#i dream of one day having an ipad again but until that day

[bsdwherearethedogs]

in honor of the most recent episode, here's a manga redraw sketch i did back when i still had an ipad (and then didn't finish)

[kimingyuslover]

Breath in your love

Synopsis : What if Jeonghan wishes of turn back time come true?

Word count : 3,231

Pairing : yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

Genre : time traveler!au, angst, fluff, lovers to exes to lovers, second chance romance

Warnings & note : TEARS, she has a daughter named Seok kyung, single mom!reader, slight of dad!Jeonghan at the end, time traveler!Jeonghan, mentions of food, lots of mentions of Seok kyung, kinda simp!Jeonghan, mentions of pregnancy, this fic does not represent his character in real life!

a.n : back with another angst story.... literally tearing up rn lolololol

Life hasn't been easy for you, not even now, exhaustion evident on your face, you just want to go home and have a good rest on weekends like you always do.

Working under one of the big 3 companies was not easy, and you know it, yet you still work there and even achieve being their head of finance.

After you reach home, all your exhaustion goes through the window when you see your daughter waiting patiently with her nanny at your doorstep.

She's greeting you with a sweet smile plastered on her face with a piece of paper that she held proudly on her chest.

“Seok kyung!” You open your arms towards her. She reciprocates by running to you and wraps her tiny hands on your back.

“Did you be a good girl today? you're not causing a problem, are you?” she giggles between your questions and shakes her head no.

“I'm not mommy! Miss Jiwoo also said I'm good today and she gives me 5 stars!” She gave you her paper full of stars, you gasped at her answer, then smiled widely.

“really? My baby is so smart!” You take her inside while Seok kyung's nanny helps you by taking your bag and you mouth a ‘thank you’ to her as she smiles at you.

Having Seok kyung was not on your plan, at least until you found out that you're pregnant 5 years ago with her, and your pregnancy is seven weeks old.

When you first tell your boyfriend– now ex, Jeonghan, that you’re pregnant and you want to keep it, arguments start to happen.

He’s arguing that he's not yet ready to be a father and he doesn't want you to keep it, whereas you argue back that even though you're both not as ready as anyone else to be a parents, you still wants to keep it, you can learn together how to be a good parents, they done nothing wrong, so if you aborted them, wouldn't it be cruel?

Arguments keep happening since then, and it took you 3 days to finally break up with him, if he doesn't want the baby so be it, you're willing to give up on your 6 years relationship for your baby.

And now here you are, a single mother on the peak of your 30s with a daughter and a stable job that can give you more than enough money to live with your daughter.

There's so much purchase that you buy for your future, like a car, a house, maids, and even a nanny to take care of your daughter while you're working.

When you're on a business trip, though, you bring her with you because it makes you not worry too much about her.

“Sweetheart, mommy's having a business trip tomorrow. Do you want to come with me, or do you want to stay here with Uncle Joshua?” You asked Seok kyung after bathing with her and putting on clothes for both of you.

She makes the ‘think’ gesture first and answers you with excitement in her voice, “I want to go with mommy! Will we go with a plane again?” You lightly chuckles and stroke her hair softly.

“Yes, we will, baby. Let's pack up first, yeah?” She nods her head and runs towards your walk-in closet to take a big suitcase.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

Now you're in the first class lounge, waiting for your airplane to open the gate for boarding.

Seok kyung playing games on her Ipad while you were reviewing the proposal your team has been working on for over a month.

After a couple minutes of waiting, your gate has finally opened for boarding, and you usher Seok kyung to get up from the couch and walk to the boarding gate.

On the other hand, Jeonghan thinks he might be dreaming when he sees you with a little girl on his plane boarding gate, smiles attached to your and her face while walking hand-in-hand.

It's been years since he last saw you, the last time was when he fucked up your relationship, feeding only his ego then at the end all of his mistake was the cause of your break up.

His first serious relationship that he cherished the most comes to an end, and it was not in a good way.

Jeonghan knew he was the wrong one, and the only one who can be blamed for your ruined relationship, you've done nothing wrong, but in his eyes that time, you've done more than the wrong things he imagined.

There’s a hard pang he feels in his heart when he sees you. He spent almost every hour in a day stalking your social media, and he always wanted to be the one who you'll always mention in your post.

He felt the hurt in his heart more when he saw your posting almost 5 years ago. It's a picture of one pair of tiny feet on your hand, but for him, it's not only a picture of a baby feets, it's a photo of his daughter, the one he left when you're only seven weeks pregnant.

When he got your notification, he almost immediately checked on his phone when he saw you updating your life with Seok kyung (he learned that was her name when one of your friends mentioned it in the comment section).

All of your updates have always been successful to bring a smile to his face.

Jeonghan always wondered what his life would be if he shortly apologised after the first argument, would Seok kyung love him? Will he be a good dad? Will you get married and live a happy life for the rest of your life just like you both had planned when your relationship entered 3 years?

The questions are always running on his mind 24/7, wanting no more than to run to you, holding both your hand and Seok kyung on his, kneeling in front of you and muttering apologise after apologise until you forgive him.

But that seems to be an impossible act. Before he knew it, he had already gotten on the plane and sat on his seat.

When he turns around, his body freezes upon seeing you and Seok kyung on your seats, playing like there's nobody else in the world.

After what feels like an eternity, the plane finally takes off, Jeonghan’s hoping that he won't be fast asleep because he wants to see you and your daughter– or rather, the daughter of his and yours.

A few hours have passed, and you are both fast asleep on your seat. Jeonghan called the air hostess to allow him to switch seats, luckily for him, it's not a full flight so there's a few seats left, he chooses the one who he can get closer to you, wanting to observe your little family a little bit more.

He can see the little detail on her face, he can see the manifestation of your and his love, she got your lips and eyes, meanwhile her nose and hair seems to be more likely to his.

Suddenly, tears started to brimming in his eyes. Why can't he accept his fate? Why can’t he do what a good fiancé will do when their fiancée says that she's pregnant? Why can't he seem to never be good enough to enroll in your life again?

Tears fell down from his eyes down his chin, then dropped to his lap.

oh, how he wished he could turn back time.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

“baby? baby, you need to get up. Today is still thursday, and you have to get ready to work” Jeonghan can't believe what he's hearing, your sweet voice filling both of his ears.

Realising that it was, indeed, your voice, he immediately sat up from his sleep figure and started to look at you with disbelief prominent on his face.

He still didn't believe his eyes, and he went as far as holding your cheeks with his hands, and you gave him a puzzled look.

“Uh, baby? what's wrong?” You asked him while raising one of your eyebrows, puzzled by his unusual behavior.

Jeonghan said nothing and just pulled you on his chest. If this is a dream, he’s hoping he will never wake up and have to live his life with the same nightmare everyday.

“Just for your information, ten minutes has passed and it's now seven past five and you can always hug me again when you get home” You said with muffled voice, and there Jeonghan let go of you, to have a better look of your face, and then smiles which you reciprocated with the same.

“Okay then, I have to go shower even though I still want to cuddle with you, am i?” You nod at his words and get off the bed.

Jeonghan finally comes to his senses and gets off from the bed, heading towards the bathroom, a wide smile still attached to his face.

After he got out of the shower, his ironed work attire already sat on his bed. It's the daily activity you would do, preparing his work attire when he showers.

Jeonghan still remembers how you two would act like a married couple, like a husband and wife, even long before your engagement.

When he goes downstairs, he searches for you, and when he does get to see you, you're in your kitchen, cooking breakfast and preparing lunch for him.

He never eats in the office canteen because the lunch you made has already made his stomach full, and he makes sure to tell you everytime he gets home from work.

Jeonghan checks the dates and months on his phone, and when he opens it.

January 16th, 2021

30 days before you announce that you're pregnant, he hopes that he can be here forever so he can fix everything for both of you.

“Love? Eat your breakfast first, and here's your lunch” back in the day, Jeonghan never appreciated your dish like he should, he only said ‘thanks’ before eating it half and then got up and went to the basement of your Maisonette apartment.

Jeonghan eagerly sat on the dining table and started to dig into the breakfast that you made, which is kimchi fried rice with seaweed on the side.

You look at him confused because Jeonghan is usually not this enthusiastic with your dish, but of course, you're happy to see Jeonghan eating your dish like this.

When he's done, Jeonghan goes to the sink and washes his plate and eateries.

“The food is so good sweetheart, can't wait to eat my lunch that you packed for me. Thank you, angel” He said, then kissed the top of your head with love, and that made you let out giggles.

“You're welcome. You better get go on though, there's a little traffic on the way to your office when i opened the maps earlier”

And does he already mention that you're always checking the maps before him?

After bidding you a goodbye, Jeonghan closed the front door and went straight to the basement, ready for probably a long day at work.

In the modern day, Jeonghan is already the vice president of the marketing department, so it shouldn't be that hard now.

He knows you're working remotely, so he doesn't need to worry about you getting late to your office.

In a matter of hours, lunch and working hours have passed, it is now five past six, and Jeonghan hurriedly tidying his office desk to go home.

Unluckily for him, the traffic is worse than the previous one in the morning where he got one, which makes him get home 15 minutes late.

Now it's 5:45, and he made it home before it got dark, wanting no more than to throw himself on your hugs.

“I'm home!” he announces as he kicks his shoes and places them on the shoe racks.

His ears perked up when he heard your hurried footsteps, coming down from the second floor.

“Long traffic? I've seen the route from your office to here. You should probably go shower. What do you want for dinner? I’ll make it” you said as you practically ran after you got off the stairs to him.

Jeonghan smiled. He really missed your attention for the past years he’s not with you.

So he answers you with the meals you and him like, Kimchi stew and after that he brings your lips to his for a chaste kiss that makes you blush and slap his chest lightly and whine his name.

Jeonghan just chuckles lightly, and he runs towards your shared bedroom to have a shower.

Once he gets out of the shower, he rushes out to your dining rooms, excited for the Kimchi stew you make.

Until now, Jeonghan only likes the Kimchi stew made by his mom and yours because he found comfort in them. He already tried to like Kimchi stew from the restaurants, but it never beat yours nor his mother's.

He misses these moments, where you and he will eat together in your shared maisonette, eating with happy giggles always left on both your lips, and the satisfied feelings when he's eating your dishes again with you sitting on the opposite of his seat.

“I love the meal, angel. you're such a good cook, i know you're going to be a good mom someday” He knows you're a good mom, Seok kyung always looks so happy when she's with you.

His words make you blush, and you try to hide it by burying your face on your hands, Jeonghan laugh and get up from his seat to hug you from your back, “I mean it, you're good at cooking and will be a good mom to our kids” then he kisses the top of your head before getting your and his bowl to wash it.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

February 15th, 2021

1 day before your announcement, everything goes more than well. He just has to stick with his plan, and he hopes he can change his future with you.

Jeonghan sometimes sees you when you're throwing up in your bathroom and always asks if you want him to go to the pharmacy nearby, but you always shake your heads no.

He tried to build a happy relationship with you. He wants to treat you with the treatments you deserve. He wants to love you like he should before the downfall.

He wants Seok kyung to have a life like the other kids, having a mother and father figure.

Jeonghan was living his old life, like usual, going to work 9 to 5, going out with you every weekend, and telling you how much he loves you everytime he could.

He just got off from work. When you suddenly started to put distance between you, he furrowed his eyebrows, creating creases on his forehead.

He vividly remembers that this was not in his memory.

Did he do something wrong? Why are you putting distance towards him? Does his plan not work? Do you want to get off of him? His thoughts are running hundreds of miles per hour, thinking of the worst scenario in his head.

The next day comes fast. Last night, Jeonghan had already emailed his boss that he’s taking 2 weeks off and requested to do work from home because his fiancée is pregnant. His boss doesn't waste another single time as she reads it. She accepts Jeonghan's request.

Jeonghan’s nervous. Could he really change the future?

“Jeonghan,” There is it, your voice calling his name, it means you will have a serious conversation with him.

You look so afraid that you couldn't see him in the eyes, your eyes attached to the ground beneath you, Jeonghan can see that you're trembling, so initiated to take you by your shoulders and told you to sit in front of him.

“What's wrong, honey?” Jeonghan asks, worried plastered on his face.

“I'm pregnant with your child. It's seven weeks old” you said hurriedly while giving him the test, the ultrasounds, and the doctor's examination letter.

In the past timeline, Jeonghan already cuts you off when you said you're pregnant with his child, never letting you finish your words.

“I want to keep the baby” you said again while fiddling with your hands on your lap.

Jeonghan couldn't be happier than he is now, Seok kyung will recognize him as her father, not a stranger.

“Okay, keep the baby. We both know that we have a minimal knowledge to be parents, but we will learn together” Jeonghan answered you, with his tear-filled eyes he held your chin up, so your eyes were at the same level as him.

You looked at him in disbelief. Jeonghan can see your tears already spilling from your eyes, so he wipes your tears from your cheeks with his thumbs.

The distance between you both grows smaller, Jeonghan wastes no time to crush your lips together and give you a long, chaste kiss.

He pulled out first, giving you and him a room for air, “Thank you, baby, thank you” He connects your foreheads, smiling as he looks at you.

That night was spent with you on the held of Jeonghan's hand, sleeping after watching a few videos of how to be a good parent and early pregnancy care.

Jeonghan doesn't want anything other than this, having his life with you in it.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

Jeonghan eyes shoot open when he hears the sound of a film beside him. He remembers that he was sitting alone, wait–

when he turns his head to the right, there's a window, ‘no no no no no’ he thought to himself.

If he's in the present time, that means everything he sees, he feels, is it only his dream? but he dared to turn his head to the other side, wanting to see who was sat beside him.

He can't buy what he's seeing right now, Seok kyung is sat beside him while you're sat beside her.

Seok kyung looked at her side when she felt something was moving, “Mommy! daddy's already wake up!” her eyes light up when she speaks with you.

“Got a nice dream, huh? you passed out for like, 10 hours of our flight, we're landing in 30 minutes” you say with a teasing smile on your face, Jeonghan's confused, trying to regain his mind.

Then it clicks, he was not dreaming, he really changed his future, Seok kyung known him as her father, not a stranger.

When he sees his right hand, there's a wedding ring, so this is the ending he gets. He really gets his happy ending, with Seok kyung, and most importantly, you.

“Love, you're okay?” You ask with cautiousness, Jeonghan seems unusual after his 10 hours sleep.

He then answers you hurriedly, “yes, i'm fine, i'm just zoning out” Jeonghan answers, and in a split seconds, he pulls you both for a long hug.

You and Seok kyung chuckles when Jeonghan doesn't want to let both of you go, and when he did, he leaned in to kiss you on the lips.

This is resulting in his daughter whines ‘i want to be kissed too!’ That, of course, Jeonghan accomplished, giving his beloved kisses on her cheeks, forehead, and lips.

Jeonghan can finally live his life with goods waiting for him. He starts to forget his life before this trip, how he wanted to pray every single day to thank god.

He lives a happy life with you and Seok kyung. He will never let you go again.

His little family consisted of Yoon Jeonghan, Yoon Seok kyung, and Yoon Y/n.

[cuubism]

a lovely person on ao3 expressed interest in more of this retired Dream chronic pain fic and I said well who knows maybe one day and then proved myself a liar by doing it Now. when it gets in your head it stays there until it's out

--

One of Hob's greatest joys, as boyfriend and caretaker to one retired King of Dreams, is finding new things for Dream to enjoy. Things that Dream didn't have time for, or never got the chance to try, when he was fully occupied by his function. It's so fun seeing Dream's joy. Dream has never allowed himself very much of it.

