speak before he does.

With a hatred for interrupting others, König keeps his lips sealed and watches with a concerned once-over and nervous lungs.

Your hand is clenched over the door frame, the muscle of your tongue licking at your lips as beads of water fall from your locks. 

“What are you doing here, König?” With a voice more hoarse and dry than a desert. The man itches at the side of his hawk nose, hesitant about what he sees. 

You’d never been like this before – always so happy. 

“I…” He trails off quietly, seeing your eyes unwilling to meet his own. “Are you…alright?” 

The Austrian’s fingers jerk when you laugh, and a surprised blink later he’s coming closer to check on you, hand almost outstretched before he sees the size difference and thinks better of it. He just taps on your cheek instead, delicately, like a hit from a flower. 

“Sweet one? Please tell me what is wrong. You weren’t answering your phone.” He wants to beg for you to look at him, plead. “It made me worry for you. Why did you not respond?” 

“So you want me to respond when you’re obviously bailing on me for what,” you pull back, disappearing partially behind the door. König watches with a still body as your arms go to wrap around your waist, dread creeping up his throat. “The third time? Fourth? I guess I’ve lost count.” 

The man’s lips go thin, eyes crinkling as an expression of pure self-hatred takes hold. He had stupidly hoped you wouldn’t notice that. When times got tough for him in the past – whether with the schoolyard bullies or an operation on wrong, avoidance was usually his best tactic; it was one he had fallen back into time and time again without fail. But he’d never told you that. 

And now he looked like a proper Arschloch. 

But you’re not done yet. When you leave the door open and disappear inside the dark apartment, König follows after like a lost puppy, water still dripping from his strong chin and stuck in his stubble. Cursing himself out in his head. 

“Ach, du Depp, jetzt hast du‘s getan. Die eine gute Sache ruiniert, die du hattest, oder...?" He mutters, slipping out of his boots and frantically looking after you as your form goes to the couch. König closes the front door and stays in the foyer, fingers twiddling and mouth opening and closing. 

You hadn’t even looked at him yet, and you’d barely seen him without a mask on. 

The Tv was on, playing some show that he’d never seen and he doubted you were watching. Your body plops to the couch with a shrieking of springs and bouncing of pillows. A small huff escapes your lips, though you speak no more. 

König clears his throat again, a nasty nervous habit along with the fidgeting, as he takes a few steps forward. The finger of his right hand goes to spread through his hair, pushing the strands back like a red wave and unintentionally slicking them to his skull. The clicking of his jaw reverberates in his ears as he resets it, picking at the palate scar under his left nostril. 

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it fitfully and already his face is reddening. König looks away from you for a moment, breathing before shuffling over like a guilty child would on drowned socks. He places one leg on the floor and kneels down in front of you so he can better look into your creased face. 

“Bӓrchen,” he liked calling you that – little bear – because the comparison was enough to make him smile every time it passed his lips. It was such an endearing term that it became difficult to look past the blatant harm he could inflict on you if he wasn’t careful. While his size made him perfect for the field, home life was, well, let's just say he could easily force his way through a crowd. Not that he would, of course. But at any rate, that was what you were to him – a little bear. “I…I have to confess to you that I have been avoiding you, yes? That much has been,” a stiff breath is taken in. “Obvious.” 

Your head turns to the side, knees brushing his own as you hold your hands in your lap. Behind König the show continues to play, spreading a silver light over the living room and the continuous droning of voices.  

Not knowing whether it would be frowned upon or not, and with a steadying breath for confidence, the man loops a cold finger under your chin; bringing you back to him and finally setting your glossy eyes ahead. 

He sees you blink in surprise when you find him maskless, and a faint smile flicks over his lips when your expression goes shy. Cautious like a bird.

“It was of no fault of your own, Sweetling, I ask that you believe me. I’ll try to explain the best I can, Ja? If you’ll let me, though, I know that I don’t deserve it.”

“If you don’t like me anymore, you can just say it…Stop dragging me on, please.” His heart stops, mouth still partially open before a sharp breath is sucked in. “I don’t know if I can take that anymore.” The pang in his chest hurts immensely, like taking an arrow and peeling back skin. You look at him so hopelessly, broken beyond belief as though a piece of you was being ripped out.

“W-why do you say that?” König tries to desperately stop the wetness of your tears from falling, shaking his head and cupping both of your cheeks, rubbing at the flesh in agony. “No, no, no, Dear One. That’s not what it is at all, I beg of you to listen.” In the fever, he switches between his native tongue and English, fingers shaking though not from the drenched clothes. “Meine Schöne, oh, meine Schöne. Bitte hör auf zu weinen.“

He takes quick breaths and finds in himself that he would do anything to stop you from crying – take a bullet, run a marathon, or learn to fly. Name it, any of it. Anything to wipe away the sadness that lives in your expression as if it even belonged there in the first place

“Do not cry over me, please, I-I,” König’s tongue trips over itself, but he persists, a similar burn in the back of his nose. “I…You scare me, Bӓrchen,” that gets your attention, creased eyes and a loose jaw going to give him full observation. 

What?! Your expression screams.

Face on fire, the Austrian continues with intense eyes, dark obsidian awash with pure light that reflects stars. Overflowing with anxious tears that he refuses to let fall. 

He can’t lose you. No, no, not you. You were the best thing to happen to him in a long time. Damn him – damn his own consciousness that’s more of a betrayer than Brutus. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go… 

“...What?” Your voice wavers, nose twitching so adorably that the man is momentarily stunned. 

“I am afraid of you, my Dear. Utterly and wholly.” König sucks down a breath, now the one unable to continue the stare-off. His foot shifts. “I am afraid of what you do to me. Your smile, Gott, your smile. A-and the way you speak, how you react so honestly to my paintings like you care with all of your heart.” He laughs wetly when you smile dimly, continuing as he caresses your skin. “Everything down to your very bones is like…like…” König’s words fumble, because comparing you to something earthly was impossible to him. 

“Ever since I met you in that art store, I cannot string together words with any semblance of meaning when I am around you. Bӓrchen, you have entrapped my mind, and I am afraid.”

He watches you breathe in slowly, tears no longer falling, though the evidence still haunts him. The man’s chest lets go of a tightly wound knot, the anvil on the other side just narrowly missing his heart as the sweat on his brow evaporates.

“A-and,” König sighs, shaking his head and moving his hands to tightly hold your own in your lap. How could he explain the last part of this dilemma? He bluntly states, “you’re small.”

A brief moment of silence bleeds like a wound, long and slow, until a tiny snort echoes. Full-blown laughter emanates not even a second later, and he watches your body heave forward and slot itself with your nose in his shoulder. König’s blush stains all the way down his neck, but minuscule giggles also fall from him in retaliation to yours. His great arms wrap themselves around your waist, dragging you slightly closer as he breathes deeply. 

Your scent pulls him under like a ship at the water, riding great waves with sea beasts under the waves guiding the vessel along its course. 

“Everyone’s small compared to you.” Your mumbling in his shoulder makes his grip tighten, side-eyeing your visage as his head tilts down. “Not my fault you got every gene that made you sprout like a damn tree.”

With your lips caressing his neck, he blinks softly down at you, amused, as his breath mingles with your hair. He lets you speak, getting it all off your chest and feeling stupid for how he had been avoiding this.

“You’re afraid because you’re so big, then? That you might hurt me?” 

“Ja.” Your hands circle around his shoulders, and with a sigh that leaves the man short of breath, you shimmy back and face him, fingers playing with the base of his neck; pulling at tiny hairs. 

“Don’t you think being worried about that means something? And, c’mon,” you smile lightly to him, and he watches closely, fingers moving along your spine. “With how conscious you are of your body, it’s hard to imagine anything ever happening.”

Hands grasp his neck, and with a bobbing Adam’s apple, König yields to your pull, angling his head to you as your back straightens. Watching with awe; your silhouette bathed in silver light and eyes fatigued, though never more beautiful. You’re beaming.

“I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you, okay? So stop worrying about it, you big dope – and stop ditching me!” The Austrian’s dark eyes are fastly moved from one spot on your face to another, cataloging every bump and pore to memory. 

He’d never been this close to you before, though he’d fantasized about it. And what you were telling him…it’s like his body deflates with relief, and a genuine, boyish, smile blossoms. 

“Safe? W-with me, Bӓrchen? Oh-oh, my…” A kiss suddenly hits his forehead, and if you continued doing things like this, he was sure he’d explode. His body was vibrating with pure bashfulness; it was so odd to be complimented and doted on by someone that wasn’t his close family. For someone to reassure him of his flawed concerns. 

She feels safe with me. 

How could he tell you how happy that made him to hear aloud?

“Hey,” hands cup his jaw, and his spaced-out eyes snap back to you instantly, blinking away the rose-colored fog. You shake his head back and forth until he’s chuckling, like a kid again, and his grip catches your wrists to make you stop. Your breath fans over his blazing cheeks like a wind sent from Zephyrus himself, and the sticking clothes to his body matter little. “No more leaving me hanging, okay? I miss you, König. I want to be around you.” 

The eyes that travel down his scarred and freckled face leave him slightly self-conscious, but as if sensing this, your lips curve. Before he could utter a grunt of surprise, your kiss had connected with the scar on his forehead, as well as the palate. Just brushing the top of his lips as his large nose poked your cheek. 

“Mein Gott.” König gasps, eyes fluttering shut when you pull back and a grin slashes your face. A whisper meets the room.

“Thank you for showing me your handsome face, mein Schöner, I’ve been wondering what you looked like.” Shyly scanning his features, the redhead lets your fingers trace his flesh, shivers left in their wake, and a soft sigh. 

If he opens his eyes, he’s afraid he’d start crying. So he lets you touch his scarlet flesh, nearly the same shade as his hair, though the auburn is more deep-set. Shivering every time you lay another press of your lips to a blemish; more addictive than drugs. 

“You’re going to kill me,” König pleads, “but if this is punishment for causing you pain, I will gladly bear it.”

“Sly.” You smirk, pressing one more peck to his nose, and pulling back. He grumbles in his throat before his eyes peel open slowly; pupils blown wide and mouth parted. “Are you alive down there?”

“Barely. Perhaps I’ll need another kiss to tell, yes?” 

“You’re horrible.” Looking at his clothes, your eyes suddenly go grim. Like you’d just noticed the state of him now that he was kneeling in front of you and struck by your beauty. “And shivering.” You huff. “Why didn’t you start by saying you were soaked to the bone, König?” 

He looks to the ground, and you try to shuffle past and grab him a towel, but his arms trap you. You find yourself in a chest faster than you can blink, hands splayed over a pec that jerks as you’re lifted up. 

König hears you squeak and laughs, throwing you up into a bridal-style hold easily. Laughing chest-deep, you curl under his chin and quickly comment, “what are you doing?!” 

“Hush, Bӓrchen,” the man squishes you closer, “I’ll find a towel, don’t strain yourself.” 

You direct him to the bathroom after he sets you on your bed, hearing the pounding of rain outside as he sneaks off. 

The room smells of your shampoo, and König takes a pastel towel from the wrack after half-closing the door, slapping it to his head and violently rubbing it back and forth. Lost in his elevated thoughts and happy demeanor, the knock on the wood is almost missed. He’s just about to take off his shirt and wring it out when he blinks at the sound. 

“König – I’ve got some spare clothes, but I doubt they’ll fit you well enough.” An amused twitch of his lips later, he’s opening the door to your soft face, staring down at it. Standing shyly, your eyes crease; head tilting. “Sleepover?”

The man looks at the pile of fabric and nods kindly, a lofty feeling in his bones.

“Yes, please. They’re perfect, vielen Dank.” It isn’t long before he’s coming back out, a shirt that barely fits over his wide chest and a pair of sweats clinging to his hips. But he didn’t mind. 

They smelled like you, and thus, he smelled like you. König quickly found out that drawing wasn’t the only thing that could calm him. 

An embarrassed smile and a sheen of giddiness never leave his face.

He slides into bed with you, and you quickly latch under his arm, limbs tangling with his own as his fingers twitch over the width of the base of your shoulder blades. An easy expulsion of air leaves him as your weight settles, back curving to the make of the mattress. 

The words leave him in the delicate silence; water hitting the window and during the exploration of souls. Cheeks hot and heart hammering. 

“Sei mein?” Be mine? 

He feels your grin, nose nuzzling his flesh like it was the perfect pillow, and his heart speeds like a shooting star.

“Mein Herz war immer deins. Ja.” My heart was always yours. Yes. 

He stays awake for a long while, listening to your breathing and staring at the ceiling, running knuckles over your spine and staying silent. 

Smiling.  

[queers-gambit]

The Battle Above the God’s Eye

part one: Sands of Time

prompt: decades after the Stepstones, it's his turn to be rescued.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.3k+

note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle. y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.

warnings: reader isn't explicitly a Targaryen but we had to make this work and i'm burnt the fuck out. so fuck it, dragon rider reader. cursing, books spoilers, violence, imagination required, maybe Red Priestess reader, mention of more Little Birds (let author live), toxic family (duh), heavily encouraged imagination, depictions of death, angst, some hurt and comfort i think ? missing warnings 'cause wonky brain goin' wonky.

"There's rumor, Mistress, of a dragon the color of night," the hooded figure informed. "It nests in the Ruins of Ancient Valyria, seen by farmers and countryfolk; they say his wings beat like thunder. It's a colossal shadow they fear to engage, but after hearing your ransom, they reported it."

You hummed as you took a sip of scalding tea, finding comfort in the heat, musing, "I've been to the Ruins myself on two seperate excursions, I promise you, friend, there is no dragon that nests there."

"It's come from the East, a new beast in the sky."

"I require proof if I am to pay the ransom."

The man with a hood over his head reached for his rucksack and rummaged, a moment later, placing two items on the polished mahogany table between you both. One was unmistakably a dragon's tooth, and when you examined it, there was still clotted blood on the root - assuring it was a fresh pull. The second was a large black scale that weighed at least a dagger's worth.

You smirked, "This is promising. Where in the Ruins has it been seen? Who procured these artifacts?"

You discussed specifics with the man for an hour, offering him a hefty finder's fee after getting the name of the village the man had gathered his own information from. It was a messy journey from there; leaving the home you had made in the decades since the Stepstones to head for what was probably another dead end in Ancient Valyria. You were something akin to a magistrate, the people saw you as a figurehead, a leader; their person of authority who they were all too happy to follow.

Your village flourished, growing in size, number, popularity, and strength by the passing day. The people seemed happy, wealth flowing from exports and trade, and apparently, a few cartographers have begun the process of updating a few maps to add your village's name to history.

Much had changed in your time away from your Rogue Dragon Prince, but you knew that was all coming to an end soon. Your Lord of Light had shown you much in your flames, one of which was a repeating image of you, mounted atop a dragon all your own, soaring over the Narrow Sea with distinct purpose. You weren't a Targaryen, but your religious devotion seemingly gave you the ability to walk amongst beasts and their flames.

Exploring Ancient Valyria took over a year on foot.

You had plenty of encounters with the Stone Men, but all met their merciful demise - those left after that steered clear of you and your Valyrian Steel sword. Around the ruins of the ancient volcano that hadn't erupted since The Doom, you found a graveyard of goat, sheep, and cattle bones. There were bigger skeletons of aquatic creatures, something you found incredibly fascinating - what fully grown dragon went deep diving?

Soon, you found scat. For those who don't spend time in the wilderness or who are simply unfamiliar with the term, "scat" refers to waste produced by wild animals. Yeah, you're reading correctly, after you found the plethora of skeletons, you found dragon shit.

So, you knew you were closer than before. But the fucker still alluded you to the point you felt insane circling the Ruins.

You located about three different potential caverns, investigating them all with caution, but finding them all empty. Feeling exhausted from the months of searching, you claimed one of the caves as your own; hunting for a meal after gathering adequate fire wood. You listened to the untamed wilds of Valyria as you ate whatever you roasted, trying to distinguish familiar sounds of an approaching dragon.

Or perhaps even a distant one!

You'd take any sign!

It'd been weeks since you found the dragon droppings, no other signs appearing. You would search new areas for days, then return to your cave for rest; feeling disconnected from reality the longer you lingered in the ruined empire. You wondering what your village was doing, you were curious if the young woman, Ferona, had a baby boy or girl, if they had erected the new buildings you left blueprints for in an effort to create opportunist housing and houses of worship - as your people had requested.

How did the krill and shrimp season fair? What weddings happened this past spring? How was the irrigation system holding up?

Weeks drug by slowly. Weeks turned to longer months. Two years, you spent in that Gods forsaken ruin of a city - but couldn't find it in you to abandon your search.

Your Lord of Light had yet to send word, yet set your heart ablaze every time you "decided" to go home. You stared into the flames every night, desperate for any indication you were on the right path, but nothing was seen - nothing was said - nothing was shown to you. Until one night, during a torrential downpour and thunderous storm, you were shivering, drenched to your core, fighting the wind to let you keep your flames alive.

And there, in the dying, flickering warmth, you saw it. With wide, unblinking eyes, you stared into the flames harder; unsure how long you remained in the tranquil state before a particularly strong gust of wind nearly pushed you face-first into the embers. You gasped, looking around as the smoke nearly choked you as it filled the cave; stumbling out into the rain as you coughed and patted your chest. Stumbling slightly from malnourishment and delirium, you leaned on the outer shell of your "home", panting with relief before there came a screech so fearsome, you were then cowering into the wall with fear.

You dropped to your knees, huddled into the rock formation; the ground trembling as something enormous touched down. You gasped when through the haze of sideways rain, two nostrils flared and heaved thick plumes of smoke; reddened from the ignited flames deep within an invisible chest. You flattened against the wall, four taloned paws striking the ground and causing it to crack, quake, and tremble. With the fleeting clouds, you used the moon's light to distinguish the beast that loomed closer to you; over you; and then, in your face.

A long, blackened snout nearly pressed into your chest; fabric of your tunic caught in the razor sharp teeth. You had faced death, you had faced beasts, you had faced hacking axes and swinging swords. You had faced the wrath of the Queen Alysanne's court, the rumors of the common folk, and judgment from both man and God. But nothing was like this moment: a wild dragon staring you down, sniffing your chest and stomach, debating if it should just open it's mouth and eat you whole yet or not.

Thankfully, it chose an alternative route.

You're not fully sure how it happened, but you dedicated two years to finding this terrible beasty, and yet, it only took about 6 weeks to bond with the (obviously) young thing. Time with your Dragon Prince proved most useful, creating a bond so secure, you were beginning to wonder if someone deep in your bloodline had mated with a Targaryen. It was natural, the way you both became accustomed to one another; living together on a carbon-dated land long doomed.

The lessons from Daemon came flying back to you. You practiced your High Valyrian, laughing when you obviously got a word or two wrong because the dragon would snort at you. In the light, she was still the color of the night, but her scales were dusted the same gold as her eyes. She was impressive, she was huge in size but nowhere near Vhagar. In fact, you'd wager she had outgrew Caraxes - the only dragon you had true experience with.

Speaking of Caraxes, you were on the shores of Old Valyria, debating how you were going to convince your new companion to join you back "home" in the village, when suddenly, your beast gave a defensive growl.

Looking to the skyline, you spotted the distant dragon and frowned. This dragon wasn't the color of flames like Caraxes was, no, instead, it was a murky blob in the sky with two wings. You offered calming words to your dragon in her native language, not sensing danger, but your beast was unhappy leaving you in the open. Her tail curled around you to corral you back into her body as the muddy brown dragon landed with a thunderous shake a respectable distance away.

Your name was begged by the rider descending from who you recognized as a wild dragon by the name of Sheepstealer.

