#and i just can’t help but wonder if it’s bc he wished someone would do the same for him

[clowningcrows]

so do we think that neil was always the first one to include people and support and accommodate them bc he knows a little too well what it’s like to be on the other side of it or

[zorobff]

i bet on losing dogs. (opla!zoro x reader)

synopsis: zoro is defeated by mihawk and therefore unable to claim the title of the world’s greatest swordsman. you just want him to know that he’s still the greatest to you.

warnings: mentions of blood, some direct dialogue from opla, not much romance i literally just wanted someone to tell zoro he’s enough bc he deserves it <3

a/n: idk if this is any good i just wanted an excuse to write and one piece has been my fixation for like 2 months now so :P

you can’t move.

it seems as if every bone in your body is frozen in place despite your brain telling you to do something — anything. you stand there, eyes helplessly locked onto zoro’s weak and defeated body. your heart is racing and you’re unable to stop your mind from doing the same. after all, there was a certain unease that came with seeing someone like roronoa zoro be conquered. his dream of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman had been crushed within minutes. knowing zoro, that thought would be tougher to overcome than any physical wound.

you want to run to him. to be with him.

luffy beats you to it.

“zoro!” he shouts with such pain that you wonder if he’s somehow hurting more than the swordsman is.

the sight of your captain sprinting across the deck of the baratie manages to push you to action. the two of you rush to zoro’s side, trying and failing to look anywhere but the bright red gash across his torso. it’s even worse up close. with every heave of his chest, more blood oozes out.

the cut is impossibly deep and yet, you can’t help but feel grateful. you’d seen the size of mihawk’s sword. the thing could’ve split zoro in half with the flick of a wrist. just the thought of that sends a new wave of shivers down your spine. you thank every higher power that mihawk was feeling generous enough to spare your friend’s life.

“zoro?” you attempt to say his name calmly. “zoro, please talk to us.”

his eyelashes flutter as he attempts to keep conscious. you see the subtle wincing in his face, the clenching of his jaw. for a second you wish he would have passed out, at least then he wouldn’t have to endure all this agony. even though this was surely the worst hit anyone had landed on him during his extensive career, you could tell that wasn’t the hardest part for him.

his eyes stay glued to the skies, refusing to even acknowledge you or luffy. his irises gloss over and tears well up on his waterline. there could only be one thing on his mind, the one thing you knew he was truly passionate about; his promise. was he afraid he had let down that nameless person he always spoke of? that he had failed as a swordsman?

for some reason, you want to cry with him.

“you did good,” you whisper without a second thought. “just stay awake, okay?”

luffy nods in agreement, hand coming to grip zoro’s shoulder so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“monkey d. luffy,” calls mihawk, shifting everyone’s attention back to him. “what is your goal?”

your captain nearly growls. “i’m going to be the king of the pirates.”

luffy’s response could seem rehearsed. mechanical, even. but the truth is he just meant it that much. his conviction was unmatched in every possible way.

“king of the pirates, eh?” repeats mihawk. there’s a hint of amusement in his tone. however, he wasn’t mocking luffy, as many people tend to do when they hear of his dream. “that is a much more treacherous path than defeating even me.”

luffy whips around to fix mihawk with a stern glare. “i don’t care. it’s what i’m going to do.”

“maybe you will at that,” muses the bearded swordsman. “this world could use a few more wild cards.”

their odd exchange ends there, leaving an unnerving silence. the sound of your choked back sobs getting caught in your throat and waves splashing against the deck is all there is for a moment.

“why the tears, girl?” mihawk inquires.

you can’t bear to look at him, much less respond. not after what he’d done to zoro. your hands that once rested reassuringly on your crewmate’s stomach now ball into fists. how could he behave so nonchalantly when he had injured zoro within an inch of his life?

“seems like you aren’t as plucky as the rest of your crew, hm?” mihawk comments when his question is met with silence.

hot tears of frustration roll down your cheeks. “get lost. you’ve done enough damage, haven’t you?”

“that would be incorrect. i was tasked with retrieving your captain for the marines. as you can see, i have yet to do that.”

“i couldn’t care less about what you came here for,” you tell him between gritted teeth. “how do you have the nerve to stand there and talk down to us after what you did to him?”

mihawk’s head tilts to the side as he observes you. pensively, he murmurs, “you care for him.”

“of course we care for him, he’s our crewmate!” luffy shouts in response, clearly missing the true meaning behind the words.

on the other hand, you opt to stay silent, slightly embarrassed about how quickly mihawk was able to catch on to you. were your feelings really that easy to see through? almost as if confirming your concern, mihawk coughs out a dry chuckle before his face falls stoic once more.

“look after him.” his gaze lingers on you when he says that. “it is too soon for him to die. roronoa zoro, grow strong and come find me. i’ll be waiting.”

with that, mihawk makes his exit. once the coast is clear, usopp and nami finally come scurrying over. the marksman kneels down on zoro’s left while the latter stays standing, almost too afraid to get close.

“he’s losing so much blood,” usopp notes, voice unsteady.

luffy is quick to shut down the true implication behind those words. “he’s going to be okay.”

a strangled groan escapes the green-haired swordsman in question. the four of you freeze. the moment feels eerily similar to when you watched him collapse after mihawk had struck him down. for the second time in a day, zoro has all of you holding your breath in anticipation.

“if i—” he swallows hard, eyes still shiny and looking upward. “—fail to become the world’s greatest swordsman... you’ll be disappointed. right?”

luffy’s gaze softens. “you could never fail me.”

however, your captain’s sincere words don’t seem to be enough. zoro finally rips his gaze away from the clouds, head lolling to the side to face you instead. those wide eyes of his always held so much intensity, so much emotion. now is no different as he meets your stare, seemingly in search of your reassurance as well.

it wasn’t that you were unsure of what to say but how to say it. you didn’t trust yourself to speak your mind and say what you truly thought of zoro. the last thing you needed was your feelings for him slipping out at a time like this. you decide to play it safe and just nod. “you know i feel the same way. we all do.”

“i need… to hear you say it,” he replies, voice cracking.

your heartbeat gets caught in your throat at the utter desperation in zoro’s voice. it sounded as if he truly needed your approval if he was going to survive this. it was unlike him to get hung up on something so trivial such as someone’s opinion of him. he never seemed to care what other people thought, why was he starting now? and with you, of all people?

before you can question it any further, zoro hisses. the pain causes his entire body to tense and his wound spurts fresh crimson. without thinking, your hand comes up to rest reassuringly on his cheek. automatically, your thumb begins rubbing soothing circles on the skin. he’s hot to the touch and slick with sweat but you don’t mind it. the way his body relaxes itself is all you care about. well, that and the way he leans into your touch. for someone who rejected physical contact at every given chance, this was new but very, very welcome.

the emotion of it all causes you to lose any concern you’d previously had over voicing your thoughts about zoro. you can’t help but give him the response he was begging for, regardless of how smitten you sounded.

“zoro, you’re the best i’ve seen. and i don’t just mean with your swords. no defeat could ever take away what you have, you know that right? almost everyday i ask myself what the hell i’m doing on the same crew as someone like you. you don’t understand how much it pains me knowing that you feel the need to prove your worth when clearly you’re the greatest there is. in every way. so, how could i ever be disappointed in you?”

there’s a few moments of silence. this time, you truly don’t hear a thing. not the waves, not the birds in the sky, not even the thumping of your own heartbeat. your brain has blocked out everything that isn’t zoro. the same zoro who’s breaking down into tears right in front of you. it’s an unbelievable sight, watching them stream down his face as he takes in everything you’d just said.

using what little strength he has left, zoro lifts a shaky hand to rest atop yours. you pause your ministrations on his cheek and let him intertwine his fingers with yours. he squeezes your hand so tightly that you’re positive it takes everything in him to do so.

“never… again,” he chokes out, tearful eyes meeting yours. “from now, until i beat him.” he uses his left hand to unsheathe his sword. he lifts it to the sky with purpose, as if to solidify this vow. “will i ever give you a reason to be disappointed in me. i, roronoa zoro, will never lose again!”

his grip becomes unsteady, causing his sword to fall from his grasp and clatter on the ground. his arm falls back to his side and he’s able to give you one last look before he’s out cold.

“zoro?” luffy calls, leaning forward. “zoro?!”

you suck in a shaky breath at the feeling of his hand going limp. you’re grateful he’s still breathing at the very least but it’s clear he needs medical attention fast.

“let’s get him inside,” nami commands. it’s the first thing she’s worked up the courage to say.

luffy and usopp waste no time shifting zoro’s arms over their shoulders while you and nami take his legs. despite your joint efforts, the four of you struggle to drag zoro off the baratie; you blame his rigorous training that had made him all muscle. usually you wouldn’t complain but it sure made carrying him aboard the going merry a difficult task. at last, he’s dumped onto the table in your makeshift kitchen.

“get the first aid kit,” nami demands, opening zoro’s shirt to inspect the severity of his wound.

“do we even have one?” usopp replies as he shifts around every cupboard and drawer on the ship.

“zoro… can you hear me?” luffy’s quiet voice gets lost in the commotion your two other crew mates are creating. but you take notice.

“he’s going to be alright,” you tell him. whether you say it for luffy or yourself, you aren’t certain.

“someone needs to go back to baratie,” nami sighs, running a hand through her ginger locks. “maybe one of the customers is a ship’s doctor.”

the devil fruit user blinks a couple times. “right. a doctor. we need a doctor.” he sprints out of the kitchen, presumably in search of one.

once your captain’s gone, nami aids usopp in scouring the kitchen, in search of anything that could potentially help your crew mate until he’s able to receive the proper medical attention.

you decide to stay right by zoro’s side. not once do you leave him.

[paarksunghoon]

hello omg i love love LOVE deep honey, which is rare cus i usually do not touch fluff at all but smth abt the way u wrote got to me. i was wondering that in case u wanted an idea, u could write abt sunghoon rushing over to take care of his sick girlfriend? :3 just a thought or any headcannons u have on that would do fine but if u wanna turn it into a drabble or fic that's good too, especially if it's a continuation of deep honey

anyways, that is all from me, have a good day!!!

thank you so much :’) for all of my nsfw drabbles and content, I really enjoy writing the softer kind of stories. switched up the request just a little. consider this a token of my appreciation for your kindness. xx

ps this is what I’m imaging him wearing

***

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that nothing good could ever happen when you text someone past 2AM.

Both existential and physical dread consume you the second you open your texts and see a plethora of unread messages due to your current state of being. You’ve been bedridden for what feels like years but it’s only been a few of days. It’s technically Sunday morning and technically you should be fast asleep, especially since you’d taken medication to help you rest throughout the night. But seems like your body has other plans for you.

Tossing and turning won’t do either. Your head feels much better than it has for the past two days. You’d taken two days off or classes because of intense migraines paired with what seems like onset sickness due to it being flue season. Guilt over missing classes and groveling to your professors (even if they extended grace and told you to rest up) ate you alive, only ebbing away when you closed your eyes and slept.

Your roommate has been away because of a family event and what was once a promising weekend full of relaxation and the apartment to yourself is now a time for you to wallow in your misery. You’ve gone through countless tissues and have slept more in the past few days than in your entire life. It feels like your head might as well be cut off with how many problems your eyes, nose, and throat are giving you.

To pass the time, social media distracts you for a few minutes and you catch glimpses of what your friends have been up to. Partying. Studying. Eating at the cafeteria. All of these are mundane events you took for granted because you’d love to be anywhere but rotting away in your apartment. You’d rather studying for a midterm over feeling like you can’t move without losing your breath.

You take this time to catch up on texts as well. There are so many what remain unread by you and guilt crawls up your spine as you begin to reply to everything.

hi riki!! sorry I haven’t replied yet. I’ve been sick all weekend :/ I wish I could’ve gone to jake’s game with u bc it looked so fun ☹️

jungwon ur your cat is so cute omg…please send more vids. also sorry for replying late im sick lol

sunoo I swear to god if you watch another episode without me, I’m gonna beat your ass whenever I recover

yes, mom. I’m resting as much as I can! sorry I haven’t responded sooner. I still feel sick

heeseung do u think sunghoon would be weirded out if i text him right now. pls advise 😁

Heeseung immediately reads the message and the text bubble appears straight away. He’s one of your closest friends in university who always happens to be friends with Park Sunghoon, the guy you’ve been talking to for the past month and a half.

heeseung: Nah not weird. He’d probably like hearing from you

heeseung: He was asking about you earlier today and said you haven’t been talking to him as much

you: looking at my phone made me nauseous :/

heeseung: You should probably tell him that bc he’s been staring at his phone all day

you: soooo it wouldn’t be weird if I texted him out of the blue rn?? usually we don’t like…start conversations so late

heeseung: You’re overthinking. Just text him and if he doesn’t reply then he’s asleep and will text you in the morning

you: I’m scared of fucking it up

heeseung: There’s nothing to fuck up. If he gets mad that you took care of yourself (he won’t be) then he’s the one who fucked up

you: ugh when did u become the voice of reason

heeseung: :)

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard after you’ve opened Sunghoon’s text. You can imagine his slight pout when you think about how he’d react when he realizes you haven’t texted him back, which makes you feel even more guilty than you already are.

You’re not really sure how you started talking to him, let alone befriended Heeseung to the point where he started inviting you to hang out with him and his group of friends. Heeseung had originally been a study partner for a shared class back when the two of you were sophomores. It’s been a couple of years since then and now most of your conversations consist of TikTok jokes and Heeseung having to deal with you pining over one of his friends.

Sunghoon is every bit of cool you can imagine. He was so quiet when you first met him, residing in his oversized sweater since it was approaching the beginning of autumn. Heeseung invited you to a local bar on a Friday night after midterms and said your first drink would be on him if you made it before last call, knowing very well you were likely getting ready to slip underneath your blankets and call it a night.

He was right as always. You showed up wearing jeans and an old shirt with a jacket that was too big for your body. You’d made somewhat of an effort to look presentable since you’d be hanging out with his friends near campus and would rather not look like you’d gotten rolled over by a locomotive. It was there you met Sunghoon for the first time. He was so quiet that you barely heard him talk until an hour into hanging out with him, but that’s when you learned that he was someone you needed to get to know before he’d show you his loud, boisterous personality.

The more you hung out with him, the more you started to picture yourself with Sunghoon, away from the group you started to call your friends too. You’d only see him when Heeseung invited you out or if you bumped into someone else while Sunghoon was in tow with them. Neither of you seemed to cross paths otherwise and even then, Sunghoon was a bit too timid to approach you first and start a conversation.

Part of you wondered if you were ever too bold when you’d get drunk with him and your friends. You were loud, full of laughter and affection that none of your friends were surprised every time you shouted compliments across the tables and declared your love for the little group you considered to be your family away from home. Heeseung had gotten used to it pretty quickly and so did the others, albeit it took a while for their ears to stop glowing red every time you’d pull them into a drunken hug.

Maybe you sent a little too far with Sunghoon, who immediately tensed when your arms wrapped around his shoulders the first time you let your inhibitions down fully. A few beers and shots in, and Heeseung was anticipating your drunken rant about how much you love the little life the five of you had created and hoped that it would continue even after you all graduate.

Sunghoon always looked a bit intimidating with his dark, thick eyebrows and shielded his wandering eyes. He always looked like he knew what he wanted and his grace always made you think twice about what you’d say to him. Although, you knew this was the beginning of an onset crush that wouldn’t remain hidden for long, let alone when you weren’t sober.

So you’d thrown your arms around Sunghoon’s shoulder and told him how happy you were that Heeseung introduced the two of you. While you try not to think about that moment too much, you recall telling Sunghoon that he was slowly starting to become one of your favorite people because of how funny he is when people least expect it. You liked that he was so kind to his friends and that he was so confident in himself, and that you wished you could be a little more like him.

You also said he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. It was a sobering moment because he looked at you like you’d grown two heads and his shoulders felt like they might’ve been pushing you off of his body.

Stumbling with consistent apologies, none of your mutual friends seemed to notice what was happening behind them. You can picture the look on his face when your mind crosses to this moment, how he’d looked at you with bewilderment with his mouth ajar. Sunghoon didn’t say anything and you took that cue to leave him alone and head to the bar, where you hoped distance would make this night seem less tragic than it was.

When morning came around, you were the only person in your shared group chat who declined getting a late morning breakfast due to your embarrassment. Even during the next weekend, when Jake opened up his apartment for a casual hang out, you were the only person who didn’t show up, citing work and study stresses keeping you away from your friends.

Heeseung knew those were merely excuses.

“Cut the shit, Y/N. Are you okay? Did one of the guys do anything to make you uncomfortable?” The worst laced in his tone made you feel guilty for having him think the worse of people he knew before he met you.

“No, nothing like that. I think I’m the one who fucked up and made them uncomfortable.”

“Well clearly not since Jake invited you to his place. What’s going on? Do you want me to come over?”

The last thing you expected from Heeseung was to see him double over in laugher when you explained your predicament, clutching onto your bed like he’d fall to the ground if he didn’t. You’re sure that fit of laugher gave him a new set of abs.

“Sunghoon wasn’t weirded out. He texted me and asked if you were okay.” Heeseung pulled his phone out of his pocket to show you, leaving you in a cloud of confusion. “He probably likes you. Sunghoon’s a natural with girls even if he doesn’t realize they’re flirting with him. I think he likes you too because he’s acting really awkward because he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

That night left you with more question than answers. You considered texting Sunghoon and asking if the two of you could talk, but you didn’t want to make him even more uncomfortable and tell him what Heeseung told you in fear of putting your friend in an awkward position. So you let the discomfort settle and braved seeing him the next time one of your friends invited you out.