Of all the things Hob's introduced him to, he hadn't figured Dream would be a video game fan. Always thought he was more one for slower media like books, or maybe he just hadn't been able to imagine his ancient, ponderous stranger gaming.

Hob was wrong. So very wrong that ever since he made the dubious decision to buy Dream an iPad he's been stuck in a perennial competition with Minecraft for Dream's attention, and Minecraft might be winning.

He really should have known better, should have guessed that the once-king of the Dreaming would love the immersive dreamscapes of video games, not to mention that he can create things again in a way that doesn't have the world-shaking consequences of his former role.

When Hob gets home from work, he's unsurprised to once again find Dream twisted up in a complicated pretzel shape in his favorite armchair, headphones on, nose buried in the iPad. Sitting that way isn't going to help his joints much in the long run, but nowadays Dream only ever seems to either sprawl or to crunch up in a tiny ball when he's sitting anywhere--sometimes Hob wonders if, after so many years of carrying every aspect of his life so primly and correctly, Dream simply can't bear to do it ever again.

He's also said that that twisted way of sitting is the only position that helps his hip ache less, so Hob doesn't complain about it too much.

"Hey, love," he calls as he sets his bag down, sitting on the couch beside Dream's armchair. Dream looks up at him, pulling his headphones off so they sit around his neck. Hob can vaguely hear the audio--Christ, on top of working on his crazily elaborate Minecraft world--Hob's seen it, the thing's insane--he's also listening to an audiobook. Yeah, Hob was so wrong about expecting Dream's way of trying to relax to be slow or measured.

Dream looks tired now, though, not relaxed, dark circles along his cheeks and a pinch of weariness at the corners of his eyes. Ah. Tough day, then.

"How's the Minecrafting going?" he asks instead of remarking on it. He probably sounds like an old person when he talks to Dream about it--well, he is an old person--but Hob's never been able to stick to any one thing for too long, and he hasn't actually picked up this game since the first time it came out. Who knows how it works nowadays.

Dream shows him the screen. Predictably, he tends to just play in his own little world instead of interacting with anyone else, and said world has become an elaborate landscape of infinite cityscapes, art pieces, and complex structures Hob can't determine the purpose or design of. If Hob's not wrong, it's significantly more complicated than it was just yesterday. Dream has picked this all up with disturbing ease and gotten very fast at it besides. You can take the dream lord out of the craft but not the craft out of the dream lord, apparently.

"You're getting quick at that," he says. "Pretty soon it will be bigger than London."

"Were it to be made physical in equal dimensions, it would be," Dream says. Maybe Hob should get him involved in city planning, might be entertaining for him.

He tries to imagine Dream at a council meeting and nearly perishes at the thought.

While Dream is still looking at him, Hob cups his jaw in one hand, runs his thumb over the dark circle under his eye. "Not feeling so well today?"

Dream sighs. "No. I did not sleep well."

Hob had noticed that, but he'd hoped the fact that Dream was still in bed when he'd left for work meant he might get some sleep later on. Apparently not.

"I am..." his lips twist. "My joints. Hurt."

"I'm sorry, love." Hob would fix it if he could. God he wishes he could. "Where?"

"Back. Primarily."

Really, Hob should be grateful for Minecraft, no matter that he's been in a pitched battle against it. It's one of the only things that can properly hold Dream's attention and distract him when he's not feeling well. Without his game to occupy him Dream just starts getting sad in addition to being in pain and Hob can hardly stand it.

"I love you, you know?" he says, and the corners of Dream's lips tip up.

"I know."

"You want to do some stretches with me?" Hob offers. "You can laugh at my lack of flexibility as much as you want."

He has, in fact, gotten Dream into some yoga and light strength training. It seems to help, at least a little. Dream's new human body is already very flexible, though. It's actually part of the problem. Maybe that's what happens when you try to put an amorphous conceptual being into a fixed body. Maybe it's just the roll of the dice.

"I would not laugh," Dream says, but sets the iPad aside and starts disentangling the knot of his limbs to climb out of the chair.

"No, but I can always see you thinking about it."

"I would not exchange flexibility for you being strong enough to pick me up," Dream declares.

"It's not a one-off trade," Hob says, laughing. Then, perhaps to prove a point, he scoops Dream up from the chair and into his arms.

Dream shrieks and clutches at him with all of his limbs. He's so good at tangling himself up like that that sometimes it still feels like he's able to manifest twice as many of them.

"Could try something else to flex those muscles too," he teases, and Dream gives him a judgmental look, but Hob can see the smile secretly tugging at his lips.

"Taking perverse advantage of my ailments?" he says.

Hob feigns offense. "I was just going to give you a back rub! Totally innocent."

"Mmmm." Dream tilts his head, studying him. "Perhaps if you are truly committed to doing all of the work. I'm not finding myself inclined towards effort this evening.”

"Taking perverse advantage of my generosity?" Hob echoes.

Dream smirks down at him from his perch in Hob’s arms. “Always.”

It’s fine by Hob. Dream deserves a bit of generosity, in his opinion. And a lot more than that, too.

“You’ve indeed been most generous with me in my indolence,” Dream purrs. “Cared for me in my infirmity. How ought a man repay such a magnanimous patron?”

“Could think of a few things,” Hob says, letting his gaze deliberately track down to Dream’s lips. “I’m more inclined to spoil you, though.”

“I am amenable to that,” Dream says. Haughty little thing. Even dying couldn’t take the king out of him.

Hob doesn’t mind, though. He’s always had a bit of a thing for it. So he obligingly carries his still-smirking lover off to their bedroom to spoil him just as he’s promised.

--

Afterwards, when Dream’s sprawled across him, one leg tossed over Hob’s hips in a way that apparently relieves the strain in his lower back, though Hob can’t imagine how, he says, “Does it bother you that I have become utterly idle?”

“You’re not idle,” Hob says. “You do plenty of stuff. I see you do it.”

“Not with true purpose, though,” Dream says.

“If you mean do I think you should get some sort of career, then no, I don’t.” Hob kind of shudders at the thought. “As far as I’m concerned, you never have to work again if you don't want to. Do what you want. Work on your Minecraft cities. I’m just happy that you’re here.”

“You work,” Dream points out.

“I get bored,” Hob says. “Besides, my job doesn’t involve literally being the job, you know. You have to make up for about a trillion years of no work-life balance.”

Dream just humphs, but settles closer against him.

“Does it make you uncomfortable that I pay for everything, is that it?” Hob asks. Dream has always been so fiercely independent.

“Uncomfortable, not exactly,” Dream says. “I find I still fail to grasp the importance of money.”

Hob chuckles. “Yeah, you would.”

“Rather,” Dream continues, “the issue is equity. Something I am contemplating more as part of human society.”

“Okay, I understand what you’re getting at.” Hob wouldn’t want their relationship to feel inequitable either, but it’s not so much about paying for things, but about Dream not feeling trapped. As much as part of Hob wants to bundle Dream up and never let him leave the flat again after he literally died once already, he doesn’t want Dream to stay because he has to. He wants him to stay because he chooses to. At the same time— “But, Dream, it’s been only six months.”

“And?”

“For your lifetime— hell, even for mine, it’s a vanishingly small amount of time. And you were so tired.” It still hurts, still feels almost panic-inducing to think about, how Dream had been the last time they’d spoken before he… died. Hob’s never seen such weariness on a person, and he’s seen a lot. It would take a long time for that to lift from a human, and Dream is operating on a much vaster scale. “If I can give you time to rest, then that’s what I want to do.”

Hob could never figure out how to help Dream when he was Endless. At least there’s something he can do to help Dream now.

“Rest,” Dream echoes. “You are insistent upon it.”

Hob buries his hand in his hair, scratches at his scalp. “It feels better, though, doesn’t it?”

It takes a long moment for Dream to concede his answer, but finally he says, quietly, “Yes.”

“I love you beyond measure,” Hob says, aching with the words. “I want you to be well. It’s no more complicated than that.”

“I think I am,” Dream says slowly. “Well.”

Hob thinks so, too—at least, more so than he once was. He has his issues with his body. But some of the heaviness on him has eased. And that’s a step.

“I do not think I have been well before,” Dream continues. “At least, not in quite some time.”

This, Hob knows, too.

“Then we’ll have to keep working at it until you’re used to it,” Hob says. “And I’ll spoil you until then. Well, after, too.”

“You seem to take pleasure in it,” Dream agrees.

Hob kisses the top of his head, rubs his hand up and down his back until Dream sinks into him further, boneless and lax. Maybe later he will give Dream an actually innocent back rub, it seems to help with the pain a bit. For now he just lets Dream fall asleep on top of him.

He needs the rest, anyway.

[euphoricfilter]

im in LOVE w your yandere ddlg fics… can i request one w namjoon? 🫣🫣 i feel like he fits the ddlg concept so well ugh

𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦:

pairing: yandere! namjoon x f. reader

genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || established relationship au ||

summary: if namjoon’s life were a book, he thinks the day his eyes set on you, it had been the start of a fairytale. where he is the prince, and you, his princess.

word count: 5.5k

tags/ warnings: disgusting amounts of fluff, buff bf namjoon, reader is definitely an ipad baby, she’s also very very spoiled, and very very shy, ddlg themes, non-sexual dom joon, descriptions of murder, a few references to literature, smut in the forms of: unprotected sex (this is fiction, don’t be stupid), dom! namjoon, sub! reader, he’s girthy, size kink, cockwarming, belly bulge, dick riding, female masturbation, fingering, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, lots of praise, and she’s a bit of a pillow princess, aftercare

notes: i agree!! he fits this concept so well!! and thank you for reading my other works babes! and here i present my last post of 2022! if there are mistakes, no there aren’t you didn’t see anything

request rules can be found here || my masterlist

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

You were Namjoon’s fairytale dream. A distressed princess locked in the wicked witch’s tower— that was this corrupt world that the two of you lived in.

Him, your knight in shining armour, sweeping you off your feet and dressing you in pretty dresses and jewels just like a true princess.

Truthfully Namjoon liked the classics better, words articulated like poetry and feelings forever carved into paper with ink. Little pieces of each author weaved into each book they’d ever written, secrets between pages and fantasies hidden behind flowery words. Hours upon hours of knowledge stacked up in Namjoon’s mind, useless little things that no one had ever cared to ask him about.

Perhaps romance novels were his guilty pleasure. That sickly feeling you get, reading about two people so in love that you have to sit back and realise that your own life is nothing more than a slow burn. Where truly, you’re the side character that is left and forgotten, watching the people around you— the main cast of the story, fall in love and find their god-awful happiness that you can only dream of.

You see, Namjoon had learnt how patience was a virtue. He’d waited year and years for that love story, for the perfect, pure, unadulterated adoration for another human, like in all those romance novels.

Countless flings and unexplainable anger from all the women who had shattered his heart over and over again had led him to you. Had steered him towards the right path. Perhaps like the yellow brick road, him being Dorothy and you, Emerald City. His final destination.

You’d always been awfully shy. Something Namjoon completely adored about you. Something he knew you were a little insecure about; among other things.

His remedy to your doubt, fucking you until all you knew was his and your names. Fucked so dumb you could only cry, clinging onto him like he weren’t the wolf and you weren’t little red, pure white dove chomped and chewed in his jaws like Carol Ann Duffey had described— you locked in his claws as he ripped away at tattered old clothing.

Past relationships had ended on bad terms for you, similar to himself, because it seemed no one had ever taken the time to read into you properly. Hadn’t taken the time to map out your story on paper and analyze you; the perfect specimen, the apple of his eye, a goddess among humans and his pretty little princess.

So soft and so pretty. Something a little sick, twisted, in his mind that he’d been able to lock you away in a cage like a bird, delicate little wings snapped in two where escape was impossible; thoughts of a life without him nothing more than a breathy whisper in the wind.

“Which one do you want today, sweetheart?” Namjoon’s arm laces around your shoulder, tugging you closer into his side. Your Mary Janes tapping gently against the tile floor.

You peer into the display case, fingers tightly clasped around the sleeve of his hoodie; an anchor for your fraying feelings, anxiety creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t rush you, simply raising an eyebrow at the worker behind the counter who gets angsty at your thoughtful pondering. Line of customers slowly building behind the two of you; and Namjoon can hear a few impatient mutters.

“Strawberry, please” you fall back into his side, weight solely dependent on Namjoon holding you up.

Your boyfriend turns his attention back towards the barista, fingers carding through your hair.

“One americano, a hot chocolate and one of the strawberry cakes, thank you” he turns his attention back to you; watching as you rock and forth on your heels.

“Why don’t you go and pick a table out for us, darling?”

You hum, fingers tugging at his sleeve mindlessly once more before you’re scampering towards a table by the window.

Namjoon feels his cock twitch in his pants as you bend over the table slightly, collecting the discarded straw wrappers that had been left on the table; and he watches your skirt raise a little up your thighs, supple skin taunting him.

He doesn’t bother with whatever the barista tells him, pushing his card across the counter as he watches you; legs bouncing anxiously as you grip the hem of your shirt, finally taking a seat.

He waves at you as he waits at the end of the counter, the scent of freshly brewed coffee thick in the air and Namjoon worries about the impeding headache you’re sure to have.

“Here you go, pretty” he places the tray in the middle of the table, tutting when you go to grab your mug of hot chocolate. You simply fall back into your chair, eyes trained on Namjoon’s hand as he places your drink before you.

“Thank you” you smile up at him as he pulls out the chair beside you.

“You’re welcome” he coos, dragging your chair closer to his own, his neck craning to kiss your temple.

Your smile is shy though your attention is quickly snatched by his fingers that dig around the pocket of his hoodie.

He pushes his phone to your side of the table, hand laying heavy on the back of your neck as you pick it up.

“I’m gonna get a new high score” you tell your boyfriend, turning to give him a determined smile as your tap tap tile game loads.

“Yeah?” he asks, eye smile so pretty you get lost looking at him for a moment. Only snapping out of your own little reverie when he blows on your hot chocolate. “Drink up” he reminds you.

You nod, delicate fingers picking your mug up by the handle, and you watch as Namjoon brings his own coffee to his lips for a taste.

“Good?”

You nod, “Good”

Namjoon’s thumb continues to brush over the back of your neck as you hunch over the table, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you load up one of the songs of your game.

Your mouth falls open when Namjoon’s fingers dig into the back of your hair, tugging your head back.

He watches as your lips close around the forkful of cake he feeds you, endeared smile on his face as a little bit of the cream clings to the corners of your lips. You don’t seem to take much notice as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, eyes glued to the screen of his phone.

Your lips part after swallowing, tongue peeking out to lick at the pad of Namjoon’s thumb before he’s slipping it into your mouth.

“Yummy?” he asks, and you fall back into your chair— game suddenly long forgotten as Namjoon’s thumb lays heavy on your tongue.

You nod, fingers itching for the fork. Your boyfriend simply tuts, “Let me do that for you” his thumb slips out of your mouth, soon replaced with another large forkful of strawberries and cream.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Namjoon’s attention is quickly snatched from his laptop when he hears a gentle knock on the door of his home office.

You always seemed to count a few seconds before you opened the door, always mindful that he was often busy; even if he’d made it clear that he was never too busy for you.

“What’s wrong, darling?” he closes his laptop, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

“You’re not in bed” you whisper, still lingering in the doorway. Frilly-socked feet shuffling anxiously against the carpet.

Namjoon thinks you look like a dream, eyes heavy with lingering sleep, thin strap of your silk nightdress slipping off your shoulder as you curl in on yourself. Always ever so shy, even after years together.

