#writing this at one in the morning will expand later

[catgirltoes]

The problem of long-term nuclear waste warnings becoming a draw for far-future linguists could probably be circumvented by creating an absolute shitton of similar monuments with less alarming messages in more accessible parts of the world.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you sacrifice your strawberries and eyelash wishes for the boy knocking at your door.

idol!jungkook x reader, strangers to friends (?) to lovers / fluff and a pinch of angst / word count: 5.5k

content/warnings: allusions to death and grief / jungkook is a cutie patootie and a blushing hopeless romantic mess / he wants to kiss oc so bad (me too bro) / oc is a sunshine <3 / they do chores and watch movies together :((( / in one scene he was worried oc would think of him as a perv lmao / they’re dorks and i love them / seokjin cameo hehehe

> in which masterlist!

note: to make up for the pain i may have caused and will cause <3 LOL. i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing :D as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! come chat w me. ily 🌼

—

“it’s so cold,” you mutter through chattering teeth.

the grocery bags sit on the hardwood table with a thud— the careless bringer too hasty. you shove your icy hands in the deep pockets of your jacket, breathing in and out with a sense of relief.

you are not granted the mundane euphoria for much longer, however. the doorbell rings and you are padding across the floor against your will. the cold air hits your face before it enters your apartment.

however, the happy smile that greets you blankets your heart with a type of warmth that is difficult to describe.

if you had to guess who was behind the door, you wouldn’t say the boy you’ve been fiercely pining over for the past month, but it is certainly who you’d be hoping for regardless.

“good morning!”

“oh! wait there for a moment!”

jungkook stands motionless by your open front door as you disappear into your apartment. confusion accompanied by curiosity, he tries poking his head inside, but then decides that he shouldn’t.

upon your return, his face lights up again.

“here you go!”

he accepts the jar of honey faster than he could think.

“w-why are you-?”

you tilt your head, lips forming a small pout. “isn’t that what you’re here for?”

“uh, actually-” he awkwardly pauses, hand that carries the heavy paper bag behind him suddenly feeling weak. “i came here to give you something.”

your eyes animatedly expand in surprise of the size of it, not at all expecting to receive a gift from him today. you do know that he’s fresh from japan, as you converse on the phone almost everyday… why would he come here almost immediately? and didn’t he say they weren’t given the chance to roam the city because of their work schedule?

“i just grabbed things i thought you might like. i hope i got most of them right?” he explains with a nervous chuckle as you take a look inside.

a diverse array of snacks; a beautiful journal painted with cherry blossoms; a hello kitty plushie; stickers, muji pens…

“oh my god, jungkook… these are too much. you didn’t have to.”

oh, curse the hopeless fluttering of your heart.

“wow, gifting your merch- that’s real idol behavior for you.” you tease him, referring to the hooded jacket that has their group logo on its plastic packaging. “thank you!”

“no but it seriously warms you up! i have one too!”

“jungkook, why are you so cute?!”

“ah, shut up! i’m getting embarrassed!” he whines, blushing. “just look at them later after i leave, how about that?”

“let go! it’s mine!” you glare at him, hugging the paper bag to your chest to deny his advances on snatching it away. “are you not leaving? don’t you have work?”

“i told you— it’s my rest day.”

“you did?”

“while we were texting last night.”

“oh,” you blink. “i don’t remember reading that.”

“you? what are you doing today?”

you bite back the smile threatening to give away the thoughts running in your mind a thousand miles per hour. why does he want to know?

“nothing special. just chores the entire day.”

jungkook puts his hand inside the pocket of his coat, an attempt to appear casual as he offers you his valiant effort. “do you want some help? i’m good at doing chores.”

you stare at him, perplexed, as if he just said the most ridiculous sentence you’ve ever heard in your entire life.

“it’s your rest day and you want to do chores?”

“sure,” he grins playfully, not at all seeing how that could be wrong. “why not?”

“you know…” you pause— observing his expression, considering shutting your mouth, but that plan rarely ever works out. “you can just say that you want to spend time with me, right?”

your bluntness sends his heart racing. you’re a danger to his health.

he sinks his perfect teeth on his bottom lip, bringing his dimples into view. to be honest, you didn’t always have a thing about dimples. you didn’t consider them all that special. but why do they make him look cute and sexy at the same time?

his cheeks become tinted with a pale scarlet. you’re wearing that friendly beam again; he doesn’t know how to act. he never knows whether you are joking or not.

“well, now i know.”

—

jungkook sets down the jar of honey on the table as he settles in the living room, fascinated doe eyes darting around every inch of your place. it’s not his first time here, but somehow, it looks different each time. the two frames hanging above the sofa captures his attention all over again, colorful drawings against the plain white wall. gifted to you by your siblings, you said.

a tall castle with a happy family. a little boy slaying a dragon to protect a princess from its savage fire.

he is blissfully unaware of the knowledge that the drawings are the lone survivors of a school bus and a tragedy. you want it to stay that way. you want people to feel the opposite of the sadness you feel when you look at them. that is how you seek your peace.

“are you wearing toe socks?”

“huh?” he makes a sound of confusion, only processing your question upon seeing your gaze trained to his feet. “ah- toe socks- yes.”

“i’m only noticing them now. they look funny.” you scrunch your nose, chuckling.

“don’t laugh! they’re so comfortable!”

“really?” your eyes widen with genuine interest. “i should try them then.”

“yeah, you should!”

he whips his head around as he jokingly voices out an observation.

“but ____, your house kind of looks different today… it’s almost like it’s cleaner than the last time i was here.”

you bury your face in your hands with a high-pitched wine, hiding from him in humiliation. you did not plan on inviting someone over that night, and he had to watch you run around organizing and picking up things— the scattered books all over the table and the floor; the jackets that have created a big heap on the small couch; the jewelry box that ended up on the dining table for some reason.

he laughs in endearment, unable to take his eyes from you. even the way your hair bounces as you furiously shake your head is pretty. wait, does that sound weird?

“that’s right, it should look different! the first thing i did when winter break started was clean up my mess.”

“what’s the first chore on the list then?” he catches the grocery bags in the kitchen from his peripheral. “were you putting away your groceries?”

“you really want to do chores? you don’t want to watch a movie or something?”

“aigoo, it’s fine!” he waves off your reluctance. “stop worrying! i already said i’d help you.”

“but it’s embarrassing…”

it’s either jungkook is denying your advances or he is simply dense. but the fact that he showed up at your door unannounced on his day-off despite complaining about his exhaustion from their hectic work schedule, you want to lean towards the latter and believe that he is… as good at chores like he claims to be.

“you must like fruits a lot.” jungkook comments as he is squatted infront of your fridge, sheltering the freshly bought perishables one by one.

kimchi, lettuce, strawberries, tangerines, shine muscat, apples…

this is an entirely different world through your lens.

it feels strange to watch another person restock your fridge for you.

“they’re easy to eat and i’m lazy to cook.”

he chuckles as he looks back at you, who is sat on the dining table, airy and carefree as you snack on a bag of assorted chocolates from the paper bag he brought. almost all of the white chocolates are gone, he notes.

“not because they’re nutritious?”

“that’s the bonus!”

“what is this?”

“cranberry juice.”

“and this?”

“oyster sauce.”

you energetically hop off the table, an idea lighting up the bulb in your mind.

“i have another recipe for you. french toast with strawberries, then drizzle some of the honey. should i make it for you?”

“ah!” he gasps as if he is in pain, but the truth is his mouth is watering. he hasn’t eaten breakfast, and he wanted to eat more for dinner last night but sleep proved to be much more enticing than food. “that sounds so good! i’m starving!”

“stand up!” you begin pulling at the back of his sweater, forcing him to remove himself from the floor. “i’ll make it! just go relax in the living room, okay?”

“but you just said you’re lazy to cook.” he tilts back his head, meeting your gaze. “i’ll help you.”

“i’m not lazy when it becomes to being a host.”

you bend down with a sweet smile, merely inches away from him, and jungkook swears the earth has stopped spinning on its axis. your face is natural and bare, except for the sheen of lip balm across your lips— and dear heavens, having you this close, you are so breathtakingly beautiful.

“they’re playing christmas movies on channel 36.” you announce, giving him the bag of chocolates. “and the remote is… somewhere on the sofa… or maybe the floor.”

and as he gets practically kicked out of the kitchen, your hands roughly pushing his back, he daydreams of kissing you and tasting sugar on your lips.

—

the sweet, addicting smell of the french toast— strong hints of butter and cinnamon— invades every corner of your apartment. consequently, it also compels jungkook to break your rules and insert himself in the kitchen again.

“you never give up, do you?”

“i don’t,” he agrees, nodding eagerly. he has successfully stolen the task of washing the strawberries, and then slicing them after. he endures the freezing water rendering his hands numb. “it’s a known fact.”

“are you saying i should study harder?” you cross your arms, expression painted with faux vexation.

“yes! exactly!” he humors you, grinning of amusement. “what’s my favorite color?”

you sigh, looking at him from head to toe.

“anyone can guess that from a mile away, jungkook.”

“fuck, okay. that’s fair!”

the sound of his laughter reminds of you reasons to stay through the cycle of the seasons. you don’t understand why, but for some reason, it has finally begun to feel like christmas. the only comfort that comes along with the cruel winter that nips at your skin; the blanket over your heart that provides a type of warmth one can travel to seek but will never be able to find alone.

“what’s my height then?”

“aren’t you six feet?”

the silence that follows is an answer enough for you. the noise of the television emerges now that none of you is talking. he pretends to be too busy to speak, transferring the strawberries over to the chopping board.

“yes, you’re ri-”

“liar!” you point an accusatory finger at him.

and he winces, guilty as charged.

“you hesitated!”

“tsk, i should’ve said yes faster! i wanted to experience what it’s like to be tall!” he regretfully purses his lips, eyebrows knitted as if he just lost the lottery. “but haven’t you read it online? even my shoe size and weight are there.”

“what? why do people even need to know that…?” you exclaim, flabbergasted. “i mean- of course i’ve searched up your name, but it feels like cheating on a test. does that sound silly…? it’s just more fun learning about you from you.”

you briefly walk away to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and jungkook is left at the counter with fondness blossoming in his chest, bleeding into the chopped strawberries staining his hands red.

he calls out your name.

“mhmm?” you hum in question, muffled by the water in your mouth.

“want to hear a fact about me?”

you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, eyes expanding with fueled interest. “what?”

“i’m actually very good in the kitchen.” he boasts his skills with the kitchen knife, quick and precise, the blade against the wood creating the satisfying click you usually only hear from cooking shows. “are you seeing this? huh…? what do you think?”

“so i’ve noticed. i want something new!”

at that, his shoulder sags in disappointment. to his demise, there goes another failed attempt at making you acknowledge that he is boyfriend material.

“what do you want to know? ask me questions.”

“what’s your ideal type?”

being in your presence for the past hour has gotten jungkook re-adjusted to your personality— straight-forward, bold, smart— so vivacious that it’s dizzying. you make him nervous and comfortable at the same time, and he doesn’t quite know how to explain it either. but you’re a breath of fresh air, the change that he has been anticipating to disrupt his routine.

“why do you want to know that?”

you shrug coyly, smiling like the troublesome vixen that you are. you rather enjoy the tension that has hung in the air. if you’ve learned something from the past: men are easy to get, not easy to keep. because they relish in the chase, getting strung along like this. so, shouldn’t you have your fun too? but even if jungkook’s intentions were pure, you can only imagine that seeing someone whose life revolves around their career is… the perfect recipe for disaster.

“i think who you like also says a lot about who you are as a person.”

“i like someone who is kind and funny…” he hums in thought, unconsciously slotting a piece of strawberry in between his lips. “and passionate about the things they love… mhmm, someone who can be honest with me.”

his words form a constellation named after you, unbeknownst to you, and he wants to say more but anticipating what comes next after you connect the dots makes his stomach twist. he doesn’t feel like an adult yet. he’s still just a young boy with a gorgeous crush and high ambitions that coalesce in his dreams.

“i like someone who has a really pretty smile, too.”

and he should probably stop staring, erase the dumb lovesick smile on his face. for fuck’s sake, it would be easier for him if you would just do the same. behind the sparkles of your eyes, there is something he’s been dying to decipher.

“okay, why are you looking at me like that?”

because you are so pretty, especially when you smile.

“nothing,” he replies innocently. “you? what’s your ideal type? who do you like?”

“i don’t know… no one has captured my heart yet. they’re not trying hard enough!”

every romance you’ve had so far has been a letdown.

“but i’m still looking. i’m young, and hot, and the universe is vast.”

“mhm, i see… that’s true, but maybe… you don’t want to be looking too far.” jungkook suggests.

you smirk. “so you agree that i’m hot?”

“you know. you don’t need me to say it.” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“but i want to hear you say it.”

“you’re very beautiful, ____.”

“but that’s not-”

“the food is ready! let’s eat it before it gets cold!”

he runs to the living room without waiting for you, and you seize the opportunity to squeal without a sound, punching the counter without actually punching— releasing the giddiness threatening to spill from the seams of your heart.

you don’t know if this is heading somewhere, nor do you expect it to, but where you are right now is a good place to be.

—

the movie playing on the screen has become more of a white noise to you, a family comedy far less fascinating compared to jungkook drizzling honey over strawberries and bread from a spoon. you wonder if he is aware how often he creates sound effects while he is doing something.

beside you, his body quakes with cackles during the scenes that an editor would definitely insert the classic sound of an audience’s collective laughter and holler. you stumble upon the understanding that his happiness lies in a myriad of things, and you would envy him for it if not for the fact that he is currently sharing that happiness with you. you laugh when he laughs, and being becomes a little less heavier at that moment.

another commercial break rudely interrupts and jungkook turns towards you. the two of you sit cross-legged, knees knocking against each other as you occupy nearly the entire sofa.

“hi!”

“hi.”

“what are your plans for the holidays?”

“my best friend’s family invited me to stay with them for christmas until the new year. it’s kind of been a tradition since…”

the end of your sentence hangs suspended in the air. you still can’t say it out loud.

jungkook knows they’re gone and you’re alone: only the plain and brutal truths.

the reminder that this is the third christmas you will not spend with your family; the thought that this would be the third christmas they would spend without you if the afterlife was real— they bring tears to your eyes at once, but you forcibly blink them away, shoving enthusiasm down your throat.

“how about you?” you take a bite from your toast, attempting to divert your thoughts to… anything else. “are you coming home?”

you hide so well behind a smile. it doesn’t occur to jungkook that his question rubbed salt on an open wound.

“i miss my mom but i can’t go home yet.” he pouts. “i have work on christmas day as usual. we’ve been preparing hard for it.”

“oh, that’s right! gayo daejeon?!”

he nods in confirmation.

the music festival has been an annual event for his group since they debuted, and he never feels the need to complain because not everyone is given this kind of opportunity. what’s extraordinary for most has become his ordinary, and what was once his ordinary like everybody else’s has simply become a thing of the past. nevertheless, he does not have regrets. he is living a good life, one that he believes is his fate. as long as he has a voice and it is being heard, then his existence has meaning.

“your family will surely watch you, so they’re still celebrating it with you in a way. making them proud is the best christmas gift you can give!”

and right now, in his life, you are the cherry on top. you were so cheerful and supportive about the final shows of their tour as well, raving about how amazing it is to perform three nights in a row at gocheok skydome.

“i’ll watch you too!”

he can’t help it— you’re driving him to be better at what he does. childishly, he wants show off and be the one to capture your heart.

“ah!” he groans. “that means i should work harder at practice tomorrow! i can’t mess up infront of you and my family!”

“why not me? you want to make me proud too?” you interrogate him jokingly.

“of course, it’s my job. it’s what i do best. i’ll make you see!”

“use me as motivation then. you can’t mess up, okay? you have to do well, jungkook! you better not make a mistake! my eyes will be focused on you only!”

his face is reminiscent of a deer caught in the headlights— the headlights being your wide, threatening eyes.

he releases a shaky sigh in dramatic fashion. “i don’t feel motivated, though? i’m getting pressured?”

you wheeze; the plate over your lap tilts along with its contents.

“this is tough love!”

jungkook nearly staggers to his feet. “…love?”

you roll your eyes, small corners of your lips still cheekily lifted. “was the french toast good?”

jungkook is interrupted before he can form a response.

“but if it tastes like shit, just lie to me!”

“what are you talking about?!”

oh my god, you’re too fucking good at making him laugh.

“you’re eating it too! you know it’s delicious!”

“maybe you got a bad batch!”

—

“i’m going to the laundry shop across the street. i’ll just be a minute.” you announce, hauling a laundry basket to the living room.

your strained grunts prompt jungkook to look up from his phone, and eventually to stand up with urgency and relieve you of your heavy, heavy burden.

“shit, how heavy is this?”

you’re not given a chance to protest as the basket is immediately stolen from your grasp; your lips part open but no words come out.

“i’ll come with you!”

“well, hopefully not more than twelve kilos.”

it’s definitely heavier than usual; mainly comprised of the thick and layered clothes you’ve been wearing to shield yourself from the unforgiving cold.

“let’s go.”

jungkook wraps his hand around your wrist, gently tugging. the butterflies in your stomach wakes up earlier than spring’s arrival.

“this thing is bigger than you.”

an extremely obvious exaggeration.

“i’ll be the one to carry it.“

—

jungkook wears a cap and a face mask underneath his hoodie, eyes barely even visible in his all-black getup for the public to see; and somehow you also find yourself with a scarf around your neck, pulled up over the bridge of your nose.

when the year 2017 rolled in, you predicted that more crazy, life-altering stuff would happen. it has been an on-going theme, a relentless domino effect that has brought you to your knees time and time again. but you never would’ve fucking imagined that this is how you would be wrapping it up. how the hell did you cross paths with a famous idol, and why is he carrying your laundry basket right now?

“wait here for a bit.” you bring both hands to the basket’s handles, coaxing him to let go. “i’ll just bring it inside.”

“are you only dropping it off? that’s expensive!”

“what?” you stare at him in bewilderment, not expecting him to utter such statement at all. “you’re talking like you’re not rich!”

“i’m not! and still,” jungkook becomes flustered underneath his disguise. “it’s good to be practical. anyway, we have a lot of time.”

“you sound more like a mom than my mom did.”

“shhh!” he shushes you, putting a finger over his face mask. “let’s just do your laundry ourselves.”

“why would you do laundry right now? you’re supposed to be resting in the first place!”

a tug of war ensues infront of the laundry shop. strangers doesn’t know better. you look like a married couple bickering over who should take responsibility of the chore.

“____, just let me, mhm? i’m a pro at doing laundry too! we’ll be done before you know it!”

“how are you good at everything? honestly, it sounds like a scam!”

“how dare you doubt me?” he gasps in offense. “i do my own laundry!”

“seriously?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“i’m serious!”

“i don’t think i believe you, though…”

“if you search online, you-” your voice echoes in his mind, and subsequently, jungkook cuts himself off.

‘it feels like cheating on a test. it’s more fun learning about you from you.’

“oh, nevermind. let’s go inside already. i’m freezing!”

“jungkook!” you whine, stomping your feet on the ground as you refuse to let go of the basket despite jungkook beginning to head inside.

“why?” he copies the childishness of your tone, and although you can’t see his face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you enough.

“we can’t…”

the adorable sight of you appearing to be so shy is foreign to him. he can’t help but to chuckle. “why not?”

your lips form a pout.

“my panties…”

you bring a finger to point at the basket.

“they’re in there too… i was only going to drop them off today because you came with me…”

“ah…” jungkook awkwardly freezes, unblinking. “wait, you’re right?”

why didn’t he think of that? he’s a fucking idiot. of fucking course. what if you take things the wrong way and you’re creeped out by him now?!