Which, to no one’s surprise, was the weekend after Jake’s get together. Seoul’s autumn carnival was in its third weekend by the time the five of you were able to find adequate time to ride every rollercoaster and eat until your stomachs caved in. You loved the fair and were the first person to buy an admission ticket. Poor Jay, who wasn’t the biggest fan of big rides in the first place, tagged along with Jake every time he insisted on it. You tried your best to keep some distance between yourself and Sunghoon, even if Heeseung said you were being ridiculous. You’d chosen to stick by him until Sunghoon volunteered to help you pick up the food trays when you lost a game of rock-paper-scissors.

“I’m sorry that I acted weird that night,” he said, cutting the silence as the two of you waited for your order. He didn’t have to explain. You knew what he was talking about. “Heeseung said you felt bad for making me feel uncomfortable but I need you to know you didn’t make me feel that way.”

That was the longest sentence he’d ever said to you, let alone it being the first time he initiated a conversation with you. He watched as you stood with your eyes wide and mouth parted like you wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it.

“I think you just caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting you to say nice things about me. I didn’t realize we were that close because you’d been affectionate with everyone but me up until that night.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I was, uh, flustered.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He averted your gaze and looked at his shoes momentarily before he looked back at you. “I liked what you said. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

You laughed at the awkwardness dissipating. “I thought I crossed a line, or something. You just sat there and I thought I fucked up by touching you.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t. I…I liked it a lot.” You tried to hide a grin by keeping your bubbling excitement under wraps failed miserably. Sunghoon smiled too, offering to carry most of the trays back to the table where your friends were too hungry to talk for the next ten minutes.

The memory brings you back to the present where your thumbs hover the keyboard. You start to read back the conversation between the two of you and feel those butterflies erupt in your stomach for the umpteenth time. The two of you have talked about anything and everything. Nothing is off limits. So why is texting him to let him know you’ve been sick for the past few days so difficult for you?

you: hi

you: sorry I haven’t texted a lot in the past few days. I’ve been having migraines and now I’ve caught a cold ):

you: im sorry for texting so late too

He texts immediately.

sunghoon: You don’t have to be sorry. Are you feeling better now?

sunghoon: Actually don’t answer that

Your phone rings.

“Hey,” you say with your phone propped against your ear. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me. I’m the only who’s calling you when you’re sick, so I’m technically the one bothering you.” His laugh on the other line makes you smile a little too hard. “I was really worried. None of the guys heard from you so I figured you needed some space.”

“Unfortunately. I had to skip a few classes because it hurt to stand up. I’m pretty sure I’ve slept more this past week than I have in the last month.”

“I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

“I feel bad that I haven’t been able to talk to you.”

As if Sunghoon could sense you pouting, he clicks his tongue and reassures you. “It’s fine, Y/N. I’d probably do the same thing. I can’t imagine how much pain you’ve been in.”

“I would honestly rather study and take a million midterms than go through this again. I feel like someone just took their shoe off of my head.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re doing better. Can I bring you anything? Medicine, maybe?”

You cough a little. “No, but thank you. My friend dropped off a lot of NyQuil and other stuff to help me. It’s working…kind of. Still feel like shit, though.”

“…Can I come over? To help you with your sickness, of course. I can bring you soup.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You frantically rise from your bed amidst his words and realize there are tissues on the ground and dirty clothes strewn everywhere because of your lack of energy. Your living room must be a mess, too, and this would also be the first time Sunghoon would see you without any makeup on.

“I want to. But I mean, only if you’re up for it. I don’t want to stress you out since you’re sick. I just want to help make you feel better. That…and I miss you.”

Sunghoon’s never been so direct before. Even though the two of you have been talking for a while, neither of you have been so forward about it. Conversations are always subtly flirty to the point where the effervescent feeling simmers just underneath the surface. The two of you have hung out without the rest of your friends and have been alone before, but neither one of you has gone so far as you be so bold about the other.

“I miss you too,” you whisper into the phone.

“Give me thirty minutes. I’ll come with soup.”

He hangs up and with a newfound sense of urgency, you make your bed and throw away any stray trash. You put your dirty laundry in the hamper, which is piled high and untouched. It’ll be a problem for when you’re not sick.

The living room isn’t too bad. You straighten furniture and throw away empty takeout containers and wash a few utensils. The tasks don’t feel as draining as they did a few days ago and you’re starting to regain a little bit of your breath.

True to his word, Sunghoon arrives thirty minutes after he said he would. You open the door and look at him. He’s wearing blue hoodie and sweatpants with specs that make him look significantly more attractive than you’re used to.

“Hi,” Sunghoon says with a gentle smile. “I missed you.”

You bite your lip and blurt out your first thought. “You look really good in those glasses.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “Thank you. Can I come in?”

“Right, right.” You step aside and he follows you into your apartment. He takes his shoes off and places them neatly by the shoe rack.

“I might need to reheat this. I got it from that place near my apartment. You know, the one with the yellow banner?”

“I love that place.”

He smiles at you. “I know. Can I heat up some soup for you?”

When you nod, Sunghoon moves to the correct cabinet and pulls out everything he needs. It astounds you because he’s only ever been to your apartment twice before, both times with your other friends in tow. It dawns on you that it’s the first time the two of you are alone in your space. You’re touched that he remembers where your things are.

He beckons you to sit on the counter in front of the steaming bowl and the aroma of spices makes your mouth water. You haven’t been able to eat consistently in the past few days, surviving on bland foods like bread and crackers to sustain your health because anything else made you feel sicker than you were. The steam feels good against your skin and you dig in right away.

Sunghoon pulls your hair back when it gets close to the rim and holds it for you while you lap up the soup. It seems as though you’re hungrier than you thought because you sit there wordlessly, shoveling liquid into your mouth while Sunghoon watches.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I must look like a zoo animal.”

“You’re sick, Y/N. You have nothing to apologize for. The first meal you can stomach is the best one.” It’s like he gets you. Sunghoon continues to hold your hair back until you’re finished. He washes the bowl and spoon, and puts it back where they belong.

Sunghoon turns around and looks at you under the ambient lighting you and your roommate put up in lieu of the overhead lights. It feels like he’s inspecting you and you try really hard not to think about the fact that you don’t feel presentable in this moment.

“Your apartment feels very you,” Sunghoon says. “I like all of the green furniture and the art on the wall.”

“My roommate picked the decor out but I’m starting to understand why she loves art so much.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, looking at you. “Would you want to go to an art museum with me?”

“I’d really like that.”

Sunghoon pulls you by the hand to your couch and you try your best not to feel flustered with his touch. He sits you down on the cushion and immediately you feel like you need to be hyper vigilant because he’s looking around the apartment and you’re wondering if he can see the messes you see.

“Do you have a blanket? We could watch some TV. Or I could go. I don’t know.”

“Don’t go.” You say it too quickly but Sunghoon’s shoulders relax. “The blankets are beside the couch.”

He drapes it over you, leaving himself to fend for the cold. Although you’re sure he’s pretty warm, you open up the blanket and invite him to share it with you.

This is new territory. You two have just been talking. But Sunghoon isn’t deterred. He slots himself next to you and doesn’t shy away when he feels your arm pressed against him.

“Sorry for the mess. And for, well…” He watches you gesture to your face, which is undoubtedly red with dark circles underneath your eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. I still like you.”

You aren’t used to him being so upfront like this. He watches you with easy eyes, the kind of feeling that makes you believe what he says. Sunghoon is pretty reserved when it comes to these types of things and you often find yourself being the one to push him towards his bolder side. But even though you feel flustered by his words and underneath his stare, you like this newer side of him.

“I’m such a mess.”

Sunghoon watches you push your forehead into his shoulder in an attempt to hide yourself from him. He smiles at your antics and loves the feeling of your body on his. He’s been hesitant to do things like hold your hand or kiss your cheek in fear or overstepping a boundary. He doesn’t know what came over him when he held your hair back from falling into the hot soup. He knows very well that he could’ve asked where you kept your hair ties, but helping you when he knows you need it felt like the right thing to do.

Now, he wonders if you’re growing bolder with him too. You let your forehead rest against his hoodie as you take deep breaths. He hears you sniffle a few times and nearly coos at the mere thought of you suffering from your sickness. When you pull yourself away from him, the tip of your nose is slightly runny and your eyes look a bit more red than usual.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

He bites his lip. “You could look worse.” You try not to let your cheeks rise in heat.

“You’re just being nice.”

Sunghoon laughs and shakes his head. He could never lie about how he feels towards you. “Nope. You still look really cute.” He watches the gears work inside your head and locates the TV remote when you don’t say anything. “What do you want to watch?”

“I dunno.”

“C’mon, you must’ve been watching TV while you were cooped up here.”

You shake your head. “Migraine, remember? Felt like my eyes were gonna burst.”

This time, he coos out loud. Sunghoon puts on a show you’ve mentioned enjoying in the past and hopes he chose correctly. You seem to be mellowing out and paying attention to the screen in front of you until you start breathing heavily. It’s not until he hears you try to silence a small coughing fit that he shoots up from his seat and pours you a glass of water.

“Here.” Sunghoon doesn’t let you hold the glass. Instead, he beckons your mouth open by placing the rim between your lips and lets you swallow the water, tilting it up until you’ve consumed all of it. He wipes the excess water from the corners of your mouth with his thumb and looks down at you with concern. “Do you have any tea? I can make you some. Hopefully that’ll soothe your throat.”

“Stupid medicine isn’t working,” you grumble. “I might as well perish.”

“Tea, baby,” Sunghoon says, the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. You almost don’t notice it. “Where do you keep your tea and honey?”

“Cabinet beside the fridge.”

Sunghoon comes back a few minutes later with piping hot chamomile tea with honey. You don’t know how he does it, anticipating your every need and putting just enough honey where it doesn’t feel like you’re stuffing your throat with the sweet nectar. You sip on it slowly as he situates himself back underneath the blanket and keeps his eyes on the television while you try to calm your erratic heartbeat.

Eventually, the episode finished and it’s almost four in the morning when you start to get sleepy. Sunghoon hears you yawning beside him and does his best not to grin like a lovesick idiot when you push your body against his in an attempt to get comfortable. You’re holding the empty cup loosely in your hands when your eyes start to droop and as much as Sunghoon would love to stay like this, he knows it’ll be better for you to sleep in your own bed with your back against the mattress.

“Baby,” Sunghoon whispers. He grabs the mug from your hands and sets it on the coffee table. “I think you should sleep in your bed. You’ll feel a lot better when you wake up.”

“But you’re so warm.”

He bites back a smile. “Thank you, but you’re gonna wake up with back pain and I know you’ll be mad that you didn’t sleep with pillows.”

He’s right and you know it but that doesn’t stop you from letting a whine slip past. Sunghoon doesn’t complain when you lean on him for support (or rather, you push your full weight onto him because you cannot be bothered with physical tasks at this late hour). Instead, he holds your waist with his arm and guides you into your bedroom from his memory of coming here a couple times before now.

Despite this, he’s never been inside your room. You’ve always kept the door closed but as he opens it, Sunghoon completely melts at how your bedroom is so utterly you. The dark green comforter hugs your queen-sized bed and a mountain of pillows cover the top near the bed frame. Your desk is an organized mess of notebooks, pens, and highlighters you carry with you during study sessions. Photographs in pretty frames decorate your walls along with posters of your favorite music and films.

He spots a picture of the two of you from that day at the amusement park when Heeseung insisted on taking a photo since the lighting was “perfect.” Sunghoon suspected that wasn’t the case but let him take it anyhow. He always considered that to be his first official memory with you. Knowing you might feel the same makes Sunghoon’s heart flutter.

“Let’s get you into bed, yeah?”

His soft touches make you fall much deeper into your tiredness. The mattress below you feels too good to be true as Sunghoon opens the blankets for you to crawl underneath. He watches you carefully as you scoot to one side and make yourself comfortable, wondering if you’re enjoying the side of him that wants to pamper you.

When you’re all tucked in with the blankets underneath your chin, Sunghoon can’t help but lean down and brush a few stray hair strands from your face. He caresses your cheek and holds himself back despite your lips being right in front of him. Instead, he settles for rubbing your soft cheek with his thumb before leaving.

Except, you reach out and grab onto his wrist. “Where are you going?”

His looks back at you in the dim light. “Home, baby. I’ll let you sleep.”

The pout you’re wearing is tearing him limb from limb. “I don’t want you to go home.”

“No?”

You shake your head. “Please…I haven’t seen you at all this week.” Sunghoon hears the strain in your voice and he isn’t sure if you’re awake enough to know what you’re saying. “I-I just want you here with me.”

How could he say no to that?

Sunghoon sits on the empty side of the bed and lets you guide your hand in his bigger one. He watches as you shake your head and he’s about to ask what you mean when you open the blanket.

He feels momentarily guilty when he pulls his hand away from you because he hears you whine again, but he slips off his hoodie to avoid overheating. He’s left in his sweatpants and a loose shirt when sliding into your bed right next to you.

You waste no time and attach yourself to Sunghoon, pushing your body until you’re resting on his chest. He does his best not to let his heartbeat give him away. This is the most he’s ever touched you. At best, he’d brush his hand against yours and waited for the right time to hold it. Today feels like he’s thrown caution into the wind.

Sunghoon puts his glasses on your night table and pulls you close to him, encircling his arms until he finds a comfortable position. Your warm breaths litter his skin and he feels like he could run laps with how happy he is in this moment. You look so cute with your body limp against his. He loves that you’re not hesitant around him anymore and hopes you know just how much he wants you close to him.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Sunghoon says in the dark, unsure if you’re still awake or not.

“What’s your secret?”

Your eyes remain closed, eyelashes covering your beautiful eyes and your cheeks are squished into a pout against his chest. He looks down at you like you’re precious cargo and a rare gem he never wants to let go of.

“I really want to kiss you.”

You don’t say anything. Instead, Sunghoon feels you move your head until you press a kiss against his chest, allowing your lips to linger for a few seconds before reverting back to your original position.

“Kiss me tomorrow.”

Sunghoon hears you snoring soon after.

“Yeah,” he whispers to himself. “I can do that.”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[gothcsz]

but what about Javi hearing neighbour reader masturbating and thinking she has a guy over and he gets jealous bc why is she fucking someone and never giving him the time of day???

obsessed with this is an understatement 🤩 part of this building universe right here where you’re javi’s neighbor

Javier stands by his open window, cigarette between his fingers, watching the distant glow of streetlights through the haze of smoke.

The night is quiet, and he’s alone with his thoughts, which is never good—until he hears something faint, muffled, but unmistakable, through the thin wall separating his apartment from yours.

He freezes, brow furrowing, as the soft sound of moans drifts into his room, catching him completely off guard. For a second, he wonders if he’s imagining it. But then, the creak of your bed springs confirms what he’s hearing.

His mind jumps to conclusions, filling in gaps he wishes he could ignore: someone’s in there with you, and you’re not exactly holding back.

A sharp pang of jealousy hits him, twisting like a knife in his chest. Javier takes a slow drag from his cigarette, his jaw set tight. He can’t deny how pretty you sound—soft, breathy, like you’re being taken care of but he knows he could give it to you so much better.

That feeling of admiration is quickly overtaken by irritation. Why does some other motherfucker get to be in there with you? Very hypocritical of him to be feeling like this considering what he gets up to most nights of the week.

You’ve never given him more than polite smiles and your much needed friendship. That’s kept him satiated and content… until feelings for you started to blossom, leaving him in this weird grey area.

He doesn’t want to ruin what he has with you by acting on said feelings. Javi would rather keep nurturing your friendship than mess it all up due to him thinking with his dick.

Now he’s left on the other side of the wall, just a listener to something he wishes he could experience himself.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s snuffing out his cigarette, muttering a Spanish expletive under his breath, and heading for your apartment.

He tells himself it’s nothing, that he’ll just check in, but the jealousy has him moving with more urgency than he’d like to admit. He finds himself knocking firmly, almost demanding an answer.

Inside, you’re right at the precipice, riding the vibrator with a rhythm you’d never dared try before, fingers digging into the sheets as you edge closer and closer. You’re so close to tipping over when there’s a sudden, forceful knock on your door, jolting you out of your trance and yanking you back from the edge of pleasure.

The frustration is immediate, heat turning to annoyance as you climb off the bed, throwing on a robe and hastily tying it around you. Who on earth would be knocking at this hour?

Grumbling under your breath, you stalk toward the door, glancing through the peephole, and the sight stops you cold. Javier. Of course, Javier.

He’s haunted your thoughts all night and the star of the very vivid scenario your horny mind conjured while your arousal coated the silicon of your toy.

Irritation and curiosity mix as you unlock the door and open it, raising an eyebrow as you take him in, his expression unreadable but intense.

“Javi,” you say, voice still breathy from your previous activities. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

He stands there, eyes dark and flickering over your figure, taking in the looseness of your robe, how the soft curve of your breasts tease him, the thin layer of sweat on your skin. “I… heard something.” His voice is low, slightly hoarse, and he doesn’t bother masking the frustration lacing his words. “Just had to check nothing was wrong.”

You feel your cheeks heat as you realize what he’s implying.

“I appreciate the concern but I’m fine.” You tell him, seeing his eyes dip as he takes in your flustered appearance, how they linger on your thighs. You shift beneath his heavy stare.

“If you need help running him off, you come get me—alright?”

Your face contorts into confusion and he catches it immediately.

“The guy in there.”

You should win a fucking award for the way you manage to school your expression, realizing why he’s actually here at your doorstep this late at night.