He’d taken his time pampering you that evening. An hour spent in the bath where’d he’d lathered your body in thick suds of soap, sweet smelling like roses that had sat in the summer sun all afternoon, skin warm like petals that had basked in the golden rays of light. Silent promises of a love that will last forever, until he takes his last breath, until the world ceases to exist and his love can longer be— traced under light fingertips that knew your body better than you ever would.

You squirmed as he’d rubbed lotion into every inch of skin your body had to offer— body his temple, your soul his goddess that he worshiped like you were his only purpose in life. Each breath he took, every step he’d continue to take, everything for you.

You’d laid spread across his lap as he’d worked any knots out of your back before dressing you up pretty for bed. Flimsy silk nightdress tickling your skin, brushing against bare thighs, where Namjoon’s hands had the freedom to roam your body until you’d been giggling at him to stop.

His favorite pastime, brushing your hair before bed; his hands those of Rumplestiltskin, each strand treated like intricately created golden thread, gentle as he tugs each knot until perfect.

He’d been there when you’d fallen asleep, bones jelly after he’d fingered you to an orgasm and mind nothing more than cotton candy softness as you’d tugged your precious little bunny to your chest. A gift he’d given you your first date together; and although you claimed you never had favorites , it was always his bunny that remained in your arms as you slept.

And truly he thought tonight he would finish up the last of the project he’d been given, the rest of the week yours; his time cupped in your hands to use however you pleased. The smile you were sure to give him each day after work, worth the pain of a single one nighter.

“I have some work to finish up, why don’t you go lay down, and I’ll be there in a little while” he tilts his head, gentle smile toying at the corners of his lips.

Your lips mould into a pout, “No” you shake your head, voice pulling out a little whiny “You have to come with me, Joonie. Right now”

“But I’m busy, darling” he coos, rolling his chair away from his desk. Legs falling open and he wonders how long it’ll take you to crawl into his lap.

He watches you thrown yourself to the floor, falling to your knees with a dull thump, and he worries they’ll bruise. You don’t seem to care, too pre-occupied with the start of your bubbling tantrum to care about any future injuries; you’ll be sure to milk all of your boyfriend’s sympathy when you he patches you up later. Crying until he’s kissing it all better, and maybe he’ll buy you a gift for being so brave.

He’d seen you scrolling through a few shops online earlier in the day before dinner, rosy-red blush painting your cheeks at a few items you’d hopefully saved.

You hiccup, stuffed bunny clung to your chest as you shake your head. “No, no” you sniffle, “You have to come now” your legs kick a little underneath you.

It was no secret that Namjoon liked to spoil you. Truthfully, he didn’t see the issue— what else was he supposed to do when housing a little princess? If you wanted something then who was he to say no?

Especially when you looked up at him through wet lashes, tears clinging to your cheeks like freshly fallen rain would the petal of a flower.

“Don’t cry” he frowns, heart clenching at the utter distraught on your face; cheeks glazed in saline tears and eyes watery, another miserable cry ready to slip past your lips. “Come here, my precious little baby”

The sob you let out is pitiful, bunny’s fluffy little paw held so tight in your hand as you push yourself to stand. Floppy ears soaking up your tears as you wipe your cheeks.

Namjoon’s hand’s curl under your thighs as you push yourself into his lap, a new wave of tears spilling down your cheeks.

“oh dolly” he croons, “You’ve been fussy all day, haven’t you? What’s wrong?”

Your arms wrap around his neck, face tucked tightly into his shoulder as you choke on another sob. Bunny tucked between your chests.

His thumb is gentle as it brushes over the top of your thighs.

“Tell me what happened” he rests his cheek against the top of your head, mean little smile pulling at his cheeks as your sobs fizzle to little hiccups.

“Work” you whisper, fingers threading into his hair, tugging rhythmically as you mouth at his neck.

“What happened at work?”

You whine, pushing your body flush against Namjoon’s. His hands wander, grabbing your ass as you rock forwards; bare pussy brushing over his pyjama pants.

“There’s a— there’s a new guy” your hips falter and Namjoon holds in a groan as your weight settles right over his cock.

Namjoon hums, “What about him?”

“He—“ a breathy moan drips off your tongue as his fingers dig into the meat of your ass.

“He what, darling? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong” he murmurs, fingers mean as he tugs your face away from his neck by the back of your hair.

Your mouth falls open, and Namjoon watches your eyes glaze over, though this time it’s not tears; and he wonders if you can see how ruined you look in the reflection of his glasses.

“Tell me” your thighs clenching at his tone.

You whimper, “He said a bad word, can’t say it”

Namjoon’s head tips backwards, “Go ahead and say it, baby. I won’t get mad”

“Promise?”

He smiles, endeared “Promise”

“He asked me on a date” your fingers grasp onto the neckline of his shirt, and your boyfriend hums, “I said no, because I have a boyfriend”

“And?”

He watches as your bottom lip quivers, breath hitching in your throat. “Said you didn’t need to know, could be a quick fuck in the back room”

Namjoon’s jaw ticks, “What’s his name?” his fingers skim over your jaw, your hips jutting forward. “Name, darling”

“Jimin” you breathe, “Told Nana, and she said she’d talk to him”

“Yeah?” Namjoon hums, “I’ll sort him out, okay?”

“Okay” you nod.

“Well done for telling me, darling” he smiles, an attempt to ease any lingering anxiety you had. The last thing he wanted was for you to hate work when you enjoyed it so much.

Your hips rut forwards, Namjoon pulling your nightdress up around your hips, watching as your bare cunt drags over his slowly hardening cock.

You lean forwards, lips brushing over Namjoon’s jaw as his hands guide your hips. You moan as the head of his cock brushes over your clit.

“Feel good, darling?” Namjoon’s breathing is heavy, one of his arms tucking under your thighs as he hoists you further up his chest, his free hand tugging his pants down.

Your hand travels between your bodies, tips of your fingers brushing over Namjoon’s slit, precum oozing out the tip as your hand runs down his length.

“Up you get” he helps you, head of his cock running through your slit as you roll your hips forwards.

You bite down on your bottom lip, watery whines bubbling up your throat with each nudge of your boyfriend’s cock running over your clit. Arousal seeps past your folds down Namjoon’s length.

You hold his cock against your cunt, Namjoon’s fingers digging into your hips, sure to leave bruises, but you didn’t seem to care all that much as your hips roll forward.

“Inside Joonie” you whine, tongue laving over the skin of his neck.

Namjoon takes a hold of the base of his cock, and you use his shoulders as leverage, chair wobbling under your joint weight as you line up his cockhead with your hole.

Your fingers run through your folds, wetness soaking your fingers as you circle your clit gently, Namjoon helping you as the tip of his cock brushes over your hole. And you let out an involuntary whine as the stimulation.

Your arms wrap around Namjoon’s neck, head of his cock splitting you open as you ease yourself down an inch before you’re pulling off slowly.

“Your pretty little pussy is so small” Namjoon groans. Flared cockhead pulling your pussy taught as you try and ease down lower.

You breath gets stuck in your throat, Namjoon’s fingers gently thumbing at your clit as you clench around his length. Slowly starting to stuff each agonizing inch into your cunt.

You whine as you reach the hilt, hips rutting forward messily. You moan at the lick of please that wracks through your body with each slow drag of Namjoon’s thick cock against your walls.

Namjoon pulls your face away from hiding by the back of your neck, tugging you until your lips mould into one, tongue pushed into your mouth, fresh minty toothpaste coating his tastebuds.

You start to bounce in his lap, childish impatience starting to take over as you chase after an orgasm. Always a little greedy when it came to your own pleasure, using Namjoon to get yourself off before you ever allow him to chase his own release.

“That’s it” he moans, unabashed in his arousal.

Namjoon uses his legs as an anchor, holding the two of you in place, ensuring the chair doesn’t tip over as the back of your thighs slap against the top of his own.

You moan as his thumb continues to brush over your clit, a ring of your arousal gathered at the base of his cock with each jittery raise of your hips.

“Doing so well for me” Namjoon groans, “Always such a good girl, yeah?”

“Mhmm” you nod, bunny tumbling to the floor. Long forgotten as you feel the precipice of your pleasure slowly boiling away in your stomach.

“Gonna cum for me?”

Your thighs shake at that, deep groan of pleasure shooting straight to your cunt as you continue to ride Namjoon like it were the last time.

“Go on, cum for me”

Namjoon’s hands find themselves perched under your ass, aiding you as your legs start to grow tired. Muscles in his arms bulging as he drags you up and down his length.

“So small, could use you as my own little fleshlight. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he groans, mirth swimming in his eyes.

Meanly, Namjoon pinches your clit and that’s all it takes for searing hot pleasure to wash over your body, thighs shaking at your release.

You hiccup another sob at the burning arousal as Namjoon continues to ram his cock back up inside you, thick rivulets of your slick coating his balls as he chases his own release.

“Too much” you cry, hands wrapping around his wrists as his fingers dig into your hips.

“I’m close, hold on for me” Namjoon’s head tips back.

Namjoon can feel your pussy as it pulsates around his length; you let out something akin to a squeak as you feel his cock twitch.

Mouth falling open in a silent moan as his warm cum paints your insides white.

You raise up on shaky legs, tip of his cock left nestled between your walls before you’re falling back down on his length; cum pushed deep inside of you.

“Oh my baby” he coos, fingers gentle as they brush through your hair, “Sleepy?”

You nod, words fizzling out on your tongue as you yawn.

Your cunt continues to clench around his cock, even as you fall asleep on his chest.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

The bell above the door is obnoxious in announcing Namjoon’s arrival.

‘Pages of Love’ the little bookshop you worked at.

He would have gotten you to quit the shitty little job by now if it didn’t hold such significance in your relationship. He’d first met you here, had dates here, and it made you so happy that Namjoon couldn’t bare to see the sad pout that would be sure to form if he ever suggested you left this place behind.

“Namjoon” the old woman behind the counter smiles, waving him over. “I’m sure you’re aware but it’s y/n’s day off”

“Actually, Nana, I’m here for something else” he smiles, expression saddened and the old woman frowns.

“Anything” she nods.

“It’s about Jimin. He doesn’t happen to be working today, does he?”

“He’s on break right now.” She tuts, “Is this about what he said to y/n. I’ve already warned him about it”

“She came home upset” he shakes his head and Nana sighs.

“Poor girl. She’s lucky to have you, Namjoon”

“Thank you” his smile is genuine, though it drops the moment he steps out the door.

And he waits, waits weeks before he decided what he wants to do with the lowly piece of shit that dared suggest you cheat on him.

Waited weeks as he wrote down every sick little fantasy he had about the ways he’d maul his body. Shredding limbs, gutting him alive. Maybe he’d decapitate him and then send his head to his mother, or chop his filthy dick off and make him watch as he fed it to whatever animal is willing to chew on nearly nothing.

Written fantasies weren’t enough. Namjoon’s fingers always itching, always eager to finally wrap around the boy’s lithe throat and make him beg for mercy until his face is red and pride oozing out of his body with his fear.

“I’m gonna be home late tonight, little one” Namjoon tucks your hair behind your ear, gentle smile rivaling your frown.

“Why?” you ask, blinking up at him through your lashes.

“I have a small job I need to take care of”

“Can I help?”

“Nope” he leans down, soft feathery kiss pressed to you cheek before he’s pulling back, standing at full height.

You look up at him, “You can’t go”

“And why not?” he challenges.

“Because” your defense weak and truly Namjoon wishes he could stay.

“I charged your ipad this morning” and your eyes light up.

“Be quick, okay?” you push yourself up on your tippy toes, hands cupping his cheeks as you press a kiss to his lips.

“Promise” he smiles, “Now be a good girl, and don’t cause any trouble”

“I won’t” you wave him off.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Namjoon isn’t exactly sure what he expects to see when he finally gets home, a quick detour to Seokjin’s house to wash off Jimin’s blood and a change of clothes taking longer than he’d anticipated when his friend had insisted on making them both tea.

He can’t help the groan that bubbles up his throat at the sight of you. Skirt flipped up with three fingers, knuckle deep inside your pretty little pussy as you play a colour by number game on your ipad.

“Fucking hell, darling” he kicks his shoes off, jacket long forgotten on the floor as he crouches down in front of you.

You pull your slick covered fingers out of your cunt, gently circling your clit as you blink down at him.

“Couldn’t wait until I got home?”

“I got bored” you whine, legs falling open wider and Namjoon takes that as his invitation to run his thumb through your slit.

His hands hold your thighs in place as he leans down to press a kiss over your clit, tongue slipping from between his lips to lick over the bundle of nerves.

You hips stutter as his tongue drags across your folds, another wave of arousal seeping out your cunt at the unexpected nudge of his tongue against you hole.

Your fingers tangle into your boyfriend’s hair as he sucks over your clit, fingers teasing your entrance before he’s pushing two fingers inside of you.

“How pretty” he coos, accompanied by a wet squelch. “The prettiest little pussy, it’s a wonder how you fit anything inside of you”

You squirm, finger stuffed into your mouth as you try and hold back an embarrassed moan.

“Not little” you whine, hips chasing Namjoon’s fingers each time he pulls out.

“Oh, but you are” your thighs twitch as his warm breath brushes over your sensitive clit, hours of mindless toying with your cunt bringing you to the brink of an orgasm.

Namjoon kisses over your mound, kisses over your clit, and then kisses over his fingers as they curl up inside of you.

He can’t help the smile that pulls at his cheeks at the guttural moan you let out when he finds that particular spot inside of you.

“Cum for me, darling” his voice breathless, as he starts to scissor his fingers.

All it takes is one mean little nip to your clit and you’re tipping over the edge; legs shaking as they clamp around your boyfriend’s head.

His tongue continues to flick over your clit, fingers nestled deep within your walls as he helps you ride out your high.

“Enough” you whimper, tugging his head away from between your legs.

You squirm at the glossy sheen that covers Namjoon’s chin when he finally pulls away from your pussy.

“Well done” his hands run up and down your trembling thighs, “Think you can take a little more?”

Your eyes flicker down to his cock, heavy in his pants and you nod; tongue wetting your lips.

“My good girl”

Namjoon pulls you to lay across the length of the couch, fingers tugging your blouse over your head as you shuck off your skirt.

You tug messily at the back of your bra, and Namjoon smiles, bending down to help you.

He groans, taking one of your nipples into his mouth as he palms himself through his slacks.

“God, you’re so pretty”

Your squeak when he bites the plush skin, trail of kisses searing as he reaches your neck.

Your hands fumble with his pants, waistband pulled taught as your try and slip your fingers into his underwear.

“Always so impatient, aren’t you?” he coos, “here let me help you”

You pout at the loss of warmth, the loss of his large body completely covering your own; hands grabbing for neck when he sits up on his knees.

Your hips rock upwards, silently begging for any sort of stimulation as you watch Namjoon’s cock spring free, slapping against his stomach.

Your pussy gushes another wave of slick at the sight of your boyfriend with his hand wrapped around his cock, his hands always had been big; swallowing the girth of his cock when your fingers barely wrapped around it.

You can feel the phantom ache in your jaw, countless times he’d shoved his dick into your mouth, splitting it open like he would your cunt with absolutely no mercy.

“You’re staring” though there’s no embarrassment in his tone, eyebrow lifted cocky and lazy smile tugging at your lips.

“Inside, please” you whine, legs falling open enough for him to slot in place.

“Of course, sweetheart”

Your legs tremble in anticipation, eyes squeezing shut as he runs the head through the slit; slicking up his length before he’s pushing at your entrance.

“You sure you can fit me?” you can hear the laugh in his voice, retort on the tip of your tongue only he chooses that moment to nudge the tip of his cock over your clit.

“Joonie” you complain, “please, need you”

And Namjoon watches, lets you, grab onto his length, watching as you rut your hips down until he’s popping inside of you.