“fuck, sorry. i’m sorry. i wasn’t- um, i swear i wasn’t trying to…”

his tongue becomes tied, struggling to search for the words that won’t make him sound like a damn pervert.

yeah, way to go, jungkook. you’re not the fucking boyfriend yet and you’re ruining your chances.

“did i make you uncomfortable? i’m sorry. it probably looked li-”

“hey, breathe, calm down. it’s alright, jungkook.”

you giggle in amusement, placing a hand over his chest— his heart. it’s meant to ease him, but the knowledge that you’re feeling his racing heartbeat only causes it to further intensify. he swallows the lump in his throat, dumbfounded by the turn of events. he wants the ground to swallow him whole, but he also wants to stay in this moment a little while longer.

“it’s alright. i’ll go bring this inside then i’ll treat you to lunch at the restaurant over there! don’t run away from me, okay?”

—

“the yukgaejang looks good.” you utter absentmindedly, admiring the spicy beef soup with plentiful vegetables from afar. “i’m jealous of you.”

the other tables are already having a feast while you and jungkook are waiting for your take-out to be prepared.

“then you should’ve ordered it too.” jungkook scolds you lightheartedly. “should i go?”

“no! i’m not good with spicy food. spice makes me cry.”

he smiles softly. once again, you complete the picture from his eyes. “what is there to frown so sadly about?”

“i feel like i’m missing out.” you complain, the pout on your face almost permanent. “spicy food is like one of the trademarks of korea, you know? but i can’t handle it!”

“so cute…” jungkook has decided to give in to his impulses, it seems— the evidence is him pinching your cheek for the very first time, and with the discovery of its delightsome softness, it will definitely not be the last.

“oh, oh, oh! an eyelash!”

his doe eyes glisten with pure wonder and excitement, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended when his hand moves to tenderly cup the side of your face. as he is absorbed in capturing the tiny eyelash that has fallen and glued itself on your cheek, your mind reels with the size of his hand, the sensation of his innocent touch against your neck.

“aaand-” jungkook takes your hand, passing on the eyelash to your index finger. “there you go. make a wish!”

your eyes flicker down, and none of you speaks for a moment or two.

a wish…?

what does one wish for when they have given up on wishing for miracles?

“did you do it?”

you peek at jungkook, nodding. at last, you blow the eyelash away, outside the window, where it becomes one with the snowflakes that came from the same sky where wishes are supposedly granted.

“what did you wish for?”

“i’ll tell you when it comes true.”

—

jungkook eats so well— you feel full just by watching him eat. so when he asked you, eyebrows knitted and legs bouncing, if he could have more rice, you were left with no choice but to plug in the rice cooker for the second time today. you cooked only enough for two meals today: brunch and dinner for one. you’re more than happy to have given him the dinner portion. you like that your apartment is providing warmth for another soul, despite the old times that it housed ones that ended up haunting you.

“are there any more chores to do? while we wait for the rice?”

you gaze switches from him to the living room.

the boy who was knocking at your door is now vacuuming your floors.

you sit on the couch with your legs hugged to your chest, chin propped on your knees. an unexplainable feeling swims in your chest, but your heart calls to welcome it. not to be delusional, but technically, isn’t this a marriage proposal?

it falls on dear ears— the infuriating sound of the cheap vacuum cleaner your landlord lended you and never came back for. underneath it is jungkook’s mellifluous voice, humming and singing, and it’s all you can hear.

the only use you knew of honey is the magic it does with tea for a sore throat. when you learned about his demanding occupation, he is all you can think of in relation to the elixir. since then, you’ve been taking the god awful amount of honey your pesky neighbor provides without any complaints.

this is nice… this is good. you are glad that you opened the door.

—

after a hearty and satisfying meal, you and jungkook retired to your previous spots infront of the television screen. more of the snacks he bought for you ended up being shared. near your stacks of books are colorful food wrappers and half-empty glasses of water. two mediocre yet entertaining movies later, you tell jungkook that you should pick up your laundry before the shop closes in an hour. however, after he has excused himself to the bathroom, he is greeted by the sight of you peacefully asleep on the sofa.

once more, a new side of you is laid bare, and his affection grows. he doesn’t know when he can admire your face this close again without melting from your stare.

heedful of disturbing your much deserved rest, he carefully places a pillow beneath your head, and he pulls down the blanket you’re wrapped in to cover your cold feet.

with one last stolen glimpse, he grabs your key and receipt from the bowl and leaves.

—

“is it time for you to leave?” you delicately rub at your eyes that are still half-closed; voice quiet, barely there.

you were awoken by the front door opening and closing, but nothing has quite registered to your fuzzy brain yet, except for the coat that you neatly kept and is already re-worn by its owner.

and he knows you’re most probably just sleepy, but the way you’re gazing at him as if you’re sad to see him go makes his heart clench.

“no, i picked up your laundry.” he enlightens you, consciously speaking with refined tenderness, as to preserve the serenity that has enveloped the atmosphere. “i can stay until eight. is that okay?”

you release a weary sigh, nodding. “of course… and you’re such a nice friend, thank you.”

he plops down on the sofa, filling the jungkook-shaped space beside you.

tired… you’re so tired… despite the given privilege to finally sleep to your heart’s content, you’re still so tired. your forehead lands softly on his shoulder, and unbeknownst to you due to your stupor, jungkook’s breath hitches— the polar opposite of the steady rise and fall of your chest. you make him swoon. he deliberately ignores the fact that you just called him a friend.

you peer down at the floor, past the curtain of your disheveled hair, slowly blinking. those ridiculous toe socks… you giggle in secret.

“jungkook?”

“yes?”

“are you cold?”

“freezing.”

you lift your head and he knows— you have to be playing games with his heart, bringing the temptation to kiss you so painfully close. “do you want some tea?”

—

the performance has commenced but the passionate screams of the audience still rings in jungkook’s ears as he runs backstage, chased by the staff attempting to wipe the sweat he is practically bathing in. he squeezes one eye shut as beads of sweat threaten to enter it. his chest heaves with exhaustion and his heart pumps with overwhelming adrenaline. most of the time, this job doesn’t feel real. he feels high. this is the textbook definition of a dream.

“where’s my phone? please? does anyone have it?” he yells in the midst of the chaos and clamor as he completely strips off his in-ears.

a hand reaches towards him with the device, and his expression of gratitude gets lost somewhere among the repetitive reminders of the remaining time before they should have returned to their designated seats.

he allows the hair and make-up stylists to do their jobs, him as their doll in need of a retouch. on the other hand, he impatiently waits for his phone to power on.

the tapping of jungkook’s foot ceases, and from his glowing reflection on the vanity mirror, the clueless people surrounding him witnesses love strike.

guess my eyelash wish worked like a charm. your performances went really well

and you looked so cool on stage ☺️

merry christmas jungkook ❤️

“jungkook-ah, what are you smiling at?!”

seokjin cackles. jungkook didn’t even notice him roll his chair so close. he then decides to play dumb to tease their youngest one.

“wow, who is this ____ you’re texting?”

“hyung!” jungkook panics, hissing underneath his breath. “lower your voice!”

“ouch!” seokjin yells, rubbing his arm that was hit as a punishment.

he allows a moment of silence.

his expression goes blank and he avenges himself.

“ah!” jungkook gasps as the slap on his thigh resonates, forced to be ripped away from overthinking a text message. “hyung! you better start running!”

Draft: i know it’s late.. but can i see you later?|

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taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

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[blkgirl-writing]

The massive list of SFW and NSFW Gale Dekarios headcanons

Gale of Waterdeep x Reader (Gn! for the most part)

A/N: the more I write Gale, the more in love with him I am. I started this before patch 5 and haven't been able to play it myself, so whoopsies if I just have to make another one of these. Lots of requests included in this one, to be expanded on later!

Gale is the most caring partner in the whole group. Followed by karlach and Wyll

He would much rather do everything for you than anything for him

This means he often over extends himself for you and you have to convince him to let you help him

Quality time and words of affirmation are his main love languages. All he wants is time alone with you, and he will do so much to make that happen

Gale actually sets up his tent to be as comfortable as possible because you don't have your own tent, and he doesn't mind at all if you sleep in his

eventually you basically just sleep in his tent exclusively, platonically at the moment. Sleeping on other sides or with a blanket between you

It isn't until you wake up from a particularly bad nightmare that your accidental touches aren't followed by apologies. Not quite embracing but not flinching away

He held you that night, wrapping his arms around you, his hands were big, soft, and comforting. He didn't speak until you did, who knows how long that was. All he said was "You're safe. It's ok."

────⊱⁜⊰────

He truly believes he doesn’t deserve you and that weighs kind of heavy on him

That shows in his body movements, confidence, still hesitant to be close to you physically in an extremely subtle way

With more flirting, more talking, more late nights close together, but still apart, still a gap in your embrace

Gale is still in touch with his sexuality and sex, but sex is different than love making. And he knew, when he fully let you in, when he’s finally stable and his mind, body, and soul were ready, he’d make love to you

Your first time together was for the most part, pretty talked through. You set your boundaries and safe word pretty fast

He’d stop at some point, pull back and just admire you

Stop is used lightly because he’s definitely still inside you and just very slowly still pumping in and out of you

“You’re absolutely ravishing.”

And he’d give himself fully to you

Gods he’d be all over you after, so touchy, even if not sexual in nature, any tough felt electric

Gale holds your waist more than your hand, it feels more romantic, showing you off to the world as someone that chose him. It’s really sweet, the first time he does it, he hand trembled a bit, he thought he was smooth enough for you not to tell but you could definitely feel it

Don’t get me wrong, he is confident and cocky at times, everyone knows that. But with you somehow, he feels nervous that you deserve more than he could give

Part of your early relationship is making sure he knows he’s wanted and loved and more than anything you could have wished for

────⊱⁜⊰────

Cuddling is always fun because it usually end up with fucking

If you’re the big spoon? He becomes such an angel and snuggles into your touch

If he’s big spoon he’s immediately turned on by everything, you being so close into him, your ass pressed against him, so many beautiful places for him to touch

Always ends in side fucking, just pulling your underwear down just enough to grind his cock on your bare ass

It’s also just convenient and easy if you’re getting busy while the others are sleeping in camp

But many days your time has you weak and just ready for rest, but you're both more horny than tired

that's when mutual masturbation becomes a daily routine, which never really leaves, even when you aren't as tired and have more privacy

he likes you call you his cherished work of art, seeing you spread for him is like a painting

────⊱⁜⊰────

One night in baldurs gate, you stay up into the morning drinking and talking in a bar, they only kicked you out when they literally were an hour last close, keeping it open because you had bought so much

It was literally anything, just talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Past pets, stupid haircuts growing up, embarrassing failures

That was the night everyone else really realized how deeply in love you two were

Like sure there was romance but real true love, with sparks

They absolutely made fun of you when you finally stumbled to your camp and passed out all day crammed into the small one person beds

I like to believe Astarion drew a stick figure version of y’all’s sleeping position to make fun of you when you woke

────⊱⁜⊰────

Once you’ve moved in with him he gets more and more turned on by you every day

You could be doing nothing and he’d grab your thigh and give you such a dirty look of lust

Not even three months in and ya'll have fucked on every surface possible, knocked over many books, and accidentally broke a vase and a bit in the shower

For the most part, your cozy days consist of him reading, and you beside him, feet resting on his lap

If you're a bard, of course he's going to ask you to practice and play around him and while you relax together, his favorite sounds all come from your sweet melodies

if you drink you definitely share a bottle of wine throughout the day

When Gale get's tipsy he just gets lovey and nerdy

telling you about a favorite bit of history or a spell, interrupting himself to compliment you "Gods you're beautiful, have I told you that today, dear?" and "And that's how the stars fell in love with- that top is stunning my love, mind if I take it off?"

cooking is fun yet very stressful unless he has a drink in hand

it's his kitchen and he's not used to company in it, so he often bumps into you or doesn't know where to say something is, so he just ends up getting it for you

I have a feeling this man is super into coffee and the roasts

like he's an absolute snob over it. A whole glass cupboard is dedicated to bags of coffee from where ever he travels

"Just too dark of a roast, it muddies the hazelnut flavor" (yes I believe he's a whole bean light roast lover)

Maybe you get a normal, non-speaking cat for yourself and just to have a bigger family in your home

I'd imagine a very reckless black or ginger cat who tara takes a VERY long time to love

but it's your and Gales cat. It's a thing you own together and love dearly

There's also a self of cards, board games, etc, for your date nights in

Gale legitimately is just as happy if you win than if he, if not more happy for you

He often takes a while to take his turn because he's distracted by you

super sweet but makes games feel much longer

────⊱⁜⊰────

@shyminnie07 @makers-breath @claryvoyantfray @black-sapphic @fapqueen

(Consider supporting me on Ko-fi)

[domain-expand-me]

I've been going bonkers over Megumi x DILF!Reader because I know that boy has some serious daddy issues, having the reader being completely oblivious and doing things that definitely get the boy hot and nervous is MY SHIT.

I would love to see you expand on your writing about DILF/MILF reader with Megumi a bit more

Imagine

Megumi Fushiguro with a DILF!reader

Aged up characters, reader is in theirs 40s, cuz when i say dilf i mean it.

Imagine being the stereotypical dilf. Body broad and covered in a layer of fat, laying on top of strong muscles that comes from many years of physical labor. After moving into the house near the sorcerer campus, maybe after you got divorced, you somehow end up attracting the different sorcerers in the area.

But most of all, Megumi sticks around the most. You don’t truly notice at first, too busy digging around under the hood of whatever junker car you spend your time on, or banging around in your garage or shed like the most stereotypical dilf. But you start seeing him more and more, and at some point, you just start telling him to hand you different tools or help you out with your yard.

The first time you pat him on the back and praise him for helping, he goes bright red and immediately feels how hard he gets. Being oblivious and just thinking hes sticking around to be nice, you just ruffle his hair and move on, unaware of the way Megumi feels like his knees were about to buckle.

The other members from the campus notice pretty quickly where Megumi runs off to each day. Well, maybe not Yuji, but the others figure it out quicker than Megumi wants. Him returning with oil stains and wearing one of your ancient band t-shirts doesn’t help his case though.

Imagine Megumi realizing he has a huge daddy kink because of you. You jokingly say something like “who’s your daddy” after doing some kind of difficult task, and Megumi almost drops the toolbox he’s holding, blood rushing to both his heads, and he has to use the toolbox to cover the throbbing bulge in his pants.

Imagine Megumi coming to you for “dating advice”, since he wouldn’t be able to find it in himself to just make a move on you. Instead, he gets your dating history, and all the moves you pulled to get your ex. When he learns you are also into men, he almost has a heart attack. Maybe you’ve been drinking, having also offered Megumi some, since who are you to stop, and as you a slightly tipsy, you end up describing the best way to go down on someone in bed, and how to make a partner stay just from rocking their world on the regular.

Megumi ends up laying in bed later that night, teary eyed and huffing the shirt you let him borrow that day, his other hand tugging at his aching hard shaft, his entire body shaking and jolting from overstimulation as he made himself come over and over just thinking about you.

Imagine Megumi buying his first personal toy because of you. One day when you are laying by your pool, a pool you built yourself with Megumi’s help, naked as you assume you are alone, and you are too old to feel ashamed of your body. He gets a nice view of your cock, and even though its soft, he stumbles over his feet to hurry back to campus to take care of his very aching problem.

He spends a couple of lust fueled hours finding the perfect shape and size, getting a toy that has your skin tone. The next morning what one might call late post-orgasm clarity hits him. But when Megumi gets the package, he still squirrels it away, ashamed to use it. That is, until you just wind the poor boy up too much, walking around shirtless and sweaty, baseball cap on your head and shorts from your college days.

Imagine Megumi fingers deep in himself as he tries his damnest to suck down the entire length of the toy, tears gathering in his eyes as his gag reflex struggles against the silicone being forced down his throat.

Imagine Megumi clutching the sweaty shirt you had been wearing that day to his nose as he bounces on the toy, his own hard cock bouncing with his movements as he whines and whimpers, licking and sucking at the shirt that tastes and smells just like your sweaty manly musk.

Imagine how lightheaded he gets when he comes, having to choke down the noises he makes so as to not let everyone on campus know what he’s doing. Afterwards Megumi flops down on the bed, his entire frame shaking from the aftershocks of his orgasm as he pants into the sheets. His shaft gives another twitch when he takes another inhale of your shirt, the spikey haired sorcerer pushing himself up again, sinking down on the toy once more even as his insides throb from sensitivity.

Megumi would be too nervous and flushed around you to make a move on his own, at least when you are sober. But if you happen to be a little more than tipsy one day, sitting on your couch, trying to find something worth to watch on the tv, he might find the bravery and balls to crawl into your lap. If you ask about it the next day, he can just act like it was something your mind made up, right? So for now, he could indulge himself, grinding against you like a pup in heat, panting into your neck as your strong large hands grope at his hips and ass, your deep voice rumbling praise in his ear.

[jolapeno]

xii. just say yes, just say there's nothing holding you back

javier peña x f!reader | chapter twelve of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: the last chapter (before the epilogue), feel that needs to be a warning. two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love ✨ wordcount: 4.2k. (i did try to cut it down but she kept growing)

an: here we are. i have been a mess since finishing the draft of this and i hope it means as much to you, as it does to me. this marks the end of the current timeline for this pair (the epilogue will span snippets from their future, some of which i'd love to expand on later when i'm less emotional).

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Javi’s day begins like so many others.

Light bleeding into his room, the wind’s whispers pulling him from sleep, gently gesturing for him to wake and be one with them.

It does so in soft yellows and splashes of orange as his curtains puffed up and danced—casting playful shadows over the furniture and the clutter that make up his room.

If he could, he’d rather roll over—abandon responsibility and return to his dreams.

He doesn’t, and never will. A silent promise he’d made to himself when he returned—having opened his eyes to see how much slower his Pop was—to do the heavy lifting.

It’s why he slides his hand across his bedside table, fingers finding the edge of his phone—pinching the bridge of his nose. The soft glow makes his eyes sting as they squint. Usually, there’s nothing new, but he likes to read back on a few of your messages—it helping to start his day right. 

Today, though, he finds something already waiting for him.

Morning baby, dreamt of you last night.

He doesn’t mean to, but he closes his eyes. 

Allows his hand to glide up over his face. Palm flat, the part where it meets his wrist running over the curve of his nose, before resting lower, hiding the stupid, foolish grin you somehow manage to pull from him. The one you conjure without even being here. 

The effect you have on him makes him want to pinch himself. Almost does. Just a little one. A need to check he wasn’t dreaming—wasn’t lost somewhere in the most prolonged fantasy he’s ever experienced. 

He knows he isn’t from the way his alarm chirps, turning it off with a slam of his hand—returning his fingers to his face, sliding through the front of his hair. Quickly urging his brain to kick into gear, enough to respond at least.

But, the only conscious thought he has is: What good have you done to even deserve her?

It’s a continuous thought. One which runs on a loop in some distant corner of his brain. It there hiding in the shadows since Houston, since he had the chance to hold you, hear you whisper his name as he made you sing.

The thought had been louder since you’d told him you wanted to come to the ranch. It stands in the forefront, prominent, bold. It’s even made a home for itself at the foot of his bed this morning, holding a sign in the same writing your note to him was in: 

Do not fuck this up, Javier. 

As if he has any control over it.

Fucking up follows him, gravitates and slams into him. He knows he can count the times and run out of fingers when ‘fucking up’ has messed up his plans. His life. His future. A brief population of them arising in cloudy bubbles behind his eyes—ghostly faces of people he’s failed, the scenes from things he’s done, the hand he’s been dealt by choosing wrong—

Blinking them away, he swallows. Taking a breath, loosening the tightness of his chest. Returning his fingers to the keys, he focuses his attention back to you.

morning baby what you doing awake

In truth, he already knows. Knew before he’d managed to rub the sleep from his eyes with his thumb and index—but he asks all the same. 