"Nettles? That you, love?" You asked in skepticism, managing out of your dragon's grasp. "What're you doing here? You all right?"

"I needed to find you," she panted. "I-I need you help - it's all - it's all gone wrong! Please!"

"What's wrong? The fuck's happened?"

"Do you know nothing, Auntie!? Do you know nothing of the war!?"

Your eyes rolled, "Watch that tone with me, girl. The Dance of Dragons is of no concern of mine, it had barely started when I came here."

"Well - it's your concern now," she insisted. "You took me under your wing - you helped raise me in a village you built from the ground, despite not ever needing to - "

"Your mother was a dear friend of mine," you cut her off sharply. "She was kind to me when I came back to Essos, let me stay with her and your father. When I set out on my own, she was always a friendly face, and when my settlement was established..."

"She came to you for help after getting pregnant with me," Nettles nodded. "You've told me this before."

"Then you should know better by now that I owed your mother more than my life, so, raising you was the least I could've done. A life for a life."

"And as such, you let me go into the world with stories filling my head of a handsome Dragon Prince that saved you from the Crabfeeder!" You scoffed at her words, ready to argue, but she rushed, "He's in trouble, Auntie."

You paused, finding no lie in the girl's eye. Slowly, you asked, "Come again?"

"I found him, Mistress," she nodded. "After I got back to Westeros, I found your Prince Daemon - the ones from the stories! He's... He's brutish and harsh, they call him Rogue, but he was kind to me when I told him I knew you. When he heard your name, Lady, he just - he insisted on keeping me close. He protected me, even against his wife - Princess Rhaenyra."

Your head cocked, "Hmm... He usually did have a taste for younger flesh. I'm not surprised he took to you - "

"No, no, no, Mistress, not like that," she insisted desperately. "He was kind, educational - similar to a mentor."

"I see."

"He needs your help."

"Prince Daemon does not need rescuing, he is no damsel."

"He searches for Prince Aemond," she informed, making you lift your chin slightly. Though lost in the wild of Valyria the past two years, you were still well versed in the affairs of King's Landing; staying updated, curtesy of your Lord, the Lord of Light: R'hllor. In your village, you were known to pay for any accurate information - eventually hiring your own spies to relay trustworthy information from around surrounding cities and villages. Nettles was one of your Little Birds.

You sighed, "And? What of it - Aemond killed Lucerys, did he not? Since he married his niece, her children are now his step-children, right? Daemon is within his rights to want some form of vengeance - it's war, Nettie, it's never fair to anybody.

"He will not survive this, you don't understand! It's horrible, Mistress, please, he-he-he's deranged. Mad with grief, lost to his wife's useless fucking war. It'll be the death of him, Auntie, please!" She paused, seeing you just stare back at her; so she begged again, "Please!"

You nodded, "What do you want me to do, Nettie? Hmm?"

"You've told me those stories! I remember them well! You always said he came back for you, saved you from The Crabfeeder," she reminded, making you stiffen. "Does he not deserve the same? Or at least a chance? Rhaenyra will not help, she'll kill him herself I fear, but you can - you can help!"

You nodded, "I will consult the flames - "

"I am telling you - "

"I have heard you, girl!" You snapped, glaring at your Little Bird. "But there are greater forces at work than what you know, I cannot just so willfully trust the word of a child before flying off across the Narrow Sea. Allow me my time with my Lord, I will have an answer for you." Turning from her, you gathered whatever materials you could; setting it up in a small teepee before stepping back.

In High Valyrian, you gave your command. From over your shoulder, your beasty opened her mouth and shot a single flame at the structure.

On your knees, you muttered repeatedly; chanting, summoning your Lord of Light to come to you now in a great hour of need. And He did. Through the flames, you saw what R'hllor wanted to show you: the two Princes engaged in a brutally epic fight that would claim them both in the end...

Unless you left right that moment, as your Lord commanded.

"Make yourself safe, Nettles, go back home," you told her in a rush, catching the pouch of Gold Dragons she tossed you when you sprung into action - and for the first time, mounted your dragon. Like your minds were connected, the Great Shadow took to the sky - leaving Nettles and Sheepstealer behind, and you'd never see either again.

You remained high in the sky, being a blob to the naked eye should any dare to stare at the sun.

You only paused to let the Great Shadow dive into the Narrow Sea for a meal; surfacing with creatures in her jaws as you swam an exhausting broad stroke. Was it terrifying to swim in the open water? Absolutely, but your dragon seemingly kept any threats at bay. When she was satisfied with her meal, the Great Shadow scooped you onto her back and relaunched into the air again to continue your flight for Westeros. You both dried in the air.

The trip was draining.

It was grueling on you both.

Yet when you saw the distant shore, you couldn't help the spike of relief in your heart and veins.

Once in Westeros, you were forced to ground yourselves in the open area of the Stormlands because you needed to know where to go since Nettles hadn't been sure where to send you specifically. Using the usual thunderstorm as cover, you had to separate from the Great Shadow; leaving her in the dark as you ventured to the closest village.

With the pouch of Gold Dragons Nettles gave you, you paid for information that you needed. You were told all the nitty gritty details about the Dance of the Dragons that you've missed, understanding what (Nettles and) the Lord of Light had been trying to tell you for years: the Black Queen would be Prince Daemon's death.

The time had come for you to return his favor from the Stepstones. If this worked the way you wanted it to, you wouldn't be his first, second, nor third wife, but his fourth and final. You knew what you had to do.

"What do you know of their whereabouts?" You asked the innkeeper who wiped down the bar you leaned on.

"The Princes?" She asked, tisking right after. "The One Eyed Prince has been burning the Riverlands for almost two weeks now. The Rogue Prince was in Maidenpool but he's called his nephew to meet him at, uh, oh... Oh, bullocks, what's that haunted castle? The one that was torched?"

"Harrenhal?"

She snapped her fingers at you, "That's the one!"

"Fuckin' Hell," you muttered, wiping your eyes. "What's your thinking, love? 'Bout this war?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Stupidest thing I've endured so far. How silly, the House of the Dragon does not know who rules it, or so says our liege lord. So we must all pay their price in Fire and Blood."

You nodded slowly, "Who do you think holds the better claim t'the Throne?"

"Depends on your views," she muttered, "but in truth, it doesn't matter to me - so long as this all comes to an end. But between us?" She leaned in, glancing around before muttering, "The Bitch Queen would burn us all. Can't say if King Aegon would be much better, but at least we'd know what we were dealing with."

"And if he was another Maegor?"

"Can't be worse than the Black Queen. Hear they call her Maegor with Tits."

You smirked, chuckling lightly, "Thank you, ma'am, for your words." You offered her a few Gold Dragons, repeating, "Harrenhal?"

"Harrenhal," she nodded, accepting the payment. "I do not know if the One Eyed Prince will answer the Rogue Prince's challenge, but that is where he lures Prince Aemond - Harrenhal. Now, how's about a nice bowl of stew? You look drenched, love, and a bit skinny - you been eatin'?"

"Your kindness is refreshing in this shit-for-a-kingdom."

You winked at her and tapped the bar in parting before turning for the door, and into the rain you ventured once more. You didn't notice the cold, your Lord kept you warm and moving; finding the Great Shadow, mounting, and shooting off into the unknown sky again.

It wasn't easy directing a dragon without a saddle nor any stabilizing reins, yet your beast was something of a decently smooth fly. You minimally directed her as you went, but in truth, her instincts directed you both more than anything. When the storm broke, you were soon flying over charred scores of land; homes smoldering and burning, the wind spreading the embers and never letting the fire fully die out.

"The fuck..." You muttered, sitting up straight as you flew through the carnage. "Seven Hells, he burnt it all, didn't he?" You whispered, needing to hold onto the spinal ridges of your dragon to keep balanced. "Gods be good," you gaped at the damage beneath you.

The sun moved into position, getting ready to set when you heard the horrible screams of feuding dragons. You couldn't see Harrenhal yet, but you heard the fight, and then, as the sun began to set, there came flashes of bright firelight that lit the sky to a new level.

It was nearly the shade of daylight with the way the flames danced against the setting sun. You were desperate to get closer, and after directing the Great Shadow over a set of charred rolling hills, you finally had Harrenhal in sight. "Go! Go, please! That's them - we need t'get there!" You begged through a small sob of panic, and if possible, your dragon flew all the faster.

You were so close, yet felt so far.

The air trembled when the pair of dragons, Vhagar and Caraxes, collided in the sky once more. They grappled and snarled and shrieked and blew flames and gnashed their teeth and slashed their talons. You paid no mind to the pregnant woman standing on the shoreline of the lake they fought over, and instead, focused on your task; feeling as if you were moving on pure instinct and adrenaline.

The Great Shadow dove low to the lake's surface as Caraxes and Vhagar came barreling to the ground. It all happened too fast. As the two dragons fell, you saw one man - in black armor - leap from his crimson beast with his Valyrian sword winking in the dying light. Just as his arm extended to pierce Dark Sister into Aemond's blind eye, the dragons were tussling enough to turn over and forced Daemon off their hide.

You gasped as you reacted - no fucking thought to your actions.

As the Great Shadow glided over the surface of the Gods Eye lake, you were leaping off her back to launch into the air; tackling the Rogue Prince hard enough to disrupt his impact on the water's surface. You hit the water all the same, but instead of it being like hitting fresh pavement, it was a softer landing due to the Great Shadow's expert and quick maneuvering.

Two dragons hit the water, three human bodies; sending a wave of water higher than the towers of Harrenhal's fortress. It was a shock to land in something so wet and cold, but your adrenaline was stronger than any feeling of freezing water. Your arms kept an iron-clad lock around Daemon's unconscious waist, surfacing as the lake rippled and churned from impact; turning a seeping red from the open wounds on the dragon sinking into the depths.

Prince Aemond never surfaced, and years from now, he'd be found still chained to Vhagar's saddle with Dark Sister still stabbed through his skull. His Red Witch standing on shore couldn't save him, it appearing that your Lord preferred the Rogue Prince to the One Eyed.

Keeping Daemon afloat was difficult, but to your shock, you were being gently propelled forward to the shore by a fatally injured Caraxes. You encouraged him best you could, trying not to choke on the water splashing around your frantic forms. When you were able, you started heaving and dragging Daemon up the lake's embankment; the crimson dragon crawling out of the lake behind you, slowly, heading towards Harrenhal. You wanted to offer the loyal beast aid or comfort, but you were much too preoccupied with his master that was dead weight in the water's surf.

You trembled as you swiftly hoisted his dragon winged helmet off to leave bobbing in the surf; unhooked his armor, shucking it off him and compressing his chest rapidly - just like a fisherman taught you to do.

"C'mon," you grunted. "C'mon, Daemon, breathe - fucking breathe, damnit! Please, come back to me - don't do this. I just found you again, c'mon, my Prince, breathe. Breathe, Daemon, don't give up - not now, not on us! Don't give up on us, c'mon, my Prince, breathe, w-we finally have our time." Sobs wracked your form. "Breathe, Daemon, please! Please! I'm back - I finally found you, please, my love, breathe!"

You shoved harder into his breast bone with increased ferocity until water came suddenly spewing from his lungs. You heard the Great Shadow land in the near distance, turning Daemon on his side to help him breathe better; choking the water out. You spoke in relief, "There, there you go, c'mon, love, breathe! Thank fucking Gods, you're all right, you're okay, get it out - you're okay, just breathe, my love."

Daemon choked your name in pure disbelief, holding one of your wrists in a vice grip that only briefly concerned you. He panted and relaxed into the embankment, loosening his grip as he turned over to look up at you in shock and wonder. "How is this possible?" He wheezed.

"It's a bit of a long story," you teased softly, caressing his cheek. "Bit of a boring tale, 'M afraid."

"How? How is - how can this be?"

"You needed me," you explained, "thought I'd return the favor since you saved me all those years ago, huh? You got me out of the sea, I got you out of the lake - we're even, yeah?"

He still panted, only staring at you as if he couldn't believe himself. "You've not aged a day," he whispered.

You smiled, petting his cheekbone with your thumb daintly. "You need rest, reprieve, aid," you whispered.

"No, no," he gulped, "not when I just got you back. T-Tell me 's done. Tell me we're done being apart."

"You have a wife still, Daemon. She won't let you go, she wouldn't let us be together."

"Tell me what your flames say."

"Now you trust my flames?"

"When they bring you back to me, yes - oh, fuck yes, I'll believe whatever those fucking flames say. Please, love, for us - consult your flames, tell me what they've said."

You frowned, petting a soaking wet lock of hair from his forehead. Quietly, you whispered, "My Lord showed me what was to pass if I did not come for you... This war, this Dance of Dragons, would claim your life, Daemon. Your wife, your niece... She'll be the end of you, my Prince. You will not survive if you go back to her. Neither of you will survive this... My Lord has shown me that Rhaenyra will meet her end in flames, but following her will cost you your life in water," you glanced at the lake. "Not a death befitting of a Targaryen Prince."

"And now?"

"Now, she will fight her own battles for the first time," you whispered, "and I will return home, and you will make a choice."

He smirked, "We've gone lifetimes apart, like you said before."

"We have."

"I would not go another day," he coughed, wincing in pain. "I do not think I can fight anymore anyways, love. Please... Please."

Daemon never begged. You swallowed harshly, asking him, "No? No more fighting?"

"No," he agreed. "'M so tired, my sweet. I-I can't do this forever," he half-slurred, making you perk up slightly in attention. "Retirement sounds all too appealing now. Rumor will spread that neither Aemond or I lived, it'll be the perfect escape."

You nodded in agreement, flinching when a new voice screeched, "YOU BITCH!"

The pregnant woman you saw on shore stormed towards you, making you chuckle dryly as you had already foreseen this Alys Rivers - pregnant concubine of the One Eyed Prince Aemond and fellow Follower of R'hllor. Alys was unique in the sense that her training was decent enough to ensnare Aemond (it seemed), but not so decent that the Lord yet favored her.

She wasn't more than ten feet from you when the Great Shadow opened her mouth and showered the Red Witch in holy flames; an end she surely did not see coming - not that R'hllor would've showed her. This all caught Daemon's attention, who flinched slightly when he had to turn and look; not expecting the flames nor the beast.

Then his eyes drifted over the land, breathing hitching, and he sat up with a painful groan. "Daemon," you worried, but instead of trying to get him down, you helped him up.

You knew what he saw.

When at Caraxes' side, you helped Daemon lower to his knees at his dragon's head. He whimpered and moaned, belly slashed open, wing torn apart; bleeding out into the cold soil he rested on. The Great Shadow moaned gently in sympathy, lowering herself around you three to let you grieve in peaceful, protective privacy and ease Caraxes to his next life.

The moon was fully in the sky when the crimson bloodwyrm took his final breath with the ebony giant's flames to warm you all. You weren't sure what could be done, but Daemon was pressing a tender kiss to his dragon's head before turning to face you - a lost, confused, vulnerable look coating his features. "Come on, love," you eased gently, helping him to his feet; knowing a few ribs were shattered and probably his clavicle, too.

"Where will we go now?"

"Well, I have somewhere safe for us t'live," you grunted in assurance, wobbling a little under his weight. "But we need rest for tonight. Any ideas?"

"I doubt anyone will venture to Harrenhal this night, should be safe..."

You agreed, and together, you and Daemon settled in the empty castle with the Great Shadow resting on the outskirts of the Keep. She was too big for the interior of the courtyard, so, she was left outside with Caraxes' corpse as you and Daemon settled in the room he had commandeered.

"How is this possible? How can you be here?" He asked, holding your hips as you worked between his spread legs. Daemon had minimal supplies at the ready; hopping up on a work bench to let you care for his injuries and wounds. He watched your every move with a softening look. "I thought I wouldn't ever see you again, that I'd be cursed to only remember you in my dreams. Rhaenyra said I say your name a lot at night, when I sleep."

"I'm really here, Daemon, ease yourself," you offered an assuring grin, tending to the head wounds he obtained from the fight.

"How?"

"Nettles."

"What?"

"Nettles," you repeated with a smirk. "She's one of my Little Birds, Daemon. It was not entirely coincidence she found you..."

"So she said," he frowned. "But how - "

"She told me you needed me," you smiled softly. "And when I consulted the flames, I was shown what could be. I made a decision, I just wanted you safe, no matter what that meant."

"I just want you. Fuck," he seethed, squeezing your hips, "'s been fucking decades since I've even touched you."

"You're delirious," you teased. "Sleep deprived, maybe concussed."

"Perhaps all at once, but I finally have all I've dreamt of. Please," he whispered, "do not deny us longer. I've endured lifetimes - "

"Daemon, being here and now, you know I can't walk away. But we've time t'talk it all out, I need you to let me help your wounds - so sit still."

He nodded, "One thing I do not understand, though - the dragon? How did you...?"

"Spent two years in Valyria, looking for her."

"Why were you there?"

"Searching for a dragon, of course," you smirked. "She's impressive, isn't she? And from her size, I wager she can easily support us both back across the Narrow Sea."

He grit his teeth when you cleaned his open cuts and wounds, wrapping whatever clean cloth you had around the larger wounds; easing him out of his tunic to have better access to the blackened ribs he sported. "Would you tell me?" Daemon whispered some time later.

"Of what?"

"Your life since the Stepstones?"

"Oh," you chuckled, "sweet love, you know it was dreadfully boring without you."

"Doesn't seem it, you being in Valyria two years? That's not heard of, what was it like? How'd you survive? Why go looking for a dragon?"

This lead to you both laying in bed, hands held together, resting, but not sleeping. You just spoke quietly, fingertips tracing idly over each other's faces; sharing in each others lives that the other missed, reminiscing together in fond memories.

When morning broke, you had to move swiftly. Caraxes was left where he laid and after a final parting to the loyal beast and commandeering his saddle, together, you and Daemon mounted the Great Shadow. She wasn't a fan of the restraints, but once you and Daemon were mounted, she did not fuss as it was evident you humans had an easier time with the leather contraption.

"I must confess," Daemon whispered in your ear, using you as an anchor and leaning into your back, "I fear I might feel something akin to guilt for fleeing home."

"That's natural," you assured, "you're leaving family behind, 's never easy."

"There was no winning this war," he admitted, sighing. "I lead so many to their death... Destroyed my family - "

"From what I have heard, this is not your doing," you argued sharply. "That night, when Aemond attacked Lucerys, what were you to do? Leave that kind of atrocity without consequence? No, that is not in the Targaryen's nature. You did not start this war, Daemon."

"But I knew..."

"You knew what?"

"I knew Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were Harwin Strong's, not Laenor Velaryon's. We thought if we married her sons to my daughters, nobody would care much else about lineage - but we were wrong."

"It's okay to be wrong," you promised, leaning your head back to let your forehead rest against his temple. "It's okay to make mistakes or have regret. Tell me, do you wish to return to your wife? I will take you now, no quest - "

"No. No, I do not wish to leave you. This is... This is Rhaenyra's war, I've done my part. I'm free and finally with whom I belong."

"Now it's time to heal," you told him.

"Time to rest," he agreed, squeezing your waist and placing a few kisses to your neck. "This is where I should've been all this time... After the Stepstones, I should've stayed with you, none of this would've come to pass. I regret leaving you everyday - "

"I told you, for us to get here, to this point, now, we had to separate. But look where we are," you smiled back at him, the Great Shadow soaring higher in the sky to keep Westeros at a distance, "we will not be apart again. 'S you and me, love... Until our end, which we will greet together."

Daemon's lips found yours at long last, whispering, "Together," against them before sweeping his tongue against yours.

The port was lovely this time of day, sun high in the sky to give light to the fishermen and vendors hard at work. Sailors made port, calms were being shucked, different Aristocats trying to barter and trade on their journeys abroad. You smiled at the people you passed, grateful to be home after a prolonged absence; arm looped tight with Daemon's as you both strolled the pier.