While it’s a little embarrassing to have someone hearing you please yourself, you feel this twisted satisfaction in your chest knowing Javier is getting a taste of his own medicine.

You’ve had to suffer through so many of his hookups, and the petty side of you takes full advantage of the opportunity to really lean into this.

“That won’t be a problem. He’s staying the night… I should probably get back.”

His jaw twitches but he nods, hands on his hips, clearly not thrilled about your response.

“Right… okay sure…”

You two stand there awkwardly.

“Alright… bye, Javi.”

His scowl deepens and those pouty pink lips of his remain in a downturned pout.

“Bye cariño. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nod, slowly closing the door in his face.

He stands there, dumbfounded and drowning in the jealousy he feels that someone else gets to enjoy you in a way he knows he never will.

[dulcewrites]

Fool Me Once (pt 2)

Pairing: Aemond targaryen x reader (wc: 3.6k)

Summary: Despite learning about Aemond cheating on you, life has never been sweeter. Who knew being so bad could be so good.

Warnings: manipulation, mentions/allusions to pregnancy issues, mentions of self harm

A/N: first, I just have to say thank you for the response to part 1. I truly had no idea it would get the reception it would. Thank you to everyone who followed me as well. I hope I can continue to produce stuff y’all like. I’m hoping to write more hotd stuff, Aemond and non Aemond related. I plan on taking a small hiatus but will be back around thanksgiving weekend. I will be writing on/off during that time but just away for a trip/the holiday. If you have any hotd requests my inbox is always open. I would try to get them out either before my hiatus next week (11/16) or after it ends (11/26). I’m pretty open to writing any character, though I will warn you I’m way more fascinated by the greens so they just come easier to me. Anyway please reblog, like, and follow if you read anything you enjoy 🫶🏽🫶🏽. And some housekeeping: in this Aegon is not r*pist who enjoys watching children fight (the hotd are truly…. not right for the cartoonishly evil way they wrote Aegon). He’s just petty and neglected. Also the timing of this is different from the books bc Aemond meets Alys pre dance.

Fmo masterlist

Blog Masterlist

A bastard Strong. The irony is not lost on you. Your straight-laced husband fucking someone who is the complete opposite you. Older, no kids, no title, and no duty to uphold. At this point, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Instead, it makes your blood boil in the most delicious way. Aemond’s betrayal made you realize how you’ve been going through the motions; endlessly sleepwalking, hoping one day Aemond would come around. It woke you up to how much he’s taken advantage of you. He sees your kindness, and aversion to standing out as a weakness. Something he can manipulate and twist like one of his daggers.

The both of you must have forgetten where you came from. A rich, well respected house. The only daughter of smart, albeit conniving, family that knows how to get what they want. Your family didn’t have dragons or absurd ideas of exceptionalism to help you gain power. You’ve learned that inflated egos and prideful indulges can cloud Targaryen judgment. A trait you hope skips your children.

Shame on you for thinking Aemond would be different. Shame on him for the carefully curated facade.

All you do after Larys Strong comes to you the first time is think. You can’t remember the last time you’ve had this many options in front of you. Your mother’s words about patience run through your head. Keeping your wits is key. Play your hand too quickly, and you lose all leverage. You have Daella and the babe in your belly to think about. You stood pat in the beginning; Lord Strong simply relaying messages to you. You make sure Alys gets the letter Aemond wrote, and the ones after that. Lord Larys makes sure you get the details of each letter exchanged.

When the days grew lonely, and your body aches because of the babe in your stomach, you think about the letters. The declarations of love and recounts of lust filled meetups simmer in your head, but it’s the mentions of you that makes the anger sizzle and crackle. It makes the guilt you feel wash away.

You question if the rumor is true. That his Alys is a witch. Does her magic allow her to see the way Helaena can? Fuzzy premonitions and dreams that only make sense after they happen; a gift and a curse. A part of you wishes it to be true. You hope while your stomach stirs with untold truths, hers stirs with regret. Maybe the pain that runs through you leaves an unfamiliar taste in her mouth. That she can’t quite put her finger on it, but she feels you.

You wonder if when Aemond prays, he asks the Father to protect him… to protect her. The same way when you pray, you ask the Warrior to help you find the courage to destroy him.

It started with a bruise. A bruise that you don’t even remember how you got. Maybe one of those things you just wake up with. But it’s there, on the inside part of your left arm. It’s starting to fade but an otherwise noticeable bruise that stands out when you wear something with shorter sleeves.

The idea doesn’t come to you till you see the curiosity in Alicent’s eyes when you absentmindedly rub the bruise while asking if she’s seen Aemond. It’s only you two in the walkway; an unusually quiet day at the Red Keep. Her eyes go from it to the far away look in your eyes. It makes her tilt her head in thought.

“No dear, I haven’t,” her eyes go back to the scratch. “Are you doing alright? I know for some, the second babe can be even harder than the first.”

You look down at your arm, and something just clicks.

“I’m fine,” you start, then you make your voice tremble a bit. “I will be fine. I think I’m just tired.”

You give her a strained smile, and she returns one that tells you she doesn’t believe you. You can feel her big brown eyes burning into your back when you walk past her towards your chambers. There could be two thoughts in her head: you did this yourself or someone else did it to you. Either way, her son’s sweet pregnant lady wife is not doing well, and her son is nowhere to be found. Queen Alicent is one of the smartest, if not the smartest, person you know. She sees the change in her son; the change in the dynamic between Aemond and you.

It hits you. It would be too easy to physically harm Aemond. Though the idea of taking the blade that hangs from his hips and putting it to his throat has crossed your mind more times than you’re proud of. It would be too easy to get Larys to kill Alys. You don’t want to give Aemond the satisfaction of having his whore’s blood on your hands.

Where’s the fun in killing when your rage could be channeled into something more… methodical.

Under all that false bravado is the little boy who got picked on for not having a dragon. To break the man means bringing out that little boy. A truly broken man can’t love anyone. Isolation, and self hatred. What a gorgeous combination for your dear husband.

If this is going to work you need to up the ante.

So, you write. If Aemond and Alys can document their love, you can document your pain. You sent your lady in waiting out to get a blank book from one of the maesters. The color dyed cow skin feels smooth under your hands. There needs to be a slow build. Each day you grow closer and closer to shattering. Whoever reads it needs to know Aemond brought you to this place. He is the villain in the story of the poor, innocent wife that did nothing but carry his children and try to love him.

It will read like a diary, but to you it is a creation. A mixture of truth and imagination. A manifestation of pent up feelings. Purging and revenge all rolled up into one. You make sure to mention how terrified you are for your safety, and for you children’s safety. How an angry or disenchanted Aemond is nothing to toy with, especially if he has a bastard witch on his side. How maybe life would be better for Aemond if you just weren’t around.

But this fading bruise isn’t enough. Neither is just having a diary that will be discovered in due time. A deep cut, a dark bruise, half hazardously placed hand prints.. now that could work.

There’s something cathartic about the pain you feel when the dagger slices through your skin. The blood is so red and warm. It smears so smoothly on the page. Blood on your dress, cloth pressed to the wound, and wandering the halls is how Ser Criston finds you. You notice the worried, confused look in his eyes when you stutter out an ‘I don’t know’ when he asks what happened.

As the maester tends to your wound, you notice how Alicent and Criston stand in the corner of Alicent’s quarters. They occasionally glance at you while they whisper to each other. You recognize the familiar crinkle she gets in her forehead when she’s upset. All her children do it too.

“Sweetling, we both think it might be a good idea to give you your own knight of the kingsguard,” she sits next you. “Just to help you and… keep an eye on you during this vulnerable time.”

You blink. Not one mention of her son. But it’s clear to see how Ser Criston is with his queen. Submissive, and utterly devoted. Having someone like that is an asset. So, you smile weakly and nod. The more people who see you in this way, the better.

Ser Quinton Throne was quiet in the beginning. As if he was scared to be in your space. A far cry from the rambunctious knight his brother, Rickard, is. Moving past the initial shyness, he is attentive and even indulges Daella’s fascination with him. Despite you telling her not to, she would always run up to him, tugging on his white cloak to get his attention. She likes having someone around just as much as you.

The distance between Aemond and you had started to carry over into his relationship with Daella. Kids are more intuitive than adults give them credit for. Your throat felt tight when you daughter finally asks where father goes. You lie; it comes easy to you, easier than you thought it would. It makes you think if this is how easy it is for Aemond to lie to you. Or for everyone to not gloss over the clear problems in your life.

You would lying if you said it wasn’t nice having a man around, even if it was his job. It was Aemond’s job to do right by you, and he couldn’t do that. A man carrying out his orders with a warm smile was welcomed. The comfort of having someone who sweared his allegiances to you, and only you, and intended on keeping them.

You look from your embroidery loop to see Daella and Ser Quinton sword fighting with wooden swords. It’s an uncharacteristically sunny day. Perfect to get much needed fresh air, and apparently going to battle.

“She’s gotten quite good.”

Like a storm rolling in to ruin a sunny day, your husband’s tone is ever cold and distant. You hate the uncomfortable energy that radiates when he sits next to you.

“Yes, she has,” you stare at the Lysene lilac flower starting to come to life on your loop. “He’s good with her as well.”

You know he won’t like you saying that. He hates Quinton being around, and he especially hates how Daella taken a liking to him. Aemond scoffs and mumbles something under his breath you can’t make out.

“It’s just lovely having real protector around,” you continue to push your luck. “Someone so attentive and… strong.��

You look at with his a sickening sweet smile. He opens his mouth to say something, a complaint or rude comment since those seem to be the only reasons he talks to you, but he is interrupted by Daella yelling out for him.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he mutters to you, getting up.

“Oh you’ll actually be here long enough for that?”

The words slip out your mouth and it makes him turn to glare at you. It reminds you of the gossip you heard about him when you first arrived at court. How cold the king’s second son can be. It should’ve been a warning to you.

Quinton takes it as his cue to leave them be; you know he can sense how much Aemond doesn’t appreciate his presence. You watch as Daella clings to her father. As selfish as it sounds, you patiently wait for the day she too realizes he can’t be depended on.

“My mother used to make me embroider,” your knight’s voice breaks you out of looking on. “Something about being dangerous with a needle is just as great as being dangerous with a sword.”

You take a good look at him. If Aemond is the moon - ethereal, mysterious, and always changing, then Quinton is the sun. Bright, forward facing, and shines brighter with time. His choppy black hair, beard, and warm standing in contrast to your husband’s Targaryen features.

“Sounds like a smart woman,” you smile as he sits next to you.

His eyes linger on your embroidery work before traveling to you right arm. The blade wound was just starting to scab and scar over. His first day on duty was marked by seeing your husband give a long lecture on safety and ‘using your brain’ after Aemond saw your wound. The blade cut wasn’t under pure circumstances, but the look of resentment on your face was real. He saw that. He’s never asked what really happened to your arm.

“How are you my lady,” he whispers. You told him he can address you by your name, but he still insist on the formal names especially around others. “Is the babe giving you trouble.”

Ser Quinton, Helaena, and Alicent are the only people that seem to care about your well being, on top of the babe’s. Aemond concern went making sure the babe was fine to just not asking all together. It’s better that way, you think. You don’t think you’d be able to take fake concern about your little ‘mistake’.

“My bladder is being pushed on, I’m finding clumps of my hair on my pillow, and Maester Oliver told me this baby will weigh more than Daella did,” you reply lightly. “But other than that I’m doing fine.”

This pregnancy had knocked you on your ass. You’re sure the stress and thoughts that consume you don’t help. You know how it feels to come into a fracture family; it makes you feel awful for the babe in your stomach. Your parents tried hard, frankly too hard, to pretend things were good between them. Trying to prove their union was more than a duty for their houses. Till this day, you don’t know what’s worse: knowing they didn’t share that love or the years you watched them fake everything. They had ambitions, and to carry them out there needed to be an appearance of an united front. You took your father’s lead, knowing he always tried to have your best interest. The relationship you have with your mother often ebbing and flowing, especially since your marriage.

When you ravened your mother about your pregnancy troubles, she tells you that this is your responsibility to your husband. Harsh and utterly true. You don’t know if your father ever had indiscretions like Aemond, but you know she’d never plot the way you do. Her calculating nature showing up in different ways. Instead of going after him, she chose to focus on elevating you.

Her and Queen Alicent remind you of each other. Devoted to a fault. A victim who had no other choice but to fall in line.You pray for the both of them. Pray that they find peace with the sacrifices they’ve made. Pray that you never get that far. A shell of yourself. Duty, responsibility, cleaning up others’ messes - what a dull way to live.

“Once he’s out, I’m sure it will all be worth it,” says Ser Quinton, voice not wavering.

He’s trying to be kind, mentioning the working theory in the castle that you’re having a boy. You try to smile at the thought. It’s hard to believe that. Plan or not, you still have to know the truth about the father of your children. There is hole left in your heart about that. Him disrespecting you is one thing, but his words pertaining to your unborn child is another. A sudden spurt of anger rushes over you thinking about everything. It makes you stand abruptly.

“I’m feeling tired,” you watch as Daella pretend to stab her father with her sword. Her giggles ringing out when he reaches to pick her up. The dichotomy of Aemond Targaryen will always fascinate you as much as it terrifies you. How he manages to smile in her face, and lie to yours is quite a sight to watch. “I’ll send Margret out to get Daella.”

Waiting for the perfect moment is not going to work. There no time like the present.

The stiff upper lip of this family is something you noticed the moment you stepped into their presence. It’s seeped into the way they gatekeep a dying Viserys. Alicent is cold and collected in the most beautiful way. A sharp glittering icicle. A pretty rose littered with thorns to keep you admiring from a distance. Even Helaena, who you consider a friend, keeps certain things close to the chest. It’s better to keep the full truth away from her.

But there’s Aegon.

Pitiful, and lonely Prince Aegon. A drunk with a bad attitude. But he’s also the most painfully self-aware person you know. There will be times that you and him exchange looks, as you are in on the joke. That everything is a farce. One day someone will just come up and say it’s all been a bad dream. You think it’s the reason why he frustrates Aemond so much. The teasing on top of him never taking the Targaryen name seriously. Aegon spends his days trying to drink and fuck his way out of thinking about his life. Stuck in a royal cuckold. The first born son of a king with nothing to show for it.

He’s messy, nosy, and so openly brash. He’s your missing chess piece. The perfect pawn.

You leave the diary around places in the castle you know he will be. It’s not until you conveniently leave it in the play room where all Daella, Jaehaera, and Jaehaerys all frequent that you know he’s taken the bait. His lilac eyes seem to follow you whenever you two are in the same room. It takes days for him to confront you; book in hand and wry look on his face.

“Is it true? Everything you wrote?”

You stroke your belly while looking at him, a small smile on your face.

“Does it matter that if it is,” you tilt your head, and his eyes glitter with something you’re not used to seeing.

He mirrors your head tilt with a full blown smile on his face this time. It’s like a bright light after weeks of darkness. A person who also sees through the bullshit that enraptures once you call yourself a Targaryen.

“I greatly underestimated you my good sister,” he whispers. You know he’s thinking about his own words. ‘Pretty but horribly dull’.

“That’s fine,” you motion to the seat next to you. “You can make it up to me.”

Queen Alicent stands facing the fire. Aegon, Helaena, and Ser Quinton off to the side. All of them standing across from where you sit. Aegon gives you a knowing look while Quinton’s eyes are filled with pity and anger. Pity for his princess, anger towards his prince. Helaena looks like she wants to say something.

“I… do not know what to say,” her voice is strained with pain. You know this hurts for her. The image of the perfect son being destroyed. The pedestal she put him on crumbling before him.

You’ve gotten better at crying after Aegon told you tears will be necessary to sell it. It’s an automatic response now. The perfectly timed emotion that breaks like flood gates when Alicent holds out the diary. You say you’re embarrassed. That you never meant for anyone to read it, especially not anyone in the family. Aegon gets to be the concerned good brother. He rubbed your back, while his mother called for Helaena. She needed to know who else knew about this.

“I can say what everyone is thinking,” Aegon pipes up. “He’s a fucking cunt.”

“Aegon.”

His mother turns to glare at him, but it doesn’t deter him.

“Walking around with that self righteousness just to fuck a Strong,” he scoffs. “Calling his child a mistake?”

The words makes Alicent sigh, and squeeze her eyes shut. Helaena continues to play with her fingers with a quizzical look in her eye. If Aegon of all people can judge, the actions must be bad.

“This all my fault,” you decide to take it up a notch. Your breath catches. “I must’ve done something to deserve this.”

“Oh my sweet girl,” Alicent walks over and sits next to you, pulling you into her chest. “None of this is your fault.

“I just don’t know what I did to deserve this,” you continue. That part is true; what the seven hells did you do to deserve this marriage? “This, and the baby, and missing my family. I’m just so unhappy here.”

Alicent strokes your hair. You can feel her heart thumping in her chest. You can tell she’s upset and scared. Scared for what your unhappiness means. You’re a risk now.

“Maybe… my father can come and visit. He hasn’t been here since Daella was born.”

After you got married, your parents left court to tend to your house. They felt their work was done. That the marriage was as far as their political ambitions can go. They visit from time to time to see their granddaughter but normally you’re the one who has to make the trip.

“Of course,” you can see the wheels turning in her head. “I’m sure the Hand would love to pick his brain on some things. Your father has always been so kind and helpful”

Queen Alicent is as predictable as she is smart. Your dad thought your marriage would help him get a seat in the small council. When no offer came, his ego was bruised. If your marriage couldn’t, maybe a desperate Alicent can. The idea of sending a raven about the news makes you have to bite back a smile. An ally in an castle full of strangers.