For the confirmation; the routine of it all. Because, even if it has always been hard for him to keep, he likes that the two of you have that. That you both have fallen into this dance so easily, so normally.

When he’d been in Colombia, invited to dinners with Connie and Steve, he’d wondered how they did it. How they understood one another, moved in fluidity around one another. Spoke the same language, even without spilling any words. His mouth chewing his cheek, hand scraping across his chin—attempting to crack the puzzle in front of him.

Now he has the answer. It simple, more than he thought it could be. That it’s natural, not forced, not something you can make happen or choose.

It’s not even that early. Going over my notes, keep feeling like I’ve missed something.

He snorts because he knows you.

There’s not a thing you’d have missed. Too clever for that, too aware.

Closing his eyes for another second, Javi steals a second of the quiet, until he hears Pop moving around, sparking to life squeaky floorboards and groaning walls.

It's rare that he has the chance to text you over his morning coffee.

The hour is usually not one where he finds you awake. Today, he likes that you are. A feeling swarming through his insides, doubling at the realisation that tomorrow you’ll be here in person.

He’ll get the chance to see you smile—the one that both warms a room and makes him feel like he’s arrived in heaven, all at once. A smile that makes it hard for him not to kiss it, savour the taste of it—feel you muffle out his name against it as you both will him to stop and clutch him closer.

you excited to be reunited with your jacket Mi chaqueta favorita y mi persona favorita. look at you learning quickly It’s easy when your professor promises you things if you do well. what does he promise hermosa Filthy things, Javi. sounds like hes rather inappropriate Oh he is. Asks me what underwear I'm wearing all the time. But he does have a great tongue, so it's worth i.

It’s hard to muffle his laugh.

A sound that he thinks the radio will have to compete with when you’re here, at the table—enjoying toast and coffee.

He’ll be lost in it, even if no one else is. Watching how your laugh shimmers across your face, witnessing the explosion of light that it brings. Like a firework, illuminating everything in its path.

Running his hand over his chin, he bites back a grin. One spawned from knowing he’ll have that in the next few days. You, in his home, laughing. It able to radiate and dance around his things and the things he’s always known.

Javi would have the chance to be able to touch you, pull you close by the legs of the chair, and bury his nose into your hair, smelling the sweetness of your shampoo, as he enjoys the feel of your giggle vibrating through your bones to his—the bass of it making his heart skip in his chest.

Fuck. He misses you.

It crawling up him, having softened him—scraped down and smoother over the hardened edges that the years of corruption and failure had created.

Licking his lips, he’s about to reply when he spots his Pop glancing at him over the top of the newspaper. Brow arched, half his face hidden, but Javi isn’t fucking stupid, he knows he’s grinning at him.

“What?”

“You okay, Javi? You’ve usually started by now?”

“Sí, lo sé. I’m going, Pop. Alright.”

One of the earliest things Javi learnt was that you’re a planner, an organiser.

He was able to witness it in small doses in Houston. Even if you had tried to squirrel it away, hide 85 from him.

He supposed, from the thing you’ve told him, you had to be. Plus, he imagined—like his former profession—it was almost a requirement. A need for a roadmap always there, a backup plan just in case of extremes.

So, for how much planning the two of you (you, mainly) had done the first time, the second time, in comparison, seemed to be chaos. You mumbled dates, times. There was a rough, outlined plan that made even Javi feel unorganised. If anything, it would be better to call it a loose, barely even well-organised idea, never mind a plan.

He had asked—numerous times during your phone calls. 

Rather than helping him, your voice crooned down, begging for a clue instead, claiming, "We have days to talk about this, baby", but not many days to "Finish this crossword".

And fuck was he a slave to the way you whined his name when he interrupted the puzzle to ask something about dates, length of stay, and airport pick-up times.

Now, though, days is tomorrow—and Javi hasn’t got a fucking clue what he’s doing.

He’s aware he’s picking you up from somewhere, at an unknown time, with you on an unannounced flight.

But, the stress is mounting, beginning to grow, prickling and wrapping itself around his back.

He supposes the lack of a concrete plan is why it’s so easy for it to come apart. It fraying, all toyed and played with by his fingers and avoided by your own.

Because it was never much to begin with.

In your defence, you couldn’t have banked on Pop finally being able to book in his truck at the stop. The one which hadn’t sounded the same in a while, never mind acted like it—the one very much needing to be fixed if Javi was going to continue to have a good relationship with his father.

It’s why he knew it needed to be done. He just couldn’t wrap his head around why the universe would decide now was the time it would align it to be fixed. 

Selfishly, he had wanted to tell his Pop no when he’d interrupted him to tell him. Wanting to say they’d sort it once you’d gone back—because he needed his vehicle.

Because Javi knows the people in this town, and knows how the universe works when it involves him. The truck wouldn’t be in the shop 'just for today'—it would be days. It would bleed out and ruin his plans of showing you all the places he loves in his hometown. His Pop needing to run ‘small errands’—ones that never remained as such when they involved Chucho Peña.

He knows this because if they actually needed something urgently, he’d be the one sent. Just like when he was a kid, and his bike wheels cut through dirt and fields.

But he bit his tongue all the same, placing the keys in his Pop’s hand so he can do what it is he needs to do. His arms crossed over, gripping his biceps' backs as he watches the tow take away the truck.

Knowing deep down, once he had you here, he wouldn’t care if the truck was even in the state, as long as he had you.

“How many errands you runnin’ anyway?”

Adjusting his hat, his Pop gives him that look. The one which tells him he hasn’t got a clue and not to stress. A look he finds he despises more now, post-Colombia, than before. “Don’t worry, mijo. I’ll fill her up for you.”

Except he won’t.

His Pop always forgets something. Usually, the thing most essential. It's why, naturally, Javi had factored it into his new plan, the one he’d been scrambling together when he mucked out the stable. 

What he had yet to bank on was that someone above was laughing at each plan he made. His fresh, newly organised one came apart again, before he'd even begun to head back to the stables.

This time, in text form. Your message arriving, punching into the gentle breeze and sunny mid-morning.

Okay, I’m leaving the motel now, wish me more than luck because I need this.

His feet come to a standstill. Dust kicked up, swirling around his calves as he read your message once, twice—

Then, his stomach drops, not just to the floor, but out of his body. Exiting out of him so quickly, he’s sure the rest of his organs have whiplash from it vanishing so quickly.

Heat spreading, sweat building, his body suddenly being consumed by panic—its tendrils sliding around his ribs, pecking at his lungs and heart as he tries to steady his breath.

I thought it was tomorrow No, today, silly. when did you fly in Yesterday, I told you this. The interview is today.

He’s unsure if his fingers have ever typed so fast, sweat beading on his brow—damp on his palms. Because no, you didn’t. Which meant—

“Fuck.”

It rips from his throat and flutters over the field, his eyes squinting, head turned in the direction of his truck—the one being sparked to life. Tyres sounding in the gravel. His feet not quick enough, not enough to outrun a vehicle—

“Fuckin’ fuck.”

youre gonna do amazing baby

I think I’m going to be sick. Which is normal right?

just try to breathe and remember that no one can do this job like you

I think the other people up for it would beg to differ, but I like how you support me.

tonight we’ll be celebrating

How are we planning on doing that?

i think i’ll buy you wine and then i’ll make your toes curl

Have to get the job first, Javi.

you will

And you’d need to know what time I’m arriving since you forgot it was today.

didnt forget baby

You handsome liar. I have to go, so we will resume this after I’ve gone and wowed them.

just be you. its how you wowed me

Javi is panicking. 

His hand almost dropped the house phone on the last call, a cramp forming from ringing every place he suspected his Pop would visit. 

And, because this was him, none of them had seen him in days—never mind today. They all sweetly asked if he was okay, like he had time to kill—had the time to catch up and hear how their son wanted to be a detective or their daughter was single.

He knew he could have been more polite, could have been nicer to some of them. Imagining your face when he tells you, that soft way you say his name, almost full of judgement and disappointment, but not quite able to embrace it fully. 

When he replaces the handset, he swears. Fingers massaging the side of his temple, outwardly silent—but inwardly loudly—ticking, his feet taking him outside before he begins to pace. 

Usually, listening to the sounds of the wind in the trees helps.

Today, he's not sure anything can. Thoughts of you standing at the airport, sad, abandoned, feeling forgotten hammer against his skull. His chest tightens at the thought, guilt eating away at his insides as each little sound makes his head lift and his ears turn. 

But, Javi isn't able to move when he hears the noticeable sound of wheels in the gravel and dirt. Almost worried he'd made it up, dreamt it, until he hears the horn. 

His horn. 

Wiping his arm across his forehead, Javi takes strides out of the distance—it takes all of his willpower not to check his phone. Not repeatedly check it, anyway.

Because you’re being quiet. Again.

Have been for the last two and a bit hours.

Admittedly, he’s not sure how long these things take, but the gap between your last message and now has expanded to the point that worry has begun to set in. What if you’re waiting for him? His mind pulls at the doubts he's forced into the darkness. What if you’ve changed your mind? His thoughts attempting to run away from themselves. His fingers and muscles, tendons and bones flexing as he turns the corner of the back of the house.

The stress, panic and worry merge inside of him, all beginning to knot. Clumping. Mashing with the earlier excitement to create a concoction that makes want to vomit.

Mad at himself that he should have known something would happen. His gut instinct off, having been tricked by how lovely the morning was, future days lulling him into a false sense of security.

He should know better. Javi had become well acquainted with things going explosively wrong in Colombia. He’d just hoped he could have spared it from touching you, from tainting what the two of you have.

The dismay flickers down his legs as the soles of his boots crunch loudly against the ground, steps all heavy, weighted. Trying to focus on the usual dread he feels at whatever the fuck his Pop has brought back with him this time. Discount slabs, sacks of tomatoes, new fence pillars—Javi has even seen him come back with more wooden slats to fix something he hadn’t even known was broken. Rather than paying attention to the longing and sadness he’s secretly feeling.

When he turns the final corner of the house, he sees it—his vehicle. His eyes spot the lights cutting out and then that the bed of his vehicle is empty—a thank fuck falling from his lips in a whisper.

Relief barely has a chance to soak in when Javi spots that his Pop isn’t alone. Annoyance flares, shooting through him as his jaw tightens. Until he narrows his eyes, attempts to look closer through the dirt-stained window, seeing what looks like a woman. Their head turned—a side profile that looks—

Swallowing, he blinks.

Must be a trick of the light, he thinks, shaking his head, wiping the sweat, sun and dirt from his eyes.

It has to be a mis-sight. His brain addled from worry, it now making him lose his mind.

Purposefully blinking it away, wincing at the brightness when he hears the noise of a door opening, then another—trying to stop his heart from getting away from itself, hammering and thumping as he watches his Pop step out, hoisting the back of his jeans up as he nods at him.

“Mijo.”

There's a smirk. It scratched into his Pop’s face—yet, his voice is so normal, all forced, a pretence. It not matching the look on his face. The one all mischievous and devious. A devilish smirk outlined by white hair and a twinkle in his eye that Javi cannot remember the last time he’s seen.

It’s why his attention drifts and slides, watching the other person—you—move around the back of the truck.

He’d spot you anywhere.

His body comes to the conclusion, before his brain. His shoulders drop—all of the stress melting—taking worry and annoyance with it. Something hooks in the corner of his lips, dragging them up to his cheek as he watches you glance at his Pop with a smile. That same one he hasn’t stopped picturing, dreaming of—before you land it back on him.

You’re here.

You.

Today.

Your chin dips, but he sees how high your cheeks are on your face as you watch him through your lashes. The two of you move, crossing the ground, cutting through the path to meet somewhere in the middle. Gravel crunching, dirt swirling like smoke at both of your feet. 

“Surprise, charmer.”

He snorts, not stopping until his arms wrap around you, colliding with you. It doesn’t hurt. If anything, he realises how much he’s been hurting since he let you get on the plane to begin with. Pieces of him sliding back into place—healing, fixing.

“How?” he asks, whispering it against your face.

Unwrapping his arms, he watches you stare up at him before he glances at his Pop—grin smothered by wiry white all over again, paused at the bottom of the stairs to the house, tipping his hat:

“She made me promise, mijo.”

Shrugging, you wipe your thumb across your bottom lip. “I did. Don’t be mad.”

“Mad?” he asks, cupping your cheek and tilting your head. “I’m not… not even a little bit. I’m just…”

“I know I didn’t get the Houston job.”

His heart breaks a fraction, hand rubbing your arm, hearing the door to the ranch open and close in the distance. “I know, baby. You’ll—“

“But I did get offered the one from today.” Nodding, you smile before your teeth bite down on your bottom lip. “Apparently, I am very impressive—was going to be poached, anyway. Seems my skills are transferable enough to work for imports. A job that, I'm not sure if you know, wouldn't be in Houston. Like I let you believe.”

He feels a frown beginning to appear—attempting to weave itself through the joy already etched into his face. The rest of him trying to catch up, trying to piece together the nuts and bolts, the corners and edge pieces of the puzzle from the statements you’ve drip-fed him since you first told him about it.

“The job, Javi, would be here. At the World Trade Bridge.”

He feels it, the way his face smooths as he processes it. Acknowledges it. A bubble, a flutter of wings, appears in his chest, a new one arriving with every nugget he manages to process.

“He asked me if I fancied relocating—when he offered me the interview. It wasn’t quite Houston, something he apologised for. But, here, in Laredo. I had the interview this morning. If I accept, I’d be here, Javi. in Laredo. Which I know is a lot closer than Houston, so…”

“Baby.”

You press your palm to his chest. “I rang for you—to tell you. I had wanted to keep it to myself initially, just in case. Then, when I was helping Aish pack, she said it would be a nice surprise. Then, the guilt got too much. But I was a bit too excited to see who it was on the phone… and your Dad says hello in the same way, and by the time I’d told you—him—everything, your Dad was offering to pick me up, to bring me here.”

His face softens, a smile widening. Practically engulfing every other thing his face could even show, one that hurts it's so large.

“I can completely understand if you’d rather us keep some miles between us,” you smile. “Thought, though, if you’re as serious about me as I am about you, we could make the decision together.”

His hand cups both cheeks, brushing his thumb over your skin. “I want you.”

“I want you too.”

“Take the job, move here—move in—“

“Your dad already offered that,” you laugh, tipping your head forward, forehead pressing to his chest.

And, it's likely you can hear how his heart is hammering—maybe even feel it through his shirt. All loud and heavy. It doing it all for you.

“And, as lovely as the offer is, I get a nice relocation package—and I think, don’t be upset, that I’d want my own place. Just for a bit.”

Dragging his thumbs across your cheek. He stares into your eyes, aiming to burn the words he’s about to say into them. “How could I be upset when I’d have you here, cariño?”

Your lips slide into your cheek, a shy smile forming. “We could do those dates you talked about? I know I would see you all the time anyway, but I think I’ve been reckless enough lately. I’d like to be a tiny bit sensible, and do the proper dating thing where I cook for you at mine, and you invite me to sleep over at yours. Y'know? Just for a short time.”

“So, are you…”

“I haven’t accepted, not yet. Like I said, I wanted us to make that decision. As a couple. I… I guess I also wanted to check I still wasn’t too much?”

He lets out a breath, fingers sliding further up your cheek.

Unsure how he can even find words enough to explain how not too much you are. But he doesn’t try. Instead, he closes the gap, pressing his nose to yours, hoping his lips tell you instead.

Feeling you grasp at him, pulling him close. Feeling warmth, fire and adoration erupting in his chest when your mouth moves against his, soft, all perfect. Utter fucking bliss. A kiss he's longed for and missed so much, he's sure he's floating. 

Only stopping when you pull back, hand sliding round to his chest—grinning, all teeth and sparkling eyes.

“I should go accept, right?”

He kisses you again, shorter, more chaste, but with the same abundance of emotions. “Lemme show you where the phone is.”

“The infamous one?”

His hand rises to take yours, looping his fingers, finding you fall into place beside him—just as easily as the two of you had done in Houston. “The very one. Can show you where I hit my knee that time.”

“Oh, when you almost cried?”

“Ay, cariño. None of that.” His head shakes.

Fuck is it something to hear you laugh. How it leaves your lips, your other hand wrapping around his arm, head burying against him as he tilts his head to watch. Knowing he’s grinning, knowing he’s never been happier.

He’s also pretty sure the entire ranch just began smiling, too.

Since the first time he heard your voice, his dreams have all been so similar. 

They are full of white sheets—soft-yellow sun rays dancing in from the outside through his blinds. They’d illuminate the bed, showcasing the outline of a person that he always knew was you. 

This morning, Javi woke to find it wasn’t a dream.

You're curled up close to him, thigh over his. His off-white sheets tucked around your body—face bare, stunning and pretty, lashes resting against your cheeks.

“Why’re you watching me sleep?”

Smirking, he traces his hand over your hip, giving you a pinch. “Jus’ admiring.”

“Can you do that at a sensible hour?”

He places a kiss on your nose, feeling your sigh against his skin before your hips move under his palm as you try to get closer. The barest of gaps between the two of you—as there had been since your arrival yesterday.

“For me, this is a sensible hour.”

You groan, deep—almost playful. “Shh, baby. Someone kept me awake late.”

“Some else didn’t seem to mind. I have teeth marks on my hand to prove it.”

He feels you hum, turning your head to look up at him before pressing a soft kiss to his chin. One that makes his throat dry, forces his hand to tighten its hold on you. The usual knot inside him smoothing out, everything in his veins calming. A feeling he had in Houston, which is now humming just as prominent here. 

The logistics for your move were glazed over last night, once you’d accepted, once his Pop had handed him a bottle of wine with a wink before 'heading out'. The two of you on the porch, wine in your hand and beer in his head. Tomorrow, Javi? We can plan it all tomorrow. Hand sliding over his. Just want to enjoy being with you right now, especially when we have forever. 

Tracing a circle on your hip, he traces his eyes over your face. “I’m so glad you mistyped that number, cariño.”

His words make your eyes open, watching your pupils swallow the colour—seeing how you focus, how your eyes begin to shine, and your smile begins to widen.

Hand rising to his cheek, your fingers delicately strumming his skin. “So glad you were intrigued about my bad date.” Your fingers pause, stopping at the side of his lip. “And that you were bored and lonely.”

Your eyes slide from his eyes to his lips and back again. “I’m even more glad to be yours, baby.”

Groaning, he slides his hand to your thigh, hooking it over his leg. “Say that again.”

“I’m yours.”

His nose slides against yours, lips lazily capturing yours. “Again.”

“Yours,” you whisper, mouth brushing his. “All yours.”

“Fuck, you’re perfect.”

Sliding your fingers into his hair, you ghost a smile across his lips. “I am, aren’t I?”

AN: there are so many people to thank, but I'll save that for next week. for now, thank you for reading. for trusting me. for trusting that i was going to give them the ending they deserved. i know we have moments from their future next week, but for now, i love you, i love them, and i love that i had the chance to tell a story i really wanted to tell. this story made me feel like I was a part of the fandom for the first time since I really joined, and I hope you’ll all continue to be as loving and wonderful for the next thing I write.

anon inbox is now open for anyone who wants to scream love (hopefully) but I won't post anything with spoilers until Thursday 7pm BST.

[jenscx]

MY DARLING — jang wonyoung x f!reader

you were just living a quaint life in a bookstore, until a stranger barges in on a rainy day, evidently changing your life.

TAGS — very fluffy, princess!wonyoung, slight angst, jealousy (tiny), commoner!yn, flirty wony

WORDCOUNT — 3.9k

the 10th of august, 1820. you sigh at the raindrops splashing against the glass windows, tinted with a slight hue of blue. the bookstore was rarely this quiet but with everything going on in the royal castle, perhaps it was to be expected.