"It's hard to imagine you've done all this in a lifetime or less," he mused, a hand folded over yours, dressed in the best clothes you could find. "It's s marvel, my sweet," his compliment was sincere.

"Thank you," you whispered, hugging his arm as your skirts swished around your ankles, just tickling your bare feet. "This season's expected to be bountiful," you told him, pointing to the various teams bringing crustaceans, fish, and other sea life in different crates and traps. "I expect there won't be much of an off-season."

He glanced around, "And you don't collect taxes?"

"Why would I?" You scoffed. "We're more dynamic than that. Everyone works for their place, if you wanted to think of it that way. They are not expected to contribute, but the village seems happier that way. Being close knit, helping one another, sharing wealth. No one person has complained, so, I figure it's working so far. Even if it didn't work, I still wouldn't charge them taxes - it'd be like charging them to live. Always seemed silly t'me."

"Morning, Mistress!"

"Morning, Don," you beamed, leading Daemon towards the dock. "How are you, kind sir? Looks as if you've been working all day already."

"Aye, up before the sun," he nodded, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Wanted t'thank yah, actually."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, yeah, with that dragon? We're hauling in more ships," he chuckled, and just overhead, the Great Shadow glided over them all to head out to sea to fetch another round of ships. "Gets us out there quick, brings us back when done, 's like a wee bit of an assembly line, ain't it?"

You chuckled, "Sounds like it, friend. Uh, Don, have I introduced you to my husband?"

"Husband?" Don grinned, cocking his head, "No, Mistress, I wasn't aware you even had a suitor. Mariam don't tell me much gossip these days," he snickered, referring to his wife. "It's nice t'meet you," he told Daemon, "name's Don, just Don - no, it ain't short for nothin'."

Daemon smirked some, shaking the man's fishy hand boldly, "A pleasure, Don, Just Don."

"Oh, this one's got a bit uh humor, don't he?" Don laughed lightly. "What's your name, lad?"

"Daemon?" A voice answered for you all, and just above you, a little further on the pier, stood an aged Laenor Velaryon.

"Excuse us, Don," you spoke swiftly, confusion marring your features. He understood or sensed the slight tension, backing off to let you approach the "dead" knight.

"Oh, my - Y/N," Laenor breathed, another aged man at his side with what you assume to be his children. No question could be asked yet as your old friend launched himself into your arms, laughing merrily, giving you a tight squeeze with his still-toned arms. "Oh, the Gods are good for this!" He laughed, rocking you slightly, "Oh, how the Seven bless us."

"You're so dramatic," you laughed back, patting him happily until he pulled back. "But I must confess, I am so fucking confused - what is this? How are you here? I thought you died, Laenor, that's what ever spy reported."

"They should've," he nodded, glancing at Daemon, "but perhaps, the explanation will be better received after some wine?" He caressed your cheek in affection before looking at your husband, nodding, "It's good to see you again, my Prince. Or is it King Consort?"

"Neither, just Daemon," he corrected, your heart soaring a little at the idea that he would abandon his title so easily. Yet you knew, there was nothing to go back to for him.

"Well, how about I introduce my family?"

"Family?" You grinned, seeing him present the others.

"My husband," he gestured, giving his name. "And our kids," he introduced the other three.

"How?" You asked simply.

"We found a Red Priest who was willing to officiate the ceremony," Laenor explained, "and the kids were sired by different mothers, too."

"Whores," the husband smiled.

"Huh," you nodded in impression. "Well, perhaps wine is best to hear that tale, as well?"

"Perhaps," Laenor grinned. "Uh, but first, we should find accommodations - "

"Oh, come off it, you're staying with us," you waved. "Your belongings?"

"This is it," he half-shrugged, you eyeing the few rucksacks around their feet, neck, shoulders... "We heard of the prosperity here, thought it was worth the move."

"How right you are," Daemon answered. "Come, old friend." He picked up a few sacks for the kids and you looped your arm with Laenor's to lead the way. How good it was to have your friend back, your husband at your side, and a functioning, happy village with your placement amongst them most important... Everything you could've wished for, it seemed, came true.

And in your womb, a Dragon Seed was planted; soon to make its announcement known. Truly, a happier ending than you thought deserved - but R'hollr worked mysteriously, blessing those deemed worthy to spread his flames.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle. y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.

[blocksgame]

Tips on character voices when writing fic

This is written in mind for people writing fic in MCYT/QSMP/DSMP/Life series/etc kind of fandoms. But if anyone finds it useful for anything else, well then, hell yeah.

Character voice is big in all, uh, fiction, and mimicking it in any fanwork is big. But I think it’s especially big in these fandoms where the voices are so distinct – it’s usually how a Real Person Somewhere (the streamer) talks, versus something very scripted that you’d see in a TV show or novel. And it can be a big difference in your character sounding generic versus really feeling true to the original.

Listen to a bunch of your subject talking. If you want to write a character well, watch vods from their point of view, or episodes where they show up a bunch. Take note of what they say and how.

2. If you don’t know how to start doing that: try literally writing down what they say. Transcribe an actual exchange in fic-format. You probably won’t want to publish a literal exchange from canon, but it will give you a sense of how to physically write what they say.

3. If you do this (or just pay attention to how they talk), you will get a lot of: Stumbling, pauses, repeating words, filler words, weird sentence constructions, fragments, etc. I love em! Here’s something that comes through in improv much more than in novels or movies: Most people, even very charismatic people, are not very eloquent when they speak. Writing out conversations or sentences will give you a sense of the unique and delightful way in which your subject is not eloquent. vvvvv way more under cut vvvvv

(People use a LOT of filler/etc when they speak. It’s reasonable to cut back on this if it’s interfering with a nice-looking or readable result. I believe this is the eternal struggle of people who write transcripts – you want the transcript to be accurate, but there are also a lot of things you can obviously simplify and not lose the meaning. So you’ll end up falling somewhere on this spectrum either way. But I do think a lot of mediocre/generic fic dialogue is very stylized – it doesn’t sound like your guy because your guy literally wouldn’t say that. They would say it worse and more confusingly.)

(I’m serious, if you’ve never sat down with a short non-completely-scripted clip or real conversation or whatever and just written out exactly what was said, do it. It will make you better at writing.)

4. Wonda-cat made a really incredible list [link] of characterizing speech patterns for the Dream SMP members. But you can also do your own reconnaissance and come up with your own patterns, common phrases, etc.

5. You do not have to get EVERYTHING right. You’re not going to, like, get so deep into the speaker’s brain that you can produce “exactly what they would have said if they were somehow in your fic.” That is impossible. You’re just trying to evoke a character, and if you get a few turns of phrase to ring true, you’re doing great.

6. A lot of these people are popular because they are hilarious. Include jokes. Yes, even if your thing is angsty or serious. A lot of the most serious lore I can think of from, e.g., the Dream SMP or 3rd Life or the QSMP - the really story-defining, life-and-death moments - were absolutely hysterical. If you’re writing characters who are usually funny, then add some humor. It can heighten angst via contrast and a sense of realism. Ask yourself what a funny streamer would make jokes about if they were possessing a character in this situation.

7. Some people have the mystical ability to “hear” character voices in their head, and read things in their voice. If you can, do this with all of your dialogue during the editing process. This won’t always get you there, but sometimes it can catch things that sound wrong by invoking "that's really hard to imagine them saying". If you don’t have this power, try recruiting a friend who does.

8. So there’s dialogue and then there’s narration that’s still from a character’s point of view. I’ve mostly given you tips about dialogue, but a lot of this is also true for narration. IMO, narration is less about phrasing things the way the subject would, and more about recreating the way they think. I don’t have concrete rules on how to do this, but here is my wisdom:

You can get eloquent again - narration is more of an abstract and artistic process than dialogue.

Spend time with your subject’s source material.

Pay attention to what they notice and care about. How do you think they think?

Don’t be afraid to get weird with it.

That last one also applies to all art ever.

9. MCYT tends to give you a great boon you don’t see in other media: what the speaker says to their chat/audience when nobody else is listening. This can be incredibly characterizing even if you’re writing a story where people don’t have chats. It’s your person talking about their thought processes and feelings! Mine that shit.

10. Some questions that might help guide both characterizing narration and dialogue (that you’d get from dialogue):

How open are they about their feelings?

How often do they lie? What do they lie about?

What kind of metaphors do they use, if any?

How quickly does their mood change?

How can you tell when they’re in different moods?

What kind of things do they pay attention to?

How formal is their speech?

11. Finally, this is a little odd, but I find it’s much, much easier to write a character that sounds good if I, the author, like them and am rooting for them at least a little bit. If a character needs to be there who you don’t love, try to love them. Or at least get a sense of what other people love about them. It just makes everything else easier. I swear to god.

Happy writing out there!

[kingkatsuki]

— when you stand up for him

Masterlist.

Warnings: 18+, v v suggestive, Bakugou’s always having nasty thoughts about you, not proofread.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.9k.

Since you’d started working at Dynamight’s agency you’d found out firsthand how defamatory the media could be. There was often a mixture of positive and negative headlines for all the Pro-Heroes in the top fifty, some more negative than others. Cellophane had been stuck in a messy situation just last week when a saucy text chain had been leaked to the press, the lewd messages accompanied by a rather salacious picture of him in a state of undress. Obviously an attempt by the media to paint him in a bad light, but it actually ended up thrusting him into the top ten.

“He woulda sent that fuckin’ dick pic to anyone that asked.” Bakugou scoffed when you’d told him, grinning at the cheesy headline “Cellophane stuck in a sticky situation.”

But in particular, the media seemed hellbent on making a villain out of Dynamight. A well-known fact that they knew sold papers. His brash personality and fiery quirk made him an easy target for those sleazy tabloids to ridicule. Painting the perfect picture of Number One Pro-Hero Deku, and demonising the Number Two who was always hiding in his shadow.

Of course, the media scrutiny didn’t bother Bakugou much, far used to these words for them to have any real bite. The judgement seemed to have followed him since he was a teenager, and he’d spent the better part of his adult years trying to prove himself through his actions. And although you didn’t know it, your opinion meant far more to Bakugou than a handful of gossip magazines.

It wasn’t unusual for these reporters to call through to the Dynamight agency, especially after a successful mission. Each outlet wanting to be the first to get the scoop hot off the press from the main man himself, but fortunately for Bakugou you were the final roadblock between them and the Pro-Hero.

Most of the time you could weed through the good calls and the bad, finding the best opportunities for Dynamight to showcase himself to the world and add those precious boosts to his hero ranking. Knowing firsthand how much Bakugou hated any kind of interview environment, preferring to showcase himself through his hard work, you were careful with the engagements that you picked. The few he did were always enough to keep him sitting comfortable in second place.

You groaned when you realised who you’d ended up with on the phone, the lead journalist for The Heroic Choice, a controversial tabloid that had just published a rather scathing article about Pro-Hero Welder. And you were certain judging by the “direct” quotes that most had been stretched out of context to fit their narrative.

“Thanks for taking our call,” The voice spoke on the other end of the line, not that you’d had much choice, “Dynamight hasn’t responded to any of our emails, so I thought it best to try and reach you directly.”

“Yes, well Dynamight’s a very busy hero.” You spoke through gritted teeth.

“Oh, we’ve heard. We had a very concerned reader call in earlier to tell us that Dynamight almost killed someone again—” You were already seething at the accusation when the reporter continued, “How many totalled buildings is it this year? The budget must be at breaking point by now, or is it less a budget and more hush money for the victims? Almost as bad as a villain, wouldn’t you agree?”

You weren’t sure what came over you in that moment. Some would probably argue that it was the amount of love that you had built inside you for Bakugou Katsuki that made you want to protect and defend him with your life, or it could’ve just been the fact that being his secretary meant you got to see a side of him that no one else was lucky enough to see. The Hero that dedicated so many hours of his life to protecting the city and its residents, putting his own life at risk to ensure that people made it home safely to their loved ones. The countless amount of times you’d visited him in hospital or done a rather bootleg patch up of his injuries in his office after hours. The scars that now littered his body each held their own story of a time where Dynamight put others before himself, and you weren’t about to let some gossipy B-rate magazine besmirch him. Especially to try and call him, the man that would give his life for others, a villain.

So you did what Bakugou probably would’ve done, you exploded.

You weren’t even sure where it came from, certain in the months that you’d been working for Dynamight you’d never once let your temper get the best of you, even with particularly troublesome callers. His personality must have been rubbing off on you, as you continued to argue back and forth with the man on the phone, your voice increasing in power the more he argued back.

The noise roused Bakugou from his mission report, crimson eyes looking up from his laptop as he tried to make out the shouting on the other side of his office wall. Pushing his desk chair back as he dropped his glasses on top of his laptop he made his way towards the hallway, thinking that another person was harassing you for some kind of Dynamight endorsement deal again. Tugging open the door Bakugou prepared himself to tell whoever it was to leave and stop pissing off his secretary but he was shocked to see you shouting on the phone.

“Dynamight is the greatest Hero of our generation and we’re lucky to have someone like him protecting our streets. There’s no telling what could happen if we didn’t have him. Did you know violent crime is down twelve percent since he entered the top ten? And that’s not including the crime syndicates he’s managed to infiltrate in the last three months—”

Bakugou had to stop in the doorframe at the sound of you listing off facts about him so effortlessly. Mouth agape like a fish out of water as he began to wonder who you were on the phone to, and how they had managed to rile you up to this extent.

You hadn’t even noticed him standing there as you continued to berate the caller, asking them whether they had looked up any crime statistics or whether they were just interested in a sleazy headline.

Bakugou didn’t know what to say, standing outside his office as he stared at you between furrowed brows. After hearing shouting outside, he hadn’t expected it to be coming from you, and he definitely hadn’t expected it to be because you were defending him to the media.

It had Bakugou’s chest swelling with pride as he continued to hear you list of reasons why Dynamight would never do an interview with The Heroic Choice, not that he needed you to tell them that. He could’ve easily given them his own list of reasons, the main one being their scathing reviews of anyone other than Pro-Hero Deku. His throat felt dry as he watched your eyes darken as you continued to argue with them on the phone, nostrils flared as he tried to fight the blood rushing directly between his thighs.

God, you were so fuckin’ perfect.

He’d never had anyone defend him to such a level, and it made it even more special that it happened to be you doing it— the woman he was so madly in love with. Even the shy, wide-eyed look you gave him when you noticed him watching you made his heart flutter as you exchanged the last few words with the tabloid over the phone.

You’d been so heated you hadn’t even noticed Bakugou shamelessly ogling you while you were on the telephone, although you were certain he’d heard you. Your voice at least a few octaves louder than necessary, but you couldn’t help it. The realisation you had an audience now dawning on you as you gave your boss a sheepish smile.

“I’m so sorry about that, sir.” You practically gushed as soon as you slammed the phone down, which immediately began ringing again, “It just makes me so mad, they talk like they know you but they really don’t know you at all—”

“Next time, get me.” He rasped, mainly because you didn’t deserve dealing with assholes like that on the phone, but also because Bakugou wasn’t sure if he’d be able to survive you taking another call like that without blowing his load in public. The thought of having to spend the rest of the day in damp boxers had him squirming as he turned around.

“Yes, sir. I know I should’ve, but he made me so angry. I’m sorry.” No matter how many times he told you not to call him sir, you would do it anyway and it did nothing to quell the ache in his pelvis.

“Take five.” Bakugou grumbled.

“Thank you si— Bakugou.” You stopped yourself with a smile as you stood up from the desk hesitantly.

Bakugou practically waddled back into his office, trying to conceal the tent between his thighs from your praise. The overprotective words had his cock throbbing as he tried to calm his racing heart, and it didn’t help you’d said his name. Slamming his office door a little harder than intended as he pressed his back to the hardwood. Eyes screwed shut as Bakugou made a feeble attempt at steadying his breathing, before glaring down at the obvious bulge. Silently willing it to disappear as he prayed you hadn’t seen it.

But Bakugou had left so abruptly with barely a word that you began to worry that you’d done the wrong thing, remembering Creati’s words one evening when she had been visiting the agency. “All press can be good press if you orchestrate it correctly.” Maybe Bakugou really was mad at you for losing your temper on the phone to one of Musutafu’s biggest tabloids, you’d definitely guaranteed another negative Dynamight article about him. Your eyes glancing over to the shut door to his office as you gnawed your glossed lip between your teeth, pondering whether you should knock on the door to apologise. The phone began to ring again as you were making that decision, opting to pick it up and hopefully do some kind of damage control for his important public image. Hoping that the PR team wouldn’t find out just how hostile you’d been on the phone to a company representative. You had no idea that on the other side of the door, your boss was losing his cool because of you, but not for the reason you thought.

About a week later The Heroic Choice ended up posting their scathing article about Dynamight anyway, although it did little to smear his hero rating. Instead the article seemed to focus on his fiery little secretary who was seemingly even more tenacious than his newly appointed sidekicks.

“Dynamight’s secretary even more explosive than him? More on page six.” It was accompanied by a picture of you that Bakugou was certain they’d managed to take from one of your social media profiles.

You’d been so embarrassed when Bakugou had shown you the magazine with a smirk, highlighting his favourite parts of the article which happened to be the direct quotes of you defending his tenacity and altruism.

What you didn’t know was Bakugou had cut out this article and pinned it to the fridge inside his apartment, grinning at it whenever he passed. The picture they’d picked of you was real fucking pretty after all— it wasn’t his fault that it brought back the memories of you defending him every time he looked at it, his cock standing to attention when he remembered how irate you’d looked that day. Somehow it made you even prettier… But of course, he’d never tell you that.

[mandukkul]

TEENAGE ANGST — n. rk

synopsis: you’re suppose to spend yet another birthday alone wallowing in teenage angst, but someone steps in and breaks the cycle

tags: non!idol!riki x f!reader, comfort, angst (not too much i think), a bit of fluff, maybe coming of age

warnings: riki doesn’t appear until like 1/3 into the oneshot, NOT PROOFREAD!!! cursing, angst (i think), spelling and grammatical errors (i wrote tbis at 2am and finshed it at 3 leave me alone), lots and lots of mis-capitalisations, tense errors probably, teenage angst 😰 , let me know if there are any more

word count: 4.7k

published: 13 July

authors note: first writing piece on here, my birthday is on september 8th but i wrote this maybe back in may

You think as a teenager, the worst thing that could affect you was teenage angst. but for you, it would probably be the least of your problems. Instead wallowing like every other teenager before you, locked deep into their rooms never to see the sun until they were 20, you decide it’s better to fix your problem with a day out. 

you’re going to be better than what the stereotype says. I mean who’s better at swimming in your own self pity than yourself of course. Even if your parents had decided that travelling abroad for months on end as a job was better than staying at home in the giant house they bought to live as a family, or leave a teenager alone instead of bringing her along, you won’t let it bother you like it did the previous years. 

Although you couldn’t feel bad, your parents were dreaming big, even if you became merely a side thought in that dream. Any teenager would live blissfully with all the materials you had. It was truly a dream, but a dream can only become reality if you make it. 

You’re not going to think so negatively and say that people around you would rather see you burn than to see you happy, even though that’s exactly what you’re saying. 

You’re a kid with everything you want, but surrounded by other kids who are and have basically the same as you, only with parents in the picture, you’re at bare minimum on the grand scale of things. 

To live your life with no one by your side, unless you count the people who dislike you at school, is harder than you think. 