Your walls constrict around him, and he’s absolutely fascinated by how such a small pussy is even able to stretch around him.

“Good girl” and he can’t help the moan that follows.

He’s barely thrusting, gentle roll of his hips feeding each inch of his cock into your wet cunt.

You moan like he was ramming into you, always so sensitive, always so responsive to his touch.

“Feel good?” he asks when he finally bottoms out, thighs connected and heartbeats in sync. It’s moments like these Namjoon revels being alive, being one with you. Truly the closest you’ll ever be to one another; and he thinks he finally feels complete when lodged between your sodden walls.

“So deep” you whisper, fingers skimming over your stomach.

Namjoon pulls your legs over his shoulders, bending forwards until you’re almost folded in half.

Your moan is breathless when he gently pulls out, only to snap his hips back into you.

Your hands grasp onto the pillows of the couch as Namjoon picks up his pace, your tits bouncing, and cunt squelching with every brutal thrust into you.

“Fucking hell, you are tiny” Namjoon groans, and you whimper as his hand presses down on your lower stomach.

You dare take a look, hiccup of a moan ripped from your throat as you see it. An outline of his cock right bellow your belly button, head nudging the taught skin with each thrust into you, only for it to disappear as he pulls out.

Your fingers splay over it, cunt convulsing around his length as your feel him move under your skin.

You feel it rising, pussy swollen and worn from your previous orgasm. Namjoon seems to know, he always knows when you’re slowly climbing to the peak of high.

His fingers find clit, tight little circles sending jolts of pure, blissful pleasure through your body, another wave of arousal seeping out your cunt to soak his cock.

“Gonna cum for me?” he moans between eat thrust, “Be a good girl and cum for me”

The cry you let out is near pornographic, knees knocking against the side of Namjoon’s head as he continues to flick at your clit. Pleasure numbing that when you finally reach your high, your mind blanks, a blanket of fluff consuming you as Namjoon continues to jackhammer into your used cunt.

“Doing so well for me. So close. I’m so close” he groans, fingers finally pulling off your clit as your thighs continue to shake.

When you come to, Namjoon’s thrusts are a sloppy, thrusts barely coordinated as he ruts into you.

And your breath hitches at the final twitch of his cock, he pushes as far into you as he can before he’s cumming.

Thick waves of cum filling you up. He groans as you clench around him, walls still spasming from your own release. And he gently rocks into you, an attempt to push his cum as deep into your soiled cunt as possible.

“You did so well, darling” he swallows thickly, back of his hand wiping the sheen of sweat from his forehead.

You whine as he begins to pull out, mixture of both your releases dribbling out of your hole.

Your thighs twitch when Namjoon parts your lips, hole clenching around nothing as you push another wave of his cum out of your pussy. His fingers scoop it up, circling your entrance before he’s pushing them back between your walls.

“What do you think about a bath?” he hums, watching your eyes fall droopy.

You nod, hands blindly grabbing for your boyfriend to pick you up.

He smiles down at you, arms slipping beneath your body to pick you up as he wanders further into the house.

You wriggle around when he flips the light on, eyes stinging a little at the sudden burst of brightness.

“Alright missy” he sits you on the toilet, and you lean your head against his hip as pee, bones too floppy to even think of holding yourself up.

You remain sat on the toilet as he runs a bath, fussy when he picks you up again though it’s easily soothed with a gentle kiss to your lips.

He thinks you fall asleep as he washes your back, gentle as his soapy hands grope your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples and you squirm at that.

Namjoon is endeared when the two of you finally get out the bath, skin soft and sweet smelling, perfect for kisses. And he can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat when you kick your pyjamas away, refusing to put them on yourself when his hands were fully capable.

“Oh my little princess” he kisses both your cheeks, “How about some cake for being such a good girl?”

You see, Namjoon had always been a little bit of a liar. Had told so many lies that truly he didn’t know the what was real and what was not anymore. And if he didn’t know then you never would either.

Every little lie he’d told you from the start, every white lie, every left out detail of his life suddenly seemed insignificant when you were tucked under his chin, sleeping so peacefully, a true sleeping beauty.

And maybe he didn’t really like the classics. Maybe his real love of novels were romances, because he’d always be the prince and you’d always be his princess. A perfect fairytale that would always have a happy ending.

Because if anyone dared scribble out the pages, change his plot, then he would simply erase their existence, and the readers of his life would never know the difference.

You belonged to him. You are his as much as he is yours.

Your life his only reason. Your happiness that little spark of good that still resides inside him. And as long as you come home every day with that same pretty little smile on your face, then Namjoon feels no guilt for the countless people that lay dead, long forgotten by the world as they rest six feet under for daring bring you sadness. Because he’d erased them, with no way to wiggle their way back into the story of his life.

Because what was a prince if he couldn’t take care of a villain that would disturb his perfect fairytale ending?

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 3 / Next

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, omc, ofc Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 6.2k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter. 

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Scott’s new-found abilities and the murky world they’ve been dragged into is making it pretty damn hard to keep his promise. 

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real and old family skeletons rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive? 

Maybe, the real question is: How long will they want to? Chapter Summary: More information about the animal attack comes to light. You can’t decide if you're more scared of the monster or becoming friends with someone new. 

A/N: You can also check me out on ao3 (dork_knight) for the full lore version!

You were surprised to see your dad’s car in the garage. He wasn’t supposed to be off work for hours, and he certainly never came home early on weekdays. You would be more nervous if there was anyone left in your life to grieve. It was just the two of you now. Your mom hadn’t ever talked about her family; you weren't even sure if she ever had one, and Grandma and Papa Dickinson died before you even had the chance to remember them. You wished, sometimes, that there was someone else in the house. Someone who could fill the cold silence and closed doors. Someone who might chase away the ghosts lingering in the long halls and photographs on the walls. It was a futile dream. You were going to die in this house, and someday a new family would chase your family’s shadows away with laughter.

You felt a bittersweet sense of déjà vu when you walked into the house and saw your dad sitting at the kitchen table. The kitchen was his spot before everything went wrong. He puttered around the island in the mornings with his thermos of coffee and tablet, somehow knowing exactly when to flip the bubbling pancakes on the griddle without glancing up from whatever NPR article he was reading. He only looked up from the screen to kiss your mom on the cheek and give you a side-squeeze until you whined about your inability to breathe. 

That was a long time ago, you reminded yourself as your dad looked up from his iPad. It’d been four years, but he still hadn’t quite figured out how to hug you and the kitchen never smelled like pancakes and cinnamon syrup anymore. “How was school?” your dad finally said after a long moment of uneasy eye-contact. 

Your brow wrinkled, and your head canted slightly, “You really want to talk about my day?”

“Of course,” your dad paused and rubbed his hands over his face, “but there is something important I wanted to talk to you about.” His stubble had grown out enough that you could see where the brown was starting to gray. He looked so old for a moment, and you weren't quite sure how to feel. You never did around him. 

Frowning, you sat down in the chair across from him, “Did someone die?”

“No,” your dad quickly replied, and then he sighed, “well, yes.” He set his iPad to the side and took his thick reading glasses off, “You know about the animal attacks.” It wasn’t a question. You figured that was how this would go; it was easier to pretend you didn’t exist if he monologued to the spot on the wall just over your shoulder. “Sheriff Stilinski and I agree that a curfew is the best course of action, considering the situation we’re in.”

Best course of action. You chewed on what was left of your nails and resisted the sigh budding in your chest. So, this was a council meeting too. You just didn’t get a vote. “Okay.” 

“Okay.” Your dad blinked a few times and rubbed at his jaw, like he’d been expecting you to fight him on it. Most of the fight fizzled out in you a long time ago; it was just easier to pretend. You got that from him, you thought. You inherited your dad’s love for mystery novels and his ability to deny reality straight to its face, and that was where the similarity ended. Your face, your skin, your heart—your exhausting curiosity—that was all your mom. It must be why your dad couldn’t keep his gaze on you for long. He ran his fingers through his short crop of dark hair and said, “Anyone under the age of 18 needs to be home by 9:00 every night.” 

“Fine.” It wasn’t like you had much of a social life anyway, and the curio shop you worked for closed long before dark. “So,” you fiddled with the edge of a decorative bamboo placemat that hadn’t seen a plate in years, “do the police have any idea what kind of animal’s going all Pac-Man on people?”

Your dad stared at you for a moment, a deep divot developing above the crooked bridge of his nose. You looked down at your hands and mumbled, “The vampire Pomeranian, not the wimpyass circle.”

His mouth tugged a little, and you would’ve sworn he was fighting a smile if everything else in the world didn’t directly contradict the theory. “Not exactly.”

“Which means…” you shook your head a little and tugged your fingers through your unruly hair, grimacing a bit as they snagged on a few knots where your hair had frizzed together, “they’ve ruled out tiny bloodsucking dogs, or they’ve narrowed it down to a few probable options?” 

He paused for a long moment, and you pulled your shins to your chest, focusing on the tips of your sneakers hanging off the edge of the wooden seat. You turned your cheek into your kneecaps and waited for your dad to make an excuse and leave. You’d pushed. You always had to push. 

“There were wolf fibers on the girl.”

You whipped your head up from your knees, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. You were a little embarrassed that you were more stunned by your dad sharing confidential information with you than a wolf migrating to central California for the first time in over a hundred years. “And the bus driver?”

“He’s still…unresponsive. Stilinski is looking into the possibility that he was attacked by the same animal.” 

“Huh,” you said quietly, eyes glazing over as you considered the possibility.

“Regardless, you need to be home before dark until they catch the damn thing,” he leaned back against his chair, tipping his head back with his bottle of Miller High life. The golden liquid sloshed back and forth with the strength of his swallow. It was the first time you’d seen him drink since the funeral, but you knew about the empty bottles he threw away in the trash outside. Over the years, the number varied; you noticed a significant increase around anniversaries, birthdays, and Christmas. You left extra take-out in the fridge during those weeks, always his favorites, and they were gone in the morning. You twisted the pendant on your necklace and made a note to order Little India’s tandoori chicken after your shift.

“I have to work tonight.” You said quietly, nibbling the bed of your thumbnail, “I’m off at 8:00.” 

You both dreaded and longed for your boss’s absurd take on the situation—though boss wasn’t quite the right word for Maggie Sinclair. Despite the fact that she owned Curio Killed the Cat and approved your paychecks, Maggie was the least authoritative person you knew. You’d say Mags was like an older sister, but older sisters generally didn’t require so much supervision around open flames and sangria—and anything else sparkling enough to distract her sporadic focus. Your mom used to look out for her before she died; you supposed Maggie was just another thing you inherited from her. Your favorite thing probably, but that was something you’d most likely take to your grave.

Your dad’s face went blank for a moment, as it always did when he was reminded of anything remotely related to your mom. It was easier for him, you thought, to pretend that she never existed. You couldn’t even be bitter about it; you hadn’t even cried at the funeral. You cried much later, of course, but by then the pity well had run dry. Nobody cared how you coped, so long as you coped quickly. You’d wasted those precious first few months of constant consolations with numbness, with monotonous, 'Thank you,’s and, 'It’s sad, but I’m okay,'s and then, eventually, everyone stopped asking if you were okay. Time passed. You didn’t touch any of the casseroles in the fridge. People moved on. You lived in the wake and pushed people away with an acrid bite that would disappoint the resurrection right out of your mother. Your dad was just coping. You both were. 

“Right,” he cleared his throat, “come straight home after.”

You shouldered your backpack and stood up, “Always do.”

You still didn’t know how Maggie met your mom, given the 15-year age gap and their vastly different…everything, but Maggie had been in your life for as long as you could remember. You spent so much time in Maggie’s store after your mom died that you figured you might as well get paid for shelving spell books and grimoires while you were there—even if you did think that most of Maggie’s customers were totally off their rocker. Of course, in-person customers were a rare oddity in Curio Killed the Cat.

The store was always slow on weekdays, weekends too actually. Most of Maggie’s business was online; she shipped ‘haunted’ and ‘magical’ artifacts all across the globe to e-goths with bad backs and Wicca wannabes. Truthfully, Maggie didn’t really need your help running the storefront, but she claimed she enjoyed the company—even if said company was bitterly sarcastic and hypercritical of the product she was stocking. 

“Hey, Mags,” you called. The bell on the front door tinkled in the background as you shoved it open with your shoulder. You paused to scratch under Maggie’s ancient tabby’s chin until he let out a sawing purr. You weren't exactly sure how old Gizmo was, but he behaved more like the taxidermied animals on the walls than the stray cats that lived in the small alley behind the store. 

“Maggie’s head popped up from the circle of book-stack pillars surrounding her. A few of her black curls frizzed out from her bun like a chaotic springy bow and her sweater swallowed her whole despite the relatively warm evening. “Babe,” Maggie placed her hands on your shoulders and grinned at you with a little too much teeth, “thorn in my side, light of my life.”

You lifted the large pair of acrylic glasses from Maggie’s nest of curls and then slipped them over her rounded nose with a reluctant sigh, “What?”

“Glasses. That was next on the agenda.” Maggie blinked owlishly behind her lenses as her eyes adjusted, and then they lit up with whatever it was she’d miraculously remembered, “I am so delighted to see you.”

“It’s Monday.” Gizmo curled around your leg and meowed pathetically until you bent down and lifted him onto you shoulder, “I work Mondays.”

Maggie rolled her eyes, “I’m aware; I made the schedule. The Concerta isn’t completely defective.”

You grinned a little, and Gizmo kneaded your chest in agreement, “So: You’re delighted to see me.”

Nodding rapidly, Maggie picked up a lavishly bound book from one of the stacks of new inventory. It was so tall that it reached her chin, and there were four more just like it in the back. “I need these stocked for realsies,” Maggie said, blowing off the thin layer of dust that had started to gather on the cover. She dropped the book back on top of the pile with a loud thump and carefully avoided knocking anything over on her way to the front of the store, “And I’m currently in the middle of a bidding war.”

“Haunted or historical?” you grabbed the clunky price gun off of the tarot card display.

“A little of both actually,” Maggie hummed, fiercely focused on the computer screen. Her nose was almost smashed against the monitor.

You set Gizmo down on the floor, patting his head tenderly when he let out a disgruntled whine and clawed at your thin knee socks. Eventually, the effort became too much for his poor paws to bear, and he waddled off towards one of his many nesting spots. “For you or for the store?” you pulled the stepladder away from the wall of stone runes and protection charms and plopped yourself down on the top step.

“For you, actually,” Maggie grinned a little and winked, “don’t say I never gave ya’ nothing.”

“Wonderful,” you dropped your chin into your cupped hands, “a poltergeist bonus.”

Maggie huffed and shoved the sleeves of her hand-knitted cardigan up to her elbows, “It’s not actually haunted. Not really. It’s like…a spirit router, basically. Whatever. It’ll make me feel better about you walking around with a rabid Cujo on the loose.”

“Aw,” you smirked good-naturedly and slapped a price tag on a book entitled ‘Heal the Witch Wound Inside’—$35.99, and for what? You were too amused to point out the redundancy of rabid Cujo. “You got me a guardian angel.”

“Trying to,” Maggie corrected her under her breath, “but MagikMike9917 is a persistent little bitch.”

You laughed and slid ‘Witch Wound’ into the self-help section, “Just get me a mini-taser; they come in some real cute cases now.”

“Mhm.” Maggie briefly glanced over in your direction and then abruptly whirled her head back towards the thick book in your hands, “Not that one.”