“no customers yet?” you whip your head up, frowning. eunbi, the owner of the bookstore and the one who had raised you, stood at the top of the flight of creaky, wooden stairs. you shake your head, “aren’t the nobles trying to popularise reading? i don’t think it is working too well.”

eunbi laughs. “sure. the literature we sell here isn’t too demanding of their literary skills. and the nobles only flock to poetry, maybe it’s time we expanded our small library.”

your eyes brighten at the thought of an increased variety of books. even though you adored the selection here, it was starting to get quite boring. the constant romance themes evident in every single book was rather… annoying.

“hm, perhaps we should close up for the day, it’s rather late and the rain is heavy. i don’t think anyone else will bear with the storm just for a quick read,” eunbi suggests and you comply immediately, packing up the stacks of papers standing tall at the counter. you were just scribbling on them to rid your boredom.

“i’ll be upstairs if you need me,” she calls out before heading up once more. you sigh again. just as you were about to close the curtains shut, the door slams open and you almost squeal.

a mysterious hooded figure stands before you, heaving up and down as quick breathes escape them.

“uhm, apologies but we are closing for the day,” you say. the figure turns and you roll your eyes. their cloak was dripping rainwater all over the mahogany wood floors that you had just polished that morning!

“terribly sorry for the intrusion,” they (you raise an eyebrow at the feminine voice) mumble, “i needed a place to get away.”

“right, i don’t really care because you are ruining my flooring, so could you take that damn cloak off?”

the person immediately does so, revealing the white fitted bodice that clung to the woman’s skin, almost translucent and you feel a blush creeping up your neck.

“you are… soaked.”

“yes, quite obviously.”

you turn away from her, eyes avoiding her own narrowing gaze as she was quite literally the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever seen.

“i’ll get you a cloth to clean yourself up with,” you mutter while the girl nods and proceeds to walk along the shelves.

if you weren’t so distracted by her apparent beauty, you would be more conscious of how familiar she looked.

moments later, you return with a cloth, and the stranger was peering at one of the many books that lined the shelves.

“fan of jane austen?” you smile when she jumps slightly at your sudden voice, “that is one of her most popular pieces of literature; pride and prejudice from 1813. though we do have earlier pieces such as ann radcliffe’s the romance of the forest, 1791.”

the woman nods, “aren’t you quite acquainted with books? any suggestions?”

“hm, perhaps persuasion by jane austen if you’re a fan, but do read most of her writings, it’s incredible.”

“what about playwrights? anyone that you’ve taken a liking to?” she asks.

you think for a while, “elizabeth inchbald. i thought lovers’ vows was spectacular. shame i couldn’t see it, sometimes i wished i was born earlier.”

“i always thought that it was too controversial and morally ambiguous for people to adore it. thankfully i’ve found someone of my own,” she says, a twinkle in her eye that you can’t help but feel your heartbeat race at. she daps at her neck with the cloth and you evert your eyes.

“a-anyway, what brings you here? you’ve distracted me from closing up.”

she places the book back into its original position and furrows her brows, “do you not recognise who i am?”

you tilt your head and lean on the bookshelves, “no, not particularly. am i meant to?”

“yes, but i’d rather you stay unknowing. if we were to be… friends, could i ask that you never try to find my identity?”

“could i at least know your name? or something to call you?”

“of course, i haven’t introduced myself. you can call me wonyoung.” wonyoung, you think, it’s a pretty name.

she flashes a gleaming smile at you, “could i know yours?”

“y/n,” you reply, “what brings you here?”

wonyoung’s posture slackens and you take the time to admire her luscious black hair that was tied into a bun with small curls and waves. you unconsciously swallow your saliva as wonyoung answers you.

“just running from my responsibilities. quite lucky of me to end up in a quaint bookstore with you, to be frank.”

your eyes trail down from her face to her collarbones, mouth going dry at the sight of her neck. god, you think, clenching your eyes shut.

“you all right? your cheeks are… flushed,” you spot a hint of a teasing smile on her face.

“how old are you?” wonyoung asks suddenly.

“i’m eighteen this year.”

“oh, i’m eighteen as well.”

you grin, “what responsibilities could you have at eighteen? we’re the same age, yet i’m just working at a bookstore.”

wonyoung shakes her head, almost sullen, “you have no clue how hectic it is back there. if here is shallow water, when i go back there, i’ll drown in the tsunami.”

“how poetic.”

“impressive, isn’t it?”

you giggle first and wonyoung’s laughter joins soon after. her laugh is melodic and soothing, a breather. it’s like you’ve just found your oasis.

and maybe she’s found hers.

your night is spent alone. no wonyoung to fill the empty spaces of silence apart from the occasional footsteps outside of the bookstore. you spent all day with her, or rather the rest of the day until she deemed too late to reach home. no matter how hard you try, your mind ends up wandering and you dream of rosy cheeks with a bunny smile.

you awake the next morning with a letter at your doorstep, addressed in neat calligraphy.

dear y/n,

i could not tell you how much i enjoyed yesterday, it was an eye-opening experience. i am definitely the luckiest person ever. i can’t believe how lucky i was to enter your bookstore and meet you. i hope we stay acquainted forever. send your reply to this address, i will wait for it.

sincerely yours,

wonyoung

if it were from anyone else, you would have found it desperate, or creepy. but even after a day of meeting wonyoung, you were enchanted.

hence, you quickly draft up a letter, perhaps she could see how much desperation there was in the messily scrawled handwriting for you to see her again.

it took almost no time for you and her to communicate daily through letters. even though you only met her three weeks ago, it felt like you’ve known her forever. wonyoung was your everything. and maybe you were her everything too. she was the part of your routine you looked most forward to.

eunbi had questioned you about your sudden enthusiasm and happiness. after all, she had been your caregiver since she had taken you in and you were never this dreamy.

wonyoung would sometimes drop by during the evening and you would spend a few hours together before she had to leave. it was the highlight of your week. a few hours would be all you could have, until a letter arrives at your doorstep.

my darling y/n,

how have you been? i found that book you’ve been raving about. i must extend my apologies for reading it beforehand, you were just too excited about it that i had to read it for myself. anyway, would your bed be free tonight? could i spend the night at your bookstore? my parents finally gave me permission to do so. i do hope you’re free, if not i’ll be missing you terribly.

sincerely yours,

wonyoung

you almost crumple up the letter in excitement. wonyoung was finally sleeping over? it was a joyous celebration. you swiftly write back, hoping that the letter would reach her in time. it always did, surprisingly. you weren’t sure if the post was meant to work that fast. you were counting down the seconds for when she would arrive and when the grandfather clock struck six thirty in the evening, a knock resounded on the door.

“wonyoung!” you squeal, rushing into her arms and burying your face into the crook of her neck. physical touch had become common between you and her, initiated by her at first but mostly done by you now. you could not resist feeling the warmth her body gave off.

“good evening, yn,” she breathes out, “i almost tripped on the way here. i was so exhilarated when i received your letter.”

you grin, quickly locking up the doors and closing the curtains. wonyoung lingers around you, a bag of clothes at her feet, you presume it contained her sleepwear.

“darling,” you feel a shiver go down your spine at her voice, “shall we head up?”

you nod and interlock hands with wonyoung, dragging her up the stairs and heading into your bedroom. your bed wasn’t tiny, but with wonyoung’s height, her feet would be dangling off the edge since your mattress was wider and not lengthy.

“you can change here, i’ll just look away,” you say.

“what if i want you to look?”

your cheeks heat up and you cover your eyes, “shut up, you flirt.”

“my sincerest apologies,” wonyoung says slowly, “do you not like it when i flirt with you?” you roll your eyes. she would always ask questions which she knew the answers to. wonyoung just wanted the satisfaction of you saying it out loud.

“i like it,” you mutter, embarrassed.

“you’re adorable,” she laughs and starts to untie the laces on her corset to reveal her shift under. you take this as your cue to turn away.

a few minutes pass and wonyoung finally says, “i’m done. you can turn around now.”

she was adorned in a long light blue night rail with lace linings. you still thought she was the prettiest girl to ever walk the earth.

wonyoung flops onto your bed and you join her.

“blow out the candle, won't you?” wonyoung requests. without the light of the candle, you can only see her face that is illuminated by the moonlight.

you both slip under the sheets, facing each other. your eyes trail along her features and your fingers ache to trace them.

“how was your day? you never answered me in your reply.”

“you were genuinely asking? i thought you asked as a formality,” you chuckle at her affronted expression.

she rolls her eyes, “of course i was genuine! i’m always interested in what you have to say.”

“why are you being so cheeky today? so many flirtatious remarks,” her long arms wrap around your waist and you giggle.

“i’m just naturally like that,” wonyoung smiles, “and you like it, don’t you?”

you nod shyly.

“i do.”

“then i’ll stay this way. be whatever that you like.”

“i like you,” you confess.

wonyoung blinks slowly. your words and sincere tone seeping into her heart as a large grin overtakes her face.

“and i adore you.”

your night, unlike the first, was spent wrapped up in wonyoung’s embrace. warmth covering your body and a smile across your face the entire time you slept. it was the most peaceful night you’ve had. yet, as all things go, it was just the calm before the storm.

something had been bothering you, wonyoung could tell. after that night spent together, you and her were inseparable. but the more time you had together, the more it seemed like you were drifting away in your thoughts.

“darling?” you turn around in her embrace, “are you all right?”

“yes, i’m totally fine. couldn’t be better than being here with you.”

“i feel the same but, are you certain? it just feels like something is bothering you. if anything, could you tell me?” wonyoung asks. your body visibly tenses up and even in the dark, she could still see how your face was contemplating.

“why did you ask me to never search for your identity?”

wonyoung suddenly unwraps her arms from around your waist. you miss her warmth instantly.

“why are you bringing this up now?” she counter asks.

you frown. “just remembered it. i was reminiscing the first time we met.”

“ah.”

“also because eunbi has been asking me about you and i don’t know what to tell her. i realised i don’t know much about you and i want to change that,” you explain.

wonyoung’s breath hitches.

“eunbi? have you mentioned my name to her?”

“no, i wasn’t too sure if i should have… wonyoung, seriously, what’s this whole ordeal with your identity? can’t you just tell me?” you ask.

you decide not to mention the fact that you have actually questioned eunbi about wonyoung. the amount of warning signs about her identity had been increasing daily and you weren’t so certain about how much you could trust wonyoung anymore.

“you’re lying,” wonyoung states.

“what?”

“you know my identity.”

“wonyoung, love—”

she separates herself from you immediately and sits upright. your bubble of tranquillity bursts and the peaceful future you’ve created for the two of you was ruined.

“i told you. i specifically told you not to go looking!” her voice raises, “and you still do? and i know you’re lying to my face! you know that…”

you can’t stand it anymore. “that you’re the princess? of course i do! how could i not remember your face and name plastered everywhere? are you not aware of how influential you are? the media has been going insane at how your birthday ball was going to be the highlight of this century! but this doesn’t mean i love you less!”

“it’s not about that! you betrayed my trust. how could you? it was the first thing i’ve ever told you; don’t go looking for my identity! and i… this isn’t going to work out. i apologise, but i have to leave,” wonyoung hisses and quickly jumps out of your bed. you can only stare in silence as she packs up her clothes and leaves out the door.

you sit there on your cotton sheets, stunned at how the evening’s played out. a sigh escapes your lips and your heart aches at the forlorn expression that wonyoung had.

you couldn’t believe that wonyoung had just left like that. you thought she would at least hear you out and it wasn’t as if you yourself had gone looking for her identity! her name was basically on every single piece of news article, how could you not know? and wonyoung wasn’t a popular name.

perhaps everything will be normal in the morning. wonyoung’s letter would show up at your doorstep, apologising for how she acted and you would still forgive her.

needless to say, you were wrong. there was no letter, and definitely no bouquet of tulips that normally accompanied the letter.

“i saw the princess stomping out, did you two have a fall out?” eunbi asks. you nod, sulking.

“she found out that i knew she was the princess and she wasn’t too enthusiastic about it.”

eunbi thinks for a moment. “aren’t you going to try to chase after her? wouldn’t it be right?”

“why should i? she said we weren’t going to work out.” repeating those words brought a new level of pain.

your caregiver laughs, “that’s exactly what sakura said as well and she ended up grovelling.”

you raise an eyebrow. “who’s sakura?”

“some foreign lady. anyway, are you going to write to her or not? her birthday’s coming up soon.”

“her birthday,” you repeat, “i could just go to her birthday banquet.” eunbi blinks, “i did not mean that but sure.”

you have a newfound sense of confidence. wonyoung couldn’t do anything if you just went to her banquet, right? well, she could just order for the guards to take you out but it was open to commoners. there was a dress code but wonyoung had gifted you a pretty expensive dress recently.

“august 30th, it starts at eleven in the evening,” eunbi informs you, “you do know your way to the castle? i have other plans that night.”

“yes, of course. thank you for the idea!” you smile. as you head off back into your room, thoughts of seeing wonyoung again run through your mind.

the day had finally come. your hair was parted in the middle with your bangs curled that occasionally twitched your eyes. your bust was pushed up ever so slightly by a tight fitting corset. you had a low cut violet gown and white gloves that extended up to your elbows.

the closer you got to the palace, the more your confidence dwindled. what if wonyoung orders for the guards to escort you out? it would be ironic for you to show up at her banquet, where she would have to reveal her identity. you shiver at the thought of wonyoung’s distrustful gaze.

what happened to staying together until death parts you two? wonyoung had been so romantic with her words, maybe it was all faux.

you shake your head. you couldn’t think of that! now, you just had to reassure her that her identity revelation would not change anything. and maybe you could even try to revert to the same relationship status as before. once you enter the ballroom, you’re surrounded by nobles and commoners alike, all dressed to the nines. you scan the room, hoping to see wonyoung.

“goodness,” one of the more fashionably dressed nobles say, “dukes from high society are starting to court her already. i heard that many are offering their whole family wealth for her hand.”

your face falls. of course there would be people wanting to court her. wonyoung was so angelic and there would be no reason for rich dukes to not throw themselves at her.

“good evening, my lady,” you spin around, facing an older woman with a rather disgruntled young man, “could i ask where you are from?” luckily, eunbi had trained you beforehand.

“miyawaki y/n,” you lie through your teeth, “i’m not from around here, just passing through to visit the princess.”

“splendid! i am from the house of lee and this is my son, heeseung,” the woman exclaims, “i thought you were a perfect match for him.”

your eye twitches.

“ah, yes.”

“i’ll leave you two to get acquainted, hopefully by the end of this ball, you will be dancing with each other.”

“my lady will not be dancing with anyone,” your heart leaps. an arm links around yours and you almost instinctively lean into the familiar warmth.

the woman stands rooted to the ground while heeseung quickly scurries off.

“m-my sincerest apologies! i did not know,” she bows. wonyoung waves a hand at her and turns to look at you instead.

before the crowd starts to gather around you, wonyoung turns her head and swiftly drags you by the wrist through the many nobles.

“wony— princess!” you shriek.

she pulls you into an empty room, away from peering eyes and eavesdroppers. her gaze on you is heavy with emotion and you can barely get a chance to identify them before she speaks.

“what on earth compelled you to come here?”

“i just wanted to see you. you ran off rather quickly last night, much like that heeseung boy.”

“y/n, you can’t just show up here looking like that. i… i told you once you found out who i really was, we could never truly be together,” wonyoung sighs.

you frown, “so you weren’t going to try anyway? were you just going to love me when it was convenient? what happened to all those sweet promises you’ve made to me?”

“i can’t keep those promises if the public found out we were together,” wonyoung clasps your hands together.

“so you were just loving me for the hell of it.”

“i sacrificed lots for you.”

“but you still can’t be with me.” you take wonyoung’s silence as her answer. there’s tears welling up in your eyes and wonyoung’s gaze darts to them instantly.

you tear your hands away from hers to wipe your tears falling down your cheeks.

“this has been… eye-opening. since we were never going to work out anyway, i should take my leave. sorry for taking up your time when you should have been spending it celebrating. happy birthday.”

your heart aches. the beats slow down but you feel like it’s been crushed into little bits, which were then thrown into molten lava and rebuilt. then crushed again by wonyoung.

“wait a moment, don’t…”

“i should have know it would have ended up like this. i’m deeply sorry again, your highness,” you say coldly, bowing.

wonyoung’s mouth is open, almost like she wants to say something. but you can’t be with someone who contradicts herself every time.

“darling,” the nickname slips out and you feel sobs wreck your body, “don’t cry, wait, please.”

“my love, please look at me, please don’t walk away, i was a fool. i wasn’t thinking at all,” wonyoung rambles out, “please stay and listen, which is ironic, i realise but i can’t believe i thought i could ever live life without you. i need you. i was just scared of what they would say, but it doesn’t matter to me anymore. i realised that you’re my only light and i will never find someone better than you. it was all my doing, i never meant to hurt you like this. i’m the one who should be saying sorry.”

wonyoung stares at you, affection and longing in her eyes. so that’s what it was.

“i’m not forgiving you just yet. you still hurt my feelings.”

“of course. i’ll grovel for eternity for your forgiveness.”

you sniffle and slap her cheek lightly, not enough to even hurt.

“i hate that you can make me feel like this.”

“like what?” she asks, looking down at you.

“like everything’s okay.”

“is everything not okay?”

a smile overtakes your face, tears still dripping down your cheeks but you feel contrary.

“don’t ever do that again,” you fling your arms over her shoulders and instinctively, her hands go around your waist.

“i adore you, and if i were to ever hurt you intentionally, please just execute me on the spot,” she whispers into your ear, making you giggle.

“executing the princess is illegal, i would be given the death sentence as well.”

“then we would be together in the afterlife at least.”

“you are such a dork.”

“only yours.”

(to my darling y/n,

i hope everything’s all right back at the bookstore. could i drop by sometime later? maybe we could even read belinda by maria edgeworth. i’ve heard it is quite a worthy read. your wedding gown is gorgeous, for your information, i reckon i’ll sob at the alter. as always, do tell me about your day later. i will be counting down the minutes until i can see your beautiful face. i love you.

forever yours,

wonyoung

to my princess,

of course you can drop by. i’m expecting more books to arrive later in the afternoon. unfortunately for you, i’ve already read belinda but i will reread it with you if you want. i hope you’re doing well back at the castle; how’s the wedding preparations going? tell me all about it later. i’ll be counting down the minutes as well. i love you too.

your darling,

y/n)

[bby-bo]

When The Boss Comes Knocking

the following is a CEO!Sakusa fic that landed somewhere between sfw and sorta nsfw, but its kiyoomi and he just makes my brain go buzz in every situation so i just couldn’t help it 

Part 2

Summary: You dated Sakusa in high school but went your separate ways after graduation. Turns out he missed you much more than he let on. 

Warnings: none, just kiyoomi being hot. use of “sweetheart” and “baby”

Sakusa Kiyoomi always has been and will always be the man of your dreams. Tall and broad shouldered, even in his high school years he was the pinnacle of your existence, and all you wanted was to be near him. Your wishes were granted for only a brief period of time when you finally dated in your junior year, but your Kiyoomi was ripped away from you when his family decided he needed to start preparing to take over the business.

The Sakusa Group was well known and respected for their acquisition of many successful start-ups, but details of their business dealings were always very secretive. And the company had only grown and expanded since Kiyoomi became CEO at just a mere 25 years old- not that you were stalking the Sakusa Group’s movements in your free time or anything.