“I’ll speak to Aemond about this,” she nods to herself. “You don’t need to be worrying about this in your condition.”

The disappointment is clear in smooth voice. Before you can reply with a thank you, Helaena finally piped up.

“A baby’s green eyes spurs brighter skies.”

She mutters it before looks at you curious. You look down at your swollen belly, feeling confused. Neither Aemond or you have green eyes. You try to push the sinking feeling out of your stomach. Even Aegon, who normally ignores Helaena’s cryptic language, has perked up a little.

You take a look at Ser Quinton… his eyes as green as spring grass.

Ok this is my first one doing a tag list, so I’m sorry for those I’ve missed. It only let me do 50??? Idk it’s it’s different on desktop or I’m doing something wrong. Hopefully I can find a more conducive way for this. I also only tagged people who specifically asked: @afro-hispwriter @crispmarshmallow @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @its-sam-allgood @lol-im-done @grey-water-colors @sassysaxsolo @justsumstufff @lilithskywalker @dc-marvel-girl96 @bekky06 @claudie-080102 @cloudroomblog @shelbythequeen @crazylokonugget @solacestyles @instantpeachpeace @katyadenauer @nsainmoonchild @deeeeexx @iwanttohitmyself @rosa-berberifolia @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @princessmiaelicia @bregarc @castellomargot @thesadvampire @chaosmagiq @icarusignite @happinessinthebeing @flavorofsalt @wishfulwithwine @slut-for-eddie-munson @rosaryos @mistalli @inana-mm @winxschester @papery-maniac @nolongereviliwantlove @fultimefangirl @missusnora @skinmittensgoblin @duckworthbean @b00kdiary @chiyausu @alexandra-001 @tachibubu @juneisreading @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @verycollectivecreator

[kneelingshadowsalome]

this has been on my mind for a while, how would König react to a reader who was around when he was being bullied, not one of the bullies since I doubt he would forgive that even tho the sex would be nasty but like a girl who was on the side lines doing nothing and just hanging out with the bullies coming to him apologetically and wanting to make amends??

Oh what a delicious idea!

I meant to answer this with a quick reply but alas 🙄 this turned into a short drabble almost

She wasn’t one of the bullies, which means she’s not someone who König would want to actively terminate (I hc him in some of my darker fics as someone who may or may not have killed his childhood bullies... and/or his father, which means König can’t go back to Austria bc MEMORIES and also bc he has like a raging criminal record there). But she’s an onlooker, practically an enabler, and used to hang out with his bullies, oh dear. König wouldn’t be all too welcoming with her.

Chances are she was someone who König crushed on during school. Unattainable, he daydreamed about having her as his first girlfriend, but naturally that never happened... Now he’s suspicious to the point of being a little paranoid: he built a tough shell because of his past, so doe eyes and apologies won’t get you very far, even if König is intrigued. To be honest, his interest is piqued, but he won't let you see that in a million years.

Perhaps you reach out after a class meeting, some get together he never attended. You always wondered what happened to the cute, awkward nerd who sat behind you in class, the clumsy boy who talked of Rome, chivalry and knights while other boys wanted to be F1 drivers... Maybe you fantasized about asking him to help you with your history or math test, maybe you even blew him a kiss one time on dare to see if he'd walk straight into a wall (he did).

Maybe you dolled yourself up, just for him, excited to see König after over 10 years. To see if the awkward boy would still blush, to see what kind of man he has become... Chirp your regrets after a few blunts and some booze and see if he still fancied you.

But König never came. And of course he didn’t, that’s hardly a surprise. The regret within you builds until you bite the bullet and send a message to his old number, and after a few months, a reply finally arrives, but it’s not the most genial one.

König wants to meet you though… And the man, the thing he has become, makes it clear that he's not the shy awkward boy anymore.

You spend the whole evening trying to get over the sheer size of him, the lack of shaking hands, the distant cold stare with which he looks down at you. The fact that he works as a mercenary, that the boy who never hit anyone now kills people for money... The fact that he looks like someone who could wipe the floor with the young men you used to think were kinda cool.

König, however, is trying to decide what you want from him. Do you still think he’s a loser who never hit back because he wanted to be the better person? Do you think he’s a good for nothing man, even now, upon seeing that he finally succumbed to his hate?

Why do you even want to apologize after all these years?

Do you want an official pardon so that you can sleep your nights better? Or do you want to gawk at him because he chose to skip that stupid get together, perhaps gossip about him to the others and see if you could still find something to laugh at?

He’s the perfect gentleman during your “date”, offers to pay for the food and wishes you all the best. You can see the hurt in his eyes, of course – he wants to make you feel even worse about yourself by being such a good joe, so you break before him when he tries to leave, apologizing again, even crying in front of him.

“I just wanted to know if you’re happy,” you say. “I just hope that everything’s alright now…”

You lay your whole heart out in front of this man, but he's not the boy you used to know, not anymore.

He doesn’t tell you that he’s not happy; he never was. Neither does he heed the wishes of his darker self, wanting to tell you that he’d be happy for a while if you blew him in the restroom. He’s fucking better than that.

“We were just kids,” he says instead.

And that’s it: that’s the apology. But you can’t let him go, and neither can he, not when you humbly decided to come and rip all his wounds open.

Cue to a few months from the first date, you’re neck deep in love with him while König tells himself he’s only having fun. You could say he’s using you for sex; yes, he’s just dating this chick from high school... You’re just someone he comes to fuck and cuddle during leaves. It's nothing serious, no. He can do without serious for a while.

And he’s not going to fall for your charms, no matter how sweet, authentic and loving you are... You make yourself so fucking easy to love, but he's not going to fall for that. Any other woman he'd worship, but not you.

Not you.

Not you…

[ponderingmoonlight]

Heyyy, i love ur jjk fics so when u posted abt writing for aot i SCREAMED bc ik you'll do it justice 😩❤❤

Do u reckon u could do like a levi post rumbling fic bc i need the confort rn and SO DOES HE I NEED HAPPY LEVI PLSS ❤❤❤🙏🙏🙏

When I tell you I had to write this IMMEDIATELY <3 Please let me know if you like it, this is my first AOT fic EVER

Levi finally getting his happy end with (y/n) after the rumbling

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: When he met you after first stepping a foot at Marley, Levi didn't forget you until the very end. But while he thought you died through the rumbling, he meets you again for his happy end.

Warnings: this is the comfort I needed, I actually had to cry while writing this, not proofread because I wanted to publish this asap

Tags: @sanicsmut begging on my knees, please I hope you like this

You’ve been on his mind ever since he met you on that fateful day at Marley. So gorgeous that he couldn’t take his eyes off you, a smile so sweet it could melt even metal. Yes, you were so different from what he expected to find across that ocean, a truly pleasant surprise to say the least.

“Oh, you are quite small for a grown man!” you commented, giggling so effortlessly that Levi wasn’t able to even react to your rude comment.

“But to be honest, I’m a little small myself. Well, not all of us can be tall, right? Where are you from, stranger?”

“None of your business.”

His voice sounded harsher that anticipated, making your joyful face drop in an instant. Why…Why the hell did it even bother him to see you like that, that sad glow that formed in your eyes?

“I’m not from here”, he added.

“Oh, I see! Don’t worry about it too much, it’s like everywhere else!”

Oh, if you only knew how wrong that statement was.

His eyes landed on your right arm and the star that covered the sleeve of your blouse. Why would you wear such a badge? Upon closer inspection, he noticed your shattered clothing, the hem of your earth coloured dress completely torn.  

Before Levi was even able to react two men ran into you, forcefully pushing your body into the dirt of the streets.

“Get out of the way, scum”, one of them hissed towards you.

Anger rose inside his veins immediately. You were just standing there, minding your own business. Why on earth did they push you?

“Watch your step”, his voice suddenly called towards the men.

“Please, it’s alright. Don’t get into trouble because of me.”

And then your hand rested against his shoulders, making his heart beat so loud that Levi swore you could hear it. What was this? Why did your little innocent touch turn him all flustered?

Something about you just seems different. No, despite the fact that it is so wrong, despite being here only for a mission, his mind wanders to you every free second.

Even though you might be dead by now.

“I will leave after tonight”, he announced into darkness, your moonlit features making it hard for him to focus on staying serious.

Your lip began to tremble, glossy eyes darting towards him.

“What? But why do you have to leave? You just arrived…”

“I came here because I have a mission to accomplish, (y/n).”

“But you will return when you’re done, right?”

The hopeful tone in your voice killed him from the inside. Oh, how much he wished he could just take you with him, how much he’d love to have more time with you. But this is simply not possible.

His cold eyes glared at you through the darkness, desperately trying to keep his composure.

“I might never return to this place, (y/n).”

You felt like someone pulled the ground from beneath your feet. Within the last few weeks, you learned that Levi’s hard façade isn’t more than a trick. No, in fact, he carries a character made of pure gold.

You started to like him.

“Then I’ll find you wherever you’ll go.”

And you did. You never missed to write him letters. Levi can’t help but wonder how you did that, your elegant handwriting following him through the darkness of the night, lighting up his mood despite the situation he’s in. Yes, he looked forward hearing from you every single day.

Until the rumbling started.

Until he didn’t receive any letters from you anymore.

It broke his heart, waking up from his coma with all that was on his mind being your stunning smile.

“Did I receive any letters from her?”

“You mean (y/n)? No, not until it all started. She lived in the northern area of Marley so it’s very likely that…”

His heart shattered into a million pieces, dead eyes staring into the distance. Your beautiful smile, that promise you gave him the night before he left. The thought of you getting trampled to death…

“Don’t say it.”

“Hey, maybe she did it somehow. (y/n) is a smart woman. I’m sure she found a way out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, shitty four-eyes. She’s dead.”

He has seen it all, countless people died in front of his very own eyes. Why would it be different this time? Why shouldn’t you of all people be taken away from him? A little spark of luck, a minor ray of sunshine in this sheer darkness.   

He leans back in his wheelchair, darkness consuming him all over again. You deserved so much better, your whole life was still ahead of you. In a world that never wanted you, you always kept your smile as bright as the sun. Despite the fact that they treated you like the dirt underneath their feet, despite how poorly the circumstances were, your smile beamed brighter than anything else.

“What would it give me to burry myself in sadness? I only have this one life, why not making the best of it?”

The best…

“Fuck!” he cries out, slamming a nearby book against the wall in frustration.

Why you? Why out of all the people, you are the one who had to lost her precious life? He never had the chance to tell you how he feels, how you turned his world upside down, that he survived for you.

Dear captain Levi (I love to call you that),

How are you? I hope your mission is going well and that you’ll return soon. I have some exciting news to share with you! After working so much over the last few weeks, I was finally able to buy myself a new dress! Although I wanted to get a white one because I know you love the colour, I bought a dark green one in honour of you. When you come back, we’ll be matching!

I miss you and our conversations late at night. Please tell me you and the others are okay.

In love,

(y/n)

That dark green dress he never got so see, the joy you fuelled inside of him despite being hundreds of miles away from him. God, how much he misses you. How much he fucking misses talking to you through the darkness of the night, to hear from the world through the unwavering veil of your optimism. What would he give to stretch out his hands after you for once, holding you tightly against his chest? It truly kills him from the inside, knowing he will never be able to hold your hand or kiss your lips tenderly, that you’ll never tell him old fairy tales anymore.

You were special. An angel in a world full of devils. Your word alone should have been enough to end every war in the blink of an eye. It definitely was enough to end the war inside himself.

“Captain Levi, will you assist me?”

“Stop calling me that, Onyankopon”, Levi mumbles, silently following the taller man into the heart of the city.

The war made the remaining 20% realize how precious being alive is only after their lives hanging on a thread. While the others carried on with their lives, Levi himself got stuck in this cursed city, the city he last saw you in. Returning to Paradis would mean giving up on you, giving up on the spell you put on him. And he simply can’t take it. Even though the whole town got destroyed by the merciless feet of titans, despite numerous people telling him than no one was able to escape, he always looked out for that dark green dress you described to him.

“Thank you”, a little girl giggles at him, eyes widen at the delicious sight of the lollipop in her hands.

All he can do is stare at the ground in front of her tiny feet with empty eyes. How nice it must be to have something to hold onto in times like these, after losing everything and everyone.

“Hey, can I get another one?”

“Don’t get greedy, young lady!”

That voice, that angelic voice almost reminds him of you. How long has it been since you last spoke to him? So long that the sound of your speech slowly fades in the back of his mind.

But that woman, that woman almost sounds like you. His gaze wanders up her dirty shoes, the hem of her green dress…

A green dress. Dark green, to be exact.

“Levi?”

His eyes widen, his heart stops beating.

No, this can’t be. Is it a dream?

“Levi Ackerman? Is that you?”

His gaze darts towards your face, time stands still. Your facial features, your joyful eyes. It’s you, it has to be you. Without any doubt.

“(y/n)”

He can’t catch his breath, his orbs lingering over your delicate figure, your dark green dress.

That dark green dress.

Before he can stop himself, his eyes get glossy. It is really you. You’re standing in front of him, uninjured, just like you did before.

“Levi!”, you cry out.

In the matter of seconds, you kneel in front of him, hungry arms holding onto his frame for dear life. Oh god, how much you prayed to see that man again, how much you longed to finally be able to hold him in your arms.

“I never gave up hope. I always believed in your abilities and that you’ll return to me someday”, you mutter against his chest, your salty tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt.

“I thought you were dead.”

His voice isn’t more than a fade away whisper, hand running through your soft hair. He always wondered how it would feel against his fingertips. And now you’re here. In his arms, alive.

You are alive.

“I’m fine. I did leave this town just in time because I wanted to see you again. It was a close call, I almost got crushed but…I made it. I couldn’t leave after telling you the fairy tale about the fox and the rabbit, right?”

Silent tears stream down his face like a waterfall while you cry rivers against his chest. His whole life Levi was haunted by loss and grief. As if he was cursed, everyone around him seemed to die in front of his very eyes. Just after letting himself fall, after trusting someone, after gifting them his feelings…They just lost their lives like flies.

But you’re safe and sound, you look just like you did in his memory.

“I love you, (y/n). I should have told you this way sooner and I did all of this just to return to you.”

Your heart sinks in your chest, body overflowing with feelings. Without thinking twice, you press your lips against his scarred ones, letting yourself sink into his lap while your hands hold onto his face for dear life. This man right in front of you, the man who never left your mind, the man who risked his life to save yours. He survived. He survived and came back to you just like you always dreamed of.

“I love you too”, you shriek, smiling at him so widely with tears overflowing in your eyes that you make his world whole again.

“But as you see, I’m not the man you met back then…”, he begins, looking down his disabled body.

You shake your head vehemently, gently taking his hands into yours.

“All I see is the man I love and waited for”, you reply.

You wipe away your tears and a trail of snot in the most unladylike and precious way Levi ever witnessed before standing up and straighten your skirt with trembling hands.

“So now, what do you think? How do you like my now old new dress?” you croak.

You twirl around, making his life complete. This. This is exactly what he fought for, why he never gave up even after Hange dedicated her life. You standing in front of him in that dark green dress, smiling widely after he told you that he loves you.

This is all he ever wanted.

“You look lovely. Absolutely lovely, (y/n)”, he replies.

And for the first time since forever, a genuine smile is formed on his face.  

[strniohoeee]

matt and reader are bffs secretely in love and as usual they go on car rides in LA and they stop on a hill bc reader wants him to take photos of her since it's golden hour and he just falls more in love seeing how beautiful she is and he can't help himself when he surprises her by kissing her and then they go home and have sweet loving sex and it's also her first time doing it

Inamorata

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Matt and the reader head to a hilltop that overlooks LA. Suddenly words and looks are exchanged, and some events take place that weren’t on their agenda🌅

Warnings⚠️: Smutttt, it’s cutesy though.🥺 I actually really liked writing this one 🤭

Song for the imagine: Like You’ll Never See Me Again-Alicia Keys

⚠️This is an 18+imagine, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️

Everytime you kiss me

Kiss me like you’ll never see me again

Everytime you touch me

Touch me like this is the last time

Promise that you’ll love me

Love me like you’ll never see me again

“What do you mean?” I asked Matt looking over at him

“I just mean that it’s dumb for you to try and get the attention of a guy who clearly doesn’t care for you, come on Y/N he’s made it very clear he doesn’t want anything to do with you” Matt says merging onto the freeway

“Wow Matt” I said jaw falling slack as I glare at him

“Listen, I'm not trying to be mean at all. You are giving all your energy to a guy who just wants to use you and then discard you” he said looking over at me

“Use me?” I asked confused

“He just wants sex, and I know you want a relationship with the kid. He clearly doesn’t at all. I mean look at the way he acts when you turn down his advances. He doesn’t care about your feelings” he replied

“Oh” was all I could say

“I mean not that it’s any of my business, but hey if you just want casual sex then go for it, but don’t expect him to turn around and buy you flowers and offer you the world; because he won’t” be said back

“I mean I don’t just want a fuck buddy I want a relationship, but how do you know this anyways?” I asked him

“Well for one I’m a guy, and I’m not like that at all, but I’ve been friends with guys who are like that. And two I’ve been in that predicament myself. Girls who just want sex and then leave me stranded. Not the biggest fan of that” he said to me

“I guess you’re right, thank you Matt for always listening to my stupid boy problems and helping me see how shitty these guys are” I said to him turning my head to the right and looking out the window

“Of course Y/N I’m always here for you” he said to me

I looked over and smiled at him before leaning my head against the window as I looked out the window again.