You narrowed your gaze as you examined the cover of the book more closely. You had to admit, it was beautiful. The leather was a deep burgundy, and the spine was hand stitched together with gold thread—but it was the carving on the front that really caught your attention. There were two wolves etched into the leather. Their howling snouts pointed towards the full moon above their heads, and their tails entwined around the roots of a large tree sprouting into the sky. Ornate symbols framed the borders of the scene, and a few scattered jewels glinted in the light. It must have taken at least a week to finish. 

You held up the book, your brow curved into a high arch, “This for me too? ‘Cause I’ve already seen The Witcher; pretty sure I got the gist.”

Rolling her eyes, Maggie reached blindly for her soup mug of passionflower and mugwort tea. The smell of it was truly rank, but you had grown accustomed to the musky bitterness over the years. “That one’s already sold. They should be dropping by to pick it up anytime now.” She raised her cup towards you, “I told you bestiaries are essential reading.”

“For dungeon masters, maybe,” you hummed as you studied the cover again. The red and citrine jewels in the wolves’ eyes seemed to be winking at you when the light hit them at the just right angle. 

“Which is an essential contribution to society,” Maggie punctuated her sentence with a loud slurp. 

Your lips gave way to a small grin as you set the book to the side. You’d stocked around half the stacks of books when the front door chimed for the first time since your shift started. You looked towards the door and squinted at the increasingly familiar smattering of freckles and moles, “Are you stalking me now? I will tell your dad; I’m not above snitching or stitches.” 

Stiles blinked a few times and then shook his head, holding up his hands, “I swear on my jeep this time it’s a coincidence. I ordered something here like a week ago.”

You folded your arms over your chest, “And your jeep is sacred, is it?”

Stiles nodded solemnly and rested his hand over his chest, “The sacredest.” 

If the muttered cursing and aggressive sipping was anything to go by, Maggie was too busy with her eBay war to be of any help with inventory. Stocking would have to wait. You stood up and glanced over Stiles’s shoulder, “Where’s your sidekick?”

Stiles squeezed one eye almost completely shut and looked off into the void with the other until realization dawned over his face, “You mean Scott?” He snorted and shot you a grin that was loaded with self-pity, “I’m usually the sidekick reference. Always, actually.” 

You nodded and looked down, searching for the culprit of the little head butting into your shin. Gizmo was probably the most ineffective, geriatric guard dog in the entire animal kingdom, but you appreciated the effort. You scooped him up into your arms so that he could better inspect the strange boy who’d invaded his den and nuzzled your nose against the black stripe on top of his head. “They do tend to never shut up.” 

Stiles looked like he wanted to argue—a frequent expression of you were beginning to realize—and then his shoulders slumped in defeat, “Holy shit, I’ve been type-casted.”

“You could do an arthouse film,” you tilted your head, “show people you’ve got range.”

Stiles nodded, considering the idea, “My charming wit and boyish good looks are really holding me back.” He stooped down to scratch behind Gizmo’s ears. Gizmo bristled for a moment, eyeing his hand suspiciously, but he eventually flopped back in your arms after a few curious sniffs. “No one takes me seriously.”

“Uh huh.” You watched Stiles pet Gizmo and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, trying to remember the last man Gizmo hadn’t bit. She couldn’t recall a single one. Warmth enveloped your face when Stiles looked up and met your gaze. He didn’t appear to think much of it, just turned his eyes towards the ground and stroked Gizmo’s little gray toes. 

You set Giz down, despite his pathetic protests, and turned towards the stockpile of inventory, fighting the urge to bite your nails to the quick, “So, what’d you order, boy wonder?” You looked over your shoulder when Stiles didn’t answer. He was smiling a little, mostly to himself, with his hands shoved in his pockets. Your brows quirked, “What?”

“Nothing.” He groaned a little when you kept looking at him, your brows still cocked, and then shrugged with his hands still fisted in his jacket pockets, “It’s just not so bad, the sidekick thing. It’s not so pathetic when you say it like that.”

You swallowed, a little startled by his honesty even though you were the one who’d insisted upon it. “Order?”

“Right,” he nodded a few times and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a thickass book, wolves on the front, about yea big,” Stiles held his palms almost six inches apart from each other. “Please don’t make me say the name; I’m pretty sure it’s Latin.”

You grabbed the bestiary you’d set aside earlier and looked at the cover again; there was a small inscription just below the tree roots. “It’s Greek, actually.” You brushed your fingers over the indented letters, “φυσιολόγος.”

Stiles shook his head and took his frustration out on the air with a dramatic jerk of his hands, “In English?”

“The Naturalist,” your lips curled into a shrewd smile, “so sorry we don’t carry it in Japanese.”

Stiles pursed his lips and snatched the book out of your hands. “Hilarious. Truly. I don’t just watch anime, y’know. I also like…” he trailed off and scratched at the nape of his neck, “very cool, normal things.”

“Such as?” 

He pulled a face that was distinctly reminiscent of a little kid sticking their tongue out, “Such as shut your face.”

“Wow.” Shaking your head, you returned to your task of shelving books—this one was about the spiritual properties of mushrooms—and made a popping noise with your tongue against the top of your mouth, “You better hope there’s an English translation in there ‘cause consider my mouth officially shut.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Stiles continued quickly, words almost overlapping with the speed of his tongue, before you could take advantage of such low-hanging fruit, “I made sure I could read it before I bought it—being comprehensible is literally the least it can do for 50 bucks plus shipping.” He shook his head and held up the book, “Can you believe the library wouldn’t order it for me?”

“Imagine that,” you chided, “and with all the demand for vintage bestiaries too.”

He dropped his order on top of a rickety writing desk that supposedly belonged to a Beacon Hills’ heretic who died in the 1800s—at least, according to the tag hanging from one of the drawers and Maggie’s generous interpretation of her family history. “D&D is coming back in a big, big way,” Stiles pointed at you and winked with obnoxious flourish, “just you wait.”

You smirked, pointedly ignoring your recurrent childhood obsession with Egyptian and Roman mythology, and smacked the side of the price gun until the sticker tape unjammed, “My instinct is to make fun of you, but I’m afraid the hypocrisy will catch up with me.”

“What?” Stiles glanced around the store and smirked, “Are you one of those new-agey astrology, crystal nerds? How many fingers is my aura holding up right now?”

You gave him a flat look and reached for another book. “We don’t sell crystals, actually. They aren’t that common in ritualistic spell-casting.”

Stiles blinked slowly, “You’re joking.”

“Wish I was.” You still weren't entirely sure exactly how much of spiritualist-mythical crap Maggie believed. She contradicted herself constantly, and often said things just to make your face pinch in disbelief, but at the same time she still insisted that you keep a protection charm bundle under your bed. The smell of the divination tea, at the very least, was great at warding off unwanted chitchat. “Animal blood is the main ingredient in most of ‘em.”

“That’s…repulsive,” Stiles cringed, restless fingers meandering towards the shelves of books next to you. He pulled out a small illuminated grimoire and flipped through the yellowing pages, pulling a face every so often at some of the more unsavory hex materials. 

You pried the book from his fingers and slid it back into its correct slot. Maggie didn’t actually ask you to organize them; her exact words were, ‘Slap a sticker on ‘em and stick ‘em on a shelf,’ but the idea of such a chaotic setup haunted you until you finally reshelved them all with a revised, occult-specific Dewey Decimal System. “It’s actually just corn syrup and—”

“100% authentic dove juice,” Maggie interrupted from behind the front counter without removing her face from her monitor.

Stiles jerked his head to the side, evidently just realizing that there was someone else in the room with you, and then swiveled back to you with his face stretched out in a toothy grin, “That dove juice discount must save you, like, so much money.”

You watched Stiles, warily and wearily, reach for a meditation journal from one of the heaps by your legs, “I have to stock that.”

Stiles turned the journal over in his hands, “Lemme help.”

You huffed deeply and gestured to the diligently organized bookshelves, “I have a system.”

He gave a staunch shake of his head and hunched down so that he could read the small stickers on the spines, “I owe you—for covering for me.”

You took the journal from his hands and squatted down to the bottom shelf. You quickly found the guided meditation section and managed to squeeze the bulky notebook between ‘Walking the Pagan Path’ and ‘Warding Your Mind' with some aggressive wiggling. You looked up briefly and met Stiles’s eyeline. He was especially lanky from this angle. Lanky and soft, with his layers of sleeves and rounded features. You tucked a loose curl behind your ear and looked back at the line of jewel-toned spines, “How is he? Scott?”

“Better.” He tapped his fingers against the top of the bookshelf to a rhythmic beat that felt familiar, “Exposure therapy is a real pain in the ass.”

“I thought it was ‘low blood sugar.’”

“That too.” Stiles leaned over your head and grabbed another book, and you shivered the soft cotton hem of his jacket skimmed over your face. “He’s hemophobic and breakfastphobic,” he said as he handed you the book. You hummed softly in appreciation as he continued, “It’s a vicious cycle, actually. Dude would totally fall apart without me.”

“That’s nice.” You tipped your chin up towards him and grinned, “Totally bogus, but still nice.”

“I told you.” His smile was smug, but somehow still dopey enough to be charming, “I’m a nice guy.”

Your thighs started to ache from squatting in the same position for so long, so you dropped onto your knees, shivering as your bare skin pressed against the cold hardwood floor. “I’m still not sharing my sacrificial blood discount with you.”

“Guess I have to get a job here, then,” Stiles shrugged and leaned against the bookcase, jerking back a bit when he turned his head and came face-to-face with a yellow-eyed taxidermied owl. He turned it around until the glass eyes were safely pointed in the opposite direction and said, “That way I can drive you nuts all day long and become a master wizard.”

You clicked your tongue; the cluck rang with saccharinely sweet pity, “Sucks that you’re only qualified for the first part.”

“Yeah? How’d you get the job, then? You clearly don’t respect the craft.” Stiles ran his spindly fingers along a row of spines, and you wondered if he could play the piano. He certainly had the hands for it. 

“Mags knew my mom, so…” you chewed on your lip until the metallic tang of copper burst on the tip of your tongue. You abruptly returned your attention to shelving the Wicca section and fiddled with the spines until they were all perfectly in line with each other, “It’s more nepotism than anything else, but I do take the history books home sometimes.”

Stiles looked at you, and the prickling sensation of being seen started slithering through your nervous system again. It took you a few tries to get Greek and Roman Necromancy to slip into the small gap on the shelf in front of you. Stiles crouched down next to you. His mouth was twisted around a sly smile, but you could see the earnestness in his eyes, “Witch training?”

You grinned a little, grateful for the out, “Hardly. I just like the lore.”

“Yeah,” Stiles’ gaze drifted towards the book he ordered; the wolves’ gleaming eyes were almost hypnotic, “me too.” 

“I’d hope so, for 50 bucks.” you nudged his knee with your elbow, and he swayed precariously on his perched toes and then shot you a glare that lacked any actual malice. “There are cheaper D&D monster manuals, y’know.”

He snickered and elbowed you in the ribs, gently but his bony limbs were sharp and unforgiving, “I knew you were a nerd.”

You were tempted to rebut the accusation, but he already had far too much evidence to the contrary. At least, he didn’t know about your Data/Geordi fanfiction phase—and no one ever would, you thought darkly. You’d have to kill them, probably, or at the very least flee the country. “At least I’m not a sucker.” You stood up and brushed off your socks, though there was nothing to be done about the red indentations on your kneecaps from kneeling on oak flooring for so long, “Just how easy would it be to convince you to drop another 50 on a replica Byzantine amulet?”

Stiles held out his hand, shaking it in the air incessantly for far too long. You tilted your head and tried not to smirk at his predicament. The longer you watched him struggle, the more pathetic his pleading became. Eventually, Stiles groaned and pushed himself onto his feet with exaggerated effort, “Obviously not very. Evil spirit didn’t even crack the top 20 on my suspect pool.”

“Got it.” You propped your arm on top of an antique guillotine, bent elbow crooked along the wooden pillory. Stiles stared at the rusted blade and then gawked at your arm. He looked like he was a few seconds away from shoving you out of the way, even though the edge was dull with age and safely secured to the iron frame with thick rope. Rolling your eyes, you stepped away from the antique and trailed your fingers over a less forbidding oddity. 

You spun the brass globe a few times and said, “So silver bullets, then? I’m sure there’s some kind of bulk-discount we can work out.”

Stiles’ eyes snapped to your face, “What?”

“You know,” you gestured towards the order he abandoned while buzzing after you like an especially tenacious mosquito, “for all the werewolves running around town. Thought you’d already know that, being a wannabe wizard n’all.” 

“Right.” Stiles’s jaw shut with a click as he ran his hand over his head, “Duh.” He rubbed at his bicep and swallowed a few times before clearing his throat, “Didn’t get to that chapter yet. Clearly, I’ve got a lot of studying to do before I graduate from apprentice to master.” 

You squinted at him, mulling over if you should call him out on his odd behavior or just chalk it up to his usual weirdness. Maggie materialized behind you before you could do either. She placed her hands on your shoulders, squeezing softly, and then shuffled you to the side so that she could join your little circle, “I’m strictly anti-gun violence; the NRA hates me—but we do carry wolfsbane essence.”

“Don’t say essence,” you grimaced.

“We have some wolfsbane goo in the back.” Maggie pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and pivoted back to you, “Happy?”

“Not even remotely.” You turned towards Stiles, finally grateful for his presence. Usually, you were on your own in your never-ending believer versus non-believer disputes, and Maggie was somehow under the impression that she wasn’t massively outnumbered beyond these four spooky walls. Oddly, Stiles looked lost in thought. The one time you needed his dismissive snark, and he just had to actually consider the opposing side.

“Is this like the dove juice thing?” Stiles watched Maggie’s face closely, astute eyes tracking every minute twitch and flicker in her expression. It was easy to make out all the different pieces of Sheriff Stilinski in his face like this. You could see the calculations running behind his eyes, the strings coming together, the chess pieces moving. The effect was startlingly piercing. “Or is this actually the real deal?”

You stared at him, face scrunched in bewilderment, but Maggie was undeterred, “We only sell the real deal in the back, to the honored few.”

Stiles looked towards you, his right brow raised. You sighed, folding your arms over your chest and flicking your hair over your shoulder, “Real useless, but…yeah. The plants are real I guess.”

Maggie winked, “I’ll even give you the friends and family discount.”

You scoffed, “We aren’t friends.”

Stiles frowned, momentarily distracted from his intense investigation of Maggie’s body language, “We aren’t?”

You licked your rapidly drying lips and shook your head slightly, more confused than indignant. Truth be told, you’d expected him to agree with you. You hadn’t known each other for long, and he seemed to be more interested in your connection to Lydia than forming one with you. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that he wanted to talk to you about anything else. It’d been a long time since anyone wanted to, that’s all. The friends who hugged you at the funeral, they stopped coming around a long time ago, and they still avoided you at school—like you were contagious, like you’d leak radiation and your misery would metastasize in their bone marrow. You still woke up crying sometimes, throat claggy with stubborn shadows, choking on the hollow bones of picked-apart memories—too busy shoveling dirt to consider tomorrow. 

You scratched at your arm absently and rolled your eyes, slowly, so that everyone could see how utterly unaffected you were, “It’s a couple hundred bucks for a few millimeters of emulsified weeds. If we were friends, I wouldn’t even let you buy something so stupid.”

Stiles’s frown quickly curved into a crooked grin, boyishly charming and vexingly sure, “Sounds like that’s exactly what you’re trying to do.”

Maggie reappeared through the door to the back room, locking it with one of the many keys dangling from her strawberry lanyard. You didn’t have a clue when she’d disappeared to begin with, but the vial clutched in her hand was far more interesting. It was filled with a thick purple liquid, so dark it was almost black. Maggie held it out to Stiles and laughed at his inquisitive stare, “It’s on the house this time, ‘cause you’re such good friends with my darlingest girl.”