When the two of you broke up he had encouraged you to “follow your own dreams”, and made sure to mention he would be extremely busy in the years after graduating high school.  You had received the underlying message loud and clear. He wanted to be left alone and didn’t want a girl from a regular family ruining his image when he entered the executive world. Your heart was shattered, but that didn’t stop you from missing Kiyoomi dearly even years later. The hugs that completely enveloped your frame and the scent of his light cologne, the one he brought you to pick out for him on his birthday. The rasp of his deep voice and how its sound had burrowed into the back of your brain, the memories of random things he once said to you popping to the forefront of your mind haphazardly throughout your days.

You had done as he said, and moved to the city to become an author as you always dreamed. Actually, you were pretty successful in the romance industry and even though you only had a handful of books published, your fanbase was so dedicated and charismatic. In your single year of dating Kiyoomi you had amassed a lifetime’s worth of romantic material, and between your real life experiences with him and the melancholy fantasies that kept you up at night nowadays, you had lots of inspiration. Although, even you were prone to the classically dreaded writer’s block.

Today was just a regular Tuesday morning in the office, where you preferred to write when you were stuck in a rut. Unfortunately, the coffee mug on your desk was not bringing the inspiration that you wanted and you glared at the last sip, willing some piece of creativity to be hiding inside as you downed it. Nothing. Loosening a sigh, you dropped your head into your hands just as a knock rapped on the door. Without lifting your head you greeted the visitor, already knowing who was on the other side.

“Come in!”

“How’s it coming? Anything I can get you right now?” It was the sweet front desk girl, Josie, checking in on you. Again. 

“Unless you can write in my place, there’s not much you can do for me i'm afraid” Josie meant well, but her insistent interruptions certainly were not helping your workflow, and this was the third time within 30 minutes she’s asked if you needed anything.

“Okie dokie, I’ll check back later then! Keep at it! ” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” She was off with a wave without hearing your response, the door slamming behind her. With another sigh, your head dropped back into your hands, frustration building. 

Not 5 minutes later, there was another knock at the door. But this time the door opened before you could respond.

“Holy shit, Josie i’m really fine I swear- K-Kiyoomi???” You burst from your seat in surprise, your eyes all but popping out of your head.

And there he was, like a fever dream come to life, standing in the doorframe. His handsome face tilted to the side slightly, a smirk pulling across his lips.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you” His voice had gotten deeper since the last time you spoke. His hair a little longer, his chest a bit stronger. But his eyes remained the same, that dark gaze enticing you and melting you down with just a look.

“W-what are you doing here? How did you-? What is this??” 

As much as you wanted to cave and run straight into his arms, you vividly recalled your last conversation with Sakusa. Not Kiyoomi. He had corrected you so coldly before parting, saying “you should call me by last name from now on, otherwise people may get confused”. As if it would be bad if people mistakenly thought you were still dating. As if to push you that much further away. Your confusion only grew as you looked at him now, unsure of his motives for being here. 

“Came to scope out a new prospect. I sent an executive to meet with your publishing house’s CEO last week” His smirk widened as he took deliberately slow steps into the room, sleek confidence dripping from him. 

That's right, your boss had mentioned that your little publishing house had been recently approached by a huge parent company with an amazing offer, but as far as you knew nothing had been made official. And you certainly had no clue that said parent company was the Sakusa Group. The realization settled in, and the frustration you felt earlier was starting to bubble up again. 

All of a sudden he was in your space, sleek black button-up shirt in your direct line of sight. What was his goal here? Certainly this has nothing to do with you? Right. Exactly. He claimed he was here for business. Then why..??

Long fingers gripped your chin, thumb tugging your bottom lip from between your teeth where you nervously chewed it. 

“Where did you pick up this bad habit? And when are you planning on acknowledging me properly?” Your heart dropped to your stomach. His firm grip brought your face to look up at his, a little too close for comfort. Kiyoomi’s smirk tilted into a small frown, an admonishing look starting to grow.

“Of course sir, I apologize. Good morning Mr. Sakusa.” Backing out of his hold, you bowed in respect. Of course he was here for just business. 

This only seemed to irritate him further though, and when you rose from your greeting he took another step closer. You may as well have been toe to toe now. 

“Since when do you address me that way?” His eyes were too intense, and you could feel the memories of your past relationship coming up in your mind, emotion nearly overwhelming you before you swallowed it down.

“I’m not sure what you mean sir, it would be improper for me to address you otherwise” 

If he was irritated before, then he was surely pissed off now. 

His hands gripped your shoulders, roughly pushing you back against your desk before planting his palms on either side, caging you in. 

“Why won’t you look at me, hm? It’s disrespectful to ignore your superior sweetheart” Shit. That voice had you in a vice grip and he knew it. He was using it to his advantage. 

“I was unaware you would be my business superior until a minute ago, forgive me sir” How long will your legs hold up before melting completely?

“Seems like something is bothering you. You don’t like the idea of working with me? Or maybe you don’t like the idea of me being your boss? Sweetheart, I hope you realize I know you’ve been writing about me.” 

“No! No thats not-!” Your head shot up in a rush to disagree, or maybe to explain. Either way, you immediately realized your mistake and you were silenced once more. The tip of your nose brushed his, and his breath brushed your lips in an intimate greeting, as if to say “hey, i missed you”. 

His mock irritation melted away, the smirk returning once more. You fell into the trap too easily.

Most people knew Sakusa to be the cool and straightforward man he showed to the world, but when you dated in high school he quickly shattered this image. Though he certainly preferred to stay away from crowds and strangers, he was still human after all, and loved to be in your personal space whenever he got you alone. He had always enjoyed making you blush and stutter, thriving off the knowledge that he could affect you so deeply. Clearly, he still enjoyed that feeling. 

But you were not a toy, and he was interrupting your work day. And how dare he just come back into your life after throwing you aside for so many years?! Absolutely not, you refused to be disrespected this way. Your hands came to his chest, giving him a solid (and completely ineffective) shove.

“No. This is not professional Mr. Sakusa-!” 

Sakusa didn’t back up a single inch. Instead he gripped your face, long fingers pinching into your cheeks slightly. Your breath caught in your throat, previous arguments completely obliterated.

“Stop. Saying. No. Now answer me. Since when do you call me by my last name? You’re purposely not answering my question” 

When you took a breath in you caught the scent of his cologne, and it was the same one you picked out for him in high school. He still wore it. Every single thought emptied out of your head, except for the recognition of how close he was to you, and where he was touching you. 

“Say it.”

“K-Kiyoomi...”

“Say it like you mean it, baby.”

“Kiyoomi.” A smile broke out as his name fell from your mouth a second time.

“That’s my girl, just as pretty as ever. I missed you so bad sweetheart, I’ve been looking for you in the city for some time now. And don't worry, I’ll make up for lost time, so don’t push me away.” 

His second hand came up to the back of your head, tugging you back by your hair and bringing your mouth to his. But he didn’t kiss you, he denied you the pleasure, only speaking against your lips. You let him do as he pleased, no longer able to deny how much you missed him. Missed this. 

“Look at you with your hair so grown out now.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love everything about you.” He moved to plant a firm kiss to both of your cheeks, and to your disappointment he slowly released his hands from your face and hair. 

“The Sakusa Group will officially be in ownership of your publisher by the end of the week. You’ll be seeing a lot more of me, so get used to it sweetheart.” He offered no further explanations or goodbyes, and he left your office with only your disheveled and flustered state to prove that he had really been there at all. 

You made absolutely zero progress on your writing the rest of the morning and afternoon, but when you returned the next day ready for another day of failure, you opened the door to see your office transformed into a florist. 

There were flowers on every single surface, completely covering your desk and the floor. There were roses of every shade, along with tulips, orchids, and other kinds of flowers you had never even seen before. Each bouquet was bursting with color and life, wrapped in silk ribbons and set in gorgeous porcelain vases that looked absolutely priceless.  There was only a small path left open for you to walk to your desk seat, and on your keyboard was a note. 

“A flower for every occasion I missed. And more just because.” 

Your hand came up to your mouth, tears already welling up in your eyes. You looked to the bottom, and saw he signed the note,

“Always Yours, Kiyoomi”

[professorlaytonarchive]

Dear fellow Professor Layton fans! I’m writing this post to explain the timeline of events about the search for Mansion of the Deathly Mirror to clear up any misconceptions or missing information you may have.

To start, Professor Layton and the Mansion of the Deathly Mirror (レイトン教授と死鏡の館 ) is a game in the Professor Layton series that was exclusively released for mobile. It was available on Professor Layton Mobile. The game features a brand new story formed by 6 chapters in total. Each chapter was his own i-appli, and they were released every two weeks starting from October 2008. As of June 2024, a translation of the original version is in the works, with the first chapter already released and as of September 2024 all 6 chapters have been preserved

Professor Layton and the Mansion of the Deathly Mirror -Remix- (レイトン教授と死鏡の館 -REMIX-) is an updated version of Professor Layton and the Mansion of the Deathly Mirroravailable to i-Mode devices through the Professor Layton Mobile and Mobile R portal. This version has different puzzles, slightly better animations and slightly different dialogues compared to the original version.

Synopsis

Professor Layton and his number one apprentice, Luke Triton, are invited to a party hosted by famous author Drevin Murdoch. At this party, he reveals to be in possession of a mirror that allows the attendants to talk to the dead. However, after Murdoch is found dead the following morning, it's up to Layton and Luke to find out the truth behind the Deathly Mirror, and the secrets Murdoch's Mansion holds.

(Credit: Keitai Wiki)

Chapter 1: A Single Piece

In 2014, a streamer managed to record the first three chapters of Deathly Mirror. A little while after, the streamer began to be harassed by multiple fans, eventually leading them to take down the videos. Due to the lack of preservation efforts at the time, the videos weren’t saved.

Years later, bits and pieces—such as screenshots, articles, and press videos—were found, but nothing concrete.

Chapter 2: A Picture Forming

In May of 2023, a Japanese fan posted the first part of what would become a complete playthrough of all six chapters of Mansion of the Deathly Mirror Remix. This was monumental for the Layton Lost Media (LLM) scene. However, during the 11 months it took to release the full playthrough, there were some difficulties with Western fans. The issues included harassment of the player for more videos, begging for the ROM (despite the player clearly stating they were afraid of Japan’s strict piracy laws), and other forms of harassment.

This period caused uncertainty and worry throughout the Layton Lost Media community, leading the community to strictly instruct members to cease any future contact with the player to prevent the playthrough from being lost before its completion. Around the same time, in February of 2024, thanks to the help of the user @/ponkikipon on Discord, we were able to preserve the ROMs of the original chapters 1-3. In April 2024, the playthrough of Remix came to an end with the release of the video for the sixth chapter. This allowed for the formation of Team Enigma, which sought to fully remake both the original and remixed versions of the game into one package, translate the original game into English, and expand their efforts into other translation projects. Chapter 1 is currently fully translated and available.

Chapter 3: The Final Piece

In September 2024, Keitai Wiki and a user by the name of @/yuvi on Discord managed to locate chapters 4-6 on a junk phone, marking the full preservation of the original Mansion of the Deathly Mirror. This allowed Team Enigma to bypass multiple roadblocks in the development of the remake and translation.

Please show your support by supporting Keitai Wiki, Team Enigma, and Team Professor Layton Archive.

https://x.com/rockmancosmo/status/1834626811646599498?s=46&t=r1PBA7kkYm_L_o06jhQMgw

[indigosunsetao3]

Older CIA Alex

NSFW | 18+ | Age gap/dad's employee/forbidden

Perspective: Female reader

We're going to work this like Ex-Husband Price where I expand on things here and there. I just had to get this listed out.

So much for 'next few days'. I swear these ideas will eat me alive if I don't write them out.

OCIA!Alex - Was in your father's office when you walked in to meet him for lunch. He rose from his chair the moment you entered, a sign of respect and also that he would be leaving. You give him a small smile which he returns before slipping out the door.

OCIA!Alex - Casually asks your dad about you, and how the lunch went, when he returns from an overseas mission weeks later. It's not very out of place, Alex is an observant man, but the fact it was over a month later and he recalled where you went to lunch together struck your dad as interesting.

OCIA!Alex - Accepts your father's offer to join a few of the group for dinner. Your father always extended the invite to his whole team which Alex declined each time with an excuse. Except this time when he finds out, you'll also be at this dinner. Your father questions his sudden change of heart to which Alex answers charity is important.

OCIA!Alex - Is careful to make sure he is seated next to you at the charity gala. He's in his dress blues looking polished and the attention he pays you has you flustered. All evening he keeps you engaged in conversation, pulls out your chair for you, and makes sure your glass is never empty. In an effort to make a friend you give Alex your number as if he didn't already have it, and your social media accounts, saved in one of his burners after a bit of digging so he could learn more about you. Your father notices the friendly exchanges and makes sure to have a conversation with his subordinate. (Lunch and Dinner Date can be found here)

OCIA!Alex - Barely bats an eye at the fact you are almost twelve years younger than him. What's age really when you were both adults? He's even less phased by the fact your father lets him know you're fresh out of a long-term relationship which is why you were living with him for the time being. That explains why Alex hadn't seen you before and why you subconsciously ran your thumb over your ring finger all evening to play with a ring that was no longer there. Your father warns him, in a casual but firm tone, that you are off limits; he kept family and work separate for a reason. Alex assures him he was just being friendly, Sir.

OCIA!Alex - Volunteers to assist you in moving to your new apartment in exchange for a couple of beers. You texted him out of desperation, no friends in town, and your father is not the young man he used to be. It was the first time you had messaged him, he had been waiting none too patiently. Alex agrees, he's got the time and it's an excuse to see you again. Your father would have been more suspicious of this if he wasn't relieved to not be the only person lugging your furniture up three flights of stairs. (Move In Day can be found here)

OCIA!Alex - Swings by when you send him a message at one in the morning that the AC unit is on the fritz. The landlord didn't deem it an emergency and your father was out of town. The apartment is beyond sweltering and there isn't even a breeze to help. It was more of a venting session, you had been talking more often via text through the past couple of weeks, but Alex takes it upon himself to give you a hand.

OCIA!Alex - Fixes the unit enough that it's at least blowing semi-cool air. He insists on hanging around to make sure it doesn't go out again, promising it's not a problem. "Too hot to try and sleep without some air." You offer him some leftover pizza before joining him on the couch, a good distance away because it's too hot. Yet somehow you end up with your feet resting in his lap and his fingers massaging out the soreness from wearing heels all day.

OCIA!Alex - Texts you even when he's gone overseas. He's polite in his timing, making sure he doesn't disturb you when you should be sleeping or at work. You are less restrained, finding you stare at the phone waiting for the next message like an impatient teenager. You tell yourself it's because he's the only real friend you've got around and it's lonely when he's gone. Then when he sends you an audio message you nearly fall out of your chair listening to his silky smooth voice as he tells you about his day.

OCIA!Alex - Smirks to himself in his bunk at night when you start sending him pictures. Innocent ones of course. Things you saw on your walk, sighing in frustration at another video meeting at work, the dinner you made (and didn't burn!), and the weird neighbor downstairs who only checks her mail at night. But then a not so innocent one pops on his phone after you've had a few glasses of wine.

OCIA!Alex - Avoids your father's questions as he tries to probe and see just what your relationship is. He had tried you when he saw your phone buzz with a text from Alex when he stopped by. You maintained you were just friends, that Alex was a nice guy but too old for you. That was, if friends sent lingerie and shower pictures to one another...and instructed the other just what to do when they were feeling particularly needy and lonely.

OCIA!Alex - Doesn't let your dad know he took a flight back two days early, and neither do you. He barely makes it into your apartment before you jump him and insist the uniform stays on. Those two extra days are spent solely at your apartment before Alex reports back to your dad, who is none the wiser. Even if Alex has hickeys all over his neck and his clothes reek of your perfume.

OCIA!Alex - Has to play nice when your father has an award ceremony and he insists you meet a few of his friend's sons. Your father determined you've been alone for too long, not enough friends, and is trying to get you back out there. He doesn't see Alex staring down each man as if they are his next target. Nor does he see the two of you slip away before his speech.

OCIA!Alex - Is unimpressed when you start spending time with others, men your own age in particular. You insist it's to keep your dad's suspicions away because he's been asking very leading questions, he's not dumb. And also, you had both agreed that whatever this was it was only a hookup, no commitment. Alex had his job and you wouldn't risk your father's ire.

OCIA!Alex - Agrees, two can play this game. He starts making some other 'friends' of his own and grins as he notices the worry in your tone that he's turned the tables. Jealously is a young person's game and he knows exactly how he feels about you, it's just getting you to admit it yourself. Your father seems a bit more relaxed that the two of you seem to spending less time together.

OCIA!Alex - Is sent out on a particularly long assignment in Europe. After three weeks of being gone and radio silent he knows he won this battle of wills when he gets a notification of an airfare purchase. He's hardly shocked to find you waiting outside of his hotel room he booked under his fake name. You are your father's daughter after all.

OCIA!Alex - Tells you to let him worry about your father as you lay sprawled on top of him. He's dealt with bigger issues from smaller targets before. You attempt to talk about it more but he silences you as he rolls you under him.

OCIA!Alex - Has a conversation with your father. (We're not going to give away the ending here 😉)

[reverie-starlight]

it's about time I wrote something for owl head. @luvring I blame you for launching me right back into my bokuto era. not sure how I feel about my characterization of him yet, but it's a work in progress. considering it's my first time writing him, I don't think it's too horrible!!

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. established relationship, fluff fluff fluff, he is such a baby omg. I just want to see him happy, he's so sunshiney and warm. slight, miniscule, microscopic suggestiveness in one part.

early mornings can get a bit hectic when your boyfriend spends the night.

they used to be worse, you will admit, but even if you've both established somewhat of a morning routine, actually putting the plan into motion always proves to be a difficult task.

hopefully things settle after he moves in, you think.

you take a few moments to bask in the early morning silence that follows the swift movements of shutting off of your alarm (it's far too cold out for birds to chirp outside your window, and your apartment's not too close to any busy streets) and admire the sweet man beside you. ever the deep sleeper, bokuto's snores pop you out of your bubble.

you check the time again and feel your face form an expression of pure disdain when it registers that you have less time to get ready than usual. you turn to the side.

he's facing away from you- an oddity, considering he usually has one hand on you at all times- broad back on display, expanding and deflating with every breath he takes.

it almost feels wrong to disrupt him, but you know he has to get up for practice soon anyway, so you attempt a softer wake up method.

you put out your hand and trace patterns over his skin. it's warm and soft and makes you want to cuddle up melt into him for the rest of time. knowing him, he wouldn't mind that one bit.

he barely stirs at the feeling of your fingertips, so you do get closer this time and press light kisses against his shoulder blade.

the back of his bicep.

the centre of his back.

a few along his spine.

the spot just behind his heart.

you watch as goosebumps follow your trail of kisses and smile as he shuffles and finally turns to face you.

"good morning, baby..." he yawns and gives you a sleepy, closed-eye smile.

it breaks your heart that you're going to have to cut this moment short, but it has to be done. you're already cutting it too close for comfort (last night's activities had forced you to set a later alarm). any longer in bed and you'd both be late for work.

you card a hand through his hair and match his expression. "good morning, koutarou. it's time to get up." you keep your voice low and sweet, hoping to keep him sleepy enough to just go along with whatever you say.

but it seems that fate is not on your side this morning.

he opens one eye just a crack and begins to nod before freezing and promptly burying his face into your chest. he wraps his arms around your torso, making you you groan a little. "I need to make up for not holding you while I was sleeping."

while the sentiment is sweet, you would think that him getting ready to move in with you would make up for it. but apparently not even the prospect of spending every night from now on in your arms is enough to satisfy him.

"ko, please," you huff and try to pry his arm off. you really don't want to be late for work. things have been picking up lately and you definitely don't want to be chewed out by your boss for poor time management.

but bokuto does not waver. he may be a big baby sometimes, and he may do everything in his power to make you happy, but he is also incredibly determined and annoyingly stubborn.

especially when it comes to sleep.

so he just holds you tighter, mumbling out little apologies for not keeping you warm during the night. you giggle at that, because you are nothing if not warm whenever he's around. his presence is akin to summer's sunshine- so genial and bright that you can feel his love even without the physical gestures he always insists upon.

you stroke his back and just as you're about to give in to him, a small, smug smile appears on his face.