But you’ve lived your life like this far too long to complain, it’s been routine to be left alone. only now, the difference is that your birthday was today. 

spending what most would say a precious day, in a house so hollow you’d think it was abandoned isn’t exactly ideal.  Being alone could only add to your ever growing list of reasons to angst over. not even you, who seemed accustomed to this trend, would want to be reminded of how alone— lonely— you are. 

so to attempt to turn a new leaf, you urge yourself to spend it differently, you told yourself. straying from your normally secretive emo self, you decide that traveling to the next suburb ,since you heard about a new promotion of the manga you liked being released in a cafe in said suburb, was a good way to ignore your ever piling problems of self-destructive tendencies. 

but oh how the world is against you, even if it is your birthday. 

The bus suddenly needs to take a detour to a different area you’re not too familiar with, then declares that the route must be canceled due to complications leaving you stranded in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. When checking your phone to find where you are, you see that you are not only an hour walk away from your house, but your phone is standing on its last legs with a messily 20%. 

To test your limits further, the sky starts to cry the moment you’re just far enough from your house that running back would do more harm than good. 

you quickly scope your area, finding that there are no parks in the vicinity to offer mercy from the rain, and the closest shelter is either 20 minutes forward to the bus stop or the array of trees planted along the side wall as decorations. 

you way your options, and take the tree closest to you as refuge. you’re glad the area you’ve wandered to is littered with them, even better that they're thick enough to offer some kind of protection. 

minutes passed and the rain hasn’t let up, going at the same harsh rate it has been going at for the past 10 minutes. your clothes, so obviously drenched, weighs you down causing your minimal moves to become sluggish (or maybe it’s the premonition of sickness approaching). 

the trees hang low with despair, mimicking your very attitude. rain licks your face, and you can’t tell whether your tears finally made its greeting or it’s rain getting into your eyes.  

you start to ponder whether running to the back home would be a better idea than your lovely tree, the idea of escaping your rain soaked clothes seeming like a dream as of right now, a dream escaping you the longer you wait. 

you test your already bad luck, because god so obviously has a vendetta against you, deciding your next best option was to end your little escapade and head back home in the rain. 

Barely ten minutes in, with wet sneakers splashing into deep puddles and your clothes glued to you like second skin, the rain starts to roar, angered by your decision apparently. 

your vision can’t help but blur due to the heavy rain clouding your sight, and the hair that stubbornly sticks itself into your forehead and subsequently, your eyes. it’s hazy and you can barely make out the road in front of you, you’re glad the path ahead of you is empty and that you’ve arrived in a more familiar area. 

I guess not even you can escape the clutches of teenage angst, slowing your strides and accepting your fate. 

you think how stupid and cliche you look walking in the rain with a frown. Your feet dragging, now feeling the effects of almost an hour in the rain, and on your birthday of all days. The only thing to complete your look was loud sad emo music. 

stopping in your tracks, letting the rain do what it wants, you begin to think back to what you must’ve done to anger god so much. 

you shut your eyes for just a moment, to shield yourself from rain trying to attack your eyes, but the rain suddenly stops, or more accurately, something is blocking the rain from you. you begin to hear the pitter patter of rain against an umbrella and just for a moment, you think god has found pity in your wallow and granted you mercy. When opening your eyes, low and behold, a black umbrella meets your face. 

oh and there’s Riki, or what he likes to be called, Niki, standing in front of you, holding the umbrella over your head acting as your current saviour. 

so much for God's mercy. 

If your day wasn’t already so bad, you’d say that seeing niki would be the worst part of your day. Unfortunately for you though, it was the best. 

you and niki have never been on the same page, ever since he ‘accidentally’ bumped into you while you were in an empty hall. you had given him many chances to be nice to you, or atleast apologise, but as days passed from the first meeting, all you’ve received was strange stares you know all too well. When confronting him, all he could do is ignore you and or play dumb.  This interaction had left a massive rift between the two of you, and being a not so popular kid  in highschool compared to the ‘king of dance’ was not a good look. 

“why are you trying to be a main character” is the last voice you want to hear from, especially on this joke of a birthday. you crane your neck slightly, meeting face to face with the face you hate (and hate to say is extremely easy on the eyes). “why are you trying to stop my main character moment” you shoot back with equally as much snark, but it comes off weak as you underestimated the sound of rain. 

Niki looks down at you with the same glint in his eye you dislike, not because it was a judgmental one, but one of mystery because you can never guess what he’s thinking. “sorry sorry, should i let you get back to that” he removes the umbrella from above you but you make no attempt to stop him. 

the rain embraces you once again, as harsh it was moments ago. you state a niki again, his dry figure under the comfort of his darken umbrella, staring at you who seemed to be physically separated from him. 

talk about rift. 

you’ve never noticed how far you were from niki, in a metaphorical sense. Niki had everything you had, and more. He had people to talk to, hang out with, care about and care for. He too, probably went through his fair share of teenage angst, but you think to yourself that this is the first (and only) win.  

he sees this and halts his movement, examining your figure deeply. you seem tired. along with the wet suit you’re wearing, and unruly hair dripping at its tips, you look far different to how you present yourself at school. nonchalant and cool, an enigmatic girl who seems to always be out of everyone’s business but as of now, you look (in the nicest way possible) like a train wreck. 

“Are you taking joy out of watching me wallow?” you scoff, staring at him with a distasteful eye, “i’m not a sadist” he jokes but he’s the only one who’s smiling. 

he coughs to clear his throat, or maybe the awkward atmosphere, you’re too tired to care. you watch as he moves the umbrella back under you, “why are you standing in the rain anyways?” he questions. 

“m trying to get home” you whisper loud enough to beat the rain, looking at Niki who’s features seem to fuzz up the more you blink. 

“don’t you live 3 streets away?” he adds, you only nodding in response.

your movements are suddenly too sluggish to call lazy, the effects of an hour in the rain finally hitting you. 

“aren’t your parents worried?” 

probably

“my parents are overseas,” you mumble as he nods knowingly, having his fair shares of travelling parents, although he has his sisters to accompany him, “and i don’t feel like spending my day alone”

birthday 

you think how this is the first real conversation you’ve had with niki, ever since your first encounter. Normally you’d stray away from him, so much as  look in your direction, you’re off to avoid further conflict and instead plan a faux argument comeback for if the day ever arrives. 

you rub your eye to rid the haze that had gotten worse, along with the bodily ache and pounding head. 

niki notices, he always notices you. seeing you off in your own world from a distance. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone laced with concern, or at least that's what you think. He moves his hand to wipe some hair out of your face, attempting to help with your irritable eyes. 

Despite the cold weather, you’re hot to the touch. 

“oh shit, you’re burning up” he goes into mother mode as he touches your forehead, seeing as that’s what his sister and mother do when he has his own fever. you mumble an incoherent response, you’re not sure what you said either. 

“I should get home then” you mumble, stepping away from safety and into the rain. He goes to stop you, but the moment you move you’re in shambles, collapsing into his arms like some damsel in distress. 

oh fuck

…

sometimes you think to yourself, what did you do to end up here? and when i mean here, i don’t mean the literal sense, i mean the place you are in life, because for you, all you seem to do is piss of whoever’s writing your story, because why else would you be living such a shitty (but not enough to outwardly complain) life. 

The second you wake up in bed was your first red flag. the sheets a bluish grey, far different from your own floral white ones. The bed is softer, and the quilt more warm, but that might just be from the sheer exhaustion you exhibited some time ago. 

The next flag was the scary tall silhouette you see entering the room, holding what looks like a black plastic bag filled with various things. 

riki looks much more intimidating when all you can make out is his outline. 

the moment he turns around from shutting the door, he sees your eyes staring at him and the previous blank expression he wore changes into a face of concern. 

“oh you’re awake” he scrambles words together as he stalks up to for bedside, placing the plastic bag beside him as he examines your condition like some kind of doctor. 

“clearly” you croak, and you find out that your voice is extremely hoarse (and sore). 

“try not to speak, i think you have a fever from standing under the rain” he deduces but you can’t help but scoff, “gee, who would’ve guessed”. 

the sick you are even snarky than normal you. 

Niki chuckles at your comment as he shuffles around the plastic bag for a bottle of water and what looks like painkillers. 

you shift your head to watch him as he assorts the medicine and water onto the bedside table, pulling out a small mandarin to complete the collection. 

“What's with the orange?” you whisper, trying to not use your voice too much, “vitamin c” he answers simply and you can’t help but laugh at him. 

you manoeuvre into a sitting position to take what he’s giving you, ignoring the pain striking your head as you do so. 

as you pop pills and chug water, you continue to scan the room. It's pretty boring, with a table with a few pieces of stationary, and a shelf with some personal touches. 

Niki sees you’re so obviously inspecting the room, and coughs up an answer. 

“oh umm- sorry. i didn’t know where you lived and you had passed out and i panicked and brought you to my house” he explains. that explains the strange surroundings. you’re in his room. 

you think about how different his room is to what you originally assumed. no trophies, or obnoxious posters. a very standard and boring room for someone so rich. 

his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, “i’ll leave you to rest” he starts to get up and you don’t know what has gotten over you, but the moment you see him shift away, you grasp his wrist urging his attention back on you. 

he stares at you intently, as if he’d listen to the hours of silence you’d make if you chose to. 

under his scrutinising gaze, you can’t help but avert your gaze. “I don't want to spend my birthday alone” you unconsciously mumble and you feel pathetic as you hear the words leave your mouth. 

a raging silence fills the room, and your own anxiety gets the best of you as you loosen your grip around his wrist. 

the moment he longer feels your fingers against him, he reaches for you back which surely catches your attention. 

you never had a real interaction with the boy, especially due to the circumstances you (or him) were put through but your distaste for him wasn't baseless, even if your heart felt different. 

Speaking about heart, it was pounding so loudly against your chest, you could’ve sworn Niki would dance to it. 

“It's your birthday?” he’s grip on your hand is gentle, almost delicate as if you’d crack under the pressure of his touch. you nod softly, not facing him but you can tell what he’s thinking. 

you probably seem more like a loser than you already are, you feel like that at least. 

Riki nods his head, gently as to let your eyes follow enough not to be bothered by such movements. He repositions himself beside his own bed, hand still attached to yours. 

you try everything in your power to ignore his riveting gaze, but the awkwardness is much louder than the silence itself. 

you ponder to yourself, if this birthday was one of your best ones or the worse. you silently compare back to when you were six, and everyone and their friends were there. your parents seemed less concerned with otherworldly matters and you focused on nothing but the people around you. 

That was the last time you felt noticed. 

teenage angst must’ve hit you really early, huh? 

then, back to just 14, where it was yet another year alone, with no one at school knowing who you are (yet because the moment you meet riki everything had a turn for the one worse), your parents at god knows where, living their best business lives, and this is your first time spending your birthday alone (first of a few). 

you think how empty your house was, how dark and voided it felt, feeding into your ever growing reasons to angst. 

and now you think of now, despite being ill with a rising fever, you don’t feel as bad as you did back then. you can’t tell if it’s just your delirious mind putting it’s fair share of delusional thoughts into you, or it’s just because you haven’t had company in so long. but the hand wrapped around yours, and the feeling of someone (even if it’s the ever so terrible niki) next you that made you smile. 

“What are you smiling about? Are you going through shock?” niki’s voice is a mixture of playfulness and concern, because even if the chances of you suddenly falling into a seizure is low, it isn’t zero. 

your eyes trail to him, but not to his eyes, you wouldn’t dare look straight at him. 

“I thought it was going to be another bad birthday” you shrug, and you can’t for the life of you, wipe off your smile, not now because Riki finds it in himself to squeeze your hand. 

you expect another remark, because that’s all your conversations seem to be (from the single one you’ve just had earlier) but nothing of the sort came, instead, from the corner of your eyes, you see him smile. 

the nicest type of smile, with his boxy edges, and eyes squeezing softly. 

if you weren’t looking at him before, you are now. 

“I'm glad” that’s all he says, and your heart clenches at something that isn’t depression and anxiety. 

The overwhelming feeling of awkwardness has long dissipated and has been replaced with something else. 

something new. 

you stare intently into his eyes, moreso, he does and you are compelled to look back. He's searching for something, in the darkness of the room it seems like. 

you can barely make out his features, soft eyes, and sharp jaw. his hair perfectly framing his face, to much of your distaste, and is slightly damp probably from just getting back from wherever he went. 

you wonder what’s going inside that head of his, while staring so intently at you, dissecting every little part of you. does he notice the droop of your eyes, how tired you look, how pale your skin has gotten from days locked in your room, how your cheeks never flushed with life yet was always plush to the touch (probably from all the instant food you’ve consumed)

does he notice the teenage angst you wallow in, him probably going through the same trivial problems as you. 

“Sorry you have to spend your weekend with me” you whisper, thinking about all the other things the “king of dance” could be doing instead of nurturing you back to health. 

He’d probably be out with heeseung or jake at the local gaming cafe, laughing and playing. He was probably on his way there if not for running into you. 

you don’t break eye contact so you see how his eyes double in size, quick to shake his head, your own aching from following his movements. “hey don’t say that” he scolds you, taking his other hand to caress yours. 

How intimate does he get?

your skin burns from his touch, and not because your fever is bordering on 39° C. Your eyes tear away, too much of your brains disliking because, even if you dislike him, he’s very nice to look at. 

“no one deserves to spend their birthday alone” and he may be right, but your own angsty self could beg to differ. 

because with the cards dealt to you, and the way you’ve treated the world (because how it treated you) there’s no doubt there’s a love hate (mostly hate) relationship going on between you and life. 

“Even more, now that you’re sick” he adds on, rubbing circles to the back of your hand and you feel comfort for the first time in a while. 

“i guess even someone who hates me can be nice, huh?” you didn't mean to say that out loud, but your quiet voice is too intertwined with your head voice, mixed with the fact that you’re terribly sick, couldn’t tell the difference. 

he stares at you quizzingly, as if you’ve said something so utterly absurd it’s left him speechless. 

“i don’t hate you” 

those words catch you off guard. because the words “don't” and “hate” have never been uttered on the same line with “you” following after it. 

you stay silent. it’s your birthday so of course he wouldn’t uprightly say it to your face. 

“Do you hate me?”

he asks and you take a moment to ponder, about the strange stairs he’s given you, and the amount of times he’s ignored you piled with how everyone at school seems to stray away from you. 

you only hate him because he hates you 

“i only hated you because you hate me”

niki is left truly speechless (in a metaphorical sense), and his jaw is literally cracked wide. 

“what?!? I don't hate you! god! i could never hate you”

like a cringey teenage cliche, you bite your lip holding back an unwanted grin. 

“don’t say the lord's name in vain” you mutter to make light of the situation. 

not having friends didn't mean you weren’t socially inept. 

Your dry chuckle is the only sound left in the room, other than the pattering of rain. riki can’t help but frown at the news he just heard. 

“i’ve never hated you, not for a second”  he looks at you as if he’s trying to convince you, telling you that all your internalised monologues were for nothing, “i just thought… since you were so stand-off-ish, that you just didn't like me” you shrug, averting from his gaze. 

words pour out of you like vomit and you can no longer keep up your enigmatic cool girl facade, not now that you’re sick. 

“not many people like me, so i assume you hate me jusy as much, and well, if you hated me, i figured i should hate you back” 

and you did, well you tried to at least. but in moments like these; where niki holds your hand as if you’re the only thing keeping him alive, where his eyes never leave your lips because he’s so set on remembering every little detail you say, afraid your words will be lost to tone. you can’t help but not hate him at all, noy one bit. 

“how could i hate you when you’re just so perfect” he whispers, almost like a confession. 

actually he did confess. to you. right now. 

you owlishly blink, and suddenly think that your beating heart is more serious than your fever. 

you try to snatch your hand away from him, in embarrassment of him feeling how hot you feel, with the tips of your ears flaming red. 

with your averted gaze, it’s not like you can see that his neck has a creeping speck of hot red as well as his cheeks, ears, and everything on him. 

He's so glad it’s dark right now. 

“you can’t just say that, riki” it’s the first time you’ve said his name. 

his name out of your mouth, your tongue, your lips. 

He wants to hear it again. 

“Why not?” he eggs, leaning closer despite the strange territory they’ve suddenly entered. 

“Some people might get the wrong idea” and by some, you mean yourself because even with the minimal things you know about the boy next to you, your heart is fluttering like crazy it makes you want to vomit.

“But I'm not lying, you’re so perfect” Riki reiterates, “you’re so perfect, i’m afraid to even talk to you, or look at you, even be around you” he rambled at the amount of failed attempts to talk to you, caused by his shyness. 

so… everytime you tried to talk to him, walked near him, caught him staring, it was all because of some silly crush?

and now you feel stupid, ontop of your crippling angst, you’ve failed at teenage romance. 

letting out a frustrating sigh, so heavy you might even blow the poor boy away, you drop down ontop your back and whine. 

he’s shocked for a moment, watching you wail with your hands covering your face. 

he finds you so cute, his stomach might because an olympic gymnast at this point. 

riki crawls closer to you, kneeling onto his knees as he gently pries your hand away from your face. “I feel so stupid” you can’t help but utter, eyes shut to avoid his eyes. 

riki grins, leaning closer (not that you could see), “the smartest girl at school? Feeling stupid? That's a first” he jokes and you unintentionally snort out a laugh, “i’m not the smartest” you instantly shoot back, slowly opening your eyes. 

“oh but you are, you’re smart, and beautiful, and mysterious and witty and-“  you rip your hand from his grip to cover his mouth, any more and your ego will start to inflate and be as big as Sunghoon’s. “aish, stop that 

'' You laugh, and you can hear him giggling along. 

“But why? can’t i tell the girl i like how amazingly perfect she is?”

the girl he likes…

the. 

girl

he

likes

IS YOU?

“you like me…” you gape, maybe you are socially inept, or at least, romantically. 

riki laughs, and a hearty one at that. the type of laugh that comes straight from the stomach. “how could anyone not?” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

like the teenage girl you are, you can’t help but feel bubbly and giddy, like the princess in some lame disney movie being swept off her feet by a guy who’s probably way too old for her (funny seeing that riki’s younger than you). 

Then guilt hits you. as much as you want to revel in this blissful joy, you know nothing about riki, and you spent so long hating on him in your head to suddenly switch up. 

“I know nothing about you though…” you break the news to him, “i mean, we technically just had our first real conversation”. 

riki can’t help but smile, even if he’s just been indirectly rejected, your gentleness in letting him down makes him swoon even more. 

“we can get to know each other then” he declares, smiling down at you. 

“But are you willing to wait?” your eyes fill with anticipation, hoping for the best (it is your birthday after all), and wonder for the first time in forever, smiling from ear to ear.

“for you, i’d wait a thousand years” 

if what he said before wasn't swoon worthy, this definitely was. 

you feel like one of his silly fangirls that wait outside of class, giggling at his stupid smile but this time, you know you’re the cause of it. 

“Are you going to start singing Christina Aguilera now?” you joke, giggling quietly to yourself. “I mean you should, since it’s my birthday after all” oh what a good birthday it was. 

“anything for my birthday girl” Seeing your smile stretch for the first time, he hopes he’d be seeing that everyday in the near future.

Riki looks at you, for what feels like the millionth time. He really looks at you, like he did at school, like he did on the street in the rain, and like he does now. 

and he thinks to himself:

yeah, I can definitely wait.

authors note pt.2: as you can see i write a lot for riki (my bias) mostly because i have so many wips that i s decided to release 🤭 might accept request who knows. also if you have any tips on how to write or do a layout please pm!!!!

[lurking-latinist]

How to Suck Less at Summaries

Probably almost anyone who's ever posted a fic to ao3 or a platform with a similar interface has been hit by that moment of panic, breaking in on the euphoria of having finished and polished a fic--"what do I put for the summary?!"