“I just wish I could find that special someone. I’m always let down” I said shutting my eyes

Matt looked over at the girl, giving her a once over with a sad look in his eyes. Oh how badly he wanted her to look at him, no! Not look at him, but to see him.

“Yeah I get you, you never know he might be a lot closer than you think” Matt replied

“I sure hope so” I replied

Matt kept driving, and I was wondering where we were going because we never spoke of a destination.

“Hey where are we headed to?” I asked looking over at Matt

“I’m thinking of that hilltop on Sycamore grove. It’s beautiful at this time of day. It would make for some nice pictures, and some good talks” he said chuckling a bit

“Ohh I’ve never been there, but it looks so gorgeous I can’t wait” I said smiling at him

We kept driving for another 20 minutes before we pulled up to the hilltop. Not a single care in sight, and the view was amazing.

It overlooked a small part of LA, and with the sun slowly getting ready to set it casted a beautiful golden glow against the trees and the ground. The temperature was just right too. Not too cold and not too hot, just perfect.

“Holy shit this is beautiful” I said shutting the car door

“Isn’t it. It could make a grown man cry” he said laughing

“I’m sure it could” I said laughing back

“Let’s take some pictures” Matt offered

“I’d like that” I replied

Matt and I had taken pictures of the scenery, and some still shots of each other. Man I never realized how blue his eyes were until the sun hit them and made them sparkle.

I took the picture of him and slowly slid the camera down just staring at Matt. I mean I’ve seen Matt hundreds of times before, but I’m just now seeing him. And it made my heart flutter…..

“Is something wrong?” He asked getting confused

“Oh no sorry, I just never realized how blue your eyes were” I said smiling at him

“Really?” He said chuckling

“I mean when the sun hits them they really light up. It’s awesome actually” I said smiling at him

We took some more pictures of each other, and Matt actually took a lot of off guards of me that I hated, but he swore they looked amazing.

The sun was setting a bit more now, and Matt and I decided to sit at the edge of the hilltop. A bit scary, but I tried to face my fear of heights

“So talk to me Matt” I said bumping his shoulder with mine

“I’ve been talking to you” he said furrowing his brows

“No, tell me more. I feel like you’re so reserved now a days” I replied

“Reserved?” He said laughing a bit

“I don’t know, you just are super quiet. I get like a few good sentences out of you, and then just one word answers what’s on your mind?” I said to him

“I mean nothing really. I’m just in my own head a lot of the times” he replied

“Care to share?” I asked

“Ehh it’s nothing important” he said shrugging his shoulders

“Well that’s alright, I’m all ears though” I said nodding at him

A few minutes went by or silence. Just listening to the breeze ruffle through the trees as we watched the busy LA traffic beneath us. I could get used to this, sitting in silence with Matt and watching a sunset. It was calming

“That breeze feels so good” I said out loud shutting my eyes as the wind brushed through my hair

“It does doesn’t it” he responded

“I love when I get hit with a breeze because everything just stops for a moment and that’s all you feel” I said taking a breath in

“And all you can hear is your heartbeat” he said

“Yeah…..it makes you want to cry it feels so good” I replied looking over at him

“Do you ever cry?” Matt randomly blurted out causing me to look over at him

“Sometimes, do you?” I said in a whisper looking over at the sunset

“Yeah” he said in a soft whisper

“What do you cry about?” I asked giving him a soft smile

“Shit…I cry so much sometimes I feel like I’m gonna turn into drops”he replied looking down and swallowing thickly (IFYKYK)

“I get that, tell me more” I said in a whisper

Matt looked over at me with glossy eyes and licked his lips

“I just cry about it all. Where I’m at right now, who I’m surrounded with. All the troubles I went through to get to where I’m at. It makes me emotional” he said blinking his tears away

“Wow Matt, that was beautiful” I said wiping his eye with my thumb as he looked at me

“I cry about the beauty of life” he said chuckling

“That was embarrassing right” he said shaking his head

“No, it wasn’t. I understand you Matt. I see you” I replied looking into his eyes

Suddenly Matt leaned into me, connecting our lips. At first I was shocked. I mean never in a million years did I think this is where we would end up. Kissing on a hilltop, but I loved it. I kissed back, my hand caressing his cheek.

Our lips connect like two puzzle pieces that have been lost. I pulled away, breathing heavy as I looked into Matt’s eyes

“I’m sorry” he said blinking

“Don’t be Matt, I enjoyed it” I said before leaning in and picking his lips again

“The suns set, I think we should head back” he said

“Yeah” I said nodding my head

Math helped me off the ground and we got back in the car. A 30 minute drive filled with music, talking and the occasional silence. Every moment playing in my head from our previous interaction.

Truly fighting with my mind if it was Matt all along, and I’ve just been ignoring these feelings. My mind started to race with many thoughts.

We pulled up to the house and noticed that Nick and Chris were gone. This made me a bit anxious as to where things could lead to, but Matt wasn’t like that, so I felt better.

We headed to his room and just sat on his bed talking. This slight bit of awkwardness in the air that we were north desperately trying to ignore.

“I ummm I’ve been meaning to tell you how I feel, but I was so scared you didn’t feel the same way” Matt said looking over at me

“It never occurred to me that I could like you, but when you kissed me everything just felt complete. Like you were my missing piece all along” I replied back to him

Matt leaned over and kissed me again, soon becoming a heated make out session. Something I wasn’t prepared for, but was giving it my all. Our teeth clashing together as our tongues fought for dominance. It was such a heated and needy kiss, and it made my knees weak

He leaned us back as he was now hovering over me, his right hand running up the side of my left thigh. As his kisses went from my jawline to my neck as I let out little whimpers.

His right hand slowly kneading my hip bone. When suddenly Pulled away…this was getting too much for me

“Umm wait wait” I said pulling back

“I’m sorry I’m sorry” he said pulling back

“No it’s okay” I said shaking my head

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and I wasn’t trying to force sex on you. I was just simply wanting to kiss you” he said giving me a once over

“No it’s okay Matt. I just ummm I’ve never done this before” I said avoiding eye contact

“What making out?” He said giggling

“Umm no like having sex or taking part in any sexual like acts other than kissing” I said to him

“Oh that’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay?” He said smiling

“Okay” I whispered out

“But I do want to keep kissing you” I blurted out biting my lip

Matt smirked at me, and leaned back down reconnecting our lips. His kisses moved to my neck and back up to my lips. I know I said I only wanted to kiss him, but my body was burning with desire for him.

My lower stomach flips every time he lays a kiss on my neck, and my core throbbing and dripping for him. God why was he having such an effect on me.

“Matt” I said in a whisper

“Yes?” He replied back

“What if, what if I want to do more?” I asked looking into his eyes

“Then we can do more, but don’t feel pressured, okay? I can wait” he said running his hand through my hair

“You can wait, but I can’t….I need you like badly” I said breathing heavily

“Yeah okay okay” he said in a whisper

Matt had kissed down to my neck. Leaving light kisses that were making me burn up inside.

He leaned back and pulled his shirt off, so I pulled mine off as well.

“Can I…can I take my bra off?” I asked Matt

“Baby you can do whatever you want” Hs said licking his lips

I started to blush as I removed my bra . Never allowing a man to see me this way causing me to get a little shy

“Don’t get shy on me pretty girl” he said giving me a smile

Matt had started to kiss my neck, and slowly went down to my breast. Massaging both breasts before taking one into his mouth.

“Oh Matt” I said in a whisper as my eyes fluttered shut

He then went down to the valley of my breast, and started to kiss leaving sloppy kisses on my stomach. I was aching for his touch.

“Can I take your pants off?” He asked, and I nodded

He started to take my pants off as I lifted up a little for him to get them fully off.

He looked at me with a small smile before sliding his jeans off as well. Tossing them somewhere behind him.

Matt came down to lay next to me kissing my cheek.

“Okay baby. I have to stretch you out” he said. I turned my head towards him and nodded

Slowly he trailed his hand down to my underwear. Slightly dipping his hand in to massage my pelvic area before completely sticking his hand down to my aching cunt

“Can you open your legs a bit more?” He asked, looking up at me. I nodded and opened my legs more

“Good girl” he said, kissing me, and then he slid his hand all the way down coating his fingers in my arousal before bringing them back up to massage my clit

I just gasped and opened my mouth as I looked down at Matt’s hand. My own hands fistinf the sheets beneath me.

“Feeling okay?” He asked

“I feel so good Matt” I told him licking my now dry lips

“Has anyone ever done this to you?” He asked in a whisper his blue eyes piercing into the side of my face as I continued to stare down at his hand in my panties

“No….only myself” I said in a gasp licking my lips again

Math started to rub my clit in circular motions. Allowing me to squirm and moan at this foreign feeling.

“Okay baby this may hurt” he said before sinking his middle finger into my entrance.

This was a burning stretch I’ve never felt before, causing my eyes to shut and my brows to furrow

“Ow Matt” I said finally opening my eyes

“Too much? I can stop” he said reading my face

“No no keep going” I told him, and so he did. He slowly started to rock his fingers in and out curving them up to hit my G spot

“Oh fuck” I moaned out

“That feels so fucking good” I said as he started to rub my clit with his thumb

All that could be heard was the wet sounds of my cunt taking his finger and my moans and heaving breathing.

“Oh Matt….I've never felt something like this” I told him as my mouth fell open

“Does it feel good?” He asked

“So fucking good” I said whispering the last part

“Alright my love, I think you’re all stretched out for me” he said removing his fingers from me

“Okay” I let out in a careless whisper

Matt removed his boxers allowing his cock to spring up. My eyes immediately lit up. God he was hung, and I was burning with desire

“This will hurt, so I’m going to go slow, and if it’s too much I’ll stop” he said

“Okay baby” I whispered to him

Matt had both arms on either side of my head and was looking into my eyes

“Ready?” He asked one more time

“Yes Matt I’m ready” I told him

Matt lined himself up with my entrance and slowly slid in. My mouth dropped as my eyes screwed shut. I thought his finger was painful….this was hurting like hell

“Fuck Matt that hurts” I said gripping his left arm with my right hand

“Want me to stop?” He asked

“No keep going…..just slower” I told him

He slowly started to insert himself into me further. He soon bottomed out, and the feeling of his dick inside me made my stomach churn. He was made for me.

“So perfect,” he said, moving my hair out of my face. Matt was allowing me to relax around him and get used to the stretch before moving.

“You can move” I told him, and so he did.

Slowly he rocked his hips back and forth allowing the burning stretch to subside.

He was letting out little moans and grunts that were making me so wet.

“Fuck Matt you sound so hot” I moaned out gripping the back of his head

Slowly Matt started to pick up his pace. Sliding in and out of me in such a delicious way

“Fuck Matt you can go a little faster” I told him

Matt started to thrust into me a little faster and I was completely losing my mind. Never in my life did I think sex with a man would feel this good, but Matt wasn’t just any man; so it made sense

“Matt this feels so good” I said moaning out as my toes curled

“You feel so fucking good around me” he said moaning the last part

Matt leaned down more allowing our chests to touch. This intimate action made my walls clench around him. I never wanted this moment to end.

Matt continued to thrust into me, becoming a sweaty and groaning mess above me. Pulling him down more to leave kisses on his neck as he groaned into my ear.

He slowly snaked his hand down to my clit, and began to rub. My body convulsing against him

“OH MY GOD” I moaned out at the intense sensation I was feeling

“You okay doll?” He asked looking at me

“FUCK YES keep going. Fuck Matt I think I’m going to cum” I told him as I started to clench on his cock causing him to moan

Matt was fucking into me at a good pace, his thumb rubbing my clit harder as he chased his own orgasm.

“Matt Matt Matt” I said scratching his back and clenching down on him harder

“Come on baby! You got this” he said rubbing his thumb faster

“I’m going to cum. Fuck fuck fuck” I said shutting my eyes and throwing my head back even more

“Come on. Come on give it to me” he said into my ear

“FUCKKKKK MATTT” I screamed out as I started to convulse and tremble. My orgasm completely washing over me. My vision clouded with flashes of colors, my hearing fading in and out, my thighs shaking as my back lifted off the bed.

I locked eyes with Matt as I came down from my high, my brows furrowed and my mouth hung open.

Matt pulled out of me and he started to pump his cock. Rolling his neck as he let out little moans and pants

“Fuck I’m gonna cum” he said kissing my lips

He pulled away and his lower abdomen started to contract as his mouth fell and his brows furrowed. He looked into my eyes as he came all over his hand and my lower stomach. Slowly coming down from his high and rolling onto his back next to me

“Matt that was amazing” I said looking over at him

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself pretty girl” he said looking over at me

“You were so gentle with me I appreciate it, and you allowed me to feel pleasure” I said rolling over to my side and kissing him on the cheek

“I’m all about giving. Plus watching you cum on my cock will forever be engraved in my mind. It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen” he said biting his lip

“Thank you Matt” I said laying a kiss on his lips

Matt ran a bubble bath for us, and we sat in the warm water washing each other as we laughed and talked about the events that had just taken place.

Who would’ve thought Matt and I were meant for each other.

I was his Inamorata.

The End

Alrightttt I’ve been MIA FOR DAYSSSS, and I’m sorry I just had no motivation. However I hope you enjoyed this story and especially hope the person who requested it enjoyed it! 🤭 LOVE YOU GUYSSS🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[katsu28]

to be alone together

pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

summary: steve has to work on valentine’s day, but maybe it’s not as bad as he thought it would be

warnings: none, 1.8k

a/n: u know i had to do a lil something for my steve girlies too <3 went for a more steve centric pov bc he is the definition of pining simp 

navigation

(gif credits to @harringtondaily)

“Kinda sucks that you gotta work tonight.” Robin’s voice through the phone pressed to Steve’s ear was staticky, but still provided a good distraction from the empty video store around him.

It was Valentine’s Day and Steve had been at Family Video since opening, watching couple after couple come in to pretty much clear the romcom shelves, and yeah, he was a little bummed about it, but there was no point moping around about it any longer than he already had been. 

“It’s whatever, honestly. Not like I had any plans to begin with.” He sighed, shifting the receiver so it was wedged between his cheek and shoulder as his fingers drifted down to fiddle with the pen on the counter absentmindedly. 

“Steve, that’s sad.” Robin replied. Steve wrinkled his nose, a slightly offended noise escaping the back of his throat. “No! I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant that you should be out and about, having a good time.” 

“You know what’s actually sad? You talking to me instead of paying attention to your date.” He shot back, only half serious. “Where’s Nance?” 

“Oh she’s right here. Say hi, Nance.” 

Steve heard a faint ‘hi Steve’ in the background and he returned the greeting. “What are you guys doing tonight?” 

“She made this really fancy pasta thing for dinner, we’re just waiting on the chicken to finish in the oven and I thought I’d see what was going on with you.” Robin sounded casual, but he knew this was her way of checking up on him since he was the only one on shift all day and she knew how he felt about today. 

“Rob, I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you, but I’m fine. It’s really not a big deal.” 

“Why don’t you just close up early, come join us for dinner? We have more than enough food.” 

“You’re seriously inviting me to crash your romantic dinner date with your girlfriend?” He snorted, rolling his eyes playfully. “What does Nancy think of that?” 

There was some shuffling on the other end, a bout of silence, then Robin was back on the line. “She’s giving me a weird look, nevermind. Now that I think about it, it wasn’t my best idea.” 

“I love you both, but you know I can’t.” 

The bell above the door jingled softly, drawing Steve’s attention away from his phone call and to whoever just walked in. 

Shit. It was you. 

You were dressed like you were supposed to be on your date, not here, hair and makeup done up all pretty, floaty dress in his favorite color swishing around your knees as you made your way into the store. It made him wonder if you chose that color on purpose, but he knew that you didn’t. You couldn’t have known you’d be seeing him tonight. Wishful thinking on his end though. 

“Rob, I gotta go,” He blurted, straightening up behind the counter. 

“Wait, what—” 

“I gotta go, she’s—someone’s here, I gotta help her.” 

“She? Oh my god, wait! Is it—” 

“Have a nice date, tell Nance I said bye!” With that, Steve hung up, slamming the receiver onto the base with enough force to send it skittering a few inches. “Hey, Y/N.” 

“Steve!” Your previously downturned lips lifted into a smile, one that had Steve’s heart thudding a little faster in his chest. It always did. “I didn’t know you were working tonight.” 

See, you were also part of the reason he decided to take the extra shift today, but through no fault of your own. You’d mentioned earlier in the week while you were hanging out with him and Robin that someone had asked you out for tonight, and Steve didn’t really know how to feel about it. 

You were friends, but had Steve been harboring a crush on you since pretty much the first day you met? Yes. 

Did he feel an itching sense of jealousy that you were going on a date with someone that wasn’t him? Also yes. 

Would he do anything about it? Probably not. 

Okay, so maybe he knew exactly how he felt about it. Hell, he’d picked up an extra shift to distract himself from it. 

“Yeah, I got called in last minute." A lie. "Aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now?” A casual, not at all hoping that it crashed and burned question. That would be mean. (But also a little gratifying for him.)

You chuckled, a tad bitter as you leaned forward, propping your elbows on the counter, the action sending a whiff of your perfume his way. Steve’s knees almost gave out. “Supposed to, yeah. But the guy never showed up.” 

Steve had to fight a noise of surprise. What kind of dumbass would skip out on a date with you? “Really? That’s—that sucks, I’m sorry.” 

“S’okay. Wasn’t really looking forward to it anyways.” 

“Oh?” 