"bokuto koutarou!" you gasp "you know exactly what you're doing, don't you?"

he laughs into your chest and you can feel it reverberate throughout your body. "just stay with me a bit longer, when was the last time you took a sick day, anyway?"

his voice is littered with drowsiness and it only makes you want to give into him even more.

how is it that you've always seen yourself as the clingy one in the relationship? the thought makes you laugh a bit and he looks up at you hopefully.

but sadly, one of you needs to have some self discipline, so you cup his face in your hands and squish his cheeks together. "nice try, lover boy, but you promised me you'd get up on time."

he pouts and you try not to crack a smile at how funny it looks with a squished face. "but baby-"

"nope! you brought this on yourself, ko. besides," you do let your smile break through this time. "you're the one who insisted on setting a later alarm." you poke his nose to punctuate your sentence.

"you're the one who insisted we'd have more than enough time to get ready." poke.

"and you're the one who kept begging to go round after round despite me telling you this would happen," poke.

you squeal a bit when he suddenly gets up to hover over you, a mischievous, almost predatory look in his eyes that can only mean no good. “sorry- who was the one begging, baby?”

he digs his fingers into your side, causing you to giggle and squirm underneath him. his other arm holds him up and cages you in just enough that you're unable to roll away to safety.

the thing with bokuto is that he can be incredibly playful and child-like, yes; but like most people on earth, he also has moments that remind you he's much more dynamic than the endearing traits he most often presents.

you'd consider yourself lucky to be one of the few to see every side of him, but as you lay underneath him with a giddy feeling in your stomach from how handsome he looks while tormenting you, you only feel your self-discipline melting away.

he might be rebranding himself as an "ordinary" ace now (much to the surprise of everyone who knew him in high school), but you've been convinced for years that there's nothing ordinary about him at all. his determination, skill and unconditional love for you proved your theory every day.

fine, maybe one "sick" day wouldn't hurt.

"okay, okay!" you gasp out through your laughter. "we can stay in bed if you stop tickling me!"

his smile is positively blinding as he retracts his hand from your side and flops back on top of you. "thank you, babe. can I tell you a secret?"

you raise an eyebrow and he takes that as signal to continue. he "lowers" his voice to a whisper-yell and says "I don't actually have practice today."

you blink at him. "ko, what?"

he lets out an excited laugh. "I tricked you. I came up with this whole plan to keep you home with me today and it worked."

the unmistakable pride in his voice washes away any annoyance building up within you and opens you up to hearing him out. "explain."

"you've been working so much lately, I can see how much it's wearing you out," he rolls onto his side to face you better and cup your face with one hand. "and last night practice got cancelled super suddenly 'cause coach got sick or something. so I decided we should both have the day off since we both work super hard. also... I didn't want to be lonely," he mumbles at the end.

you snort at his honesty and shake your head in appreciation. that's why he was being so insistent? how did you manage to land someone as unabashedly sweet and caring as him? you started the day worrying about being late, and now work is the last thing on your mind. you grab your phone off the night stand and quickly leave your boss a message, letting her know you won't be coming in because of some sudden illness.

bokuto watches you closely and allows you to cuddle into him with a smile after setting the device back down. "so... does this mean my master plan worked?"

you nodded into his bare chest and let the stress you've been storing for weeks release alongside a deep sigh. "can't leave my sweet boy feeling lonely, now can I?"

you say it as a joke, but you hope he hears the appreciation in your voice... that he can feel how thankful you are for him looking out for you.

it all remains unsaid for a while longer, but you know he understands the underlying message when he kisses your forehead and prompts you to get more sleep.

BONUS:

you wake up again a couple hours later to a strange burning smell.

you're up immediately, not registering the fact that your boyfriend is not beside you anymore until you stumble into the kitchen and see him standing at the stove, stirring away.

the domestic view makes you excited for all of your mornings going forward looking like this, but you also make a mental note to buy a new set of pans before that happens.

he must feel you watching him, because he turns to greet you with a wide grin. "mornin', baby!"

"morning..." you make your way to the table and take a seat where there's already a glass of water. "are you making breakfast?" you try to keep your nerves out of your voice. he's not the worst cook in the world, and he's definitely improved since meeting you, but... he's still working on lunch recipes. he hasn't graduated to complicated breakfast foods yet.

he nods excitedly. "yup! I already had some cereal, though. I was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed, but since you're up we can sit at the table." bokuto turns the stove off and scrapes... whatever it is evenly onto a plate. "it's a bit burnt, but it should still be good!"

he sets it down in front of you and the burning smell only gets stronger. you can see now that he had attempted pancakes. you smile up at him thankfully, but you wonder how you're going to get the round discs down without creating an unnatural chemical reaction within your stomach.

"I know it's been a while since we've had a proper breakfast together like this, and you mentioned a while ago that you've been craving pancakes, so I thought today would be the perfect day for that."

you can almost feel your pupils dilate when he says that. your heart beats faster and you feel warm all over (again). he remembered something like that? you don't even remember saying it, which leads you to believe that he's been storing it in his mind for a while now.

you scarf down the pancakes.

they're not good by any means, but you know they were made with love and that makes them the best damn pancakes you've ever tasted. you'd rather endure a the worst stomach ache imaginable than make this man sad.

his eyes widen. "woah! you must've been really hungry, do you want me to make you more? as many as you want, just give me a number!"

you tear up a bit, from affection for him or a reaction to the pancakes, you're not sure. "no, baby, these were perfect. do you want some coffee?"

he nods his head. "I wouldn't mind one if you're offering."

you kiss his cheek and move over to the coffee machine, still overflowing with love, but the taste of the charred breakfast lingers on your tongue. as you're grabbing a mug, you casually ask "hey baby? would you ever want to take a cooking class with me?"

I lowkey hate how it turned out, but not enough to keep it in the drafts. hope you enjoyed!!

[writingoddess1125]

I'm not sure if you take CoD requests but I was wondering if maybe you could do headcanons for Alejandro(if you write for him) with a reader who's Cajun, has a Cajun accent, and calls him Sha(its Cajun slang for sweetheart/dear/darling)

If you don't write for Alejandro, maybe Price or Soap

Oh this is so cute!!

Support me on Ko-Fi

Alejandro with Cajun Reader

PSA - I did a lot of research so I tried 😅

• You get stationed out to the main base in Los Vaqueros, tasked to help the people there and work alongside Colonel Alejandro Vargas.

• Arriving on a helicopter you smile as you meet Alejandro smiling at you. "Welcome to Las Almas my friend- Heard great things about you"

• "Boujour! Comment ça s’plume? Alejandro no?" You say cheerfully clearly throwing off the man at the French being thrown his way- But a French he was incredibly unfamiliar with

• "Sargent (Y/L/N)? Correct?" You nod calmly, The Colonel smiking a bit- "We must leave soon then"

• "Don't be like that Cher" You say with a laugh and watch the man's face twist in mild confusion still.

• "Sha?" He repeated, you realizing quickly your mistake with a hearty laugh. "It's a term of endearment- Like Darlin'- Now, You said we had to leave No? Allons!"

• Alejandro nods and leads you off to your station, Still a bit confused over what the fuck you were saying-

• After a few weeks on base he starts to understand, realizing you are speaking a form of French mixed with English. The two of you talking quite often now as he shows you around Las Almas and the situation there.

• "They told me you are American-" Alejandro questioned as you two drove through the town.

• "I am-" You clarified with a smile. "From Louisiana" Alejandro nodded his head like he suddently got it.

• "Isn't uh it Creole? Es.. That's the American word right?" Alejandro questions, making you shake your head. "Two differen' peoples Sha-" You say as you try to explain the difference.

• This poor man is so confused- Feels like he's in school again and was just given a very hard exam that he didn't study for.

• "Creole is more City and Cajun is country" You simplified, which seemed to ease the confusion for the time being.

• The two of you become fast friends- You of course a chatter box and always wanting to learn and Alejandro always wanting to teach and see new things.

• Alejandro begins to teach you more Spanish while you teach him French-

• He likes to tease about how you talk with your hands and your passion behind your speaking. Finds it funny

• You two do have arguments at times, like an old couple do at stupid things. However rank is never pulled or acknowledged since it's always fun/personal banter

• However what truly soothed over any issues was the food- The two of you becoming quick food buddies as you'd share your guys food with each other.

• Alejandro walked straight to you on base early morning after a briefing, staring hard at you as he held a wrapped item in hand-

"...This is a La Guacamaya torta- It is one of my favorites... I added extra chicharrón" He flexes as he shows off the item. You nodding in agreement that it looked pretty damn good.

• "Not bad Not bad-" You smile, Before reaching for your own item with a grin. Pulling out a well worn Tupperware bowl-

• "Now, Had to improvise is bit- since Not many of my ingredients in this neck of the woods so I did so?' Pastalaya and found ya a le Boudin to have later"

• You say proudly showing off your lunch. Alejandro nodding also impressed- Before the two of you switch lunches and sit together to eat happily.

• It didn't take a genius for others to figure out you were buddy buddy with the Colonel- While some didn't like it, most warmed up to you and stared in your joy and willingness to expand-

• While you let anyone else know clearly they could go fuck themselves-

• However Alejandro was always your ride or die.

• The two of you shit talk for hours while eating... Half the time Not even understanding each other as you share new insults and curse words.

• He was your best friend, and you his-

[kanejbr3kker]

Okay I need to vent. This morning I saw this on my fyp:

(btw I'm choosing not to reblog the original post and instead just post screenshots because this is definitely a rant and since the creator and I clearly have different opinions, so I decided it's just better to leave them out of this)

Anyways, I saw this and I got pissed. Very very pissed. And so I spent 2 and a half hours writing a whole three page essay explaining everything wrong with this.

So here it is. (:

First of all, the Darkling does every single thing listed here for Nikolai, excluding cutting people’s fingers off, but he does commit mass murder, which I personally consider to be worse than cutting off someone’s fingers. 

Anyways, let’s first just address Nikolai’s reasons for doing each of these things and then the Darkling’s reasons for doing the same things.

Cutting the fingers off a man: Nikolai was a teenager who wanted to help his incredibly war torn country. He felt helpless, and even once he became a privateer, a lot of people still disrespected him because of his age, so he proved his ruthlessness by injuring one person, so he could help save his entire country. 

Usurping the throne: First of all, Nikolai was second in line to the throne, and after Vasily died, he would’ve been first. Also, the current king was an ignorant rapist who let the rest of the country go to waste to fuel his own luxuries. Nikolai wanted to rescue his country from war and a ruler that was doing nothing to stop hundreds of people (many of them kids) from dying in unnecessary battles.

Lying to Alina/hiding information from her: All Nikolai did was hide his identity from Alina to get her safely away from the Darkling who had just kidnapped her for the second time in less than a year. Kissed her without her consent: Okay, let’s just preface this by saying Malina was what got me hyperfixated on the Grishaverse, so seeing Nikolai kiss Alina did upset me, but he did it spread hope to the Ravkan villagers. They were also already spreading around a fake engagement, so while it was wrong, it wasn’t like he was trying to manipulate her. Nikolai was just trying to make their marriage more believable. (I’d also like to address a scene later in the book where Alina actually wants Nikolai to kiss her, and he says no, knowing that she just wants a distraction and isn’t really in love with him).

And now for why the Darkling did all the same things. 

Trying to usurp the throne: The Darkling hates the king, but not because he’s a terrible person, but because he’s ignorant and the Darkling knows he could be using the Fold to expand Ravka’s power. The Darkling usurps the throne so he can try and take over the country, not because he wants to save it.

Lying to Alina/hiding information from her: Unlike Nikolai, he wasn’t trying to protect her. The Darkling lied to Alina so she would believe that 1) he was in love with her and 2) he wanted to save Ravka. We know this isn’t true. When Nikolai lies, he does it to protect Alina, but when the Darkling lies he does it to manipulate her.

Kissed Alina without her consent: The Darkling tried to convince Alina he was in love with her so she would be easier to manipulate. Alina even says she doesn’t know how he feels about her, and that she doesn’t believe he loves her, but that she wants to be wanted by him. 

And now for everything else the Darkling does:

Mass murder: He destroyed an entire town just to prove a point. 

“Gifting” Genya to the Lantsovs, and then allowing her to be continually raped by them

for years. More than anything else, I feel like this proves just how terrible he is.

Killing his own mother: No explanation needed, that’s just awful.

Threatening to kill Mal to make sure Alina stays in line. He enslaved Alina. He put an unremovable collar around her neck that forced her to do whatever he wanted, and then promised to kill her boyfriend just in case that wasn’t enough.

Using kids as bargaining chips. Using grown people is bad enough, but kids. Sure, they’re Grisha, but they aren’t strong enough to fight back, especially after seeing their captor kill Ana Kuya, who helped care for them while they were in hiding. (Also just felt like adding that Nina was one of the students who he used as a bargaining chip. That’s honestly pretty unimportant, but if you needed another reason to hate him.)

Killing Alina’s mother figure: Again, he did this just to prove a point. He wanted to show Alina that he could hurt the people she cared about, and that was his only incentive.

So that the first 75% of my rant, but I also made the mistake of looking at the comments on that post and added a whole extra page responding to those.

Saying that the same thing can be applied to Kaz is so fucking disrespectful. Kaz is a traumatized teen. Is he violent? Yes. But he only hurts people who have hurt him, his friends, or other innocent people. Oomen nearly killed Inej, as well as the other crows, so Kaz hurt him because he cared about his friends and was mad that they were almost killed. When the Darkling kills people, it’s out of greed for power and the fact that he knows it’ll get a rise out of Alina.

And then this. Kaz calls Inej an investment because he values her. She said four words to him and chose to pay off her indenture. She ended up being not only an incredible spy, but an incredible friend as well. Kaz didn’t need to pay off her indenture, but he did because despite everything terrible that he does, he’s still a genuinely good person, and didn’t want to see a woman being exploited the way she was. An investment is something you value, which is why Kaz calls her one.

Also, Kaz makes a big point of Inej not belonging to anyone. He didn’t force her to get the Dregs tattoo, because he didn’t “want to be the one to mark her again.” He recognized that she was an independent person, and by not making her have the tattoo, he was giving her the freedom to leave Ketterdam when her indenture was paid off. Also, when Inej tells Kaz she wants to leave Ketterdam, he literally buys her a boat so she can leave. That’s not how you treat your property.

And as for the Darkling, he used Alina’s power to start a civil war. What he does is beyond redemption. The Darkling exploits and manipulates women. He abuses and assaults them to reach his own goals, most of which involve destroying the rest of the world so that Ravka stays in power. Comparing him to two kids who just do what they have to to survive is so disrespectful, and clearly you misunderstood the messages of the books if you think that Kaz and Nikolai are the same as the Darkling.

So that's my little anti-Darkling rant. I've already tortured my frienda with this, so if they didn't think I was insane before, they do now lol.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Consequences | Three

Word Count: 5.7k~ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, dark, medieval-canon sexism, heavy dub-con/noncon, DD:DNE, mean Aemond, manipulation, abusing power, gore, blood, violence, major angst, oral (m receiving), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), Aemond being a possessive horny weirdo with a power complex, thigh riding, virginity loss, p in v, spit kink, religious guilt

Series Masterlist  

A/N: This was a journey to write. Warnings highlighted, fgs READ THEM

Just like her heart, the clouds had descended over King’s Landing, covering the sky with a thick blanket of grey.

Sometimes in her quiet moments inside his chambers, she would stare out at the outside, watching the various Lord and Ladies go about their day, wondering what their lives were like as opposed to her own.

These days, especially since Prince Aemond had taken it upon himself to torture her emotionally more regularly, as well as engaging in acts unbefitting of an unmarried man and woman, the little maidservant was more melancholic than ever. A heavy weight swayed in her chest like a pendulum, striking back and forth against her ribs as if her heart were so weighed down with despair, that it ticked out of rhythm.

The other maidservants, with the exception of a select few, whispered behind her back. The common words being ‘whore’, ‘slut’ and all the other denominations of the slurs. She wondered if they knew, could see it on her face. Had she changed in the many weeks since starting her employment? Perhaps it was the way her words had little feeling behind them now, and she had always been shy and quiet, but this was beyond shyness. With everyday she spent inside Aemond’s chambers, hair down from their confines and serving him with her mouth and various other ways, a little piece of her was taken. And she feared that if it continued, there may be nothing left.

That morning, she sent the neighbour the additional copper coins she’d requested, albeit begrudgingly, fearing that the next letter would just be asking for more. Simply because she could.

She missed her brother and sister. She wanted to go home. Be a child again. Perhaps meet a man and talk idly and innocently about marriage, and where to put their home, how many children they would have together.

The dream was a nice one. But the more time she spent within the stone walls of the Keep, the more blurry and further away it seemed to become. It was like being in a small room, surrounded by people, and they are all too close, and the music just seems to get louder and louder. Suffocating. Can’t breathe. No room to even expand your chest just a little. It was like being crushed.

This is what she thought about as Aemond’s hand curled into her hair at the root and tugged harshly, using his leverage there to fuck himself into her mouth, imagining it was her tight little cunny instead. The only sounds he emitted were the occasional grunt and ‘fuck’ when he felt himself getting close. She had learned by now that the best way of making it more bearable was to relax her mouth, and just allow him to guide the pace himself.

“Fuck” he hissed as he fucked her mouth faster, chasing his climax that he was just on the precipice of. She shut her eyes, expecting the flood of warm spend to hit the back of her throat. And a few moments later it came and he’d pressed his hips hard against her lips, feeling his cock twitch within as he came. She inhaled through her nose, as he’d told her to do the first time and she could smell the heady, lusty scent of his flesh and the smattering of hair tickled her face when he’d pressed flush against her.

He pulled his softening cock out her mouth slowly and used his thumb to wipe the tear away from her cheek, before softly swatting her cheek, almost in praise. It was not the emotions inside that made her tearful, it was the force of which he used her that made them fall, and how hard his member hit the back of her throat.

Aemond sighed contently, his hand curling around her throat but not squeezing, he just wanted to feel her swallow. Once she did, he swatted her cheek softly again. It was almost affectionate.

Almost.

In the corner of her eye, she heard Aemond sighing as he pulled his breeches back over his hips. She did not spare him a glance as he did and slowly began braiding her hair once again to go about her daily duties, otherwise people would talk.

Whore.

Slut.

She could still feel his spend on her mouth, the residue it left behind, the saltiness and muskiness of it. It smelled of sex and arousal, making the room feel hotter than it actually was. Her jaw ached from having Aemond’s member inside her mouth all morning. He’d been relentless in his desire to constantly be seated within her mouth, but she was at least thankful it was only that, and not another part of her.

Although she knew it was only a matter of time before he would want that as well.

“Leave” he said simply. And once she had her braids all set she obeyed without another word, not meeting his eye. She used her fingers to wipe the outline of her mouth, trying to get rid of the taste of his spend that lingered there.

The maidservants were beside themselves, busy with preparing for the arrival of Princess Rhaenyra, her husband Prince Daemon as well as her small army of children. Hedi was instructing the various staff to their stations, ever the leader. Freiya briefly made eye-contact with the little maidservant, but her expression was different. That usual playfulness in her young face was gone, replaced with a look that wrinkled with judgement. It filled her heart with dread that someone she thought could be a friend was now judging her.

Whore.

Slut.

“You are on wine duty tonight” Hedi said with a smile, her eyes dragging both concerned and suspiciously over her face. Since Hedi had found her crying in the hallway a few nights ago, she’d been overly-attentive, so much so that it was difficult sometimes to avoid her.