So much so, that "I suck at summaries" in the summary box has become something of a cliche. It's very understandable! You've already put all that work into writing the fic itself, and now you have to write ANOTHER thing with its own set of conventions and expectations? No way!

And I want to start by saying that that's absolutely fine. Fic writing is your hobby, your creative endeavor; you're not obligated to do anything in it that you don't want to. You can leave the summary box completely blank--ao3 will let you--and there's no reason you shouldn't, if that's what you want to do! If you're happy with your summaries, please don't change them. There's no wrong way to do summaries. This is your invitation to ignore the entire rest of this post!

However. My impression is that an awful lot of people aren't happy with their summaries. They would like to have summaries that catch a reader's attention, that fit common patterns, or that give a good representation of the fic; they're just not sure how to accomplish that, or what readers might be expecting. And the good news is that writing various styles of summaries, like other kinds of writing, is a skill you can improve--and that there are some tips and tricks that can help you write the kinds of summaries you may want to write more quickly.

How do I know? Well, on top of having read I don't know how many fics, I've published 200 of my own, with all different kinds of summaries. (In fact, writing this post is my treat to myself to celebrate publishing 200 fics!) So I have a lot of trial and error experience to draw on. I'll be using my own summaries as examples (plus some hypothetical examples), because I don't want to be nitpicking anyone else's!

I'm going to throw in a cut now because this is gonna get long.

What do you want to accomplish with your summary?

That's the first question you might want to ask yourself. And the answer really is up to you! The name "summary" suggests it's supposed to be a sort of short version of your story. That's one option. But summaries are often used to accomplish various other things, too: some of my favorite summaries don't really tell you anything about the plot of the fic, but instead give you a glimpse of the writer's style or lure you in with a question. It can also fill organizational purposes like commemorating the reason the fic was written (although author notes can also be effective for things like this).

Most fundamentally, I tend to think of the summary box as a place to manage your readers' expectations. I want them to have some sense of what the fic they're about to read might be like, and I want to present that in a way that highlights why it might be appealing to them. Of course, what I write won't be appealing to every reader--and an effective summary, plus accurate tags and ratings of course, allows a reader who won't enjoy what I have to offer to quickly keep scrolling and find something that fits their tastes better. But the way I think of them, summaries are really mainly for readers who will enjoy my fic if they decide to open it. A summary for a fic is like a pretty package for a gift: the gift is great in itself, and the nice gift-wrap makes it more eye-catching and more fun to open!

Sidebar: This "managing expectations" thing is, I think, the reason why authors sometimes add notes in the summary like "I'm sorry if this sucks" or "this is my first fic, it's probably terrible." I completely understand where this comes from--you don't want to make your readers expect some kind of genius literature and then only have something to give them that you yourself are still insecure about! But I really do think they're generally counterproductive. On the one hand, that kind of negative self-talk will tend to undermine your own confidence and make you more insecure about your writing, not less; on the other hand, they can subconsciously prime your readers to notice weaknesses and issues that they might otherwise not even have paid attention to! That doesn't mean you have to pretend you think your writing is perfect; very few of us do think what we post on fic archives is perfect. There's nothing wrong, even, with a note like "this is my first fic" or "this one is a bit experimental, I'm not sure how I feel about it" or "this wasn't written in my first language" or even "this is an old fic and I don't think it represents my best work anymore", although I tend to put that kind of commentary on craft in the author's notes rather than the summary, but that's just me; there's no rule. As an example, when I recently published my first fic in the Hornblower fandom, which has a historical setting I wasn't previously very familiar with, I thanked my beta for helping me avoid "historical howlers" and added "any remaining are my own responsibility." That made me feel better about potential mistakes in research by showing that I was aware I might have made some. I put this in an author's note at the end of the story. But, for the sake of you as a writer as well as me as a reader, I'm asking you--please don't start out our reader/writer relationship by telling me it's terrible! Give yourself a chance to shine. Even if there's a lot you're insecure about in your fic, there's something you love--maybe it's the premise, the ship, even one particular line--that makes you want to share it with the world. Use the summary to highlight that. As your reader, that's what I want to know about!

Anyway, now that you've decided what you want your summary to accomplish, there are a couple of very easy ways to fill the summary box that you might want to consider--if they make sense for your fic.

Just quote the prompt

When I write prompt-fic, often very short, I frequently just quote the prompt itself as the summary. An example would be my 3 Sentence Ficathon fic archived on ao3. Since the challenge in this event is to write a complete fic in only three sentences, a summary wouldn't be much shorter than the fic itself! So I just do summaries like

For reeby10's prompt: "Doctor Who, Clara/Twelve, unforgettable."

(Gaps)

This can work outside of prompt memes, too. If you're doing a monthly challenge, for instance, something like

Flufftember day 21, 'breakfast in bed'

might tell your readers all they need to know to be interested in your story and know what to expect.

Set the context

For some fic, the most important thing you want your readers to know going in is something about the fic's context. For instance, with drabbles I sometimes use the summary as a place to sneak in information about setting/what's supposed to be happening that I didn't have room for in the drabble itself. For Susan's Twist, a 100-word drabble, I set the scene in the summary:

Susan is grooving to the latest chart-topper of 1963. But for some reason, the song makes her grandfather uncomfortable.

which meant I didn't have to use any of my 100 words explaining "Susan was listening to the radio, when..." Since Susan's Twist was inspired by someone else's Tumblr post, I could also just have referenced that post in the summary. But in this case, I chose to phrase the premise in my own words in the summary, and cite the Tumblr post in the author's notes (I also tagged the OP when I shared the fic on Tumblr).

Flower Children is an example of a drabble with a not particularly effective summary where I could have used this strategy quite effectively. The summary is just

Neither of them wants to fight.

which is all right, but which doesn't do much to set up the (admittedly cracky) Eighth Doctor/Dalek Oswin pairing that motivates the fic. But then, I've always felt like I didn't have quite as much of an idea as I'd like about what the context for this fic is supposed to be. Maybe I'll write more about them sometime.

Setting the context can also be useful for summaries of AUs. Very often, what draws people into AUs is the AU concept itself.

For instance, the premise of my story te quaerens, Ariadna is that the events of the audio Zagreus go differently and the Doctor remains possessed by/transformed into Zagreus. So that's what I said in the summary:

The Doctor is still Zagreus, but he and Charley find ways to keep going.

In this case, the summary is accomplishing more than one thing; it explains the concept, but it also indicates a bit of the story's tone--it's fairly optimistic given its premise, and it's more about how their relationship evolves than any particular plotty event.

With setting change AUs--especially in familiar AU settings, like a coffeeshop, high school, or fantasy monarchy--often what readers will most want to know is what roles the characters are filling; in other words, how the translation from canon to AU has been made. For instance, my story Warmth is already tagged as a coffeeshop AU with the Fifth Doctor, Nyssa, Tegan, and Adric, so the summary indicates that it's told from the perspective of Tegan as a new employee:

Unexpectedly stranded in London and looking for work, Tegan finds a place where she just might fit in.

If she had been a longtime employee or a customer, that would have changed the story's dynamics, and I would have wanted the summary to reflect that instead. I could have also added that the Doctor is the shop's manager and Nyssa and Adric are the existing employees, but I decided to let the story itself reveal that in this case.

With someone's planted a bath bomb in the matrix, which is a retail AU inspired by an incorrect quotes tumblr post, I just stuck the whole tumblr post in the summary box:

Romana: When you work at lush and a customer comes in and bites the soap because they think it’s cheese… this happens way more frequently than you think. Leela: If you stopped literally presenting soap as deli food this wouldn't happen. Narvin: Who goes into a bath store and thinks something covered in glitter is cheese? Brax: Who goes to the store and just takes a bite from the cheese? ~incorrectgallifreyquotes.tumblr.com

I might do that a bit differently now--maybe more the way I handled Susan's Twist--maybe something like this in the summary:

An uptight employee and a too-suave customer are making Romana's job managing a bath store way too stressful. Thank goodness--probably--that her best friend works for mall security.

And then I'd have put the tumblr post that inspired it in author's notes.

Thing is, though, that reflects my taste and what I think is effective now, but it doesn't mean I did it wrong the first time. People read and enjoyed the story, and it was fine!

Also I just showed this post to Moki and she said she thinks the first one's more intriguing. So that just goes to show, it's really a matter of taste.

This strategy is also useful for missing scenes and things like that. Something as simple as

While waiting for Z to return from the rendezvous, X and Y have a conversation.

can draw in readers very effectively, especially if X and Y's conversation was kind of obviously a gap in the story that they might already be curious about.

Use a quote

A surprisingly effective and straightforward way to create a summary is just to use a quote from the fic. I've seen tons of great summaries like this that hook me in immediately. I struggle with using it myself, because I want the line I quote to be powerful/impactful/intriguing and give some sense of what the plot is like and make sense out of context, and I don't often seem to be able to find lines like that in my own work. But I did for The Moon by Night:

It could not have been more than a day that we clung to the hull of that station full of troopers.

Since this is a space AU for a historical fiction novel, this line gives some sense of how the events of the story have been translated into space, and also shows the voice I'm writing in (I tried to follow the style of the original, which is first-person, which is unusual for me). If you can find a line like that in your work, it can be a great summary. You can even just put the first couple of lines of the fic, especially if you've already worked to make them an effective hook!

You can also use a quote from another source. Was there a line or moment from canon that inspired the fic? A poem or song that fits its mood? You can use the summary as a sort of epigraph. (I often use author's notes for this as well.) If your readers vibe with the quote that inspired the story, they're likely to vibe with the story as well.

I did something like this with Absent thee from felicity awhile. The title is a quote from Shakespeare's Hamlet, and all I put in the summary box was another quote from a couple of lines later:

…to tell my story.

This is so short and contextless, though, that I'm not sure how effective it was. It maybe only works if you recognize the specific Hamlet scene that it's taken from and have thought about that scene in the context of a specific episode of Hornblower. (I promise that, if you do, it's heartbreakingly ironic!) This could have been a good opportunity for me to do a double summary (see below), especially since the story is epistolary and I could've established its context. Although I did kind of like revealing who was reading the letter and when slowly over the course of the story.

Okay, but I do want to explain the plot

Right, so we've established that effective summaries don't have to be in that "back of the book blurb" format. But sometimes you want them to be. Sometimes the thing you're most excited about is the story's plot or events, and you want to communicate that to the reader. But you already wrote the story in order to communicate the plot to the reader; how do you condense it into a sentence or two? Here are some tips that may help.

Are you using familiar tropes? If so, just mentioning them will likely tell your reader not only what the plot is, but that (if they like that trope) they're likely to enjoy it. For instance:

A and B are trapped in a snow cave/ice planet/walk-in freezer and must huddle for warmth.

That particular one will also explain a bit about the setting, if you want.

Relationship status/development is also something that many readers want to know, whether it's a romantic or a gen relationship (e.g. characters becoming friends or realizing they see each other as family). For instance, if A and B admit their romantic feelings for the first time in that huddling for warmth story, you might add:

They get a lot closer than either of them expects...

I rather like ellipses at the end of a summary; I think they imply, sort of, "read the fic to find out the rest." I sometimes use them to soften a summary that feels a bit abrupt. I feel like this might be just me, though? So if you don't like ellipses, nothing wrong with ending that same summary with a period.

If you have a fic where the entire content is some emotional development between characters, the entire summary can easily be that too!

I don't really write smut so I don't have good advice for summarizing it, but I get the feeling this might be a relevant strategy for it?

What changes in the story? This could be a change in characters' attitudes towards each other, in the information they have, in their physical situation, or anything else. A story doesn't have to be about one single major change, but there's almost always at least one. (Or a change fails to happen, but in an interesting way: "five times Lois Lane didn't realize Clark was Superman" would be a perfectly intriguing summary!)

What demands are made of the characters? Many stories involve a character overcoming some kind of challenge or meeting some kind of test. A summary can indicate what that challenge is--and you don't have to indicate whether or how the characters meet it! This can contribute to a feeling of suspense, so that the reader feels they need to read the story to find out how the characters react. For instance, I summarized my story Journey as:

The Doctor and Ace need to stop a dimensional leakage to put a life-sucking entity back where it belongs. But to do so, they'll each need to protect the other in their own way.

What are their own ways? Do they succeed? The reader can probably guess that they do--but how? Their attention is caught, and they'll have to read to find out!

Some notes on format and style

Summary style is as personal as the rest of your writing style, so this is only intended as a mention of a couple of trends I've noticed.

Sometimes summaries are 'in-universe'--i.e. they describe the characters and what they do, without reference to the existence of the fic itself as a textual entity--and sometimes, like the "five times" example I gave above, they refer to the fic's format, characteristics, relationship to canon, etc. in direct terms. (For instance, the example I gave for a missing scene was 'in-universe,' but I could just as well have said "While waiting for Z to return during Episode 3..."). Either of these approaches are fine, although I personally tend to incline more towards the in-universe style unless I have a particular reason to use the other, such as in Differences of Opinion, which took a lot of metatextual explaining:

When I read enough easily-crossed-over stories, such as for instance the Age of Sail books that I have been reading lately and also spaceship stories inspired thereby, what inevitably happens is I end up with a nebulous meta crossover setting where they can all hang out outside of their respective canons. Here's one conversation from that setting.

I keep wondering if something more terse might have been more effective, and I could have put all that in the author's notes. But I really think that for anyone who would enjoy this fic, the metatextual complication is a big part of the appeal. So I put it in the summary.

It's pretty standard to write in-universe-style summaries in the present tense, even if the fic is in the past tense. "The characters do this and that," not "the characters did this and that." You don't have to, but it's what your reader is most likely to be expecting.

It seems to be quite common to have a double summary: one that maybe reflects the style and tone of the fic, and another, more matter-of-fact one that explains the plot. They're frequently joined by "or." I don't typically use it--maybe because I rarely have the problem of having too much summary--but if you do, this could be a great solution.

Spellcheck and proofread your summary extra. Whatever strategies you normally use to make sure the words in your story are the words you actually meant to write, it's a good idea to turn those strategies on the summary with special intensity. After all, this is your first impression on your reader, so you probably want to look as polished as possible!

These are just a few things I've noticed that I tend to think about when staring at that blinking cursor in the summary box. I hope they may help you, too, to feel like you have something to say in that moment!

[psaikey]

Thoughts on “Death’s Door”

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

"Death's Door"; Levi Ackerman/ Reader fanfiction on Ao3 by SongsOfApollo

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

This is probably one of the most widely read Levi Ackerman/ Reader fanfictions, and after reading it, it certainly raised my standards. It begins by describing the life of a young doctor who then is forced to join the Scout Regiment as a military doctor. The attention to detail in terms of medical terminology, methods and general practice is incredible and so easy to follow.

The writing style is very refreshing and creative, able to convey the emotion behind the words. As for the pacing, this is a slow burn fanfiction, but it has the perfect balance. The parts without romantic interactions are far from boring, dare I say the best part of the story, and make the romance all the more exciting. The side story is seriously so interesting. The relationships built up in the meantime only add to the strong feelings and heighten the tragedies to come. The author has done this so well that I was literally rooting for Eld. Warning: you will cry.

Because of the new characters she introduces: I was in awe of all the character developments and their strong relationships. The new characters are not just supporting characters in the story, but have deep connections with the protagonist, which makes the later events feel all the more devastating. The atmosphere of the world very well portrayed that of Attack On Titan, with some heart-warming moments of peace sprinkled in.

Levi is soo well written and in character, as if you dropped in the AoT universe. The relationship between them is so mature and realistic that it will make you squirm. The protagonist is also very mature, driven and independent. Their romance builds slowly and will leave you wanting more.

The author is so incredibly talented, writing a book better than most conventionally published works!

In short, I'm in LOVE with this fanfiction, it has a sense of familiarity and tugs at your heartstrings. I really can’t wait for more to come!

[cheeseceli]

SKZ falling for their make up artist

Pairing: skz ot8 × Black gn!reader (individually)

Genre: fluff

Request: yes! (lmk if it's like you wanted)

Warnings: Reader has braids in Hyunjin's one and is implied to paint their hair in Felix's one, mentions of food in Minho's (and food places like restaurants in Chan and Jeongin's)

A/n: I accidentally posted this one before it was ready and then I had to delete it now I am mad💀 i really need to pay attention to the things i do

Bang Chan

Ok so fun fact

He met you before knowing you were his new make up artist

He just saw you at jyp cafe looking like an angel when he decided he would make small talk with you

But luck was not on his side (or was it?) because it was golden hour and you guys were sitting near the window

What does that mean? The sun rays were all over you, making your brown skin glow and your eyes hypnotized him

Consequences? He was so focused on appreciating you that he forgot to ask for your number

You can imagine how sad he was once he realised it

But! Imagine his surprise (and happiness) when he met you at the recording of one of their mvs four days later

He made sure to ask for your number properly this time

He always makes sure he is the last you'll make up so there is no rush and he can have you all for himself for some moments

Absolutely adores how excited you look like when talking about your work

He even convinced the management crew to put you as the tour's make up artist because he needed wanted you there

Lee Know

You'd probably hate him

He just happens to be a menace to people he likes

So he might or might not wipe off and ruin pieces of the make up just so you have to retouch it

"did you make up here? And here? I think you should check or do it again yk" typa thing he'd say

Don't get him wrong, he just wants to spend a little bit of time with you

But he doesn't know how to do it without making you rethink all you life choices and pissing you off

But he also brings you food backstage to make up for it

And if you have any pets he would be like "our pets should meet each other!!"

Anything to see you outside of work

And if you're on backstage during one of the stages/recording/practices he will put 200% effort on his performance

He needs to impress you of course

Changbin

Compliments you right away

He doesn't even know your name but he is already telling you you are blessed by Aphrodite, the prettiest person to ever exist in earth and all those things

He has no shame

You know that cute couple thing people do with make up/skincare where one of them sit in the other's lap while applying the products?

Lmao him

He will not loose one single chance of having you close while you're making up him

So if you ever want to try something new like a new trend or just something that came up on your mind, he will be the first to volunteer

And if you have an account on any social media to talk about your work, he follows you and comments on every single post

Hyunjin

He's beautiful and he knows it

100% use this as an advantage

Will make eye contact with you all the time being

And will smile to you in the sweetest way possible everytime you are close to his face

Once you were making him up for the s-class mv recording but your hair kept falling in your face

So he just pushed one of the braids off your face and kept smiling and looking at you like it didn't make you malfunction in 30 different ways

Has the audacity to giggle after you're embarrassed

But try to flirt with him and suddenly he is the blushing mess

He is also such a hype man, it's so cute

If he ever publishes a pic of him on insta where you're the one who made his make up, he will praise it on the caption

Han

He didn't even know you existed until he visited Chan while the eldest was doing his make up

He was speechless when he first saw you

And he had a really serious talk with Chan concerning the reason you weren't his make up artist

The next day you were asked to add Han in your list of who you needed to make up

Totally a coincidence, it's not like he begged chan and the management crew to have you as his artist

The moment he gets to talk with you he tries to impress you

Jokes, talent, beauty, anything

If you laugh at at least one joke, his efforts will be payed off and this man is on cloud 9

Felix

You'd probably hate him pt 2.