Eventually, Stiles took the vial from her hand. “Yeah, darling,” Stiles smirked and rolled the vial between his long fingers, “‘cause we’re such good friends.” The liquid sloshed slowly, a little like a lava lamp, and you kind of wanted to stuff it down his throat.

“Careful with that,” Maggie blinked at you behind her thick lenses. She wasn’t grinning or winking. It was a little eerie to see her so still, like her body had been snatched by a pod person and it was trying to mimic casual human behavior. “It's potent stuff. Shish-kebab a were with that, and they’ll be dead by sunrise—humans too, obviously, so please don’t stick it in your mouth.”

“If you can even get that close,” Stiles muttered to himself as he held the vial up to his pinched gaze.

“To a werewolf,” you deadpanned, looking between the two of them, searching their faces for any indication of irony. Bat-shit. Your grand total of two friends were both certifiably batty.

Stiles was too busy looking at the back of Maggie’s head to absorb your mockery. Your brow furrowed at the intensity of his stare until your attention was diverted to the dusky orange cast over his skin. You glanced out the window; daylight was rapidly fading. Was it really already almost 8:30? “You should probably head home,” you raised your chin towards the door, “if you don’t want to run into the big bad wolf with a purple goo heavy arsenal.” 

He let out a little laugh, more like a breath really, and muttered, “You have no idea.” Your forehead crinkled as you parsed over whatever the hell that meant, and Stiles shoved the book he ordered into his already overcrowded backpack. “I’ll see you at school.”

Your chin bobbed as you gave him a little nod. You lifted Gizmo from his bed of tasseled meditation cushions, for your own comfort this time, and nosed into his matted fur. Maybe, Stiles was just…really into larping, or maybe he was just…a really dedicated collector of supernatural keepsakes—because there was absolutely no way that you just naturally attracted delusional conspiracy theorists. You’d already met your quota of one the moment you were born. 

“Get home safe.” Stiles’s voice pulled your face from Gizmo’s neck. He lingered against the doorframe, clutching his backpack strap. The corner of his mouth cocked into a tight smile, “No more dead batteries after dark, okay? I’ll kick your ass if you get eaten.”

You took a moment to smile, but once you did, it unfurled over your entire face like sunset coating the store in a golden glow. The corners of your eyes crinkled as you shook your head a little, “I’ll try to restrain myself from killing any more cars.”

“Friends,” Stiles grinned and pointed at you, “we’re totally friends.” He ducked out the door before you had the chance to disagree, but you couldn’t decide if you really wanted to this time. 

You almost dropped Gizmo when Maggie bumped you with your hip. “Who the hell was that?” 

“Stiles. He’s…” you waved your hand in the air and eventually settled on, “a friend.”

Maggie stroked the gray fluff on Gizmo’s cheek, cooed when he rubbed his face against her palm, and then pursed her lips, “Uh huh.”

You shrugged and buried your nose in Gizmo’s neck again, taking solace in the fact that at least half of your face was hidden by silver fur, “So he’s more like a fungus in my life.”

Maggie’s grin was insufferable. Her cheeks dimpled, and her eyes nearly disappeared into happy little crescent moons, “Uh huh.”

You glowered at a stuffed crow perched on top of a water-logged armoire; there was a shine in its beaded eyes that appeared a lot like laughter. “You are the single most irritating person I have ever met.”

It was an admirable trait, never getting upset, never getting offended—but at the moment you wished that Maggie wasn’t so idealistic. She simply gave you a smile that was annoyingly wrought with meaning and took Gizmo from your arms. “Whoever the hell he is, he’s right. Get your ass home before the Wolf Man bites it.”

Maggie wiggled her fingers in the air, and you shoved them away from your face. “I’m going. I’m going.” You paused at the door, gave the store one last look and Gizmo a little good-bye wave, “Seriously, mini-taser, Mags. Prime shipping’s gotta be faster than the spirit realm.” At the very least, a taser might actually have a chance against whatever carnivore was hell-bent on ruining your sophomore year.

[mayajadewrites]

Levi Ackerman x Reader - Almost

Chapter 3: Taste

Modern AU Levi Ackerman x Reader fanfic I've been dying to write! Levi is my latest hyper fixation so this was bound to happen. There will be other AOT characters in the mix, but remember this is a modern AU!

Chapter Summary: Levi stops in the coffee shop again to ask reader out on another date. We get a bit of Levi's POV and some backstory!

WARNING: SOME SMUT AHEAD

ao3 link

The next day you wake up with butterflies in your stomach and an intense feeling of anxiety in your body.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Your alarm read 6 AM. You have to be at work by 7, and you'll probably walk in to the 9-5 crowd.

To be honest, you barely slept. You kept replaying last night over and over in your head until you eventually nodded off to sleep. Seeing Levi's name on your phone screen made your heart soar, so you knew you needed to push your feelings down. Levi is not the type of man to show PDA, or even tell you he likes you.

From what you can tell, he definitely at least tolerates you.

As you got out of the shower, you saw your phone screen light up.

Levi: Good morning. I hope you slept well.

Levi Ackerman texts like an old man. But its cute.

You: Good morning, I slept like a baby. How did you sleep?

You lied. Obviously. You didn't sleep because you were too busy thinking about the very man you were texting.

Levi: I didn't.

You: ??? You didn't sleep?

Levi: No. I rarely do. I'll see you soon, brat.

It's not very surprising that Levi doesn't sleep much if at all, but that still worried you. Sleep is very important when it comes to basic life functioning, and you know Levi's life is filled with stress.

You put on your uniform and put your hair in a half up, half down style. One day when you own your own coffee shop, there won't be any uniforms.

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

"I can help who's next." You look up from the register, only to see your favorite pair of eyes.

"Medium black tea please." Levi peered through his jet black locks. His undercut looks freshly done, he must've done it after our date last night.

Date? Hang out?

"Will you ever try a new drink?" You smile at him, tapping the numbers in on the iPad.

"No. I like what I like and it hasn't done me wrong yet." Levi handed you his card in between his pointer and middle finger. "Are you busy this weekend?"

"I'm not actually. I have the weekend off." You slide his card and hand it back to him. "Any exciting plans for you?"

"Maybe." Levi shrugged, putting his card in his sleek wallet. "If you say yes."

This caught you off guard. Levi wanted to hang out again? So soon?

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕ LEVI ☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

I'm not good with communicating my emotions. That is unbearably obvious. I have never been the type to step out of my comfort zone and confess my true feelings to anyone.

This all started with my mother. Of course.

After witnessing her die, I did not want to speak ever again. She was everything to me. Not only was I a child, but I was an only child. A child is not supposed to lose their mom so early on in life.

I honestly rarely have feelings for anyone. I have... 2 friends. Erwin and Hange. So 1 and a half.

I currently see a therapist because I'm 30 years old and I'm getting the feeling that I want to be settled down soon. You know, kids and all that. I'm already a CEO, I have the house of my dreams, but I'm missing someone to share it with.

I've tried dating. No woman ever sticks. Either they just want sex, my money, or attention. They never want me.

When I met her, I felt a tingle in my chest. Seeing her face every morning and getting my tea for me gives me the same feeling every day.

So, my therapist told me to step up and ask her out.

It took me 6 months - but I did it.

Our date, if we want to call it that, since I'm not sure what she thought of it, went perfectly. Her personality meshes with mine in a way that it's written in novels. I can be rather dry with my sense of humor, but she gets it. She gets me.

I didn't kiss her last night, or even hug her, but God do I want to. I'm not sure if I get a taste of her if I'll ever be able to let go.

An image of her was playing over and over in my head as I was showering last night, her black dress clinging to her curves. Her thighs peeking out of her stockings drove me crazy. But I kept my composure.

Obviously, I had to relieve myself. In the shower. Thinking of her.

I haven't even touched her yet and she has me like this.

My therapist said that it's okay for me to feel this intensely, that it's 'normal'. Who even decides what's normal anyways?

I haven't told Hange or Erwin about her yet, and I don't plan too until if and when we decide to actually be together. I don't need their opinions or Hange's excitement rumbling in my ear.

"If you say yes." I sip my tea, looking at her. Her eyes were doe-like, which made the pit of my stomach feel hot.

"Let me know what you wanna do, I'm yours this weekend." She smiled, helping the next customer in line.

Does she know that my dick is hard right now because of what she just said? How little she just said?

I lifted my cup and left the cafe, heading towards my car to go to the office.

Bzzzzzz.

"Ackerman, can you come in earlier? A few people want to meet with you about a project they want you to fund." Hange almost screamed into the phone.

"4 eyes, I can hear you perfectly fine if you talk at a normal tone. Yeah, I'm on my way."

"Well I can't control the volume!"

"You actually can. Goodbye." I hung up, starting the car. I glanced at the window of the coffee shop, watching her smile at customers and hand them their drinks. Her smile warmed my cold heart, slowly defrosting the ice that encases it.

Does she know she's all I can think about?

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕ BRATTY BARISTA ☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

You cannot believe you just told Levi Ackerman you were his this weekend. Did he think you were a slut? Did he think you were gonna put out?

That thought left your brain when you remembered who you were talking about. Levi Ackerman is a gentleman before anything, which he's shown you.

You heard your coworker Nina call your name, who also happens to be one of your good friends.

"Did that fine ass man ask you out this weekend?!" She leaned against the counter, smiling. "I knew he wanted to get with you!"

"Yes, we went out last night too actually." A blush blessed your cheeks as you washed your hands.

"How was the short king? How were his lips?!"

"We didn't kiss." You looked at her, hoping she wouldn't drag the conversation further.

"What?! So was it even a date? I usually go way farther than a kiss on a first date-"

"Did you date Levi Ackerman?" You tilted your head, emphasizing Levi's name. "I'm not rushing anything. I enjoy his company."

"I'm just saying, he looks rather kissable."

"Obviously, Nina." Your eyes rolled so far they could've gotten stuck in the back of your head. "Trust me, I want to kiss him. I would love to jump his bones. I want to every time he walks in here."

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

After your shift, you were relieved you were off for the weekend. You worked the regular 8 hours today and needed to decompress from all of the customer service.

Bzzzzz.

Levi: I was thinking we could grab a coffee tomorrow morning and head to the flea market. Not a coffee from your job though. Thoughts?

Was this man in your head?

You: That sounds amazing, actually. What time is my chariot arriving?

Levi: 8 AM. Not like you're not used to seeing me early in the morning anyways.

You: Ay-ay captain.

You've never dealt with a man that made plans for you. The fact that Levi suggested quite literally your favorite morning activities for a date made you swoon.

You spent the rest of your afternoon/night cleaning your apartment and finishing the lastest novel you picked up. Nina sent you outfit inspo for tomorrow but you were not in the mood to show off your tits at 8AM.

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

Wakeup call was 6 AM so you could make sure you were ready for your Range Rover chariot to wisk you away. Your shower helped wake you up, even though your anxiety has kept you up most of the night.

You opted for a pair of straight leg barely ripped jeans, an oversized crewneck, and platform white converse. You accessorized with various layered necklaces and small gold hoop earrings.

Makeup with your usual small winged liner with glowy skin and glossy lips. By the time you were done with everything, it was 7:45. You sprayed your favorite marshmallow vanilla perfume before grabbing your purse and checking your phone.

Nina: Good luck today! Kiss those perfect lips!!

You: I'm about to send you a video of me rolling my eyes.

Bzzzzz.

Levi: I'm early again. Your chariot awaits.

You smiled at your phone, grabbing your coat. You saw Levi's car through your window, his eyes glued onto your door. Once you walked out, Levi got out of the car and opened the passenger door.

Levi was wearing a casual outfit himself, black jeans with a grey (cashmere?) sweater, and loafers. God, he smelled good too.

"Good morning." Levi closed your door, getting back in his seat. "You look cozy."

"Thank you, so do you." You smile at him, memorizing every inch of his face. You wanted to lean in and kiss him right then and there, but you did not want to make the first move.

You weren't going to.

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

Once you parked, you walked to a coffee shop that's in the midst of the flea market. Part of you wondered why one of the richest men in the city would shop at a flea market.

Levi pressed his hand to the small of your back, ushering you out of the coffee shop. His touch sent sparks up your body.

You and Levi strolled through the different vendors, sipping your drinks and talking. You caught Levi looking at your hand a little too much, especially when you threw out your cup.

More people started to show up to the flea market, causing the crowd to get larger. Levi looked more tense, darting his eyes at every exit.

"I didn't know it would get so crowded." You try to break his thoughts, looking up at him.

Levi took your hand in his, slowly intertwining his fingers with yours. "I don't wanna lose you." Levi said so casually. You know he meant he didn't want to lose you in the crowd, but you also felt that he meant that in another way.

"Do you want to get out of here and head to my apartment? It's getting too crowded to walk." You suggest, pressing your hand against his.

"Yes please."

You've learned that Levi Ackerman does not like crowds, partially because it forces him to do PDA.

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

You are thankful you cleaned your apartment yesterday. Everything was in it's place, and it smelled good. Not that it didn't usually, but you live alone so if you don't clean it, no one else will.

Levi took his shoes off at the door with you, taking in his surroundings.

"You have nice taste." Levi helped you take off your coat, hanging it in your closet.

"Thank you. I try." You smile, turning to face Levi. "Thank you for this morning." You inch closer to him, watching his eyes search your face.

"Thank you for every morning." Levi leaned in, bringing his hand to your cheek gently.

For what felt like years, you and Levi looked in each other's eyes. You had a full conversation with just your eyes.

Levi eliminated the space between you and pressed his lips to yours. His lips are pillow soft and taste like mint. You slowly wrap your arms around his neck, dragging your fingers along his undercut.

His lips moved in rhythm with yours, sliding his hands down your curves to your ass. You smile against his lips, pressing your chest to his.

"If you want to stop, I-" Levi pulled away, looking in your eyes.

"Levi, please." You almost whimper, bringing his lips back to yours. You lead your bodies to the couch, straddling Levi's waist. You open your mouth as he's kissing you, letting his tongue in. His fingertips softly dragged down your back, making sure to squeeze your ass every now and then.

His tongue slipped in your mouth, exploring every inch of it. You sucked on it gently as you felt your core start to pulsate, begging for attention.

Levi moaned quietly against your lips - you could barely hear it but it happened. Your hips started moving in rhythm, his erection pressing against his jeans.

Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzz. Bzzzz.

You pulled away from Levi, staring down at his pocket.

"I'm gonna kill whoever is calling me." Levi pulled his phone out of his pocket, rolling his eyes at the screen. "I'm sorry, it's Erwin. The President of Ackerman Inc. I have to take this, he doesn't usually call."

You nod and roll off of him, your core needy as fuck and your lips missing his.

[bagopucks]

N. Hischier - Smile Again

✄————————————

Nico Hischier x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

She’s a long one, with a possible part 2

Warning(s): depression, talk of injury, not eating?

—————————————

Work is exhausting. That much, is apparent to me. I don’t know why it has to be so tiresome. I don’t know why I ever thought traveling would be so much fun. I enjoyed it at first. I loved it even. Being an architectural drafter was a dream I’d had since I was old enough to develop decent art skills. I grew up in a small city in Ohio, Wheeling. The buildings were known for their old exterior and design. I used to walk the streets of that city after school with my brother on the way home. I used to jerk on his arm and stop him to point out the designs and colors.