“I am to attend to the table?” she asks nervously. Hedi nodded,

“Shortage of staff, my lovely. I know it will be nerve-wracking but I have every faith in you” Hedi gives an encouraging smile in response. But the smile isn’t returned. Instead she is to imagine what it will be like to see him. Outside his chambers. It almost makes her want to vomit.

The next few hours are a blur of preparations for the large table for supper, at the request of King Viserys. Everyone felt it, the tension in the air. With the arrival of Princess Rhaenyra came the conflict of the past, and no doubt there would be plenty of heated words exchanged this evening.

She’d worked to get a few barrels of wine from the cellar to the main floor, filling various decanters with the bitter, red liquid in preparation of their supper. Her arms were tired from bringing up the barrels, sleeves turned up, but she quickly bought them back down to appear presentable once she heard the shuffled footsteps of multiple figures entering the main hall.

She steadied her breath, making sure she looked presentable and with two decanters of wine in her hand, albeit shaking, she came out to the main hall. The table was laid with place settings, goblets, plates and candles for lighting. If not for the latter, it would be terribly dark, and it all felt extremely close, uncomfortably so.

She placed one at the side of the room, going around the table with the other to fill up the goblets. At the moment, only half of the seats were filled and she noted that Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra were already seated. And the two blonde Princes were talking idly with one another on one side. She dared not look up, scared that if she did, he would already be looking at her. Perhaps he’d be confused that she was here. Or perhaps he was thinking of all the things he might do.

For a moment, Aegon followed Aemond’s line of sight. She floated around, filling the goblets with wine like a ghost, undetected, with the exception of the two Princes. Aemond gave Aegon a look that she did not see.

When the other figures began to sit down in their spots, she walked quickly to her station, in the opposite direction to Aemond luckily and stood, trying to calm her breath, eyes glued to the floor. Her curiosity could not be contained when the rest of the family, such as Prince Daemon, Prince Jacaerys and Lucerys entered and her eyes dragged up, having never seen them before. Landing lastly on Aemond, who was already deeply staring at her with such a look in his eye that it stole her breath.

He looked stressed, uncomfortable but most of all, angry.

She watched as his eye flit from her to the curly-haired brunet at the other end of the table, the muscle in his jaw clenching. The entire evening was stressful and luckily with the tension of the room, she was not called upon very often to refill their goblets, so she simply stood, eyes downcast and pretended she wasn’t listening.

Eventually though, as the fight broke out, she was ushered out of the room by Hedi, who had come out knowing she was attending to the main feast. The little maidservant gave Aemond a brief, afraid look, one he met with his own eye, with a level of disdain as Prince Daemon approached to break up the tension. Her heart had shuddered at the look he gave her. As if he’d singled her out, felt all the rage and anger in his body build up, wanting to unleash it on someone. Someone who didn’t matter.

Her.

“Seven Hells, I knew something would happen but never this” Hedi huffed as she gathered all the maidservants, “back to your normal duties, I shall find you all if I need you”

She couldn’t possibly have said how much time had passed since the feast. But what she knew was that she felt a certain dread inside, anticipating something. She didn’t shake, or tremble, but she had known she was afraid. Of what, there was no need to say out loud. So instead of focussing too much on it, she busies herself with various tasks, such as lighting all the candles in the now dark chambers. Her hair, as per his request, fell over her shoulders in waves, swaying softly in the idle draught.

Aemond had fire in his blood during the entire walk back to his chambers, fists clenched in pure rage. He remembered the way that little bastard had laughed at him. Remembered the way the other bastard had struck his face, albeit with little effect, but it had still irked him that he’d touched him in any case. And most of all, he’d remembered the look Daemon had given him. How the Rogue Prince had stared him down, an amused look on his face. How Aemond had been forced to stand down.

He felt humiliated. Powerless. Like that night so many years ago all over again.

He never wanted to feel like that again, but he did.

The doors to his chambers opened so quietly and shut so softly, she didn’t even realise he had entered. He stood at the door, watching as she lit the rest of the candles, tiptoed on a stool.

It was only when Aemond began to unbuckle his doublet that the clinking of silver urged her to turn around. She scrambled to her feet, curtsied and straightened her back.

“You grace” she said softly.

They met eyes, his were still as they raked over her and hers were darting across his face, trying to figure out what he might be thinking. Usually, he would be pensive, but there would be clear anger on his face and in his body language. But this night, where she had seen him visibly distressed at the feast, he was eerily calm, movements precise as all his buckles had been undone. And she wasn’t sure which side of him she preferred. She knew what to expect before, but now, she couldn’t predict what he might do.

He let his arms fall when his doublet was unbuckled, still looking at her. He motioned with his head for her to come to him. To undress him.

She had never done that before. He had always been clothed, or at least partly so. She swallowed nervously, but let her small steps go to him, small hands smoothing under the leather doublet to shuck it from his shoulders. The only thing underneath was the cotton undershirt, and through it, she could feel his skin, how warm it was. It was as if she was discovering for the first time that, as much of royalty he was, as much a Targaryen, a dragon, he was a human. A living thing that lived and breathed. Somehow her heart beat just that bit faster.

Folding the doublet over the head of a chair, she moved with scattered breath to unlace his breeches. Aemond felt himself become aroused merely at the thought of her hands on him, but his hand came to hers to push them away.

It was clear he'd changed his mind and did not want her to undress him after all. Perhaps the motions were too intimate. Foreign.

“Wine” he instructed simply.

She was more than happy to oblige instead of undressing him completely. So she turned around and filled a goblet of wine, the only sound in the chambers was the rush of wine to the cup and the muffled sound of clothing being dropped to the floor, and then the soft thump of a mattress.

When she turned back, filled goblet in hand, Aemond had rid himself of his breeches and undershirt, now entirely bare as he sat on the end of his bed. Even his eyepatch was off. Aemond wordlessly outstretched his hand to take the goblet and finished the bitter, red liquid within in a single gulp, licking the remnants of his lips a moment after, his eye fixed on her.

Her eyes were downcast, tracing the patterns of the floor. Of course, she had seen his most intimate areas, he had done the most intimate things to her. But seeing him completely naked was something else entirely and she felt her entire body become hot, uncomfortably so. Aemond’s jaw twitched in annoyance, dropping the silver goblet to the floor which made a shrill noise that made her jump.

“Look at me”

His eye was brimmed with fury. And it terrified her. He was so calm.

“Are you frightened of me” he asks coldly.

Her hands clasp around one another tightly.

“No, your grace” she says, her voice small, “Rather, I am afraid of what you will do to me”

Her honesty shocks both of them equally and she internally scolds herself that the words came tumbling from her mouth as quickly and thoughtlessly as they did. Perhaps she should not have said it. He did say before that he 'would have her fear if he could have nothing else'; she'd had nightmares about those words since.

Aemond stays eerily still. Processing her response.

"Take off your dress"

Her nerves were struck, and her eyes that were previously fixed on his were still there. Her lips parted in shock. She had never been bare before anyone before, much less before a man. Before a prince.

He could see her clasp her hands tightly, fingernails digging into her skin.

She considered saying no. For a split second.

But then she'd remembered what he said.

'Do you like this job, sweet girl. You will do as I say if you wish to keep it'

How he'd threatened to let her go. What would happen if she did say no.

Slowly her hands came to her apron, pulling the string and letting the fabric pool at her front. Aemond's eye watched intently, as if it were a show he had to be quiet for. Her apron folded on a chair, she took a breath and began unbuttoning from her collar, each one that came showed more and more of her chest, smooth and flushed pink with embarrassment.

Pretending to be preoccupied with her undress, she doesn't want to look up, but her eyes catch the smattering of hair that leads down to his hips, where she sees his slow, languid pumps of his cock. The angry head of his cock poking through his fingers with every slow thrust of his fist, a small, breathy sigh escapes him at the contact he's granted himself.

She steels her nerves and opens the front of her dress, pulling the open collar over her shoulders. Once the fabric is over the curve, she lightly lets go and the fabric falls to the floor, at her feet, the slight chill of his chambers hitting her now naked body. Her nipples perk up hard from both the temperature and the slight friction of her dress.

Aemond stops his movements as soon as the dress wafts against the floor, his eye going from her neck to her feet and back again, settling on her face. So much time passes that she wonders if he will say anything else at all and wonders if there's something wrong with how she looks.

Embarrassed, she looks down, crossing one arm across her chest, trying to hide herself. Aemond half sits up, pulling her harshly by her arm towards him and snatching it away from her.

"Do not hide yourself from me"

She swallows nervously at the way he speaks to her, the way his voice is lower now. It was as if he could command her solely with the tone of it. He could feel her trembling slightly, but his hand remained around her tight, no doubt leaving a mark. Touching her now, her bare form right in front of him completely for the taking, he can feel himself painfully hard. She is his, completely and entirely his.

He loves that stupid, doe-eyed expression she gets on her face whenever he’s making her do something. Loves the way her lips part, as if she’s going to complain or tell him to stop, but knows she has no authority to do it. He is much larger, stronger than her. What could she possibly do to shake him up.

Nothing.

He pulls her to his lap, letting her legs straddle his broad, muscled thigh, his breath tickling her bare breasts, making the skin around her nipples erupt with gooseflesh. He can feel the warmth of her cunt against his skin, even though there is no contact. She’d be so warm around him. Tight. His mind almost doesn’t work thinking about it. What will happen once he’s inside her. Would it feel like the clearest, purest paradise? Or would it spur on the darkest parts of him, pulling him back into that deep, ancient place that men go to when they see blood for the first time?

“Bring yourself to peak”

Her chest is tight.

Say no.

Tell him no.

He pulls her hips down, so that she sits on his thigh and he outright groans at the feeling of her warmth on him, wet and hot. His thumbs press almost painfully into her hip bones, shuffling her back and forth. Again…and again…

Say no.

She can’t bring herself to utter the words, even though his touch is bruising and the pain is there, the pleasure of her bundle of nerves rutting against his thigh is starting to cloud it.

This is wrong.

But who is she to say no.

She is nobody.

History would not remember her.

Just try and enjoy it.

Her breaths became more hurried the longer he guided her against his leg and she hated the fact it gave her pleasure, shooting warm sparks inside her belly at the friction. One of his hands comes to her front, pressing against her clit to give additional pressure, drawing lazy circles with the aid of her slick, which somewhat betrayed how she felt inside.

“That’s it…” he whispered, his face close to her breasts.

Aemond leaned forward, knowing that now she would not stop and his other hand massaged her breasts in his palm, moulding the flesh harshly. They felt better than he’d imagined they would, a perfect fit for his hold. And he’d heard the way her breath hitched when he brushed over her rosy bud, still rutting her cunt against his thigh like a bitch in heat. It almost made him laugh. His sweet girl, fucking herself on his leg like a whore.

He hummed as his tongue came to massage her other nipple, giving it the attention he felt it deserved, the vibrations rumbling in her chest. He sucked and grazed his teeth against it, and she whimpered, in pain or pleasure he didn’t care much.

“Touch me, sweet girl” he ordered, bringing her hand to his erection standing proud against his taut stomach. Her small hand wrapped around him but could barely encircle it, stroking his length in tandem with the fucking of herself against his leg, in the same languid rhythm. He kissed her breasts, thinking he could live in this moment forever with them against his face. He groaned against her as her hands squeezed the tip every time she thrust her hand against his cock, focussing his pleasure on that sensitive spot.

He could feel her legs trembling and the warmth of her slick against his leg. She was close and he knew it. He wanted her to peak at least once before he laid claim to her. Dragging her nipple through his teeth as he pulled back, she kept her pace stroking his cock and almost outright  moaned when he moved his leg to assist the faster rhythm.

“Give it to me” he whispered to her.

He reached up and wrapped his fingers around her neck, not applying pressure to the front as such, but rather to the sides to keep her there. Against her will, she lets out a quiet moan at the constriction, the coil in her belly tightening unbearably so. And it only takes one squeeze, one movement of his leg against her for her to completely fall apart. Her limbs briefly go numb, warmth flooding them a moment later, her lips parted in a silent scream as her climax completely obliterates her. He keeps the pace with his leg the entire time, prolonging the soft tingle of arousal.

Aemond lets his grip go ever so slightly, hearing the way she sucks in a breath, clarity engulfing her mind once again. Her breasts move softly with the force of her breathing, her heart beating quickly and he admires her like this for a moment, smirking and swatting her cheek softly, praising her.

“Good girl” he coos.

She barely has time to open her eyes to look at him, to process it, before he throws her to the mattress. The sheets are soft against her front, softer than any bedsheets she’s ever slept on, but there’s not a moment to appreciate it when she feels Aemond’s hand thread through her hair at her nape, dragging to her crown to grip. She gasps as he yanks her hair up, his other hand grabbing her face tightly, forcing her mouth open.

“You are mine. Understood?” he growls lowly in her ear, setting her survival instincts on edge.

She nods, unable to steel herself to say no. Not when he has her like this, his broad body looming over her back, fingers grabbing her harshly. His words right now upset her more than they should.

She is his.

But he will never be hers.

She has no right to that and never will.

“Open” he grips her jaw tighter and when she obeys, eyes softly shut, still recovering from the warmth of her peak, she feels his warm saliva land on her tongue. It sends a bolt of humiliation through her, one that settles in between her legs now that she can feel his hardness against her backside, hot and heavy. She mewls at the feeling, which makes him smirk.

“Mine”

His hand keeps hold of her hair, shoving the side of her face into the sheets as his other trails down her spine, tracing the feminine dimples at the top of her buttocks, perfect for his thumbs to rest in once he fucks her. He thinks she looks so perfect, small against him, but he would never tell her that. She whimpers in something akin to pain as he grips her buttock hard, smirking as he smacks it, leaving a pink mark behind. He’d love to mark her. Every single fucking bit of her. Maiden or not. He didn’t seem to care.

“Be a good girl and stay still for me”

She feels the hot whips of panic at her neck when Aemond knees her legs apart and he rests between them, even more so when he runs the head of his cock through her folds, gathering the wetness there. The room smells of sex already and his hand tightens in her hair.

This is it, she thinks.

And she can’t help but begin to cry, her tears wetten the sheets and a quiet sob muffled into the fabric. How would she find a husband now…now she had been tainted. And that was the only thing on her mind.

Aemond pushes the head of his cock inside her, the head disappearing between her folds and moaning outright at the immediate tightness as she tenses around him at the foreign feeling, trying to pull her hips away. It hurts too much. It stings. But it doesn’t seem like he cares.

“Fuck…” Aemond hisses, ever-so-slightly pushing further in but pausing when he hears her quiet whimpering, “Be quiet”

His voice is forceful, deep, primal. Like if she didn’t obey, he might just snap.

Her hands fist the bedsheets, face hot as well as her tears. She holds so much in that it’s borderline painful to do just that. He hadn’t made her peak before to make it easier for her. He’d done it to make it easier for him. So she would complain less.

One hand on her hip and gripping tightly, he pushes all the way in, until he can no longer, his chest flush with her skin. He tips his head back at the feeling of her cunt squeezing him so tightly, so much so he felt as if he could climax right there and then, the head of his cock kissing her cervix. He did not look up to her face as he began moving his hips almost instantly, sliding all the way out of her, only to slam back inside. All she gave was one quiet whimper.

It was a strange feeling, like no other, to be filled like this. She felt every bit of his member, the veins, the shape of him inside and even his warm stones hitting her when he thrusted quickly. The sounds of the room were quiet, only the fire and the sound of hot, moist flesh hitting again and again.

She felt like she disappeared somewhat, the only movement was his hips against her backside and thus her body with it. There was no pleasure tightening in her gut. All of this…was for his own means.

“Those fucking bastards…laughing at me-fuck” he hissed, thrusting into her tight, hot cunt, the blood of her maidenhead streaking his length sent a jolt of excitement up his spine, “not a fucking boy anymore-fucking cunts” he punctuated this words with a particularly hard thrust, one he knew would hurt.

He pulled her head up slightly by her hair, seeing her tear-stained face.

“Tell me who I am” he hissed, bringing her back to his chest, moving his hand to the front of her neck. And whereas previously he had been somewhat soft, this time he squeezed tightly, her breathy moan becoming caught in the in-between.

“Pr-ince Aem-ond” she replied, struggling against the harsh grip of his fingers on her neck, coupled with his devastating thrusts up into her, which never let up their pace.

He shook her briefly, “I am Aemond fucking Targaryen, you little cunt”

He was like a man possessed. Like not a man at all.

Inside, there was deep rooted humiliation. A search for some control that Aemond did not have. He wanted it. Gods he wanted it so badly. And if this is what it took to have it. So be it.

He didn’t understand it. This was meant to be an outlet, but he was just becoming angrier and angrier. Pushing away those thoughts meant they rounded back even faster and harder and he thought that perhaps the harder he fucked the little maidservant, the easier it would be to push him down.

The old version of him.

The scared, maimed child. Eye aching in agony.

“Aemond Targaryen…” he grunted as he continued to pound his cock into her, savouring the way her sex sounded and the way he slick was wetting his pubic bone.

He flipped her over, finally being able to see her face. Her cheeks were pink and glistening from her tears, her chest is dotted with flushed skin from the hot air in the room. Her eyes were wet and it should have done something to him, should have told him that this was wrong. But it didn’t.

He hooked his hands under her thighs and pulled her towards him, plunging mercilessly back inside with a strangled moan. He loved the way her walls quivered around him, squeezing him. And his hands went to the inside of her thighs, smiling at seeing the faintest amount of blood mixed with her essence. His thumb smeared the rich liquid over her skin, sinking into the lines of his fingers.

His pure little maidservant.

All his.

Ruined for anyone else.

"You should be fucking grateful, whining fucking peasant" he spat, delivering another harsh thrust which made her half cry and half moan out. He loved seeing her head tipped back, holding back how she really felt. He knew he made her feel good. The little slut just didn't want to admit it.

"I know you like this. Fucking cock tease" he leans down right to her face, his sapphire eye blazing with mockery and a sick sense of fulfillment, "Know you love it when your Prince fucks you"

He squeezed her breast painfully, making her crack her bleary eyes open to look at him.

Should she be grateful?

For this?

It didn't feel like it.

He dragged her legs up onto his knees, hitting a new spot inside, a rough patch he'd found with his fingers last time. If it's possible, she squeezes around him tighter, a soft moan tumbling out her mouth.

"You were made for me to fuck you…sweet girl…all mine…" he said it almost to himself, bullying the newly found rough patch, the one that made that coil within tighten painfully.

"You're going to fucking take my seed, understood…?" he asks breathlessly, feeling his own climax approach quickly. Too fast for his liking.

"No…please…" she whimpered softly, pushing against his chest weakly. But the prince simply grinned and pushed her arms away, pinning them down with one of his hands.

"Shut up and fucking take it"

His other hand came to her clit, rubbing furiously, insistent on making her peak at the same time as him and her face contorted in painful pleasure. It was all too much. She could feel how ruined she was. How ruined she would be. The mind was at odds with itself. There was guilt but also pleasure.

Aemond leaned down, his head in the crook of her neck, hips slapping against hers sloppily. He whispered and she was sure she wasn't meant to hear it. But she did.

"Come on, give it to me-please-I fucking need this" he whispered, so quietly. It was like he was pleading. And for a moment the tone of it caught her off guard, it was so soft and gentle sounding.

His finger pressed harshly, speed ever increasing and she felt her body spasm and tremble around him. He whispered praises into her ear that she was meant to hear. All while his cock relentlessly punished her still, rising out her climax with more of the delicious drag of his cock against her sensitive walls.

It cannot be.

She thought she heard the voice inside her head. Had it been the Mother? Her mother? Or had it been her thoughts? Had she said it out loud?