I'm sorry but he just can't shut up lol

You're applying lipstick on him? Well, he has this urgent gossip to tell you so good luck with that lipstick

You're applying eyeshadow? Unfortunately he cannot keep his eyes closed because that would mean not looking at your eyes, and he has his priorities straight

The list goes on and on

It might be a little tough but! it's so worth it

After you're done he is ready to compliment your job and praise your skills every single time

As he should

You know how some couples match outfits? He'd like to match make up even if you're not on the dating stage yet

And maybe even match hair colour

Seungmin

The most subtle one

And your dream client

He keeps still while you're applying make up, compliments your work and is always so polite

He tries to be the first one you'll make up so after you're done with him, he can follow you around while you make up the others

Will talk to you during the process (and will take advantage of the fact the kids cannot reply because they need to be still) and will even try to help you with organising your products and handing them for you if you let him

Will try to learn a thing or two about make up on his free time because he wants to impress you

If you do artistic make up as well he would love to see your past works

Might even suggest the management to have something like that in future mvs

I.N

Doesn't move

Doesn't blink nor talk

Actually, sometimes he doesn't even breathe so you need to remind him

He will giggle and brush it off but let's be honest

He is so nervous around you

Once you notice it (trust me, you will notice. It's so obvious it hurts) you will try to small talk and this will, slowly, make him relax

Now that you guys are comfortable around each other he will initiate most of the conversations

He talks to you during breaks, he asks your opinion on his outfits and sometimes he also wants you to make him up for casual outings like going to a restaurant

Even after dating, he still gets nervous because of the proximity

[milkpup]

｡⋆ʚ♡ throwing it back for the blue

‹𝟹 nsfw! 18+ oneshot

art creds: soy / twitter -> https://pin.it/6GKWjQW

ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

by cafekitsune

›› toji fushiguro x reader ›› 18+! f!reader/m ›› date published: 12/8/23 ›› 3k words

‹𝟹 summary:You're tired from exams, hoping to rush home and take a quick shower and sleep. Unluckily for you, you get pulled over on your way home by Officer Toji Fushiguro.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk , jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres/warnings: police au, insults, dubious consent, power imbalance, impact play

‹𝟹 tags: police au, police uniforms, uniform kink, cop toji, rough sex, manipulation, coercion, people pleaser, public sex, sex on a car, abuse of authority, au - no powers, dubious consent, being called a good girl, praise kink, degradation, choking, spit / spitting, spit kink, face slapping, slapping, spanking, vaginal sex, dry humping, cunnilingus, hair pulling, breeding, vaginal fingering, fingerfucking, name calling, pet names, dilf toji, toji is his own warning, toji has a big dick

‹𝟹 notes: this story is originally posted on my ao3! hope y'all like it here too! i just wanna say that this is all fantasy. i am actually against cops but ima be real.... i still got fantasies lmfao X_X enjoy!

--

Throwing it Back for the Blue by milkpup

It’s finals week at your college. You had your last final of the week, and it ended late at night. Yawning as you’re driving, you want to get home as soon as possible. You silently curse yourself for living off-campus, it would have been nice to live at the dorms and have a short walk back. You valued your independence and freedom, however, and that is why you opted for a more expensive off-campus living arrangement.

You look at the clock on the dash of your car: 10:43. You just want to hurry up and shower, snuggle in bed, and drift to sleep. It wasn’t worth it taking the main highways, there would probably be lots of traffic from people going out on a Friday night. You take a less-used road, it won’t add much more time, and you could honestly make up for it if you went a little faster. Plus, cops don’t usually care enough to check out back roads.

--

Toji specifically chose this intersection because it wasn’t used as frequently. He didn’t want to camp out on a main highway, that’s more work, and for what? He always lived by the motto of working smarter, not harder.

He’s backed up on a street, lights of his motorcycle turned off. The abundant foliage and trees add more darkness, and it doesn’t help there’s very few street lights on these roads. Toji wanted to just take a break, smoke a cigarette, and wait until his shift was over. He already met whatever “quota” for traffic citations he was tasked with, he just needed to wait until he was off at midnight and could make his way back to his apartment.

He leisurely sat upon his motorcycle, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. He exhaled and watched as the smoke dissipated in the cool air. He clicked his tongue. He was slightly ticked off he hadn’t taken a patrol car instead. He usually used the motorcycle, but the brisk fall air was not pleasant against his uniform. The black button up hugged his muscles and body, he was glad he at least chose the long sleeve today. Although he had a bad habit of rolling his sleeves up anyways, constantly creasing and wrinkling his uniform. Thick but tight black pants with a gold stripe running along the sides provided him minimal warmth, however. The long black leather boots all motorcycle patrols wore made up for the inadequate coverage on his legs.

He groaned, feeling the cool air start to affect him. His moment of complaint didn’t last long as he watched a car run right through the stop sign in front of him. He clicked his tongue again. Whatever, at least it gives me something to pass the time. He quickly dropped his cigarette and snuffed it out with his boot, before turning his headlights and sirens on.

--

As you flew past the intersection, you saw red and blue flashing lights appear not too far behind you, picking up speed and getting closer.

“Fuck.” You groaned out loud. You were sure no cops would be there; why would they ever be there? They never were before. “This fucking sucks. I definitely fucked up.” You pulled over to the side of the road soon after.

The first thing you see as the officer approaches your window is how built he is. How taut his clothes are against his skin. You gulp. You feel like a fucking pervert, thinking these kind of thoughts in this kind of situation.

“Good evening, miss,” the officer greets you as your window finishes rolling down. “Do you know why I pulled you over tonight?”

You try to gulp again, but your mouth is instantly dry. You feel like a deer caught in headlights. In a way, you are. “N-no… officer. I’m sorry I don’t know.” You’re looking everywhere but this officer. You have confrontation issues in general, and a person with authority absolutely kicks your anxiety into overdrive. You’re sweating so much, you once read in an article to act like you don’t know why you’re being pulled over.

Toji clicks his tongue. “Little miss, you were driving exceptionally over the speed limit, not to mention you completely flew past a stop sign before I pulled you over. Do you understand how reckless that is?” You can’t see into his face very well with his helmet covering his head. You chose to look at his abdomen, but that’s not much help either.

“I-I understand,” you meekly stumble out. Your cheeks are flush, and you feel like you’re about to cry. You don’t want to get in trouble; you’re instantly apologetic for not being more careful.

Toji smirks. “Very well, license, registration, and insurance please, little miss.”

You shuffle around, pulling your bag into your lap. Grabbing your license and insurance card out of your wallet before reaching into the glove compartment to retrieve your registration. Your shirt hikes up a bit as you lean over to grab your stuff, and Toji takes this time to observe the scene. At least, that’s what he says he’s doing. In reality, he’s looking at the exposed skin from your shirt lifting and your leggings that hug your body. He licks his lips, thinking of an idea.

You move back up, handing him the materials. “Thank you, darling. Wait here while I run your information.” He says as he retreats towards his motorcycle. He radios dispatch, giving them your plate number and other necessary information.

He’s flipping your ID back and forth in his hand. He shamelessly takes a picture of it. He wants to remember you and where you live. Is it an abuse of power? Yes. And he fucking loves it. Your record is clean, tags are up to date, and the only thing wrong was your reckless driving this one time. He might just be nice and let you off with a warning.

He returns to your car, handing your documents over. He places an arm against the door frame, leaning against it. “Miss Y/N. I can tell you’re tired, and it’s probably because you have finals at the local university. I sympathize with you, and I’ll let you off with a warning this time. You have a clean record, and seem like a good girl who means no harm.” Toji smirks while looking down at you. You meet his gaze, feeling a wave of relief come crashing against you. You’re about to sigh with relief, before Toji finishes his statement. “However, because I’m such a nice guy willing to overlook a careless mistake for you, I need you to do something for me.”

You’re momentarily confused, as he’s reaching above his head to take off his helmet. His inky locks fall into place as his helmet comes off. He has vibrant jade eyes, piercing right through you as he looks down at you. “If you resist detainment, I will have no other option to arrest you. And we both don’t want that. So be a good little bitch and listen to me.”

Your heart is pounding so loud you could barely hear him telling you to get out of your car. “Step out of the vehicle, now.” You do not want to fuck with this guy, and you’d do anything if it meant you would still have a clean record.

As you’re opening the door and about to step out, he grabs your wrist and flips you around to pin you against your car. You can’t see much in the darkness, the only lights around to illuminate the area were his bike’s headlights and your car’s. He’s pressed up behind you, holding your arms against your back. His muscular and rigid body felt warm against yours. You couldn’t help but feel yourself getting wet as you could feel his hot breath against your neck behind you.

Toji was taking in every feeling of your body that he could. He spread your legs apart with his thigh, pushing against your core. You whimper as his thigh pushes against your cunt. You could already feel your juices soaking through your thin layers. Your black leggings didn’t do much to provide any modesty, he could see every curve and dip. He felt moisture as his thigh pushed into you more, and he had a cocky grin plastered on his face.

“Are you really getting turned on from this? Such a fucking slut that getting pushed against your car by an officer has you dripping already?” Your mind started spinning as he started degrading you. Your only response was a pathetic moan as he bit your neck slightly. He was leaving a mark on his toy for the night. It wasn’t going to be the last one he makes.

Toji groped your ass through your tights, feeling how soft and plush they felt. He felt his cock start straining underneath his pants as he pressed against your ass. Toji picked up speed and pressure, increasing the friction as he dry humped your ass. Your pants and squirming under his touch was a sight he could barely handle.

“Will you be a good toy for me, Y/N? I don’t want to get you in trouble, doll.” He muttered out as he kept pushing against your ass.

“Yes, sir.” You barely get the words out as Toji grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you up. He tilts your head towards him slightly.

“Open, bitch.” You comply immediately, your cunt gushing more everytime he insults you. You’ve been used to praise your whole life, people taking care of you and treating you gently. But this? This was new and exciting. He spat in your mouth before pushing you against the car again. “Good girl,” he hummed.

“Strip from the waist down but leave your panties on, sweetheart.” He moved away from you, allowing you space to take your leggings off. You quickly removed them, tossing them back into the car.

In the time you took your leggings off, Toji moved to the front of the car. You finished undressing stood in front of him before he pushed you down against the hood of the car. He lifted your leg by the thigh, leaving one to support you and pushing the other on top of the car.

He spit on his fingers, moving them towards your already dripping cunt. “Tell me how this feels, doll.” He coos as he pushes one thick finger into your needy hole, pushing your panties to the side. You shamelessly moan as he pushes deep inside with his index finger. Toji immediately feels how tight your little cunt already is with just one of his fingers. He licks his lips devilishly, excited at the idea of stretching you out with his thick cock.

He adds another finger, and you already feel like you can’t take much more than this. He’s relentlessly fingerfucking your cunt as you’re pushed against your car. Your juices are dripping down his hand, as you’re panting and feeling your body heat up more.

He snakes a hand towards your neck, choking you as he pulls you up. “Do you like this, you little slut?” He asks you as he continues fucking your tight hole with his thick fingers. You’re too lost in the sensations to answer, a pathetic whimper the most you can manage. He pulls you by the hair to again, forcing you to make eye contact. “I asked you a question, didn’t I bitch? Fucking answer me.” He grunts out as he spits onto your face.

“It feels sho good, sir…” You slur your words. He’s fucking you with his fingers than any of the men you were with could do with their cocks. You’re already hooked, and he isn’t even fucking you yet.

He pulls his fingers out, much to your disappointment and groan of protest, before he licks his fingers and tastes your cunt. Fuck, she tastes fucking amazing. Little whore has a cunt that is just begging me to eat it.

He lights your other leg and flips you over onto your back. You can finally meet his gaze where you notice he’s staring at you like you’re his prey. He smirks as he drops down to his knees to be at eye level with your cunt. He normally doesn’t care for eating out the women he fucks, he usually only care about his own pleasure. But your taste, your moans, your body… they’re all intoxicating. And he would never pass up an opportunity for a free meal.

You feel his breath against your cunt as he approaches. He starts by kissing your inner thighs before reaching your core, where he gives a teasing flick of his tongue.

He looks up at you as you react, grinning against your pussy. He moves his tongue up to your clit, swirling around it. Your body trembles under his touch. He kisses and sucks your button, before giving it a gentle nibble. He wants to see how your body reacts whenever he does anything. Toji moves back down towards your tight hole, before he pushes his tongue inside. He rubs your clit as he tongue fucks your cunt, causing you to buck your hips against his face.

He moves back up to your clit, not wanting it to feel left out. He pushes another finger in your hole as he sucks your button. You moan profusely, feeling something build between your legs. You grab his raven locks and push him against your cunt more. “Please! Ah! I’m close-“ you stumble out as you feel yourself approaching the edge of pleasure. “More! Please! Fuck!!” You can barely get even one-syllable words out between your moans.

Toji fingerfucks you harder and faster, trying to get you to cum on his mouth. You whimper and tremble as you feel yourself being pushed over the edge, causing quite a mess. Toji is surprised, he didn’t realize you would be a squirter, but he laps up every last drop of essence as you orgasm.

He moves away as he reaches to unbuckle his belt. “Good girl… now it’s my turn.” You’re practically panting as he frees his cock from his tight uniform pants.

He moves towards you, lining the tip up with your hole. “You’re gonna take this like a good slut for me, right?” He deviously smirks while looking down at you.

“Yes, si-“ you begin to say. But before you finish, he bottoms out and forces his whole length inside at once. You yelp in shock, and a bit of pain. He’s exceptionally big, and the thickness is not helping either. He grunts as he stretches your tight hole. He lifts both your legs above his shoulders, pushing his body against yours. He has you in a mating press, ready to fuck you until you can’t even move after.

“You’re so tight, Y/N. Tighter than any bitch I’ve ever had in my life.” His jade eyes look down at you as he says that. Your walls clamp around his thick cock at the compliment, you get high off of being praised.

“Open, sweetheart.” Toji commands you once again, before he spits into your mouth again. This time though, he follows it up with the most aggressive kiss you’ve ever felt. He’s forcing every part of his body against yours, tugging at your bottom lip and biting it. He tastes the metallic essence, and feels his cock throb. You moan against his forceful kiss, while he fucks you hard and deep.

He pulls back until just the tip remains, before slamming back into your hole at full force. You moan at the action, feeling his cock hit your cervix. You’re sure he’s going to bruise you, but you don’t care. You wrap your arms around his neck as he drills his cock into your cunt.

He pulls his lips from yours, and spits on you again. He moves a cock to your neck, applying pressure that makes your head dizzy. You can hardly breathe, your head feeling lightheaded as he fucks you dumb.

“Your cunt is amazing, sweetheart. It’s perfect for me.” He coos as he releases his grip around your throat and allows you to catch your breath. Your moment of respite is short-lived, as he slaps your cheek, leaving a red mark. “I might have to make you my bitch from now on. I can’t stand the idea of someone else fucking this tight hole.” He smacks you again, and you look up at him through half-lidded eyes.

You look like you’re enjoying every second this goes on, and Toji notices it. He moves his hand towards your cunt, lightly rubbing your clit. He fucks harder into you, causing your eyes to roll back. “You like being a good bitch for me, huh? I already knew you liked being praised, so I considered going soft on you. But you’re actually a dirty girl who likes being degraded and used, as long as I finish it off with a bit of praise, aren’t you? You’ve probably dreamt of someone having their way with you, roughing you up, and insulting you.” He spit on you again, and you clamped down around him tighter the moment he did so. He rubs your clit more, noticing you’re approaching the edge as well.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m gonna cum soon. I’m going to fill you up with my cum. Be a good toy and cum with me, sweetheart.” He fucked into you harder, increasing speed and changing the angle to hit your sweet spot more. “I’m gonna knock you up, baby.” The moment his words rolled off his tongue you felt yourself cumming harder than you thought possible. You had a death grip around his cock as you clenched down, trembling and shaking under his weight. The added friction and pressure sent Toji over the edge as well, as he painted your insides white with his thick cum.

You were both panting, trying to catch your breaths. Toji lifted a hand to your cheek and caressed it before kissing your forehead. “That was amazing, doll.” He pulled out from inside of you, adjusting your panties so none of his seed could drip out. He wanted to make sure you stayed full until you got home.

Toji zips his pants and buckles them back up, before reaching inside your car to get your leggings. He hands then to you, watching you get dressed in front of him.

“So, as per our deal, you are let off with a warning. Please understand the consequences of your dangerous actions. There won’t always be someone nice like me to let you off and get you off,” He finished as he smirks. You blush after hearing his words.

“Thank you, officer. I really appreciate it.” You respond back to him, meeting his gaze once more.

“I’m going to follow you home, to make sure you get back safely.” He grins. You smile back at him and thank him, before getting into your car. You won’t speed away this time.

--

‹𝟹 end notes: i hope you enjoyed it! feedback is ALWAYS appreciated! originally posted on my ao3! i post there more consistently!

‹𝟹 notifs: @vvxxccaa @arylaa @navi-n0 @starshipxoxo @comicalgrievance

ʚ join my notifs ɞ

(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

[lukolabrainrot]

Hey there, what do we think about Nicola’s IG post for Camilla’s bday. It’s a collage of 4 pictures taken by paparazzi of her and Camilla last year and in the caption she said something like remember when the paparazzi took photos and you protected me by covering my face. I feel like that is for sure throwing shade at a certain someone. Like she could’ve chosen any photo with Camilla. She has sooo many, why that one and why this caption. Also the way the photos were stacked looked like A’s recent soho house photos with her friends.

I feel like Nicola’s being very cryptic and sending messages through her posts recently including the scrabble board. I don’t know what that was about exactly but I feel like she posted it for a purpose and the person who that was aimed at would understand. I dunno I might be over analyzing but I think we should paying closer attention to her posts.

I also feel like that means we are headed in a positive direction because it means she cares about Luke and feels protective over him and is letting everyone know, even if there is currently a bit of tension between them. Not saying there is tension but just a feeling that she’s not very happy with how he’s handling things at the moment.

What do we all think?

Ok I just reblogged a post about this, but I am going to add this (and a lot of this is just based on my gut feelings/opinions based off of everything I've seen, so these are all just THEORIES):

First, I want to start by saying we will NEVER know exactly what anyone's SPECIFIC intentions are on SM posts unless the publisher publicly clarifies it.

HOWEVER, N is VERY intentional on SM. So is A. L... not so much (I've known a lot of dudes like him who just don't really care to put a lot of energy/thought into SM, EVEN if they have it and utilize it). So I get the impression this might be the case for him as well. Intentionality takes thought and energy, so I do agree that N and A's recent SM posts are VERY intentional, but what those exact intentions are, again, we will probably never EXACTLY know. What/who is the common denominator between these two women though? L. Sooooo, I feel pretty confident that he is at the root of most of these more "cryptic" posts/stories on N and A's SM.

Now, normally, I would say WTH is a 37 y/o woman doing playing petty and shady SM games with a 23 y/o woman that wants the attention?? Well... I think SM is the only way for them to communicate with each other, and these two women have a LOTT to say to each other (which totally makes sense if ANY of our theories on L/N or the PR tour/papgate/A are accurate). Which is why I do think a lot of N's recent SM activity has been shade, but more directly towards A. Since the London premiere, I personally think L/N are dealing with their complex feelings over everything in private mainly because people are analyzing EVERYTHING they do.

If you have read my other theories on this blog, I don't think L/N are in a terrible place rn (but are very likely having to work through a LOT of complex things in private). I am sure they BOTH aren't happy about how this all publicly played out. And as I have mentioned, I think EVERYONE in this situation has made some mistakes (some more than others though). Please look through my "timelines" posts if you have any more questions on my thoughts on this.

I have also said this before, but I will say it again. N AND A WILL NEVER, NEVERRR BE FRIENDS. Based off of everything I have seen and know about these two women, they have VERY little in common (and A is very insecure and envious of N). Therefore, these two women are probably NEVER going to talk alone face-to-face (I personally don't think A has the cajones to address anything with N to her face). A (based on her public image and actions and everything else we know about her) seems like such a selfish, two-faced mean girl (just my opinion). N appears to be the opposite of that, and I believe would be more inclined to address things with A face-to-face. Since that is not an option though, N has utilized SM to share her real opinions/feelings with A. And yes, I do believe N is protective of L (BECAUSE THEY REALLY LOVE EACH OTHER). I don't have any solid proof on this, it is just a gut feeling, but I think a lot of N's most recent "cryptic" posts/stories are hinting that L/N's connection is not going to be ruptured by immature, selfish, and insecure behavior from A. And I think that is a really good sign for us Lukola fans.