“I didn’t really know him that well, honestly. He was a friend of a friend, asked me out in front of a bunch of people, and I didn’t really wanna turn him down and make it awkward.” 

“You’re way too nice, Y/N. And he’s an idiot for standing you up.” 

“Thanks, Steve.” You smiled warmly at him, patting his hand. Steve had to pretend his pulse wasn’t racing right now. “What about you? Why’re you here and not out with anyone?” 

“I, uh—I didn’t really feel like going out tonight. Don’t think I’d be a very good date anyways.”

“Oh, you’re just being modest. What girl wouldn’t wanna spend Valentine’s Day with Steve Harrington?” 

The one girl he wanted to spend this day with, he thought. You. 

“You’d be surprised.” He muttered. 

“Well then they’re idiots too.” 

A small smile quirked his lips. “Thanks.” 

“Hey, I just came to pick up some movies and spend the rest of my night shoveling down ice cream, but since we’re both here now and alone, d’you wanna…be alone together? Grab a bite to eat or do something?” 

Steve’s shoulders slumped defeatedly. “I’d love to, but I—I can’t. I gotta stay here til the end of my shift, Keith’s been on my ass about taking off early and as much as I hate the guy, I don’t wanna get fired.” 

“Oh, okay. Don’t worry about it, I’m, uh—it’s cool.” Was he hallucinating, or did you look disappointed? 

“Would you maybe wanna, I dunno, stay here? We can watch whatever you want and I know where Robin keeps her work snack stash. That way we can be alone together and I don’t get chewed out again?” Steve blurted hopefully. He was honestly expecting you to say no. Why would you wanna spend the rest of your already shitty night with him in a dingy video store? But then your face split into the biggest smile and you nodded, rocking forward on the balls of your feet earnestly. “Go pick something out, I’ll grab the snacks.” 

You scurried off to browse the near bare shelves, leaving Steve shaking his head amusedly in your wake as he watched you skim the tapes with a look of utmost concentration. He slipped into the back room to grab Robin’s last unopened bag of chips, making a mental note to buy more before tomorrow’s shift before returning to the video area.

He skimmed the store, spotting you in the romcom section, and when he made his way over, you were contemplating the last two tapes on the shelf. 

You beamed at him upon spotting him. “Pretty in Pink or Sixteen Candles?” 

“Am I allowed to say neither?” 

“You said whatever I want, Steve.” You said pointedly, propping your hands on your hips. 

“I did, didn’t I?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. You let out a hum of pleasure, sliding your chosen movie off the shelf and wandering towards the TV in the corner. Steve hurried after you quickly, plucking the tape from between your fingertips and running away, not unlike a child would. 

“Steve!” You huffed, whirling on your heel. He grinned mischievously at you, waving it in the air like a taunt. You caught up with him within seconds, lunging for the tape that he held up above his head and away from your outstretched hand. Your body was pressed against his as you reached for it, as you leaned against him in a fruitless attempt to overpower him. “Steve, gimme the tape!” 

“No!” He laughed, but that laughter very soon trickled off as soon as he realized your proximity. You were so close, he could see the color of your eyes clear as day, looking right back at him. You’d fallen quiet too, as if you’d come to the same realization. 

You were nose to nose, faces a hair’s breadth away from each other, the stolen tape in Steve’s hands long forgotten. Every fiber in his body was telling him to pull away, because the longer he stayed here the weirder it would be when he finally did manage to retreat, but no matter how hard he willed himself to move, he couldn’t. Instead, his eyes flicked down to your lips. Your breath hitched almost imperceptibly. 

“Steve?” You whispered, gaze darting around his own face. 

“Yeah?” 

“Kiss me.” 

You didn’t have to tell him twice.

Steve dropped the tape immediately, closing the gap between you and pressing his lips against yours. His hands came up to cup your face, holding you firm but kissing you soft, like he was preparing himself to pull away if you did. But from the way you were returning his kiss, how your hands clutched at the front of his vest to keep him this close, it didn’t feel like you’d be pulling away anytime soon, and that spurred him on even more. 

One hand slid down to settle at your waist, the other curling around the back of your neck as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss just a little bit. 

Steve’s lips felt tingly when he pulled away, tasted of your cherry lip gloss when his tongue darted out to lick them. He was sure to have a little bit on his mouth now, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Not by a long shot. Cherry might’ve just become his new favorite flavor. 

“I really like you.” He breathed, chest heaving against yours. Your lips curved into a soft smile—the same smile that nearly sent Steve’s brain short circuiting every time it was aimed his way. 

“After that kiss, I’d sure hope so,” You replied, smoothing out his wrinkled shirt as best you could. “I like you too, just so you know. Part of the reason I was so okay with my date ditching me. He wasn’t you.” 

Steve could only beam at you, going in for another kiss. In his excitement, he missed his mark, hitting the corner of your mouth instead, but he didn’t care. The girl he wanted all along actually liked him back, and it only took one failed date and an extra shift to find out. 

Maybe working on Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all. 

[myseungsunglove]

The Master of Flirting | Bc

Pairing: Chan  x Reader 

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, language

Word Count: 2k

Summary: The reader and Chan forge an unlikely connection and bond and venture into territory that is unfamiliar to both. 

A/N: This thought came to me while Chan was sending messages on bubble Sunday. I’m completely delulu. You can join me or not. Whatever floats your boat. I’m not picky. Inspiration hit, and I had to pump this out. Maybe there will be more. We’ll see. 

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

Feedback Welcome

「© August 13, 2023 by mysweethannie」

Sunday Bubble Messages from Chan.

Channie: I heard that supposedly I’m the master of flirting. 

Y/n: oh? Is that so? 

You knew how Bubble worked, but it was always fun when Chan got into these playful moods on Bubble. You couldn’t help but feel like you were having a conversation with him. 

The notification buzzes on your phone. You chuckle and open the app. 

Channie: makes no sense 

Y/n: Very few things in this life make sense, if we’re being honest. 

Channie: I don’t even know what flirting is. 

Y/n: me either, frankly. Can I get a dictionary definition please? It may help clear things up for both of us. 

The messages continue in the app, and you can’t help but chuckle at how adorable he is. He proceeds to tell STAYS they’re pretty and that that isn’t flirting, it’s just facts. He even goes as far as to remind everyone they’re perfect, and bless him he knows the right things to say to make anyone giggle like they are something special. Eventually the messages die down, and it makes you wish there would be a Chan’s room to look forward to. Damn do you miss those. 

You flip over to instagram and scroll through your fyp and some of the messages from your roommate spamming you with videos they found funny. Right before you’re about to return to your scrolling, you notice you have a request to receive a message. Your account is private, so it’s rare that anyone ever requests to message you. Everyone you want to have access to you there already has it. Curiosity wins over though and you click on the small request box. 

You stop dead in your tracks. 

gnabnahc wants to send you a message. 

This has to be a joke. Chan only started his account a couple weeks ago. It’s sad that he must’ve been hacked already. How does that even happen, you wonder to yourself. 

You can’t help but click on the message though, curiosity eating away at you. 

Bang Chan: flirting - as defined by the dictionary - to behave as though attracted to or trying to attract someone, but for amusement rather than with serious intentions.

What the hell? You think to yourself. Wait. How would a hacker know what you said in Bubble. Better yet, how the hell would someone find your insta from Bubble?

Then you remember you use the same username and picture in both Bubble and Instagram. What. An. Idiot. You can’t help but think. 

You click accept on the message and open up the chat. There is more there and your mouth continues to gape as you read on. 

Bang Chan: Damn. That definition is kind of harsh. I’m not sure that clears anything up for me. Hahahahaha 

Okay. That’s definitely Chan. There is no way this is a coincidence. You think carefully before doing anything. You click on the profile and it takes you to Chan’s official instagram. These messages are coming from the account that he just started weeks ago. Your mind is racing at the thought. 

You hop back over to messages quickly. 

Y/username: to be fair, I think it accurately describes me. 😂😂 

You see his username pop up immediately as he starts to type. 

Bang Chan: You mean you actually flirt for amusement with no serious intentions? I’m wounded. *clutches chest dramatically* 

Y/username: Christopher. You can’t tell me you don’t do the same damn thing. Be honest. You’re delulu but not seriously that bad, right? 

Bang Chan: delulu? Whatever do you mean? 

Bang Chan: Okay, fine. I’m caught. But I do mean the things I say when I tell STAYS how proud I am of them. And how beautiful they are. And that I love them. 

Bang Chan: I guess flirting makes it feel a little less lonely sometimes. 

You’re surprised at the honesty coming from him. And you still can’t believe this conversation is happening. 

Y/username: In a crowded room, surrounded by people but still feel alone. 

Bang Chan: exactly. 

Y/username: why me? 

Bang Chan: what do you mean? 

Y/username: like how did you find me? Are you really Bang Chan? I have so many questions. *laughs nervously* 

Bang Chan: hmmm

Bang Chan: first, your username and picture are the same in Bubble and Insta. I kind of shot in the dark on that one. But even your quotes were the same, so I took a chance. I always see your replies in Bubble. You’re funny. And sometimes I feel like I’m just talking to you. And I wanted to actually talk to you for once. 

Y/username: Wow. I—

Bang Chan: second, I’ll prove this isn’t a joke. 

Immediately you get a bubble notification. Chan has sent another message. You open the app and it’s a selfie and a picture of him in the studio, clearly it’s current. He is sitting in the chair you’ve seen hundreds of times in the room that has become so familiar to STAYS. 

Shortly after that, your notification dings in instagram. 

Bang Chan: *video  sent* 

You watch the video.

“Hi!” Chan giggles on the screen. He is wearing the same clothes as the selfie he sent on Bubble and is sitting in the studio. 

“This is the craziest thing I’ve done in a long time,” he laughs nervously. “Maybe ever,” he amends, smiling so bright his eyes disappear into tiny slits. “I hope this is proof enough, yeah? Cause I really like talking to you and uh,” he laughs again, looking away from the camera for a moment. “And I’d really like to keep talking if that’s okay, yeah?” 

The video ends there. You sit staring at your phone, absolutely dumbfounded. You can’t believe this is happening to you. 

Y/username: okay. You’re really you. 

Bang Chan: I’m really me

Y/username: hullo *runs and hides in the corner*

Bang Chan: okay, you’re too cute. Don’t get shy now. You’re always the funniest responses in Bubble. This isn’t different. 

Y/username: okay, but to be fair I never in a million years thought you’d ever actually SEE my responses there. Even if it did feel like sometimes you were responding to me, I wasn’t about to think that was true or remotely possible. 

Bang Chan: well, think again? I guess? Because I definitely was gearing my conversations towards you on multiple occasions over the last few months when I sent messages. And honestly, I needed to actually talk to you because, well, I wanted you to know we were talking.No real way to do that on Bubble without it being weird and the company jumping on my ass, so now you know. 

Y/username: now I know. 

Bang Chan: so tell me about yourself. I know you’re the same age as me. I recall you live in the states. You’ve said that on Bubble a time or two. *smiles* You love rainy days. You melt when I sing, especially if I’m singing with Han or Seungmin. You’re a sucker for a good rap line. 

Y/username: you remember all that? Hell you saw all that? 

Bang Chan: told you I was paying attention. I’m nothing if not honest. 

Y/username: duly noted. Honesty is the best policy after all. 

Bang Chan: let’s see. You’re really beautiful. You said once you loved singing which I’m dying to hear. 

Y/username: correction: not beautiful. Just kind of exist. Also, trust me, I’m nothing compared to you guys in the vocal department. You don’t want to hear me. nope. no way. 

Bang Chan: don’t say that about yourself. Please. And can I please hear your voice? You’ve heard mine. It’s only fair. 

Y/username: *glares* 

Bang Chan: *sends picture* 

He is pouting at the camera, his eyes big and pleading and you can’t help but smile. 

Y/username: you’re kind of a little shit, you know that? 

Bang Chan: me? Never? *sends picture* 

This one he is smiling big, his eye disappearing he is smiling so big. 

Y/username: god. And you’re cute. Fine. 

Bang Chan: fine? do i win? 

Y/username: *sends video* You send a video of you singing a verse from “Iris” a Goo Goo Dolls song. 

“And I’d give up forever to touch you. 

Cause I know that you feel me somehow. 

You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be. 

And I don’t wanna go home right now. 

And all I can taste is this moment. 

And all I can breathe is your life. 

When sooner or later it’s over. 

I just don’t wanna miss you tonight.” 

Bang Chan: oh my god. That was fucking incredible. 

*sends video* 

“Seriously, y/n. Your voice is incredible.” He smiles brightly. “I really am blown away. Damn. I—…” he laughs, covering his face, his ears turning red. “I know this seems crazy, but I really wanna meet you, yeah? I just, feel this connection. I know this is crazy. God, what am I doing? Any chance you can come to KCon? I’d get you VIP tickets, hell, I’d pay for your flight at this point. And you could stay where we’re staying. Meet the boys, god, Chan, what are you doin?” 

The video ends there and you’re stunned. You can’t believe what just happened. Your mind is racing. 

*audio call from instagram Bang Chan is calling* 

You don’t know what you’re thinking when you hit accept. The little phone turns green. 

“Hullo? Y/n? Ya there?” Chan’s voice comes through your speaker and shakes you from your trance. 

“Yeah, I’m here. Hi,” you chuckle, your voice squeaking a bit. 

“Hi,” he responds and you can hear the smile in his voice. “I meant everything I said in that video. I know it’s crazy and I— well I had to say it. Take a chance.” 

“You meant it?” you asked, still unsure and in disbelief at the course of events over the last hour. 

“Every word,” he assures you. “In fact, I maybe already have the ticket and am currently looking at flights,” he admits. 

“Holy shit, Chan. Seriously?” 

“I know,” he laughs nervously. “I don’t know what’s getting into me.” 

“I like it, whatever it is,” you chuckle. “God, I just don’t want to massively disappoint you because that feels like that will happen. Since we’re being honest.” You pause. “We’re still doing that, right? The honesty thing?” you joke.

“We are. And you won’t be a disappointment. I don’t do things like this, so trust me when I say, I want to meet you. I  need to,” he sounds so vulnerable admitting that. “And I hope you want to come out to LA.” 

“I really do,” you admit. “So am I really doing this?” 

“Just say the word, and I’ll get everything arranged. And I mean everything, so don’t argue,” he says firmly. 

You can’t help but laugh. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” he asks tentatively. 

“Do your thang, Bang Chan,” you laugh. You don’t know what’s gotten into you either, but you’re gonna go with the punches at this point. This is absolutely the craziest and possibly the most reckless thing you’ve ever done, but hell it feels good. 

“Wow! Okay,” he laughs. “Okay! I need to get off here and arrange everything. I’ll call you back with all the details, yeah? I need your address for your airport pickup and to book the flight. I can take care of everything else. My manager will arrange for the hotel. God this is really happening.” 

“It would seem so,” you laugh. 

“This is crazy,” you say at the same time. Then you both laugh. 

“Okay, I gotta go finalize this because I’m not missing my chance to meet you. I’ll call back. God, I’m so excited. Talk soon, yeah?” 

“Yeah, talk soon. Bye Chan.” 

“Byeom darling.” 

He ends the call and you're stunned in silence once more. He called you darling. What on earth was happening!? The reality of the situation hits you head on. You’re going to LA. To see Bang fucking Chan. And to meet all of the Stray Kids. Holy shit. How was this your life? You jump up and immediately start making arrangements. You’re not sure how long you’ll be gone, but everything else can wait because opportunities like this never just happen and you’re not gonna let this one pass you by. 

Not on your life. KCon or bust! Look out LA because y/n is coming to town! 

| Pt. 2 - The Mystery of You >

[shanastoryteller]

Hi, I'm a huge fan of your Gods and Monsters series but I had a question: have you already written the piece where Aphrodite and Hephaestus fall in love? Bc I could have sworn there was one about that, but I Cannot find it so now I'm wondering if that's one of the things that isn't written/posted yet. No pressure either way, I just wanted to check!

Aphrodite is named the goddess of love and beauty by Hera, the queen of the gods herself, and is given a gleaming throne of pristine ivory in the pantheon.

Aphrodite is named the goddess of love, and many take that as an invitation.

She understands quickly that Hera has not only dictated her domain, but also offered Aphrodite her protection, however oblique. Hera’s power on her tempers greedy hands and greedy eyes, making them ask for what in other circumstances they might simply take, and she resents that it’s something she should be grateful for.

The sea that bore her isn’t even an option anymore. She feels Poseidon’s gaze on her like a snail crawling across her skin, leaving oozing evidence of all the places it’s been. She thinks that her mother would help her, but she does not know.

Amphitrite made her and left her and sent her to the pantheon, full of danger that she does not understand.

She’s known the sea and the sky but worries about venturing from Mount Olympus, where distance from Hera’s influence might embolden some of her suitors.

She is a daughter of Zeus and Amphitrite. Power comes to her as easily as breathing, but she has no wish to test that power against gods with far more experience than she.

Hestia’s fire is always warm and soft and no one dares approach her while she’s in its light. Aphrodite forces herself to stay in the oppressive heat far past the point of comfort, staying closer to the flame than anyone besides the hearth goddess herself.

“So you’re who everyone is talking about.”

She startles, turning, and is first faced with a broad, tanned chest, then lifts her gaze further to look into a face with dark amber eyes and hair as long as her own. There’s blood splatter along his neck and unease curls within her stomach.

“I can’t stay,” he continues, looking her over. She appreciates that he doesn’t linger too long in certain areas and looks her in the eye after. It’s a low bar, perhaps, but many fail to clear it. “You impressed my mother, which isn’t easy.”