She felt her resolve, her grasp on herself, slipping away.

Aemond came with a shuddered groan, a moan that came in waves of breath against her neck, as if he'd never done anything so exerting in his life. She stayed utterly still, feeling the warmth of his seed paint her walls.

No…she thought.

It cannot be.

There was that voice again. It wasn't hers.

Silent tears began to roll down her face as Aemond remained there, seated within her, keeping his seed in her. His body was steady on his elbows, his hair tickling her hot, sweaty skin.

She couldn't help but whimper as he rose in one swift motion and pulled himself out of her, standing by the end of the bed and watching as his spend leaked out of her, pulling his breeches back over his softening cock.

She swallowed the lump in her throat as she also felt it, felt the wetness of the sheets beneath her, staring up at the canopy. The room filled with silence.

Aemond pulled his doublet back on hastily, making for the door.

"Be gone when I get back" he ordered, his tone voice of passion of any kind. But she could tell he was still out of breath. He was gone a second later.

She didn't reply. Couldn't.

She wondered where he'd be going so late. He'd never been the one to leave. He'd always ordered her to. But it seemed like she was unable to move.

It felt empty, inside.

Tomorrow she planned to go to the Sept, to pray. To hope.

"Forgive me…" she whispered.

Although she did not know who she was asking.

There was nobody but the voice, which sounded so close as if it were inside her ear.

It cannot be.

General Aemond Taglist: @risefallrise​ @valeskafics​​

Consequences Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @manitskatrina @dahlias-and-marigolds @okfashionista @the-common-cowgirl @toodlesxcuddles  @darkenchantress @magnificentdelusionr   @tinykryptonitewerewolf @tssf-imagines @mandiiblanche @xdeath-soulx  @daemonlover @iiamthehybrid​ @thedamewithabook​ @hiatuswhore​ @apollonshootafar​ @ladymarg0t​ @hopeless-addiction-love @leeleebabe101 @babyblue711 @croatianprincess @what-is-your-wish @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @garnetbutterflysblog @queenmizuki

*Bold means I couldn’t tag, if I can't tag you you can always turn on notifications for when I post. DM me if you wanna be removed besties

[yinlikesbooksandtea]

青のすみか

Where Our Blue Is

“Satoru?”

You never thought you'd see him again after you graduated Tokyo Jujutsu High. Being a sorcerer wasn't for everyone and that was clear. Seeing your own best friend fall apart and drown in their depression spiraling from their past. It's hard not to leave with your own mental demise. Dead. Dead. Dead. People fall one by one, and you knew you'd be soon if you didn't leave.

3:38am

Oddly specific. I can't sleep. We all can't. The burdens of society and capitalism hanging over our shoulders. Being a teacher wasn't the easiest either. You may have left jujutsu society but being a kind person never really left your heart. A beer in one hand and a cigarette in another. You promised yourself, you'd never smoke yet here you were. A certain brown haired girl would have chuckled at you now. Sitting at your balcony smoking like your old friend would. A knock at your door surprised you. Instinctively your head turnt to the noise, your body freezing for a moment. Feet moving against the wooden tiles of the cheaply rented apartment. A shiver going down your spine at the thought of someone knocking at your door at midnight. Though a familiar mop of white hair catches your attention through the peephole. Blue eyes you'd never forget in a millennia looking right back at you. Like he knew you were there. The sound of the door knob twisted, before you knew it your hand had opened the door to greet your friend. An acquaintance you'd count now with so many years that past. Everything changed.

Yet it still felt the same.

The familiar white hair, vibrant blue eyes that sparkled like the sky, the intimidating aura that came with someone as tall and big as him. It was all the same but so different. The white bandages that used to be wrapped around his eyes no where to be seen. How can someone grow even taller after highschool? You wanted to ask by decided against it.

“Satoru?”

His name glides off your tongue the same as it used to. As easy as ever as if a decade hasn't past. You're no longer 18, but you're 28 now. Wrinkles and smile lines are a little more visible on each other's faces. But there's a certain beauty to it. You were alive and had the privilege to age. If only your dear old friends had the same. Maybe things would have been different. Satoru didn't look a day over 20. Still the same, handsome as ever a masculine aura that complimented him had grew as well. A bittersweet smile emerges on his face as he stands there. A hand tucked in his pockets as he bends downwards slightly so you can see him better in the dim light.

"Hey. It's been a while."

It's been a while indeed.

And suddenly you can't help but smile back at him either. Your head tilting to the side as you did so like the teenager you once were.

"I brought some sweets."

That handsome voice said. Of course you did. He loved sweets and something's never change do they? Even in the sadness of being an adult, a flower blooms in the harshest weather. A sweet smile finally blooming on that face that was ridden with sorrow. Your feet carrying your body, as you stepped aside to let him in. It seemed that spring has come once more. Your spring.

"Come in, Satoru. I'll make us tea."

"At 3am? We aren't gonna be able to sleep later."

"It's not like we plan to do we?"

I guess somethings never change.

We did meet again.

Like grains of stars in an infinitely expanding galaxy. Spilling through the gaps between my fingers.

-------------------------------------------

Hello it's been a while since I wrote something! I wrote this at 4 am so if there's some mistakes I'll check in the morning but honestly it's been a while since I felt like writing something. I got a little sad and wrote something a bit melancholic ish I guess. Highly highly recommend reading the lyrics of Where our blue is before you read this fic! Sorry it's a bit short and request are always open.

Anyways hope you guys like it :)

[updownlately]

i'm the definition of 'wreck' (if you look into my soul)

| leah williamson x reader | angst | 2.4k | inspo: time by nf / everywhere by niall horan | a/n: i tried to write angst, no idea how that went but here's what i got. technically since no names were named you can imagine any player from the arsenal wfc as 'her' but i wrote this with leah in mind bc well im a lw6 simp

~~~

It's been like this for weeks. This push and pull. The little things that work just a little harder each time to knock you over the edge. To be honest you don’t know how much of it you can take. And what’s worse is you know you’ve got nobody but yourself to blame. 

It’s when she’s leaving your shared bed early in the mornings, long before either of you need to be up. It’s the way she’d retire to bed later than she probably should, long after you’ve headed up, risking less sleep just to avoid contact. 

It shouldn’t be like this. Love shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn't be missed date nights, keys grabbed after every fight, doors slammed, sometimes more nights a week spent at hotels than your own bed.  Yet, it’s all you’ve ever known and the only thing you carry in your heart. This sad, broken, pathetic attempt at love is really all you have to offer.

In all honesty, you were shit at this relationship thing, though no one could blame you. They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and yet you’ve begged and prayed that it would. And yeah you technically have control over your actions and should better yourself, but you’ve tried and failed over and over again. You’ve tried to improve, work on yourself, create a better version of you, but in the end, when everything’s burning and there’s napalm in the air and rubble all around you, all you’ll ever know is to grab your weapon, fire, and run. 

It’s left you alone, failed relationship after failed relationship. You swear you’ve tried. Tried to work on communicating, on breathing deep breaths before your anger builds up, on talking about your fucking feelings. Regardless, it’s never enough for yourself. You run, you hide, you lock yourself away until there’s nothing to find.

So when weeks and months pass and you see her each day with the light finally returning to her eyes you can’t help but be glad that she got rid of you. 

And when you feel so broken seeing her and her family after a game won at your home pitch, you quietly gather the shattered pieces of your heart and make your way toward the locker rooms with nobody but yourself to blame.

It's only as you pass the friends and family section that you can pick out her mother’s voice and your name being said in conversation, with a follow up question on how you’re doing, something you really don’t deserve after how you’ve treated her.

You’re very much aware that no matter how many times you fix your damaged heart and dull all the sharp edges, that you’ll still end up hurting those around you. So you speed up ever so slightly, shielding your already broken heart, cradling the pieces that had fallen ever so gently as they break further in your hands, careful not to cut anybody along the way. You swear you drop some pieces in your hurry, but with your rush you tell yourself you’d come back later to grab them (spoiler: you never do).

~

You end up showering and changing before anyone else has even made it back inside. Making a pit stop to confirm your departure and the following days’ schedules with your manager and coach, you check the time and head to your car.

It's late afternoon and while that helps expand your options for lunch, it also means you have one too many hours left in the day to survive before you can let yourself head to bed. Contemplating on how to spend the rest of your day, it’s your tiredness that makes the final decision. 

You grab a quick lunch, choosing to not head home and instead to the gym for a workout. It may not be one of your wiser decisions to have an extensive training session today, but with the free time on your hand and the voices in your head, there’s really no better option. 

Meeting up with your trainer, which by the way bless his heart for booking you at the last minute, you gather your gloves and handwrap and head towards the equipment. It’s as you run through your normal warm-up that you reflect on how pathetic your life’s become. 

For the past three months, you’ve damn near ceased to exist. Yeah your body’s still here, you’re waking up in the mornings, attending practices, playing in games, all the good stuff really, but you know you’re not there. A feeling you’re all too familiar with. The lack of care of what happens to your body, the way your slide tackles and play gets just a tad bit more dangerous each game, the way you keep training, choosing to ignore the idea of a recovery period, the way your car’s more comforting to you than the apartment you own. You’ve been here before and it wasn’t a good place then and it sure as hell isn’t now, but it's all you know and the only thing that’s never really left, so you’ll cherish it for as long as you can. You know that if anything and everything leaves, as they always seem to do, you’ll still have your companion in the darkness.

The sane part of you realizes how far gone you are, it tries, tries so helplessly hard to pull you back, remind you that you can be okay, but this time? This time you’re sure you’ve given up on trying to remember that. So you’ll do what you know best. Let it consume you. Let it destroy you. Pick you apart piece by piece. Let you slowly forget the feel of a sunny day and a good practice with the team. Rid you of the joy that comes with the pretty sunsets London Colney sometimes has to offer. And this time you’ll let it all happen with open arms, truly, honestly, finally exhausted.

An hour later when your trainer’s calling it a day and forcing you to take a break, you listen, if only to spare yourself a lecture. You grab your stuff, shower, change, and head out. You’ve still got a couple hours left to kill, and with your training bag and boots still in your car, it’s not a difficult decision of where to go. 

Opening your car door and entering, you can feel the day catch up to you, your body readily sinking into the driver's seat, almost protesting against your mind. You know you’ll be feeling these workouts tomorrow, but your mind’s not done racing yet. 

Lacing your boots a short while later, back at the training grounds, you grab your spare ball and warm-up once again, going through the motions. With how many hours you’ve spent at the grounds alone, you’ve developed a pretty consistent solo training session. It's the peace of being alone, a football at your feet, and a near-perfect grassy pitch at your disposal that your mind slowly begins to slow, finally tiring.

You thought you got lucky, a finally tired mind and the hour changing to one acceptable enough for sleep, but then your phone rings, an all too familiar caller ID flashing the screen.

Eight pm after a match in the afternoon is an odd time for your coach to be calling you and with curiosity getting the best of you, you scramble to answer the phone. Running through the pleasantries, you gently prod the reason for his call. 

The answer you get isn’t what you were expecting really, but then again, it was a miracle it had taken this long for it to be said.

“Your contract’s ending soon. wrapping up the third and headed into the final year. Any thoughts on your future?”

The tone in Jonas’ voice causes your heart to sink. This club had been home to you since you had left your own. Arsenal had accepted you with open arms from the start, being your saving grace when you had thought you were going to be subjected to living a broken life at a place that never felt like home. When they had renewed your initial two year contract into another four, you had been elated for your future. You had never felt more excited to be tied down to a place before. taking a silent deep breath, you push back the memories of that day and swallow your emotions effortlessly.

“Depends. What's my future at Arsenal looking like?”

“You tell me. You of all players know that chemistry in a team is what makes a team run, what makes a team successful.”

His response tells you everything you need to know. You know he wasn’t oblivious to what had happened. How your outgoing personality had slowly stopped being exactly that. The way that you had pulled away from your teammates, treating them like nothing more than colleagues rather than friends, treating your job as what it simply was, your job. But you never expected him to have let it impact your presence on the team. You knew what you were worth and what you brought to the table. You weren’t a goal scoring machine, or defensive unit, a tough protective wall. You were you. You played all your minutes like they were the last you’d ever play, heart left of the pitch (not that there was much left of it anyway). You were content with setting your teammates up, leading the league in assists. You were a decent tackler, winning more than two thirds of your face-offs on the regular. You knew your worth on the team, and your agent reminded you of it often enough too, mentioning the potential offers you could have from other clubs regardless of how many times you’d told him you didn’t plan to leave.

“Our on pitch chemistry hasn’t changed. My on pitch chemistry hasn’t changed. We’re still a unit on the field Jonas and you know it. You know I have the utmost respect for you and this club, don’t let me think any differently.”

“A handful of clubs have reached out. Their offers are tempting to say the least.”

As much as it hurt you to say the next few words, you knew that taking any other stance would leave you stuck, broken for the umpteenth time. “I trust you to make the best decision for the club. At the end of the day, I wish nothing but the best for Arsenal.” 

The ‘with or without me’ goes unsaid but from the few years that you’ve worked with him, you knew for a fact that he had heard the unspoken words. As Jonas lets you know that while a decision had to be made, there wasn’t an immediate rush, you know for a fact that you’ll likely not be calling London home again. And when you both agree to reconnect a week from now, you’ve already accepted your fate. 

It’s an unusually silent drive home for you. The brief break you had earlier from your mind is long gone as you make a mental note to get in touch with your agent first thing tomorrow morning.

~

The post goes up after your last match of the season. While Arsenal had qualified for the Champions League once again, the team had gotten knocked out in the semis for the tournament, ending their season a few days early. It’s between the break of club football and world cup prep that your departure is announced, with no real destination said. If you hadn’t known that London wasn’t home for you anymore, the lack of a response besides an occasional story about the post from a few of your teammates solidified it. 

It's when Bayern upload their new signing post with you holding up your new jersey that the final nail in the coffin is hammered in. The way your move suddenly becomes real. The comments being said online. Speculation on why Arsenal decided to let you go despite your importance to their success. Why Bayern was who you chose. Why there was no lengthy farewell. The people were digging for any crumbs, any notions on why you may have left, but it was only you and your teammates that really knew, and you all chose to keep mum. 

It’s with the acceptance that you’re leaving do you feel absolutely unwanted and lost. And while you’d felt lost in your life before, it had never been like this. Feeling lost was when you were younger and couldn’t find your mother while at the toy store and when you had gotten your first failing mark in school. Feeling lost was when you were asked to leave your childhood home after coming out, no idea where to go. It was when you still got night terrors from the fights that your parents used to have even when you thought you had healed. But being lost had never felt like this. It had never reminded you that you had lost the only good in your life. That the only family you had ever loved didn’t want you anymore. That you hurt all those around you, people you promised to protect and love. That you had a gaping hole in your chest from a gun that you had fired. 

So as the weeks pass and the world cup comes and goes and you notice yourself slipping just a little more each day, you let it play out. You don’t know what your breaking point is but at this point you just don’t care enough to not find out, especially since you’ve got nobody to blame but yourself.

When you leave your bed early in the mornings, long before you need to be up just because sleep wasn’t coming to you and retire to bed later than you should just to avoid having to lay in a bed alone, you blame yourself. When you come home to an empty apartment in a new city, the loneliness amplified by the darkness you choose to adorn your apartment with, you have no one to turn to but yourself. And when you interact with your new teammates solely for work in fear of hurting them too, you remind yourself that you’re broken, only able to spread your misery rather than feel joy.

It never was supposed to be like this. Existing wasn’t supposed to be like this. But now it’s all you know and all you have. So when you wish you yourself could leave your body and soul behind, it wasn't hard to understand why she left you.

At the end of the day, when everything's done and gone, you at your core were a mess you didn't know how to control, a wreck of a soul, barely alive.

[itsnathateasy]

Armin Week | Day 6 | SFW Prompts | Bunny Armin OR Cadet Corps Shenaningans

word count: 863 warnings: none author’s note: there are a few shenanigans in there, i promise!

@armin-week-2024

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

i couldn’t resist writing some headcanons about cadet!armin and you dating!

cadet!armin DEFINITELY stays up late with you. you casually plan these dates during supper, then pretend to go to bed, only to sneak out a couple of hours later hehe

these dates are mostly reserved for snogging

and you literally always get caught by eren and mikasa who share your not-so-secret plan

cadet!armin is the cutest by always waiting for you to be done with your food and walks with you to the kitchen where you leave your empty plates and glasses

cadet!armin also makes sure you’re together for cleaning and kitchen duties, armin is so meticulous, but you keep distracting him, making up choreos with sasha and putting on the funniest of shows and connie always joins in the dancing

but captain levi is never satisfied with your cleaning, and even less with your terrible dance moves someone pls write a hc where levi joins in a broomstick and mop/bucket dance off to sum up, your cleaning duties tend to last quite longer than they should

cadet!armin isn’t the best at hand to hand combat but the fact that you practice together all the time has helped him greatly improve and has also filled his head with nasty thoughts

cadet!armin is very protective over you and gets kinda possessive (in a cute way) when you’re not allowed to pair up for tasks because why should you be allowed to gather apples with jean just the two of you when he’s stuck with mikasa?

and no, secretly saving him a few apples to snack on when you’re sneaking out didn’t really help, but no apples were left and armin was much calmer and confident about you hanging out with the other guys from then on

cadet!armin makes sure you study together, teaching each other the material you find most difficult to understand. you even expand those study dates to invite the rest of the group, which you both regret because no studying was done BUT you both find great joy in spending time with your friends, these study dates somehow make your alone time feel even more special

also, cadet!armin used to tutor eren and connie when they needed help, but he found out they only asked for help so that they could secretly plot their pranks and needed armin’s intel

cadet!armin takes AGES to properly confess to you and ask you out even though you two have been practically an item for who knows how long

“armin, we’ve been dating for months, what are you talking about?”

“i mean uh, we’ve never really- i mean it’s official now! we never properly discussed are relationship status before”

“have you been seeing anyone else besides me?”

armin is now PROFUSELY blushing and stutters at your remark “YOU KNOW THIS ISN’T WHAT I MEANT, I LOVE YOU”

“he has been seeing eren behind your back y/n”, a comment from jean which only earned him a glare from you and a punch from eren

“this was unnecessary” armin says to eren

“punching jean is never unnecessary armin, trust me” he said and rubbed his fist against his palm

cadet!armin is the one to pour you your tea in the mornings while you and the other cadets are still having breakfast, only to mess up and spill it all on you, him and whoever is sitting beside you because you kept talking to him and looking at him with those eyes “and this is how you waste an entire kettle of fine black tea cadets” a snear remark from captain levi

levi didn’t even bother putting armin, sasha and you on cleaning duty again, he knows this battle is long lost

cadet!armin pretends to have such a hard time getting his odm straps on once in a while, so he can come to you for help, only to see you tying all these straps and knots and have you touch him, he’s cunning like that

cadet!armin was often scared because he wasn’t as strong and skilled as his classmates, but he was never afraid to admit his fear or back down, he was particularly afraid the first time you tried your odm gear and he practically smashed himself flat on the wall, the incident was a running joke in your year

connie would always make fun of the incident and he even tried to imitate armin’s face when they took him down, “it’s not even funny anymore connie, just drop it” eren would step up for his friend

“yeah, remember that time captain caught you trying to cook when the fire was out? THAT was funny” said jean and pulled armin closer with one arm, ruffling his hair

“th- thanks jean. was my face really that funny?”

“yes, it was, but it’s been 6 months, connie should entertain himself with a new joke”

the blush on armin’s face was beyond words

“maybe we’d all be funnier if we were foods, right?” sasha asked, looking at you, then at mikasa

“drop it potato girl” reiner exclaimed in a pissed off way

“NOW THIS JOKE IS EVEN OLDER THAN ARMIN’S!” sasha screamed as she started chasing reiner around