Lastly, who again is the common denominator here? L! Could he have handled this WHOLE situation better? Yes! I've mentioned before though, he got ANNIHILATED on SM after Papgate. And he has been getting hate on SM from people in the fandom for years (him AND N already had to leave Twitter because of all the hate they were receiving). Therefore, I believe he is FED UP, but also TRYING to stay engaged just a LITTLE bit on SM. Yes, N has also gotten a lot of hate on SM, but she and L are very different people, and I get the sense that she is able to navigate the hate a little better than L. Therefore, L has taken a major step back from his public engagement online, and to be really honest, I don't believe he will be returning to his typical public SM activity anytime soon. Now, what other people AROUND him post on SM, I think that has a lot more to do with THOSE INDIVIDUALS than L himself (again, just my opinion). How aware/involved L is with any of these posts/stories that adjacent people in his life are posting, we will probably never know. L is a chronic people pleaser though, and I got the sense from what I have seen that he is not very good at setting firm boundaries with people in his life (which likely played a role in SOME of the SM activity we have seen recently from adjacent people in his life). I think there is a lot of self-reflection going on for him at the moment in terms of determining HOW he wants to move forward in his career and HOW he wants the public to see him. I think he is still figuring it out...

Anywhooo, like I have mentioned multiple times, the whole situation seems to be REALLY messy (and I am almost certain that both L/N didn't want all of this to play out on such a public stage). And we will never know the full story of what was/is going on BTS for everyone. However, a lot of the recent posts/stories from N have been very interestingggg 🤔

[lynnlovesthestars]

The veil.- Intro

Astarion x OC ( @wisterialynn )

Genre: reverse isekai.

Synopsis: Astarion falls in love with whoever is hiding behind the veil, and it hits him so hard that he can't forget him. Not even when Lynn starts a new save.

AN: hello this is the prologue of the reverse isekai story I've been working on for a while.. It's supposed to be a lighthearted story, mostly fluff and crack, low on drama, but low-key healing since both oc and Astarion have plenty of trauma. Basically domestic ff.

Also I think I will add some of the renders I made of Lynn and Astarion as I publish the chapters since I have so many - and are so cute.

Taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @sessils @roguishcat

Lynn couldn't help it. When something caught his mind, it was hard to pull him away, so when a new game came out and he downloaded it, he knew he was up for sleepless nights.

It was a breath of fresh air in his monotonous and grey life. It had been ages since he allowed himself to feel something that was not sadness or anger. He sat in front of his screen and he came to life.

He didn't speak much in his day, neither with peers or family since he distanced himself from his roots, moving to a different town, focusing on his work, but once he was knees deep in his little and silly game? He'd comment, talk, sass even, he truly came out of his shell.

It was something Astarion had grown to adore, from the moment Lynn had first loaded his game, and Astarion felt something.. different. He felt out of place to say the least.

Gale blamed the necromancy of Thay, saying it probably connected him with something deeper, just like he was connected to his netherese orb, but Astarion knew it was something different.

And once he was freed of Cazador as well, he couldn't believe his ears.

Astarion could feel that connection becoming deeper, the veil between the two coming closer and thinner.

As he fell for his Tav, he couldn't help but fell harder for him. For his witty comments, his giggles at Astarion's compliment, his humming as he worked and forgot his side of the connection on- aka his PC.

Astarion had heard everything, every comment for the elf, every sob he let out in front of the screen, and god only knows what other sounds coming from Lynn.

Only when Lynn started his second run Astarion became gloomy. The attentions he was so used to receive shifted, Tavgliatelle- or whatever name he gave his character that time- was different, so focused on Karlach.

It didn't mean Astarion couldn't hear Lynn, how he still commented on Astarion, how despite everything he was trying to resist the urge to romance him again. Astarion understood it was just a loop, the more he'd spend time at camp, the more he'd trying and break free of the loop, the more he'd fall for the person at the other side of the screen.

He prayed.

He attempted magic.

He tried to find that small door that could lead him to his lover, until he did find it.

Lynn wanted to say he loved Astarion a normal amount, just like how you love your favourite character, but there was something different.

Astarion had touched him differently than any other, he felt his chest clench, hurt, for a bundle of pixels, he had empathized so much with him. Astarion understood Lynn and Lynn understood Astarion. And yet whatever his heart was hatching was meant to stay there, just within him and his head. In his daydreams and his sweetest nights.

"Lynn?" A rough hand gently pressed against his back as the figure hidden in the dark kneeled next to him. "Love, let's move to the bed" The voice cooed as he gently lifted Lynn from his chair, admiring for a moment his features while they were enlightened only by the light of the screen.

Astarion was glad his vampiric strength didn't get lost, as he carried the man to the bed.

He couldn't help but admire how he laid peacefully. The serious smirk he had when he was hunched over the desk, was replaced with a soft smile as if he knew who was gently sliding under the cotton sheet with him, as if he knew whose arms were wrapping around his middle, as if he knew who cradled him to his chest.

His soulmate.

-

Astarion's fingertips gently grazed the exposed back, the new feeling spreading all over his body as everything was so new, so real.

All his life no man or woman he had bedded or kissed awoke in him what the man in his grasp was doing without effort.

"My sweet sweet love" He whispered as he kissed the man's temple gently, trying his best not to stir him awake.

He had truly made it, he had crossed the veil that separated him from his love, and now he was laying against his chest, soundly asleep.

The sigh that escaped the other's lips said it all, how peaceful he felt despite being unaware. Astarion liked to imagine that Lynn was feeling safe in his grasp as if his body knew he was being held and protected by him.

-

The man stirred awake, his body aching from the day before, hissing as he tried to turn, while his body was stiff from sleep.

"There there, sunshine" Astarion cooed as he gently guided him back to lay in his arms. "You need rest"

"I do.." Lynn hummed as his hand gently reached for Astarion's cheek to rest there.

It took him a moment to realize he was not alone, tangled to the cold yet oddly familiar body.

"What the fuck" Lynn jumped up on his seat, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes, as if the Astarion laying in his bed was just a remainder of his dream, still stuck in the inside of his eyes.

"Good morning to you too, darling" Astarion chuckled as he gently caressed him. "I suppose that's human's way of saying 'oh my god Astarion, it's so nice to finally hold you" He teased as if sitting in Lynn's bedroom was normal, as if he didn't come from a game, but simply from his window.

"You can't be-" Lynn placed his hand on Astarion's cheek, trying to gauge at reality, only to be met with the cold skin again.

"I very much am, love" The vampire nodded smirking proudly as he brushed back his hair with his fingers.

"I'm still dreaming, that's it" The human couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief, as if that could erase the pungent smell of bergamot that suddenly enveloped his room.

"No, you are awake" Astarion quipped smiling and itching to move closer to shut him up with his lips.

"Astarion you are not real" Lynn said out loud, spelling each word slowly.

"I'm clearly here aren't I" He asked raising an eyebrow.

"Astarion don't be an idiot" Lynn shook his head one step away from facepalming himself.

"What if you are the one not real" Astarion clapped his hands together as if that was his gotcha moment.

"Don't start this" the human, still skeptical crossed his arms together, yet before he could completely close them, Astarion grasped at his wrist and bit the soft flesh.

The sweet taste of his blood awoke something in him, the way it slowly went down his throat thick and warm, made him dizzy but most of all left him breathless for the other man.

"That felt real" Lynn sighed as he pulled away his wrist, massaging where Astarion's lips were a second prior. That was real.

Astarion laid back for a moment, trying his best to contain the euphoria spilling from his every pore, he had a taste of divinity. Completely different from the taste of blood he was used to.

The way it ran through his body, it was real.

"I was trapped in that thing, god knows for how long, I am just a poor vampire in need of a cuddle" He admitted as he caught his breath and opened his arms to invite Lynn in.

"That's it I'm going out of my mind"

Astarion groaned. "IM GOING OUT OF MY MIND CAUSE YOU HAVE NOT HUGGED ME YET"

[nekoannie-chan]

Pain

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 622 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Steve broke your heart

Major Tags: Doubts, cheating, Sharon Carter.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @flordeamatista Loveeeeeee Song Writing Challenge with the prompt:

"You ever love somebody so much you can barely breathe when you're with 'em. Love the way you lie"

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

You were running as fast as you could; it was as if something was stopping you from breathing. Your heart was pounding like it was going to explode, but you knew it was because of all the feelings pressing on your chest. You had decided to surprise Steve; you knew how to help him so he and Bucky could escape. However, the surprise was for you when, on arriving at the agreed-upon place, you saw Steve kissing Sharon Carter. The pain that shot through you was indescribable, probably worse than if you had been stabbed straight through the heart, making the air dense and unbreathable, as if you were trapped and imprisoned in a tiny place. You froze, unable to look away from the scene unfolding in front of you. "You ever love somebody so much you can barely breathe when you're with 'em," you thought, each word feeling like an open wound in your heart. At that moment, you wondered if you could ever breathe normally again.

Steve slowly pulled away from Sharon, but suddenly his attention was drawn to you. His eyes, full of surprise and concern, searched yours for an explanation he couldn't give. None of that was supposed to have happened.

You tried to say something—anything that could explain your presence there—but the words stuck in your throat. You couldn't bear what you had just seen; you wanted to run away, or maybe give an explanation or pretend nothing had happened, but how could you ignore what you had just witnessed?

Similarly, Steve looked confused, as if he wanted to explain, although he didn't know exactly what to say either.

The silence between you was too much; you were sure that any sound, even the slightest, could be heard. Finally, it was Steve who broke the impasse, taking a few hesitant steps towards you.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret and confusion. "I don't know what to say... You shouldn't have seen that."

Tears threatened to overflow from your eyes, but you forced yourself to hold them back. You didn't want to show him your weakness, not when he had seen enough. You took a deep breath, trying desperately to find the right words to express everything you were feeling at that moment. Even though it seemed impossible, you felt like a fool for always supporting him in everything, for loving him, and for letting him play with your feelings.

"I'm sorry," Steve repeated, moving even closer, as if he wanted to reach out to you but was afraid of scaring you. "I didn't mean to hurt you. You shouldn't have been here."

Your lips trembled before you began to speak. You needed strength and to concentrate on what you were going to say, even though it seemed so difficult. "I don't know why I came," you confessed, the voice barely a whisper that came through. "I thought... I thought I might...". You stopped, unable to finish the sentence, as the lump in your throat threatened to stop you from speaking.

Steve looked at you and reached out a hand towards you, but hesitated before touching you, as if he feared his touch would only make things worse.

"I don't know what to say," he finally admitted. "I can't explain what happened... between Sharon and me. But it doesn't change how I feel about you."

Steve's words left you dazed and confused. How could he say he loved you while he was entangled with someone else?

You turned around and started to walk away. Sometimes love wasn't as sweet as everyone thought it was, and sometimes it seemed like it was trying to drown you, on the verge of stopping you from breathing.

[sanaxo-o]

Brought The Heat Back (Kim Sunwoo)

Too @from-izzy : happiest birthday to my flower, my honey bee, the Sunwoo to my Chanhee <3 it’s been like almost a year since we knew each other??? Can you believe it 😭. We got so close so quickly that it’s crazy. Me calling you while walking back home and giving you a tour as I yap and you just sitting there and listening to me might be one of the best things we do 😼. Thank you for always being there for me when I needed to talk with someone the most 💗. You might be the only mutual who knows the most about me and it’s kind of crazy how our first conversation started with me flirting with you but I guess that’s my charm lol. Will always listen to you deny your feelings for Sunwoo but it’s okay since it’s you. Honestly I’d do anything to never lose our friendship which we built over the year and it’s just so pretty. Anyways, I’d never come to Australia since it’s pretty scary there but you’re always welcome to come to India 🥰. With that being said, I hope we always continue bickering, nagging each other over things and what not. And no, I will never stop sending you hot pics of Sunwoo 🧍‍♀️. With that being said, happy birthday to you my flower and I hope you like this little something I prepared. I swear I will try my best to publish watch it in October if it doesn’t come out in September (I really don’t think it will ever come out tho…) 🥰. I do hope you understand the small references I added in here bitch 👹. Was honestly so hard keeping this a secret :( Love you and have a great day (and years ahead) (plz stop overworking and stressing yourself out too much and start sleeping on time…)

Warnings/Genre: from friends to strangers to lovers to sum it up, jealous Sunwoo in a good way, fluff, angst ig, kissing scenes, mildly suggestive (wow finally my debut??), Sunwoo gets drunk, Eric being the bestie everyone deserves, cursing ig? I don’t remember honestly, Sunwoo and the reader are both stupid honestly. Idk what else comes here so yeah…tell me if I have to add more

Sana: so I wrote this like last month but had to wait a whole month because I wanted to publish it on Izzy’s birthday. A huge thanks to @deobienthusiast @winterchimez @mosviqu and @itsbeeble for beta reading it and giving me countless compliments 🫶🏻. I honestly loved writing this so I hope you guys enjoy reading it just as much!

Word Count: 4,943

Taglist: @deoboyznet @kimsohn @a-dream-bookmark @cloverdaisies @quaissants @loserlvrss @bella-feed

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Clenching his fist tightly Sunwoo couldn’t help but let out a scoff unknowingly when he saw you flirting with that same guy again. 

It might have been a few weeks since summer break ended but Sunwoo didn’t expect for you to already move on from whatever the two of you had. 

It wasn’t like you both were dating per se. You weren’t but it wasn’t even like you both were just friends. 

I mean from what he knows friends don’t kiss each other, nor do they make out in the summer heat with their fingers intertwined with one another. 

It was like it was yesterday when the two of you were ‘dating’ and while it lasted it was nothing but a safe space of heaven for Sunwoo. 

He was never someone to take a person seriously but with you, it felt different. It was as if you were the one for him the moment the two of you decided to hang out together in summer. 

The way you ditched your friends at the party because he was sitting outside alone. No one had ever done that for him, even though it was just to keep him company Sunwoo still felt his heart swell with content as he listened to you ramble on and on about some plushies you had at your old house in Australia. 

At that very moment Sunwoo had that sudden urge to show you around the town, I mean you were new in the area. You probably didn’t know the most shortcuts so it was kind of his responsibility (it wasn’t) to show you around, no? 

“Do you wanna go for a walk?” He whispers softly as he extends his hand towards you waiting for you to take it. 

Sunwoo could feel his heart racing at an abnormal rate as he waited for your response. The longer you took to answer the more he felt like it was a stupid idea. 

I mean who in the sane mind would walk around a town at night with someone they barely know? 

“Uh sure I guess?” Sunwoo hears your small mumble as you flash him a nervous smile. 

Maybe you were insane enough to do just what he had in mind. 

Heaving out a low chuckle Sunwoo slowly wraps his fingers around yours as he pulls you up from the floor. 

“So why did you come to this town? I mean it’s summer break..” Sunwoo asks as he walks beside you on the empty road. 

“Oh I came here on a scholarship. I wanted to explore more in the summer break and maybe if I like it here I can study here for this semester. That’s what I had in mind so far.” Unknowingly Sunwoo’s eyes light up when he hears your consideration on staying here for the whole semester. 

Maybe it was just because he never had met someone like you but your vibes were just so different from the girls he normally hung out with. 

With others he never felt like he could truly be himself but with you it just felt like he was free. 

Call him crazy for feeling this was about a girl he just met but that was just how he felt and somehow this new feeling was making him feel alive more than anything. 

“Dude why the hell are you staring at Y/N like a creep?” Snapping back to reality Sunwoo throws a glare at Eric as he diverts his attention back to the now you who was just flirting with Hyunjae. 

Seeing you getting all touchy with someone other than him made him feel like punching someone.  

Now that’s something he never felt before because why would he ever feel like punching the guy just because you were flirting with him? It’s not like you guys were dating before for him to feel that way. 

Then why? The more he stared at you smiling at someone who was not him just made him lose his patience. 

If someone said that punching someone without getting in trouble was allowed then he’d waste no time in doing just that because his patience was running too thin for him to control it longer. 

Looking away Sunwoo sighed as he closed his locker with a thud. He knew that if he looked at you for any longer than he might just lose his patience and he did not want to create a scene. 

It’s not his fault he’s feeling that way. It’s just that you have the ability to make anyone want to talk with you more and more. He’s only admitting that because he felt it when you decided to strike a conversation with him for the first time. 

If it was anyone else he would have just rolled his eyes and walked away but when he saw it was you he felt that feeling of getting to know you more. 

The curiosity of knowing you better and spending time with you was bigger than anything else and now seeing you standing there with Hyunjae just made him go crazy. I mean, why were you even flirting with other guys when he was right there? 

“If you’re wondering why you got ditched like that then it’s totally your fault.” Sunwoo hears Eric’s voice say from beside him as he does nothing to deny it. 

He himself knows that you’re ignoring his whole existence and presence because he was the first one to do so. 

He didn’t want to ignore you but he was just scared of hurting you by doing something which wasn’t supposed to be done. He was scared that if he let the relationship you had escalate further, something wrong would happen along the way and he would lose you. 

He did feel like he was gonna commit to it for real this time but then maybe overthinking about making a mistake in the future led him to distance himself with you and now he is the one who has to see you with some other guys who’s not him. 

It’s a weird feeling he’s having but somehow he’s envious of Hyunjae because he gets to be close with you and hear your laugh everyday unlike him who was even scared to approach you now. 

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“Can I ask one thing?” Eric asks Sunwoo who had just entered the classroom and was placing his stuff down. 

“What now?” Sunwoo asks in an annoyed voice as he flashes a glare at Eric and diverts his attention back at you, who was busy talking with that guy again. 

He couldn’t believe you would just ignore his whole existence as if that night didn’t almost take place. 

“No need to get annoyed at me..” Eric mumbles as he heaves out a sigh when he notices Sunwoo’s longing stare at your figure again. 

Eric admits that he has never seen his best friend be this jealous over a certain girl. Now if Eric decided to confront Sunwoo about his jealousy over you then he’d deny it for sure and he didn’t want to argue with his stubborn ass again. 

“You both were talking when the semester started. Why did you cut ties suddenly?” Hearing Eric’s question Sunwoo stiffens in his seat as he remembers the events that took place the night before you both stopped interacting with each other completely. 

Covering his eyes with his hands Sunwoo takes in a deep breath as he tries to get his thoughts straight before answering Eric’s question. 

-x- 

Sunwoo POV 

My ears perk up when I suddenly hear the doorbell ringing. Looking up at the clock I tilt my head in confusion as I see the hands indicating that it was 11 o’clock. 

Why would anyone come over at this hour? I stand up with shaky legs as I grab the pan from the kitchen and take slow and steady steps towards the door. 

Opening the peephole I furrow my eyebrows when I see you standing outside with just a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. 

I let out a yelp when you throw yourself at me the moment I open the door. 

“Hey hey, what’s wro-” I widen my eyes when you kiss me without letting me even complete my sentence fully. 

It’s as if someone had turned the gears in my mind as I immediately sink my lips with yours. The way your tongue was battling with mine to prove dominance was something I had never experienced with you before. 

I snake my hands at the small of your back as I lead you towards my bedroom. Opening the door I push you against the wall as I caress your cheek with my free hand while the other plays with the loose strands of your hair. 

I pull away from the kiss slowly when I feel your hands tapping against my chest. 