Traveling, at one point, had been my favorite part of the job. After graduating from college with a degree in my field, I found a company in New Jersey that I loved. I hadn’t been thrilled about the location, but I was willing to make sacrifices for the income and the dream of doing what I loved. I’ve only been out of the country once, and in many states aside from where I currently reside. The coasts were my favorite. But traveling quickly lost its luster when I met Nico. My brother had been in town visiting, and with the Blue Jackets playing the Devils on one of the evenings he was there, he decided to buy tickets and take me. I grew up in a sports family, and I was particularly fond of football, but hockey was never my style per se. After the Devils won, my brother insisted we go out to grab a bite to eat in the cultural district of the city. A place that had some of the most wonderful food I’ve ever eaten.

I met Nico in an Italian restaurant. A mom and pop type of location. I don’t know what possessed me to interrupt his meal, but he’d been alone, and he was beautiful under the soft warm glow of a half burnt out light bulb overhead. My brother looked horrified when I went to speak to the dark haired man, but I hadn’t realized until later that evening, that my brother hadn’t been horrified, he’d been betrayed. He had the same look on his face when I told him Nico and I had gotten together. It made Nico giggle.

Traveling was something Nico was used to. Something he had a love hate relationship with, as did I. He loved traveling to experience new cultures in the states. He loved the foods and trying to find places that reminded him of Sweden. He enjoyed finding me little gifts and postcards. His favorite routine he’d fallen into, was trying to find my name on the little necklaces and license plates that souvenir stores have. Some days he is lucky, and others he is not. But it gives us something more to look forward to when he arrives home.

With his most recent injury though, it has been me who is trying and failing again and again to find his name on anything. Nico had broken his ankle about a week ago. And in that week, I’d done my best to look after him and keep him distracted. Nothing pains him more to be away from his team and his career. But when I was informed that I would be traveling again, for a special project, my heart sank. I used to love traveling. Now I love Nico. And to leave him in a time of need.. it hurt to think about.

When I broke the news to him, he put on a brave face. He pursed his lips and nodded up at me from the couch. I could hear Adam Sandler yelling at a golf ball from the iPad on his lap while the gears in his head seemed to turn. He’d always been insistent that the huge flat screen on the wall was never close enough to enjoy each and every little detail. Sometimes I wondered if he needed glasses. In this moment, I wondered if he would need a better support system. I ended up on the couch with him that night, leaning back against the arm rest at one end, with Nico laying between my legs, his head resting against my chest while he finished his movie and picked another. By the time we slinked off to bed, I could tell the news had finally sank in. I felt too guilty to hold him. Too horrible to even ask for affection before I left. So I slept facing away from him while he stared at the back of my head and tried to find a way to ask if I could stay.

Nico never came up with anything. By the morning, I was packed, had kissed my boyfriend goodbye, and slipped out the door. Before I boarded my flight, I made sure to text Jack and remind him to check up on Nico here and there, and even offer to get him out of the house. As long as it wasn’t for hockey. Nico called the first few nights, and texted me nonstop, but eventually his attempts to reach out had dwindled. I feared that he had gotten sick of the long distance. Despite the fact that he is always the one away for work, I couldn’t shake the feeling that me being gone caused him to feel some form of neglect. I reached out to ask how he was doing a few times, but overall I gave him his space for the remainder of the week. By Saturday, today, I was shaking in my boots- trying to get him to answer the phone. What if he wasn’t okay? What if he hated me for leaving?

I only asked Jack twice over the time I’d been gone, how Nico was. And each time, the middle Hughes brother had responded with, ‘he’s doing good.’ No more, no less. I didn’t know that they hadn’t actually spent any time together. I knew I couldn’t text Jack today though, because he was at a morning skate. Instead, I focused my nerves on my bouncing knees and endless flight snacks. And Tetris. Once I landed, I had found an Uber and told the man up front my address. Usually I’d ask someone to pick me up, but my mind was hyper focused on Nico, and an Uber would get me to him faster than one of his teammates.

I tried texting one last time, hopeful that this one would warrant a response: Hey, Nix! I’m on my way home from the airport. Be there in 10.

I went the full ten minutes frantically checking my phone every time I psyched myself into feeling a buzz or hearing a ding. I never got a response.

The moment the taxi pulled over, I already had money in my hand, rushing the words ‘keep the change’ out of my mouth as I scrambled out of the car and dragged my suitcase and laptop bag with me. A wheel on my suitcase broke off when the bag nicked the curb, causing curses to fall from my lips as I spared one look at the lost piece of my unnecessarily expensive bag. One look was all it got, before I was dashing inside the apartment complex I’d known for a year. I almost took the steps before talking myself down from the adrenaline. You’d never get up to your floor before passing out. It was a trip that would have been faster for Nico and his strong legs, but not me. So I waited uncomfortably in the elevator, alongside an elderly woman who wore such a bright smile it made me want to ask her how she could be so happy in a situation like this.

“I swear, suitcases just fall apart at horrible times. Don’t they?” The woman spoke up, and I finally turned my head to look at her. She had blonde but greying hair. Shorter than me- though we’d be close to the same height if I wasn’t wearing converses with thick soles. Perhaps in her 50’s. She was wearing a smile on pink painted lips that matched her bright pink shirt. Her clothes were nothing special, but she looked like a supermodel in that outfit compared to Nico’s navy sweatpants that I wore- and the dark green crop top that was wrinkled everywhere. “There’s a place at the mall that sells great bags. A lot more durable than that piece of junk.”

I could tell she wasn’t trying to be rude, merely insulting a bag that had the audacity to lose a piece of itself when it was needed most. I didn’t realize that my boyfriend was in the same situation in a room up above. I huffed out a ‘thank you’ when the elevator doors opened, stepping out and making a sharp turn down the hall, jogging with the weight of two bags holding me down. The second I got to the apartment door, I dropped my laptop bag. Not my brightest moment.. but Nico.

I fished in my pockets for the keys to the door before finding them, my hands shaking as my anxieties bubbled over the edge of my emotional dam. After I got the door unlocked, I grabbed my laptop bag, moving it maybe a foot from outside of the door to the inside, before dropping it on the floor and setting my suitcase down. The broken wheel was long forgotten until the suitcase fell with a hard slam, the sound echoing through the eerily quiet and dark apartment. I let the door swing shut behind me, fear and hesitance filling my chest as I examined the area around me.

“Nico?” Maybe he wasn’t home. My eyes flickered toward the mat that sat beside the door frame. Nico’s favorite shoes were still there. I looked toward the living room to my left, taking notice of the way the blinds were overlapped to minimize the amount of light that came through. I made my way over to the couch, snatching up the unfolded blanket and the iPad left out. “Nico!” I called again, this time a little more forcefully. Maybe he’d rear his head if he thought I was mad.

He did not. I finally decided to face my fears, holding me back from trudging down the hall to find him. What was I so afraid of? “Baby, I’m home.” I let out a soft sigh, the blanket I held dragging the ground like a child going to find their mother in the night. I peeked into the bathroom, not a single thing out of place. I stopped by the small guest room -which we turned into a reading room of sorts- but he wasn’t in there either. I should have assumed he was in our bedroom. It was the only door in the apartment that was closed. I adopted a much quieter step as I twisted the doorknob, pushing the white barrier open, wincing at the creak.

“Nico.” I whispered this time, wondering if maybe he was asleep. But the blankets on our bed were a holy mess.. and nowhere to be found was my devil. So I left the iPad and blanket on the bed, and checked the master bathroom. Nothing. Not even a towel on the floor. Which he was guilty of leaving from time to time. As I went to close the bathroom door, I finally heard a shuffle- my head whipping as the rest of my body turned to look back into the bedroom. A pair of feet finally appeared from behind the corner of the bed. Silence followed the shuffle, and movement ceased. Relief flooded my system for a solid second before I began to wonder why he was laying on the floor. I cautiously made my way around the bed, leaning forward to see him before I even crossed the room. My heart broke.

Of all the time I’d known Nico, I’ve only ever seen him truly upset maybe a handful of times. He’s a sweet man. A caring one. A driven one. He doesn’t like to open up, and I can understand. Nobody likes to feel like a bother. But this look? A glazed over, empty, lost look.. it was not something I’d ever known his face to hold. He was curled up on the floor, wearing an old teal sweatshirt of mine that I bought in college. It was meant to be over sized on me, but on him it fit just right. He had on a pair of sweats as well, one pant leg bunched up to his knee -so it wouldn’t bother his cast- while the other was just above his ankle. I would have assumed he just took the best nap of his life, but the darkness under his eyes accompanied by red let me know that he hadn’t slept in a while.

I questioned if Nico had earbuds in, but I couldn’t see from the way the hood of my sweatshirt was pulled over his head. I carefully stepped over him, my heart clenching as I slowly knelt down, reaching out to gently pull the hood from Nico’s head. No earbuds, and completely unresponsive. “Nico, baby. What are you doing?” My words were soft, slowly sitting down as I ran my hand through his hair, grimacing momentarily at the feeling of it. My fingers caught in a few tangles, and what was once silky smooth was now greasy. His eyes seemed to reluctantly meet mine, hopeless and yet asking for answers I couldn’t provide. I realized that just as I didn’t know what was going on, he didn’t seem to either. But he wouldn’t talk to me. And then I realized-

My college roommate used to have similar behaviors. Sometimes she would get that dazed and lost look in her eyes. Like she didn’t know what she was living for. Like she had lost a piece of herself and didn’t have the strength to fight to have it back. When she opened up, she called them depressive episodes. I’d always offered to help, but she never let me into her life enough to feel comfortable asking for that assistance when she needed it.

“Okay baby.” I sat down while nodding, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. I thought he would have been fine without me. I continued to run my hand through his hair, watching as his face contorted and his brows knit together. Like he was trying to solve a difficult math problem. Not exactly in pain, simply frustrated. When his eyes opened again, they were full of tears, and those thick droplets fell down his cheeks without the aid of any blinking. “Shhh,” I cooed, immediately laying down beside him, and wrapping an arm around him. I’ve never had more strength in my life than I did in that moment, hoisting my heartbroken lover onto my chest as I lay on my back, wrapping my arms around him as sobs began to wrack his body.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t cry too, but my tears were nothing compared to the wails and moans of pure agony that fell from my lover’s lips. When he began to breathe too hard, I would ease my hold on him and whisper numbers and patterns to follow until he settled. And when he cried too hard, I would squeeze him tighter and assure him he was loved, that I was there now, and that I wouldn’t leave him alone again for a really long time. I promised him hockey would return soon, and that we could even visit practices together. I tried to remind him of things he loved and emotions he felt other than what he was experiencing now. I held his head and I kissed his temples, I swear I felt his heart physically break at some point.

What was hours felt like minutes, until the pain settled to a subtle sting in both of our chests- and in our eyes. Nico still refused to speak, but I couldn’t push him. Nor would I. I continued to hold him despite the numbness in my body, feeling him shift occasionally, though he only ever moved his head from my neck to get a breath of air.

“I know you don’t want to hear this right now.. but we should try to get up, okay?” My friend in college used to tell me the hardest part was actually doing anything. I assumed that was why Nico’s hair was so gross, and why I could feel his hip bones pressed against my own, more defined than usual. I was given no response, but I knew Nico well enough to navigate him without words. “Let’s get a shower, sweetie. C’mon.” I tried to pull out from under him, only to feel Nico’s head sway from the crook of my neck and drape over my shoulder. His face was a sight to behold, but even snotty, messy, and asleep, he looked beautiful. My heart hurt for him. So much so that it made my chest hurt, and my stomach turn. “Okay.. just a short nap.”

I wasn’t getting up any time soon. I don’t know when the last time Nico slept was, and I didn’t want to chance him not sleeping again if I woke him up now. So I wrapped my arms back around him, and readjusted his head on my shoulder, supporting him physically and mentally with occasional whispers of love as he snored softly. He wasn’t okay. Far from it. But we would navigate this thing together. I’d travel to the ends of the earth to find the thing that made him happy again. And this time, I’d take him with me.

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

[hollyhomburg]

(mafia hoseok, slice of life, fluff, stockholm syndrome, meta stuff, this is a little self-indulgent and very self-referential, a tiny bit smutty at moments but i wouldn't call this nsfw, blood, violence, guns)

i wanna write a story with mafia boss hoseok who adopts his sisters children after they die cuz of mafia reasons along with his fiance. hoseok of course, decimates the rival group who took them away from him, but after the fire and revenge has settled, there is just hoseok, just hoseok and two kids who need him.

it's not that bad, the little boy one is mainly taken care of by his men. hoseok does his best to keep them safe and separated from his criminal empire. gives them everything they could want, trusts only his inner circle of 6 to look after them.

the older one- a plucky 13 year old girl is a little bit more of a handful mostly because she asks too many questions about things hoseok cannot answer without being culpable "why do you have blood on your shoes? what kind of handgun do you carry and can i see it? why do you always talk really softly at home but yell loudly when you're in the basement?"

hoseok- knowing that the basement is a literal torture chamber, sweating, "don't you just want money for shopping or something?"

"no, i wanna become your partner, the way that mom was"

"you are literally 13"

"didn't you start when you where my age?"

"can't i just? get you a new handbag or something?" idk i just love the idea of hoseok- whose tired of his job and pissed off by it on a good day vs. a 13 year old who just wants to be a crime princess so bad.

They but heads near constantly, when she's caught sneaking out from her all girls school to smoke cigarettes, when she buys a moped with the card hoseok got her, when she tries to leave the country to go to fashion week like her mom used too (of course hoseok goes with her- but still- she's not very good at asking for permission vs forgiveness)

Obviously he's like- barely adjusting to being a parent, and grieving the loss of fiance and sister too. he's lonely and struggling with the things in his life that aren't the crime bits, he's not against admitting that, but allowing anyone, woman or man, into his life barely 5 years after they've passed feels like a betrayal.

it goes like that, slice of life, mafia man hoseok and dad hoseok chased togeather. he tries his best to show up for dance recitals (the young beta boy really really likes balet and god forbid hoseok stop anything, even convention, from getting in the way of his pups dreams,) regularly scolds the alpha girl for trying to bring her boyfriends around, "you're too young to have boyfriends" "they're just my friends boyfriends" "still, wait until you're 16- or better yet- 18"

There just isn't a shortage of problems concerning the kids, it's one thing after another. Until one night in his study, hoseok's ledgers spread out in front of him while he reclines on a tufted sette, one of his men comes to the door, an ipad in his hands and a guilty look on his face. Hoseok snaps his fingers without looking up. "we- ugh- caught her reading fanfiction again, not the appropriate sort boss."

Hoseok groans because holy fuck he was no prepared to deal with a teenage girl in his mid 30's. let alone puberty again. But then again, he's a little curious, reads a few lines of the fanfic....

Only to find out it's an exact copy of his and his ex's life, down to the things that they've said on their first date. Their first time, even her untimely death down to her last words, words that he hasn't told anyone ever. Hoseok doesn't sleep as he reads through it. The only thing that's different is their names. here, here are memories even hoseok has forgotten. It's impossible, how could someone know all this?

oh, someone knows, and he's going to tear them apart.

Of course he finds the author. using the resources of his criminal empire to track them down. he has his men abduct her. the perfect crime, executed down to the moment she's snatched. he knows the autorities will never find her or even a hint of his orginization. he brings her down into that torture room and decides....not to kill her after talking to her.

hoseok is like something out of a romance novel, the kind of one she publishes irl and not the kind that she writes and posts on the internet. intimidating and beautiful with his crossed legs, red hair, strong jaw and piercing eyes. Of course, she only publishes things as fanfiction when she feels she needs too. other stories that she feels are more polished and less an extension of her own emotions, get the published book treatment. She's already absorbing details of this, the bite of the ropes against her wrists, the damp feeling of a cloth pressed over her mouth, it's a little bit fucked up but she's only thinking "this is gonna make for some good fanfic" and not about her safety.

hoseok has only met two types of peopke, the ones that are smart and scared of him, and the ones that are stupid and unafraid.

so what if she's got a bit of a deathwish, hoseok is a little impressed, having made grown men cry and piss themselves in that very chair, she's not afraid of him whatsoever. that alone, is what keeps him from killing her. maybe it reminds him a little bit of his exfiance, the way she looks at him without fear, like he's not the boss or dad, he's just hobi.