“Lord Ares,” she greets. Hera only has one child – well, two, but only one that ever ventures onto Olympus.

She should have guessed sooner. He looks so much like Zeus, except for Hera’s eyes clear in his face.

He waves dismissively. “None of that. We’re equals, aren’t we?”

Not really. The beloved child of the king and queen of the gods, the god of war, someone who does not even sweat in the heat of Hestia’s flame. And her.

“I suppose,” she answers. “How can I help you, Ares?”

“I just wanted to talk,” he says. “Rumor has it that you haven’t left Olympus. You may be a goddess of the pantheon on my mother’s word, but you have to cultivate worshippers just the same. They know you, but they do not what you will do.”

Neither does she.

“Can I go with you?” she asks impulsively.

It’s a stupid request. If Ares wants to overpower her, he will, and there won’t be anything she can do about it.

But he’s Hera’s son. That has to mean something.

“A battlefield isn’t a place for love,” he says, which isn’t a refusal.

“Of course it is,” she says, taken aback. “Otherwise what are they fighting for?”

Ares stares at her for a long moment. She refuses to do anything besides meet his gaze.

Finally, he says, “I can’t tell if you’re naïve or I’m cynical.”

“Love starts wars, but it ends them too,” she says. Maybe she is naïve, when she’s never even met a mortal herself, but with power over a domain comes knowledge of it too. “If not for love, why do men so desperately want peace?”

“Love means peace then?” he asks.

There is something heavy in that question, something she doesn’t understand, and it causes her to hesitate. But in the end she says, “Yes,” because it’s the only answer that can be true and she wants to be truthful to someone.

Ares holds her gaze then says, “You can come with me, if you want. It won’t be pretty.”

“Then perhaps they can use a goddess of beauty,” she says, excitement pulling her lips into a grin.

He shakes his head, but offers her his hand, and she takes it.

~

Under Ares’s protection, she feels as if she can finally breathe.

Aphrodite doesn’t know if Ares is aware that he is protecting her, since it’s less something he does and more something that is achieved through him existing, but she doubts the son of Hera is a dull man. That doesn’t seem like the sort of thing that the queen would tolerate.

Gods and nymphs and other manner of creatures still approach her, but all it takes is for her to hurry back to Ares’s side for them to abandon their pursuit. She’s not sure if it’s his parentage, his domain, or just the striking figure he makes on the battlefield, but they don’t follow her when she goes to him.

But she is not always with him.

Athena corners her on the city path. Aphrodite meets the goddess’s grey eyed gaze squarely. “You’re causing too much trouble.”

She’d seemed nice when Aphrodite first met her in the pantheon, but after Hera gifted her her domain, that kindness hasn’t resurfaced. She doesn’t take it personally, although she does wonder at its absence.

Athena, like Aphrodite, is a daughter of Zeus that has escaped Hera’s wrath through the virtue of being motherless.

Aphrodite is not motherless, precisely, but no one can know of her connection to Amphitrite, and it’s not like her mother stuck around long after bringing her into this world anyway.

“Ares said he doesn’t mind,” she says.

“Of course he doesn’t,” she sneers, looking her up and down derisively. “Everyone is talking about you and pursing you and nothing else is getting done.”

She draws her shoulders back. “That’s not my fault.”

Athena shrugs, not willing to say it is outright but clearly comfortable with implying it.

“What do you want me to do about it?” she asks, and knows it’s a mistake as soon as it leaves her mouth.

Athena doesn’t miss a beat. “Put everyone out of their misery and get married. They’ll cool off and get back to work if you’re ineligible, even if only in name.”

She’s not a goddess of loyalty, but the implication still stings. She’s been going through all this effort to avoid either bedding or offending everyone, after all. “I can’t just marry someone.”

“Why not? Hera will probably even officiate it, considering the interest she’s taken in you,” she says.

Before Aphrodite can respond, Ares appears at her side, slipping out of air as easily as taking a step. He’s covered in viscera and for a moment she puzzles over his newly red hair before realizing it’s soaked in blood. She doesn’t even want to know how that happened.

“Hello Athena,” he says brightly. “It’s so rare to see you outside of a library, we should really catch up-”

She disappears mid eyeroll.

Ares grins. “What did you do to her?”

“Thank you,” she says first, then, “I have no idea. She’s so angry. Is she not well liked in the pantheon?”

He shrugs. “Depends what you mean by liked. She makes a lot of enemies, but she’s not that bad. She gets frustrated a lot because she thinks she’s smarter than everyone around her.”

“Is she?” Aphrodite asks.

“Usually, yeah,” he looks around then bends down to whisper in her ear, careful to angle his filthy body away from her, “Hestia says that when she sprung from Father’s head, she took all his intelligence with her. Mom says that’s giving him too much credit.”

She laughs before she can think not to, then claps her hand over her mouth, as if Zeus is standing around the corner ready to smite her for mocking him. He is the king of the gods. Maybe he is always watching.

“It’s alright,” he says warmly, “just don’t repeat it where he can hear it. Or Athena. She’d throw a fit at the implication that her intelligence is anything but her own.”

If she ever decides to invite trouble rather than avoiding it, that seems like an excellent way to do it. “Are you okay? That looks messy.”

“Battle’s won, for now,” he says casually, rolling back his shoulders and wincing at the motion. “I’ve got some time before another one calls me there. I could use a good soak. Want to meet my brother?”

“Which one?” she asks even though she already know the answer. Of all his siblings, Ares claims only one of them.

“You don’t have to play dumb when we’re alone,” he says, which is suitably stunning that when he holds out his filthy hand, she doesn’t think to clean it before taking it. She hadn’t thought he’d noticed. “Come on.”

There’s the strange rushing sensation of being pulled along rather than moving herself. They’re in someplace dark, compared to the outside, and it takes her several seconds to adjust to the low lighting.

Everything glitters.

There’s shining metal twisted into exquisite shapes and liquid gold dripping like fondue and even the walls themselves shimmer in the light of the magma, the mica flickering silver.

There is a man with deep, dark skin and narrowed amber eyes. He has broad shoulders and a tapered waist and as her gaze drops even further, she sees the golden legs supporting him below the knee, as delicate and beautiful as all strange things scattered around his workshop.

“I hope that’s not yours,” the man says.

He has a nice voice. It’s low and yet it almost echoes around them. It takes her a moment to process what he’s said, and her confusion lasts only until Ares’s lips twist into a not quite smile and he replies, “It never is,” and she realizes he’s talking about the blood and worse covering Ares.

She wonders at her place here, what to do or how to act around this man surrounded by beautiful things who doesn’t even look at her.

Ares pulls his hair from its braid and blood splatters on the floor. “I’m going for a dip. This is Aphrodite. Be nice. Aphrodite, this is my brother, Hephaestus.”

“Goddess,” Hephaestus murmurs, inclining his head.

She returns the gesture, trying to untangle the strange frown and the look in his eye. It’s not like Athena’s anger but it doesn’t exactly seem friendly either. She’s still pondering it when Ares’s words catch up with her. “Take a dip where? There’s no-”

She turns to see Ares slipping into a vat of lava, fully clothed. The blood and dirt and everything else is burned away, along with every stitch of clothing he’d been wearing. He tilts his head back into the magma to give his hair the same scouring treatment.

“Water,” she finishes faintly.

“It never gets any less disconcerting,” Hephaestus says. The strange tone is gone and when she turns back to him, he’s smiling.

He has a nice smile.

“What are you making?” she asks. “Are you the god of creation?”

She’s said the wrong thing again and she’s aware of it as soon as his amusement dims. She desperately wants to take it back, to say something different, but it’s too late. “I am the god of nothing.”

“People pray to you,” she says. “I have seen them.”

Her temples are all still being constructed but several of his already exist.

“Mortals pray to lots of things,” he answers, going back to tinkering. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yet,” she says. He survived being thrown from Olympus and being raised in the underworld and now he makes things he still hasn’t told her about. “When they pray to you, what do they pray for?”

“Same thing they pray to every god for,” he answers. She doesn’t say anything and he sighs. “It’s not exciting. Hotter ovens. Faster chariots. Sharper spears. My brother’s a better candidate for that one.”

Aphrodite turns to Ares, but finds him curled against the edge of the crevice, the lava lapping at his shoulders as he sleeps with his head tipped back.

“Heat always knocks him out. Hestia used to hold him as she sat it front of her fire.”

This time she knows it’s the wrong thing to say before she says it, but she can’t stop herself from asking, “How do you know? I thought that you didn’t come to Olympus.”

“Didn’t,” he echoes, “is a soft way to put it, when it’s can’t.”

Even nymphs sneak their way up the mountain. A god with temples, even a minor one, should be able to walk freely across Olympus. Then again, Hera insured he wouldn’t walk freely anywhere.

Or tried to. His shimmering gold calves are in defiance to that.

He clears his throat then says, “She told me. Ares badgered me into setting up a hearth in the center of the volcano, even though arguably the whole thing is a hearth, but,” he pauses. “She visits it, sometimes.”

Aphrodite is impressed. “I thought she never left her own hearth.”

“Any hearth is her hearth,” he says, shrugging.

He’s sidestepping her, but she’s brought up enough sensitive topics for now. “What are you making?”

“Nothing useful,” he says ruefully, looking around his workshop. “If I wanted to get more followers, I’d focus on making things people can use. A lot of these are godly tools – only we can use them effectively.”

“Will you show me?” she insists. “They’re beautiful.”

His lips part, his dark eyes catching hers, and there’s a breathless moment where neither of them move. Then he turns and says, “Sure, come with me,” and she follows behind him, watching the smooth gait of his handcrafted legs.

~

Next time she’s on Olympus, she goes to Hera to ask her advice.

Aphrodite is currently under both her and her son’s protection. This isn’t a decision it’s politically smart of her to make on her own.

She waits until Zeus has left. His absence tends to put Hera in a foul mood, considering what he’s likely to be doing out of her sight, but it’s worth that to make sure that they’re not overheard. Aphrodite doesn’t think that any advice Zeus gives will be in her self interest.

Hera’s might not be either, but so far whatever she’s doing for her own self interest has been beneficial to Aphrodite, and that’s enough for her.

She bows and offers her a bouquet of lilies that she’d picked herself, each one a bright orange reddish hue and perfectly in bloom. Hera reaches out to touch a petal, but pulls back and says, “Weave them into my hair while we speak.”

Aphrodite can’t help herself from being touched. Hera always does her own hair, not even allowing her servants to touch it. She delicately combs out Hera’s curls, giving her hair waves to match the curve of the lilies’ petals. Aphrodite tells her what Athena said to her, then waits.

“She’s right,” Hera says. “As the goddess of love and beauty, you’re inherently desirable. Until you make your own desires known, others can decide what they are, and decide that they qualify. Marriage at least sets your standards.”

Aphrodite frowns. “So you think I should marry?”

She shrugs. “Gods like to pretend that beauty is cheap and love is something bought.” Suddenly, Hera’s appointment of her domain makes a little more sense. “But if that were true, they wouldn’t be pursuing you so ardently. Marriage won’t change that. What it does is give you a tool that you can use.”

“That’s not very romantic,” she says, put out.

Hera laughs, tossing her head with the motion, and Aphrodite has to pull back to keep from crushing the flowers. “Is that what you value?”

“Yes,” she answers, but it comes out more like a question.

“Then that’s what you should marry for – romance. Apollo will likely come ahead on that scale.” She moves back in place so Aphrodite can continue. “There is a reason that as the goddess of marriage, love does not fall within my domain. Marriage is about getting what you want. Some want love, or beauty, and so that’s what they marry for. Other for money, for power, for protection. Decide what it is that you want and then marry the person who can give it to you. That’s why your marriage will be a deterrent to others. It will tell them what you value.”

Hera did not marry for love. Aphrodite doesn’t need to be a goddess of it to know that. “Do you think I should marry your son?”

Ares is the most obvious answer. She’s spent the most time with him, and he’s kind to her, and he protects her. He’s not especially romantic, but he cares for her. No one else pursuing her knows her enough to care for her.

“If he’ll give you what you want,” she says. Aphrodite finishes affixing the last lily to her hair, and she turns to face her, her amber eyes bright with an emotion Aphrodite can’t name. “Choose your spouse. We’ll hold the wedding on Olympus and I’ll marry you myself. No one will question it after that.”

“Thank you, Queen Hera,” she says.

When Hera walks away, it’s with fire weaved into her hair.  

~

Ares is silent for a long time when Aphrodite tells him that she’s looking to marry. She thinks he’s about to offer, and the ball of dread in her stomach is both surprising and informative. She loves Ares. She does not want to marry him.

This is an inopportune time for her to realize that.

“If we were to marry, would I find peace?” he asks. “Everything is so loud sometimes.”

Her heart clenches. In this moment she hates for the first time. Zeus did this to Ares and that makes Zeus her enemy.

“When you find love, you will find peace,” she says, placing her hands on his shoulders. “I can’t be your peace. If that’s what I was, you would know by now. But when you do find that person, that loudness will fade.”

There’s a pressure around them and centered in her head, giving her a searing headache, and then it’s gone and its only Ares’s hands on her elbows that keep her upright as she staggers, suddenly exhausted.

 “Your first blessing,” Ares says, smiling as she blinks up at him, dazed. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t know I could do that,” she says fuzzily.

He laughs. “You’re a goddess of the pantheon. There’s very little you can’t do. You’ll discover that in time.”

She thinks he’s trying to be comforting, but the idea that her abilities are beyond her own knowledge is terrifying. There’s a reason most gods have to earn their domains rather than be assigned them.

The problem is if not Ares, then who? It would be easier to narrow her options if she knew what she wanted, like Hera told her to do, but she doesn’t. She wants people to leave her alone. She wants to learn how to be a proper goddess. She wants to claw Ares away from Zeus’s grasp with her bare hands.

None of that is anything a husband can give her.

“Say that you’re willing to be courted and see what they offer,” Ares says. “Maybe you’ll know what you want when you see it.”

“But what if I don’t want any of it?” she asks. “Then I have to choose someone I don’t want.”

He hums, then says, “I’ll ask for your hand too, and offer more than anyone else. Then, if you don’t find someone you like, you can just pick me and we won’t marry. Mom will understand if I tell her.”

The thought of getting on Hera’s bad side is chilling, but if anyone can soothe her temper, it’s her son, so she agrees.

The news travels quickly, gods from all over climbing up to Olympus’s peak to ask for her. It’s spread to the point that she thinks some of them that are here don’t even want her, that it’s just a big show about what they’re able to offer. Which, of course, makes her choice even more difficult.

Ares, Apollo, and Hermes offer her the most, of course. They’re gods of the pantheon and have more influence and power at their disposal. But the minor gods still make a good show of it, stepping forward to off her castles and servants and land, nymphs even offering to grow a her a living manor from the forest and perfectly plump fruit every day of her life.

In one way or another, they all off her protection, luxury, and beauty. She struggles to find any of it of value.

She’s resigned herself to picking Ares just to get it all to stop when a hush falls over the crowd that’s then replaced with frantic whispering. They part like a wave retreating from shore and her breath catches in her throat when she sees who’s walking towards her.

Hephaestus is on Olympus for the first time since he’s been thrown from it.

He’s gilded gold as he passes by everyone else, his eyes on her alone, from his legs to the way the sun illuminates his amber eyes to the chiton wrapped snug around his waist with a golden belt. He could have worn a long robe to hide his legs. She likes that he didn’t.

He stops in front of her and she tries to think of something to say, but her throat is too dry.

“Goddess,” he murmurs, then pulls a single copper rose from thin air and offers it to her. “For you.”

She takes it, her fingers brushing his, and his hands are still warm like he’s just pulled them from the forge.

He came to the place where the worst thing that ever happened to him occurred. He’s given her a gift with no strings. He’s offering her only this – the skill of his hands and the bravery of his heart.

What she wants is someone who will take her as she is and grow with her, who will explain the world patiently and know her well enough to make her something beautiful.

She is the goddess of love and beauty. She cannot be bought with castles.

“Yes,” she says, holding the rose between their bodies as she pushes herself up to kiss Hephaestus in front of all of Olympus.  

 There are shouts of protests, people yelling in anger or betrayal, and Ares’s bright, warm laughter over it all.

~

Aphrodite expects Hera to be furious.

Instead the goddess says nothing of her choice, only holds the wedding as she promised. Zeus won’t even look at Hephaestus, but Hera stands in front of them and recites the vows for them to repeat back to each other as if it’s all normal, as if Hephaestus is just like any other god to her.

She has that same look in her eye that she had before while she does it, but Aphrodite barely notices it before her husband pulls her attention back to him, his promises of love and loyalty more worthy of her attention than anything going on in Hera’s mind.

She and Hephaestus walk down Olympus, hand in hand, husband and wife.

[ithinkabouttzu]

hey! i was wondering if u could make an ateez reaction to their s/o being injured during their sport game (preferably hockey but any sport works!)

injuries could include:

concussions, skate cuts your neck, black eye, someone accidentally crashing into you, sprained/broken bone, busted lip, etc

thanks!!!!

(it’d also be interesting if there could be multiple injuries at a time like a black eye and concussion at the same time for example)

Ateez reaction to their s/o getting hurt during their sports game

genre: Angsty but romance

warnings: Blood and injuries (reader is gn)

description: The members of Ateez reaction to you (their s/o) getting hurt while playing their sport.

a/n: I made it pretty vague so it could fit into any sport if that’s alright with you! I also made the injury a bit different for each person. Hope you enjoy

VALENTINE’s DAY SPECIAL 💘💌

Hongjoong: He was at the game when you got hurt. When he sees you go down he gets so concerned, he jumps up from his seat and tries to get over the barrier to where you are. The coaches and everyone is surrounding you so he can’t see what’s going on but he gets so scared. When you get to the hospital he doesn’t leave you side not once, he so worried for the rest of your stay.