I feel a small smile creep up my face when I realise that for once I wasn’t scared of what was going to happen next and I was fully on board with whatever thought you had at the moment. 

“I…were we about to..?” I feel my heart sink when I hear you ask that question. Wait…did you not want it? Was I going too fast? Was I pushing you into doing something you didn’t want? 

“Uh…I don't know. Did you not have the same thing in mind?” I questioned back, as my voice came out shakier than I intended it to be. 

“No..no it’s not that..” I take a step back when you say that, too afraid to hurt you by any chance, “Fuck..I just had a lot in my mind and I didn’t know what I was thinking..” 

My eyes widen when you say that. Worry and concern immediately coming across my face as I reach out to comfort you but retract my hand back when you back away from me. 

“You know what…forget..forget this ever happened. I should go..” I take a step forward to stop you. To tell you that I am there for you to listen to your problems but I didn’t have the guts in me to do so. 

Not after what just happened. What if you were uncomfortable by being around me? That can’t happen though…we always had our own way with our conversations. 

I snap out of my thoughts when I hear my front door close with a thud. It was as if the moment I closed my eyes, your smiling face would flash in my mind. 

From that moment on, I decided that I would distance myself from you. I cannot imagine losing someone like you over something so small…

What if you guys go on a date and get in a relationship? You’re bound to break up and then that break up would lead to you cutting off ties with him. 

And if he does that first then he doesn’t have to worry about you getting hurt more, right? It doesn’t make sense he knows but the way the events turned out at the moment isn’t really letting him think clearly. 

-x- 

“Did Y/N try to approach you the next day?” I look up at Eric when I hear his question. 

I let my pencil slip from my hands as I stopped scribbling around on the book. 

“She did but I may have ignored her…” I mumbled quietly as I shared a look with Eric. I could see his eyes flash a tiny bit of disappointment but he shakes his head and looks ahead at the professor again. 

“Why can’t you just talk it out with her? I am sure she has an explanation for whatever happened and why she stormed out that night.” I look up thoughtfully at his suggestion but quickly shake my head as I ponder on that thought more. 

“Why not?” Eric asks in confusion as he continues staring at me, waiting for my reply but all he got in return was my silence as I slowly diverted my attention back at you. 

I mess my hair up as I feel that weird feeling back at the pit of my stomach. I felt like I was going crazy the more I stared at you smiling so sweetly at hyunjae. It should be me instead of him. 

“WHAT THE HELL!” I yelled loudly when Eric suddenly pushed me off my chair. I glared at him as I looked around the classroom and noticed the countless eyes staring at me but you were still not looking at me. 

It’s as if you just wiped out the fact that I just screamed loudly and possibly hurt myself because of Eric. 

Standing up from the floor I bow as I feel my cheeks starting to burn from embarrassment. Getting back in my seat I shove Eric away from me as I bury my face in between my hands as I try to forget about what just happened. 

“At least tell me now why you won’t confront her.” Eric asks more calmly now as he tries to make me sit straight. 

I sigh as I look at him from the corner of my eyes, “I am scared of what she will reply. It’s better if we both act like it didn’t happen, right?” I reply as I steal one last glance at you and Hyunjae only to look away in less than a second when I feel my head spinning. 

“Do you know what you’re feeling right now?”  I groan when he opens his mouth. Why does he never shut up? 

“What?” I ask in annoyance as I place my head on the table, not taking any interest in whatever he was about to say. 

“Jealousy.” I whip my head at him when he says that. Me? And being jealous? For what? Yeah sure whenever I see you smiling at him I feel that burning sensation, or when you laugh at whatever stupid joke he made. 

I scoff as I shake my head, “Yeah sure. I don’t get jealous over such a trivial matter. I bet I know Y/N better than he does.” I mumble before sliding down on the chair to try and possibly hide myself from the whole world. 

“Tell that to yourself but I sure do see you being jealous.” I flick Eric’s head when he says that again. 

I am definitely not jealous. 

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Y/N POV 

I sighed as I heard Sunwoo’s voice arguing with Eric. It wasn’t a new occurrence for me anymore and honestly I was quite used to it ever since I started hanging out with Sunwoo in summer. 

I’d hate to admit it but Sunwoo was the only guy who honestly made me alive enough in summer (to be frank I never truly enjoyed holidays because I am someone who felt like I needed to be busy and working all the time). 

I diverted my attention back at Hyunjae as I smiled softly at him. He was a good guy but he was not Sunwoo. 

He didn’t have the same aura or personality like Sunwoo and I begged myself to try and find at least some of that charm in Hyunjae which I was dying to see. 

I admit that I was kind of in the wrong to storm out of Sunwoo’s house when we both knew what it was leading to. I didn’t want to make him overthink about my reaction too much but to be frank I was just too damn nervous to think straight that when I snapped back into reality I didn’t know what to do. 

It was as if I didn’t have control over my own body and I just stormed out of there after blabbering some shit which probably made Sunwoo misunderstand the whole situation. 

BUT I did try to explain myself the next day but Sunwoo acted as if nothing had happened the day before and it just made me feel worse about my actions. Did I hurt him that much? Was I too nervous to realise that maybe what it was leading to could have been nice? 

I don’t know but I wish I could just turn back the time and relive the moment so that I don’t make the same mistake as before. 

“Are we set on tonight?” I blink my eyes a few times as I look at hyunjae for a moment only to look away quickly while clearing my throat. 

“Uh for what? I was just spaced out for a moment there.” I mumble as I scribble down the notes in my book in shabby handwriting (I could still read what I wrote so that’s all that matters, no?) 

“Yeah I noticed later on. I was talking about our date. I will pick you up at 8:00. Fine by you?” I nod my head as I chew on my nails as I drift back to the unconditional memories I had made with Sunwoo. 

-x- 

“Sssp!” I flinch when Sunwoo shoves my hand away from my mouth with a hiss escaping his throat. I threw a glare in his direction as I hit the back of his head before slowly bringing my nails back to my mouth only for it to be pulled away by Sunwoo as he intertwined our fingers together to stop me from biting on the nails. 

I could feel my cheeks burning from embarrassment and shyness as I cleared my throat and looked anywhere but at Sunwoo. 

“Look I know you have grown a habit of biting your nails but instead of biting on those nasty nails why don’t you try and talk with me instead? I am here to listen to you, you know?” When I hear those words of Sunwoo it strangely enough comforts me in ways which I never knew were possible. 

I didn’t even know that I wanted to be comforted. Maybe all those thoughts getting jumbled in my brain really messes up with what I really need. 

I give Sunwoo a small nod as I look ahead again, “Well now you have me to stop you from biting your nails.” Sunwoo whispers as he pokes my cheeks with his other finger. 

I just chuckle at that and bring my other hand up to squeeze his cheeks. The way I loved it when he pouted I thought as I smiled at him fondly. 

-x-

I look back at Sunwoo in thought, my face contorted with slight pain as I try my best not to have a breakdown over not only Sunwoo but also just about life in general.  

I feel my heart racing rapidly when I make eye contact with Sunwoo. It was as if it was just the two of us in the room and everyone else had either just disappeared or they were in slow motion. 

It didn’t seem to last long since before I could even offer a smile at Sunwoo he had already looked away. 

Oh how I wish I could change this awkward phase in whatever relationship we had and just go back to how it used to be. 

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I kick the rocks on the ground as I try to drown out the voices in the background. Well the date did not go well per se (it’s not Hyunjae’s fault. It’s just…I couldn’t help but only think about Sunwoo while Hyunjae was busy talking. It’s as if no matter how hard I try Sunwoo would always be at the back of my mind and it’s driving me insane.) 

I roll my eyes when I feel my phone vibrating in my bag, I let it ring as I was in no mood to talk with anyone. 

Looking up from the ground, my eyes sparkle when I see an ice cream shop. I start walking towards it when my phone starts vibrating again. 

I sigh as I open my bag to take a look at the caller ID but what  I did not expect was the caller ID flashing on the screen. 

‘Why the hell is Sunwoo calling me?’ I think as I slowly accept the call while walking towards the shop. 

“Is this Y/N?” I stop walking when I hear an unknown voice on the other side. I couldn’t help but think the worst. 

Did Sunwoo get himself in trouble? Did he hurt himself? Is he okay? 

“Yes, that's her..” I replied. I could hear Sunwoo’s voice at a distance but it seemed to be coming out slurred. I couldn’t help but furrow my eyebrows together in confusion. 

“I am sorry but I think your boyfriend is drunk…” I slap my hand against my forehead when I hear that but immediately feel my cheeks heat up when I hear the word boyfriend. 

“Where is he right now?” I ask shyly as I immediately call a taxi to go over at the location the person told me. 

-x- 

Why the hell is this guy drinking alone at night and that too in a PARK? Did he for real lose it or is he close to losing it? 

I quicken my pace when I see Sunwoo sitting on a bench with a guy trying to keep him straight and awake so that he doesn’t fall asleep in the park. 

I approach them as I take over Sunwoo and apologise to the man and grab Sunwoo cheeks which were a slight shade of pink. 

I sit beside him on the bench and slap his cheeks a few times to help him gain some consciousness. 

I giggle when he blinks his eyes a few times and stares at me for a second before he brings his hands up as he drags his fingers over my lower lips. 

I push his hand away slightly as I mumble softly, “You’re not sober. So, you’re not allowed to touch me.” 

A small stupid smile creeps up on Sunwoo’s face as he brings his hand back to himself as he rubs his eyes while speaking, “So am I allowed to touch you when I am sober?” He mumbles before staring back at you. 

“If I say yes will you shut up?” I mumble as my eyes trail down to his swollen lips for a second before I glance back at his eyes again. 

I smile when he gives a gentle nod, standing up I extend my hand out towards him to help him stand up, “I am only saying yes because I know you will forget all about this in the morning.” I mumble as I drag him towards the cab which was waiting for us. 

“Do you really think so?” He slurs out the words while getting in the car, “Ack!” He yelps in pain when his head bangs against the roof of the car. 

I immediately lean forward and take a look at his forehead. My eyebrows furrow in worry when it starts to swell but all Sunwoo does is laugh at the drunken guy he saw outside (who was busy puking by the way.) 

-x- 

I enter the house with Sunwoo as I drag him towards his bed. Okay, all I had to do was throw him on his bed, put a warm blanket over him and wash his face with a wet towel. 

I can do that without thinking about the past, right? Of course I can! 

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Sunwoo POV 

I groan in pain when I feel my head throbbing. Maybe drinking till late at night was a bad idea but how did I even get home? I don’t think I went to drink with any of my friends. 

Grabbing the glass of water from the bedside table, I drink some of it when my attention drifts to my arm. I see some messy writing on it. 

Getting curious, I place the glass down and take a closer look at my arm after blinking a few times to get rid of the blurriness. 

‘She says I could touch her when I am sober.’ She? Who’s she…

I close my eyes as I try to think back to the moments which took place yesterday. 

“No fucking way…” I gasp as I recall the conversations me and Y/N had. Nooo this is so embarrassing. She saw me being a drunk idiot. 

I place my head in my pillow and scream in it as I try my best to hide my whole existence. Why can’t the world just swallow me right now? 

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Entering the auditorium I see Y/N with that Hyunjae guy again. Gosh…he looks so boring. What did she even see in him? 

I scowl as I take a seat right behind them because someone decided it would be a great idea to sit behind my ex who was not really my ex because we never officially dated BUT we did kiss and make out a couple of times but let’s not talk about that. 

I kick Eric’s leg when he strikes up a conversation with Hyunjae. He was my sworn enemy! How could he just talk with that boring ass? Gosh this kid really needs to level his taste up when it comes to talking with just anyone. 

The whole time the lecture was going on not once did I stop burning holes in the back of Y/N’s head. 

I could tell she wanted to look back at me by turning around but maybe I was just looking too handsome that she didn’t even want to take a look at me.  

Heaving out a sigh I stood up once the lecture was over. 

“I think we should talk…” I stop dead in my tracks when I hear her voice. No fucking way is she talking with me? 

I gulp as I look at her for a moment before I immediately look down at the books in my hands. 

I hand the books to Eric without any second thoughts as I follow you to the back of the auditorium. 

I sit down on the floor as you follow behind and do the same. I couldn’t believe that after so long we’re finally talking again but I could feel my heartbeat rising more as you stretched the already tense moment.  

“What’s up?” I mumble out as I try not to make it sound awkward even though the way I spoke already gave away the fact that it was more than just awkward silence. 

I cover my face with my eyes as I wait for you to start speaking again, “So…about that night.” I hear your voice speak from beside me. 

I slowly bring my hands down as I take a small peek at you, “You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to. I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

“No no you didn’t make me uncomfortable. I was just nervous…I was scared I would do something wrong and embarrass myself.” I just stare at you as you explain yourself. 

“I am sorry…I am sorry that I didn’t even give you the chance to explain yourself. I hate to admit it but I was scared to listen to your explanation.” I say softly as I take your hand in mine. 

I smile when I hear your small giggle. Oh how I missed making you laugh…

“So what do you think about Hyunaje?” I furrow my eyebrows when you ask me that question. Were you really pulling my leg? 

“Hyunjae? I hate that guy. Who does he think he is?” I mumble as I scoff in irritation.

I stare at you again when you laugh at my answer. You were really enjoying this, no? “What if I go on another date with him?” 

It feels as if my eyes almost bulge out when you ask that question. “Date? I dare you. I will come and burn everything that is there and take you away from there.” I mumble as I kiss the back of your hand while our fingers are still intertwined. 

“Aww you’re such a jealous baby.” I scoff and roll my eyes and mumble out a small ‘I am not jealous’ when even I know it’s not the truth. 

“I am kidding. I hope we can give our relationship another chance?” My eyes light up when you finally say the words I wanted to hear. 

“I swear I won’t mess up this time.” I say quietly as I kiss the crown of your forehead and give a peck on your cheeks.  

“So what did you feel like when you used to see Hyunjae and me together?” I just stare at you silently when you ask that question. 

You really were having fun teasing me. I get up and walk out of the room with you following behind while laughing at my jealous ass. 

I stop on my tracks when I see hyunjae being buddies with Eric. I couldn’t help the disgusted face taking over my facial features as I stared at that guy doing some stupid handshake with Eric. 

“I cannot believe you’re jealous over Eric and Hyunjae now.” I side eye you when you say that and flick your forehead once before walking away with you yelling my name out. 

“Geez I am sorry!” I yell loudly when you suddenly come in front of me and kiss me on the lips. 

I smiled in between the kiss when I noticed you going on your tiptoes just to kiss me. I slowly lean down so that it’s easier for you to kiss me. 

Giggling I look at you when you pull away, your cheeks slowly turning hues of red as mine does the same.  “Maybe I am a jealous guy after all.” I mumble as I hug you tightly.

[jellalism]

Diluc x GN!Reader fic: In safe hands

You are having a depressive episode. Diluc takes care of you.

Word count: 1018

Genre: Comfort

Content warnings: Depression, not wanting to eat, and anti-natalist thinking (i.e. thinking it is better not to be born).

Notes: First published on AO3 a year and a half ago. Thought I'd finally post it on here, too.

Read below or on AO3.

You sit on the couch of the Dawn Winery Manor. Knees up, nestled under a blanket, staring into space. Comfy, but you’re not happy. It isn’t that anything is particularly wrong, but you’ve been feeling down today. The whole week, really. It’s just one of those episodes you have every once in a while. You know you’ll get through it, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. On the worst days, you can barely drag yourself out of bed, eating is a chore, and doing any actual work is an impossible task. Today is perhaps not that bad, but not much better either. Add to that, the terrible boredom. If you had anything to distract yourself with, it might be bearable – but what do you do if your very diversions seem insurmountable tasks themselves? You sigh.

“y/n?” Diluc stands in the middle of the room, taking his coat off. You hadn’t even noticed him coming in.

“Hey,” you say. You wish you could be more outwardly enthusiastic, but you’re too sapped of energy. Inwardly, though, you are quite happy to see him.

“I see you are not doing so well.” He pauses, then walks up to you, bends over, and kisses your forehead. “Hold on, I will make you some tea.”

You murmur a word of thanks, but probably too softly for him to hear as he leaves the room. He could just have one of the servants make the tea, but he prefers to care for you with his own hands. Besides, his expertise doesn’t only pertain alcoholic drinks. He knows the exact right way to make tea, too. None of the servants’ tea can match the Master’s.

You listen to Diluc making noises in the kitchen, as he left the door open. Bringing the water to a boil, measuring the amount of tea, taking the pot from the cabinet – all the while humming a soft tune. Diluc has told you before that humming is an indispensable part of making good tea. You have your doubts, but have no reason to complain; you’re quite content listening to his song. Diluc isn’t free of his own demons, but he can get into the tasks at hand and lose himself in it, which allows him to hum in such a carefree way.

After a couple of minutes, Diluc returns, carrying a tray. On it, a pot of tea, two cups, and… a croissant. Why must he be so perceptive? you wonder. He definitely noticed you haven’t eaten – it is like a sixth sense he has. Diluc places the tray on the table and, without a word, starts pouring the tea. Then he puts one cup in front of you, giving you a smile and a wink. The second cup he places next to yours, and then he seats himself next to you on the couch. His arm goes over your shoulder and pulls you closer to him. You relax, leaning against his body. It’s warm, comfortably warm. You close your eyes.

“Tell me what is on your mind.”

You are silent for a moment, collecting your thoughts. “I don’t know,” you start softly. Diluc murmurs an encouraging sound. Still trying to find the right words, you continue: “Sometimes I just feel so down without an apparent reason. And once I’m that way, the negative thoughts come pouring in, to keep me held down. I fear that I’m never gonna be alright. That I’m not worthy of love. That I’ve misled people into loving me, because if they truly knew me, they wouldn’t stick around. That it'd be better for everyone if I were never born.”

“I respectfully disagree, my love.” Diluc replied. “You are… quite someone, you know? There is no need to be afraid that people would cower at the sight of the ‘real you’. I have been with you for some time, and you have bared your soul. And I am still here, remember? I love you with all your insecurities and wounds, all your mistakes and the things you think are imperfections. I have seen all of you, and I am ‘sticking around’. I love you, and I love being with you.”

A single tear runs over your cheek. “Thank you,” you say. The response feels inadequate, but you can’t quite put your feelings into words. “That means a lot,” you add, turning to face him. He smiles at you in a loving way. His right arm still wrapped around your shoulders, he brings his left hand to your face, holding your chin. His touch is ever so gentle, like you’re a beautiful yet fragile flower. You close your eyes as he leans in. His lips touch yours, press upon them with reservation betraying unparalleled devotion. He tastes like apple cider, with that slight taste of cinnamon.

As the kiss comes to an end, Diluc doesn’t lean back, but rather embraces you tightly. “You mean a lot to me,” he murmurs in your ear. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

You make no sound, letting yourself melt in his arms. They are so warm, so safe. Diluc breath tickles your neck.

After a while, Diluc lets go of the embrace, though one of his hands searches yours and holds it. With the other hand, he reaches for the plate with the croissant and picks it up. “Eat something, sweetheart.” You look at the pastry with aversion. Diluc doesn’t fail to notice. “I know you do not want to, but I do not wish to see you neglect your body. If you cannot do it for yourself, do it for me, alright?” He looks at you imploringly and softly squeezes your hand.

“Alright.” You remove your hand from his hold, take the croissant from the plate and take a small bite.

“Good,” Diluc mumbles under his breath. His now-freed hand goes to your head, and starts playing with your hair. “It’s so soft.”

As you slowly eat the pastry, Diluc continues his play with your hair. His fingers are so delicate, so careful. If it’s under his care, eating isn’t all that bad, you suppose.

Notes

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