Seonghwa: He turns into a concerned mother so quickly. He would be sitting there watching the game with your loved ones when he saw you get hurt. “Does anyone know what happened?” You can hear the worry in his voice, his pulse is so quick and he gets so worried. His heart breaks seeing you in such pain and he wishes he could just take it all away.

Yunho: When he sees the person from the other team hit you so hard, he’s ready to go out there and start fighting the person who did it. He’s the one yelling at the refs to kick that person out of the game for their dangerous cheap shot at you. And Worried is definitely an understatement to him, he prays the whole time that you’ll just get back up and will be okay.

Yeosang: He didn’t see it, he was in the bathroom when it happened, but when he comes back out all he can see is you on the floor, screaming in pain. He runs as close to you as he can, getting past any barrier that he can to you, you had broken your leg and the ambulance was on their way, he stayed with you the whole time and held your hand through it all, he’s so comforting to you the entire time.

San: He’s also ready to fight whoever threw that a punch at you, he’s praying in his head that you get them back (which you do) but you have to sit out for the rest of the game because of the fight. After the game he runs to you and tells you how proud he is of you for sticking up for yourself but his heart drops when he sees the bruise forming on your left eye. “Let’s go get some ice on that, shall we?”

Mingi: His anxiety shoots through the roof when he sees you go down after a wrong turn, hurting your leg in return, he gets as close to the field/ice as he can, just worried that you will be okay. When you make it to the hospital he’s with you every step, and even greets you with flowers and small gifts after your injury, he holds you close and is even super helpful during your recovery and getting back out to play.

Wooyoung: He gets up from his seat immediately and starts yelling at the refs to do something. He really doesn’t play when it comes to you so he really got spooked when you got hurt. “What’s going on, does anyone know what happened?” He’s asking around to see if anyone will give him answers, he’s mad that no one is telling him anything, but he’s also terrified something really bad happened to you.

Jongho: He turns on his mom mode really quickly, trying to see what happened to you. He’s right at the edge of his seat. He’s so worried something really bad happened to you. He gets even more worried when he sees blood rush out of your nose and lip from the bad hit, it almost sends him running out there with you to help, but he holds himself back bc he doesn’t want to embarrass you. He’s just glad it wasn’t anything too bad.

Sorry for such a long wait! If you enjoyed this, making sure to help a writer out by liking or reblogging! Your show of support makes a difference! 💗💗

[itoshiexx]

HI BB CAN I REQUEST 41 FOR THE KISS PROMPT W ISAGI AND FEM READER??🥺🫶

even when it rains

synopsis: yoichi is always by your side to shield you from the rain and help bring the sun once again.

pairing: isagi yoichi x gn!reader | words: 893 | warnings: established relationship, hurt/comfort, bad days, fluff

notes: god i had to repost this bc i accidentally deleted the other one (kill me),,, anyways, ANYTHING FOR U AIMEE!! tysm for requesting and i really hope u like it, i wanted to do something a bit different! <3 and if anyone would like to request something from the kiss prompts just see this post!

41. Kisses shared under an umbrella.

masterlist

“it’s raining.”

your voice catches him off guard — it's hoarse and meek like he has seen just a few times before. isagi supposes it’s better than the suffocating silence that was coating your living room for quite a while now, but he hates the sad undertones of his favorite melody.

confused, he turns to look at the window, only to see the sky in a pretty baby blue color. there are a few clouds scattered around, but none of them is gray, instead being a fluffy white that reminds him a lot of cotton candy. lastly, the sun shines and spreads its scorching heat through the town. there’s no indication that it’s raining whatsoever. 

“baby,” he starts, a bit hesitant. “it’s sunny.”

you’re not looking at him. your eyes are out of focus, staring at something that only you can see, and his heart breaks a little at the sight. that’s probably why he scoots closer to you, his arm circling your shoulder until your head gently lays on his clavicle. your skin feels cold to the touch, and he starts to rub your arm.

“are you cold?” he asks, kind as always. 

you nod. “i’m cold. it’s raining, yoichi.”

he furrows his eyebrows. maybe he looked at the wrong side of the window? or maybe it was those small summer drizzles? but he was absolutely positive there was no water falling from the sky. was he going crazy?

your shoulders hunch like the weight you carry is getting more unbearable by the second. you sigh, exhaling a long puff of air that screams how tired you are. isagi swears you tremble a little. 

“are you okay?” he can’t help but inquire, thinking your behavior is odd. “i’m sorry, sweetie, but i’m sure it’s not raining. the sky is crystal clear.”

and then you turn to face him for the first time, and yoichi’s breath gets stuck in his throat. he has never seen your expression so hollow, so defeated. like you’ve been trying to fight countless battles only to end up losing the war. 

“it’s raining, yoichi… it’s raining inside of me.” your voice fails, but he hears you nonetheless. his chest squeezes at the tears accumulating on your lash line, and his arm hugs you a little tighter. “please, make it stop.”

he wishes he could. isagi hated to see you sad or in pain, and if he could scoop these unpleasant feelings out of you, he would do it in a heartbeat. he would do anything to see you smiling again at him, or singing softly while cooking, or feeling content watching your favorite show on netflix. truthfully, he would do anything for you.

“did something happen?” he needs to know. did someone hurt you? 

“no, i just… i’m so tired,” you answer, and he can feel your exhaustion on his own bones. he can only wonder what it feels like to be in your body right now. “so, so tired. i can’t take it anymore. it keeps raining inside of me and it’s like i can’t bring the sun again.”

oh. it was one of your bad days, yoichi realizes. he just took a bit longer to understand because you never actually used a rain metaphor to describe your feelings, but maybe that was the way you found to cope with them. and who was he to not indulge you?

he calmly pulls his arm off you and stands up, patting his clothes before going inside the house. you watch with curious eyes, slightly confused by his lack of words and sudden movement, and they widen when you spot your boyfriend coming back with a yellow umbrella in hand, smiling sweetly.

he takes his place next to you, swiftly opening the umbrella and putting it above your heads. and he stares at you like you are nothing but the sun, and not a confusing rainstorm that could wreak havoc and destroy everything on your way. 

“there you go! now we’re protected from the rain.”

your mouth is slightly agape — although you expected to be comforted somehow (because yoichi never failed to do so), that was not what you had in mind. 

but he’s just like this, you think. always kind and loving, doing his best so that you are comfortable and never, ever scared of showing yourself and how you truly felt. every time he did these little things, it was like he was saying trust me, i won’t  judge you. 

the tears fall, but they don’t feel like rain. not anymore. 

“yeah,” you say, smiling faintly for the first time. “yeah, we are.”

his gaze is fond, and his fingers tenderly wipe your cheeks to stop your crying. it’s soothing and grounding, but again, yoichi always is. with a smile, he cups your jaw, and, when his face grows closer to yours, you don’t think twice before connecting your lips.

the love you feel for him pours from your heart until is all you can sense, and suddenly, the sky is clear again. there is just you and him, and he’s kissing you, and maybe, just maybe, the world isn’t so bad if you can have isagi yoichi to yourself like this. 

when you part, his whisper feels like a lifeline, “i’m here with you, baby.”

his hand finds yours, and your fingers interlace. 

“even when it rains.”

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[wedriftlikelonelyplanets]

I love your landoscar so much. Your characterisation of the boys really does just hit the spot. I don’t know if you’re taking prompts but if you are and want to:

Landoscar — aftercare

I just know it would read like a dream <33

FIRST OFF, ANON, I am ALWAYS taking prompts. It just might take me time to get to them sometimes bc I work a job that can be INCREDIBLY exhausting. BUT HONESTLY love a good prompt about aftercare. This might not QUITE be what you expected, it's more discussions of aftercare than ACTUAL aftercare but y'know. There will be more when I finish the fic I'm working on...which I ACTUALLY GET TO USE THIS FOR BECAUSE Y'KNOW I'm just like that.

Once again, MORE WORDS THAN EXPECTED PROBABLY

Landoscar and discussions of aftercare/sub-drop under the cut

“So…what do you need? Like…for aftercare?” The question is halfway tentative, like Lando second-guesses himself before asking it, and Oscar wonders if he’s just not sure how to bring it up, Oscar’s sub-drop from the other day, how to prevent it. And really, at the crux of it, Oscar’s not really sure. He’s never had partners that he’s gotten to explore this part of himself with. His small pool of ex-girlfriends haven’t been interested in the version of him that Lando gets, the version of him that’s stripped bare and revealed. They’ve never taken control away like Lando likes to do, haven’t peeled him away to his barest parts. 

Oscar focuses on the pull of Lando’s fingers through his hair, the place where Lando’s finger brushes along the inside of his wrist, breathes in deep and lets his eyes shutter closed. He doesn’t know what he needs, aside from to feel grounded, to feel valued, to have Lando wrapped around him so he forgets where Lando’s body ends and his body begins. He hasn’t thought about all the ways that he wants someone else to care for him, after he’s been pulled apart and stitched back together. 

“I dunno,” Oscar murmurs the words, easier for him to say now that he can’t see Lando gazing down at him. “Never really thought about it,” he shrugs, and Lando’s fingers tighten in his hair minutely, before softening again, and he makes a noise in the back of his throat, vaguely disapproving. 

Oscar can’t help but feel like he’s failed some sort of test, and he opens one eye to meet Lando’s gaze again, raises a brow and Lando just shakes his head. “Look, I’ve never done this before. Your guess is as good as mine,” it’s unintentionally defensive, hackles raised for no reason. It’s just Lando, it’s just them. “Osc,” Lando’s voice is soft, soft, soft, and Oscar just turns his face to nuzzle into Lando’s thigh. “What,” Oscar’s tone is still a little prickly, feels out of his depth, doesn’t know how to talk about it. 

He’s never been good at this, at talking about things. 

“Osc, can you look at me?” Lando asks, and the gentleness in his tone hasn’t changed, but there’s a hint of a command there, enough to make Oscar squirm a little bit, enough to make his cheeks heat up. He can’t truly stop himself from listening, because when Lando asks him like this, he’s drawn to obey. Tilts his head back up to meet Lando’s gaze, wishes that he could shrink away from the intensity he feels directed at him. Twists his wrist to break it free from the shackle of Lando’s fingers, before he grabs Lando’s hand in his own, twines their fingers together, to stop himself from doing something stupid, like picking at the skin of his fingers until they bleed. “I just don’t want something to happen, like the other day,” Lando finally verbalizes the words that they’ve both been thinking, the thing that they’ve both left unsaid. “Clearly, you need something that I wasn’t able to provide you with, last time,” 

And really, there’s a part of Oscar that it’s pretty sure what they’re lacking right now is communication. There’s still this nasty unsteadiness, trying to define what they are through the layers of whatever they’re building between themselves, whatever the nature of their relationship is. He knows there’s more to it than that, but he’s never been good at feeling like he’s off-balance, has never been good at being one step behind. 

“Lando,” he doesn’t mean for his voice to come out hoarse, has to swallow hard before he starts again, “That’s not because you didn’t do enough. It’s just…” he trails off, because he doesn’t know what else to say. 

“It’s because we haven’t talked about it,” Lando says, earnestly. “That’s on me, I know. But that can’t be the only reason,”

[minuteminx]

My biggest frustration as a Preston fan in the Fallout 4 fandom is not actually the people who make hate content (that’s annoying and awful but my block button is a pretty great balm for that); no, it’s actually the multitude of people who “would like him if…” “would have been more willing to spend time with him if…”

Call me crazy, but aside from the annoying radiant quest mechanic (which can be circumvented if you 1. Listen to Radio Freedom everyone once and a while, 2. Don’t do the quests you’re assigned bc you’ll only get a couple at a time before it stops, and 3. Make sure your settlements are in good shape. You have so much less to do if you settlements are taken care of on the front end. If they have a high enough defense and they’re under attack? THEY DEFEND THEMSELVES. Imagine that. Anyway) I actually LIKE how the game handles Preston and the MM.

Maybe it’s just me coming from Dragon Age fandom, where in the very first game, my fresh out-out-of-orientation Grey Warden is asked to take the lead by someone with more seniority because the more senior person is riddled with grief, survivor’s guilt, and insecurity that they’d be able to do a good job… sound familiar? Preston asks you to be the General because after everything he has been through, he’s not ready to fill that role. He can’t stomach the responsibility because he is afraid he’ll mess it up, that he’ll let people down.

But the thing is, he still does the General Stuff. He is the one organizing, communicating with settlements, strategizing, expanding, recruiting, giving orders, etcetera, etcetera. The sole who agrees to be the General is honestly just a figurehead for the settlers and a sounding board for Preston’s ideas. At the end of the day it is not the Sole Survivor who settlers run to, excited to thank them for all their help and make donations. It’s not the Sole Survivor who is viewed as the face of the MM. It’s Preston.

Do I wish the game came full circle and acknowledged that? Oh yeah I do, which is why I’m writing fanfic. I think that Preston deserved a personal quest where you retake Quincy from the Gunners and get revenge on Clint. I think the end of his story should be the Sole Survivor acknowledging that he’s been the General the entire time and bequeathing that title back to him now that he is recovering and ready for it. That’s really all I would have needed to feel like his story was complete.

As is, I enjoy traveling with Preston in game. He is refreshing. He has a lot of hopeful commentary about the Commonwealth, a lot of sarcasm and dry humor, and it’s great. He actually gives you less quests when he’s traveling with you as a companion, too.

His romance is lovely. It is the only one with some additional dialogue if you do the flirts, successfully initiate, then back out when he asks if you’re sure. He will come back later and say “listen, I know last time we talked, you said you weren’t ready to move on, but it’s been a while now and I still feel the same about you. I was wondering if you thought you might feel the same about me.” He also is genuinely so happy and excited to be with you. He gets a little more flirtatious. talking about MM regulations not covering your little situation (little eyebrow wiggle included). He calls you babe and tells you to be careful. It’s just as rich of a romance as literally any of the others.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but I’ve been seeing a number of new posts in this vein lately and I guess I wanted to add my thoughts. 😌

[fancyfeathers]

@luckycharm1 asked a question

Hello! I’m pretty bad when it comes to tumblr etiquette since i do not understand how it completely works, but I hope its alright to send you this 😭 Regarding your previous post I wonder what would happen if the intelligent daughter ended up escaping and not get caught for a while. Like what would her plan be and how in the end would have William found her (or have trouble finding her since she probably would come up with a better escape plan than moriarty brothers darlings lol) I also just wanted to thank you for writing these stories bc this definitely brought back my Moriarty the patriot obsession 😭🩷

Ah you are so sweet, thank you! It is completely alright, I adore questions like this because it gets the gears in my head turning ❤️💕

This little girl knows enough about her parents history that she knows exactly what to do. During her walks through town, she had seen a house that leaves their bicycles against the side of their house and while she knows stealing is wrong but she doesn’t have much of a choice because if she sneaks on the train her father could easily have someone like Sebastian or James meet her at the station in London and that is exactly where she needs to go.

On bike it would take her at least three days, maybe four, to get to London. Traveling through the countryside it is harder for anyone to find her especially when they don’t know what she is trying to do. Luckily she does not have to steal anymore than she already has because she has memorized a book about edible plants, sure it does not taste good to the little girl, but it is what she has to do. Sleeping is the hardest bit, laying on the earth and using her coat as a blanket while she just wants to be with her mother and sister, but she can’t see them, not now anyway.

When she arrives in London, she immediately asks for directions from a stranger, which gets a weird look from the man but answers anyway. She is off once again, making her way through the London streets, avoiding any place she thinks anyone she knows may be. She props her stolen bicycle against the building and walks ups the stairs leading to the door and knocks, and a surprised blonde man answers, he was clearly startled by the sight of this child.

“M-may I help you, young lady? Are you lost?”

“No sir, this is the right address, correct?”

She hold a piece of paper up to the man for him to see. The man’s eyes widen with surprise even more so that this child was here.

“Y-yes, this is the right address.”

“Wonderful, judging by your expression you must be Dr. Watson.”

“Yes, I am and you must be the most intelligent child I have met.”

The little girl giggles at the compliment as the doctor handed the piece of paper back to her.

“Thank you, I wish I could stay to chat but I am afraid I do not really have time. Is Mr. Sherlock Holmes here?”

“Yes, um… please come inside.”

The doctor leads her upstairs to the flat and has to interrupt a conversation between Miss Hudson and the detective. Soon enough the residents of Baker Street find themselves sitting down with this little girl, having a conversation on the level of adults. She explains how she got there, biking all the way from Durham and then the question of why comes from the doctor and before the little girl can answer, Sherlock does.

“Because she wants to be my assistant, but why she wants to is the question.”

“Because my father is the Lord of Crime. I received my father’s intelligence but have the face of my mother, and I know she does not want to be with him and I want to figure out a way out for her… I-I won’t tell you my father’s identity if you don’t want to know, but please I want to help her.”

There is a shocked silence from around the table, except from the detective as he listens to her explanation. No one knows what to do, Miss Hudson would not have the heart to send her back to her family and neither would to two gentlemen, but surely they cannot expect this child to handle dangerous work that Sherlock deals with-

“Alright, seems like I have a new assistant.”

It would not take long for her father to find out where she is after that, living at Baker Street with the three adults. She put him in a stalemate, if he goes to claim custody of her, he will be exposed but he cannot let her continue down this road…

What to do?