"So you mean i'm going to stay with you, your prisoner, until you figure out how i know what i know?"

"Yes that's the jist of it. Until you confess."

"there's nothing to confess, i just- thought of it on my own, i don't know what to tell you." hoseok looks for any connection, any of the fanfic authors family, if they were connected to his fiance in any way, but truly- there is nothing in her past that connects her to him, she wasn't even living in his city before now.

it's simply a trick perhaps, or just a coincidence. Hoseok doesn't believe in coincidences.

Only, Hoseok isn't cruel enough to keep her downstairs after the first few days when his interrogations turn more...conversations. Maybe he pours over the fanfic's and asks her about specific lines the one, "nothing's broken you yet, so you have no reason to belive this will too" thats been his personal mantra for year. how could she know things that he's never told anyone is beyond him.

The house has plenty of rooms and hoseok has plenty of men to keep an eye on her, he probably puts a tracking anklet on her just incase. and of course he finds her writing on bits of paper because he won't give her a laptop.

and then Hoseok's nice gets her fingers in everything. fucking shit up as she has a talent of doing. maybe hoseok intends it to be casual "this is my friend, she's going to be staying here for the time being, be nice to her and stay out of her hair" why does hoseok feel the need to suggest the kids be nice to her? she's literally a prisoner.

but of course, hoseok's nice looks at her, turns to hoseok and says "🥺 you got me my favorite fanfic author for my birthday uncle hobi?" immediatlly- the jig is up, they talk, the mc is really kinda nice to the kid because she's not an asshole.

Of course hoseok begs her to go along with it because...he really doesn't want his nice to know that everything she read actually happened, and he's got a sweet spot a mile wide for her underneath their bickering. of course also doesn't want to let her know that he did infact almost kidnap and torture this woman. and she agrees to befriend her...in exchange for a laptop.

Things go like that for a while, and for a month, he gets used to someone being there when he wakes up, he gets used to hearing laughter when he walks in, maybe she starts to get close to the kids a little bit- the nice especially, maybe one time hoseok gets a panicked text from the mc, "Minji's boyfriend broke up with her. sos bring ice cream."

The four of them of course leave the compound, go shopping, which then turns into going to the pet store, getting a dog (that his right hand man jungkook eventually takes in because none of them are prepared to actually take care of a dog). The works, maybe they go to one of those destruction rooms and smash some stuff, or go paintballing, the m/c hitting hobi in the chest and grinning "got you." it turns out mafia bosses are generally good shots, but mafia princesses are also really good too." And on the way home, the kids tired and asleep in the back, the m/c also nearing sleep in the passengers side, hoseok looks over at her and realizes that being the kids parents, being here for minji and hanyu has gotten alot easier since she's been around.

It's not that she does any of the child rearing at all, but- adult company is nice. Hoseok's not sure he can call her a friend. when he pulls in home he looks over, and finds that she's staring back at him.

"Are you really like the man i wrote into that story."

"Yes." he admits, they haven't talked about why he's here, in a while. she looks contemplatively at him for a second, then yawns. looking back and minji and hanyu in the backseat, "i'll get him if you get her right?" and they do, they bring the both of them inside and hoseok stays awake all night with a lump in his throat.

life continues like that, blood and domestic bliss in equal measure. a few times has he come home in the middle of the day to her writing in the main recreation room with Hanyu playing with his leggos around her, "i like her, she lets me be quiet without asking me to talk lots" or spinning with him to loud loud music. hanyu really only likes balet for the spinning and twirling.

of course hoseok is curious what she's writing after a while. and is more than a little curious why she doesn't try and leave. she still has to wear the ankle monitor, but hoseok would take it off if she asked.

"honestly i'm getting so much good material from this experience and you have good taste in decor and food gets made for me every morning by seokjin- and he's a fantastic cook and an even better beta reader." Seokjin is also a really good shot, and was in the black berets before i hired him is definitely not what hoseok says. "Why wouldn't i want to stay, i don't have to worry about anything here."

"accept for your bodily autonomy????" she waves her hand flippantly, "yeah, that never mattered to me so much as long as i can write. of course he gets curious of what she's writing, hoping to find more hints of how she can know what she knows. she finds bits and peices of his men in them and writes them off as just fanfic fodder. tells minji not to bother her too much.

he doesn't really like her next project about a heist with 3 lovers who get through it after years of sexual tension only to finally confess after one member gets shot- only, why are they like jimin? tae? and jungkook all close over taehyung's hospital bed. she's gotten close to all of them, but not closer than hoseok is to them and even he didn't realize they were all in love. how have some of his longest gang members, and appart of his inner circle who have been adversaries for the better part of the last 5 years finally getting over their enemies to lovers stick? how did he not notice?

he chalks it up to a coincidence until the next time it happens, because Namjoon and yoongi have been at each other's throats for years. Who would have thought an isolated job in the mountains that lead to them being snowed in with only one bed would...lead to their eventual coupling.

after that, hoseok starts to pay attention to what she writes. he's just in the middle of a deal gone bad when he remembers what she's written the year before, something about a car bomb- he avoids getting into the car until it explodes (a la bily) and comes home a little singed and scarred.

she's in the living room, the kids are asleep upstairs, and when she stands up, hoseok feels that feeling again in his heart, that peircing ache, the same one he gets when he thinks of his dead fiance.

i'm imagining him kneeling before her, taking off her anklet, fingers lingering over her skin a little too long. looking up at her, hoseok has not knealed for many people.

"you're free to go, but before i do, i'd like to offer you a job." it's hard to describe her value to hoseok, even harder to explain it to people who don't understand, she writes, and hoseok reads them, and about 70% of the time, the events she puts down on paper actually happen. he tries to ignore the other little things that don't, she's....a really good writer. and she knows by now that anything she writes he'll tare through. even the more...smutty sections that she tries to hide. he ignores the way that tales of submission make his blood burn, the way she describes touches and hands, hoseok tries to find pleasure in his own but it remains frightfully our of reach (and maybe 3 doors down).

maybe hoseok takes her to one of his functions, the ones that he usually hates with politicians and celebrities, because he wants to treat her, wanting to give things to people isn't a feeling he's felt in a while, i imagine them dancing underneath the stars, him asking her "if you were writing this right now what would happen." "if i were writing this, you'd have already kissed me."

maybe, someone gets wind of it, maybe theres a mole in hoseoks organization that tells tales of hoseok's secret weapon. his weakness. hoseok is not prepared there is nothing in her writing that says where she is or what happens only....that last one, it's tangentially mentioned, maybe minji is the one that finds it, hoseok explains it to her the situation, why the m/c is here and what lead her to their lives, maybe he's loosing it a little and she's the levelheaded one, hanyu is in the doorway crying, maybe when they came to take her she sacrificed herself for him, told him to hide and he did. that alone, that lone would make hoseok go after her, not the living breathing terrified thing in his chest- because this- this is almost exaclty like what happned with his fiance.

minji is 14 now, 14 and smart, smarter than hoseok, "she wrote something- i know she did- here- it was in an ask- here" hoseok scans it, and the gang mobilizes it. maybe hoseok's gang asks him why, why he's willing to go to these lenghts to save her, "it's not about securing a method of income, this has never been about money."

when he finds her, she's tied up, much the same way that he was tied up, and hoseok is soaked with blood, from his red hair down his back, she always did get unnervingly graphic with her murder scenes and it feels the same way that she wrote it, white hot rage that drips down his back in time with the cooling blood. he wonders if the bruises on her face feel the same for her. he unties her and then cups her cheeks, looking down at her while she grabs his wrists. "you came for me." is all she manages to choke out, "i wasn't sure you would."

he kisses the side of his face, "of course i'd never let you go, do you feel and see the blood i'd shed for you? is this enough?" hoseok is a little fucked up, and she knows this, she knows that deep down, beneath the softness that the people he loves cultivates in him, he does not mind the killing. he'd kill again for her in a heartbeat. he's going to kill again for her and he needs to know that if she stays.

hoseok is not convinced that she should.

he takes her home, washes her off. blood dripping down the drain and the two of them pressing hurried kisses against each others mouths, even if they taste like blood a little bit, they want each other too bad, all of this built up just breaking between the two of them. hoseok spends too long listening to her heartbeat. too long but she just washes his hair while he does, a tender geasture. he's not sure that his ex ever washed his hair.

the kids are glad to see her, a little bit scared to find hoseok more hollow than he was when he left. because he knows the last time something like this happened he was too late. and there are more than a few indications that he almost was too late, in the bruises that ring her body, her own blood that he wipes from his hands.

the next day, hoseok meets with minji, hands her her first gun, "you're to report to me, you don't make tough decisions, you let me make them for you, if you have questions or need help, ask. you don't make stupid decisions, and you don't tell anyone about anything you know." She scoffs, "thats a given."

later he ends up wrapped up with the main character, touching her again and again, verifying that she's alright that she's here, and she's just scribbling away at a piece of paper while he drags his lips up and down her arm. "is this still about getting inspiration for you?"

"maybe, but you're the best inspiration i've ever come across."

yeah i wanna write this, but i probably never will~

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Rachel Daly x Reader

Part Twenty Three - Under the Arch

AN: this is the last fic in this series, it was always intended to be the last one and sums up the entire series - it nods to a lot of the previous fics that you’ll only get if you’ve read them all and to finally have the finished story out there fills me with pride! When I started writing this I didn’t think that I would post it anywhere, I didn’t think I’d write so many other stories, I didn’t intend to make this one so long to start with! But I’ve actually fallen in love with writing and it really gives me something to get lost in, so I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as me! 🫶

Settling into life at home again with each passing day, the home smelled different than when you left two months ago. Life with Rach back in the UK felt like the honeymoon phase had started all over again. She came home with flowers every other day and barely left your side, soaking up every last drop of you until the season started again. The days were counting down fast before you both had to go back to work and as you gazed at your girlfriend from across the room you couldn’t believe everything that had happened since meeting her. “Why you looking at me like that?” Rachel asked as she looked up from stroking Dexi and caught your gaze “you’ve got a silly look in your eyes”. Blushing as you looked away, caught out in your day dream that had your eyes fixated on your woman. “Just finding it hard to believe this is real life, that’s all darlin” standing up to walk over to her, interlocking your fingers around the back of her neck. “I’ve been thinking..” Rach started to propose something before you cut her off by telling her not to hurt herself, after chuckling at your remark she continued “we should move closer to your family, find our forever home”. Tightening her clasp around your waist to bring you closer to her, gently holding her forehead against yours “You deserve a home that ours baby, not just mine” she said softly, her eyes slowly tracing your features. Sinking into her warm smile, the admiration of each other beamed brightly off you both as your head nodded gently with acceptance.

You spent the rest of the day curled up on the sofa with Dexi while flicking through house websites, carefully considering everything you both wanted from your first home together, settling for a quaint and quiet town in the middle of your family’s city and Birmingham. After a while you felt Rachel zone out, no longer responding to your comments about houses and floated off into her own little world. As she fiddled mindlessly with your fingers you could sense something was on her mind and noticing her distant stare towards the iPad made you worry. Sliding off the sofa to flick the kettle on broke her out of her trance as she followed your body to the kitchen with her eyes. Leaning over the back of the sofa to watch you prepare two cups of tea, “you know.. we don’t have to move if you don’t want to?” you suggested while tip toeing to reach the top shelf for the sugar. “What? No! I want to more than anything!” scrambling off of the sofa and into the kitchen to reassure you. “I’ve just been thinking about this award ceremony tomorrow, it’s at Wembley, do you think you can make it?” looking down at her toes and nervously biting her bottom lip. “Of course I can, anything for you gorgeous!” leaning over the counter and kissing her, “is that what you’ve been worried about?” stroking her cheek until she looked at you again. “Yeah, I just thought you’d be going to spend time with your family and would miss it” she smiled sadly that you’d soon be leaving her. “I’ll spend time with them next week when I go back to work, I want to have you to myself until then thank you” ending your sentence with a sweet high pitch boop to the tip of her nose. Rachel told you the time and that you’d have to make your own way there because she had to be with the team early in the morning. She gave you some money for a new outfit, to get your nails and hair done then drove you to the store.

——————————

Walking up Wembley Way you thought it was strange that there was nobody else around, ‘maybe it’s private event’ or ‘I’ve got the wrong time’ you thought as you approached the stairs where Rach had told you to meet her. Climbing the 48 Olympic Steps until the entrance came in to view, you noticed a smartly dressed Millie holding a singular red rose. “Rach has been caught up, I’ve been asked to walk you in” holding out her arm for you to link on to. The taller blonde lead you up the escalators to the Level 2 balcony, leaning over the railing to look around you noticed that nobody else was there apart from you which was confusing. There was music playing in the background when suddenly the screens lit up with the game where you and Rachel met - at Wembley. It looked like a highlight reel of sorts, like a collage. It started with the warm up with Millie and Rachel chatting then zoomed in to Rachel’s throw in. You never realised you had been caught on camera throwing her the ball, as you looked to Millie comically at seeing yourself on the big screen, it then showed Rachel’s goal. The video lead onto her saying no to swapping shirts with Rapinoe and giving it to you. Rachel’s voice came over the speaker as flashbacks continued to play out to the empty stadium, “I fell in love with you the first day I met you.” It showed the Sky interview and where she glanced over to you, then signing your shirt - all clips you never knew had been recorded. The first TikTok with Mary, every goal that was celebrated together, training with you at the sidelines. “I fell in love with you the second day I met you” Rachel’s voice again echoed around the stadium making you look to see if you could find her as more videos continued to play out. Fan videos and photos of you both, videos of the nights out you’ve been on, Rachel’s phone camera reel and the helicopter ride in Australia. “I’ve loved you every minute of every day that I have known you” was said as the World Cup celebrations played through until the end. Looking at Millie with tears in your eyes when there was a pause until the screen clicked back on. Lastly playing the interview with Jill where she asked her friend when she’s going to propose and Rach saying “if we win the World Cup I will” and laughing. That’s when you realised… it must be happening. The goosebumps ran up your arms as you wondered where your girlfriend was going to appear from. The screen went blank with “to be continued” on it as Millie tapped you on the shoulder. Turning around to face her “is this what I think it is?” you asked with a tremble in your voice. With a smirk and a shrug of her shoulders she started to lead you down the stairs, nudging you in the corridor “we won didn’t we” she winked as you reached the pitch where you saw Rachel had appeared, she looked so tiny in the middle of this massive stadium all alone. “Mills, I’m shaking” holding up your hand for her to see, she held your shoulders and took deep breaths with you for a moment. Pulling you into a tight squeeze and kissing your forehead before leading you on to the field and swiftly disappearing off in another direction, you were too focused on your girl to notice where she went.

With your breaths shallow and your body trembling you reached your girlfriend in the middle of the grass. Taking your hands in hers, “hey” you both said at the same time causing a nervous giggle from each of you. “You’re gorgeous” she whispered, stroking the strands of hair out of your face. “You’re perfect” you sighed, anticipating her next move.

“(Y/n), I never believed in love at first sight until I met you. You were everything I needed at exactly the right time. You’re beautiful, kind, honest, everything I’ve ever wanted I have found in you. You’ve made me believe in love again, I smile and laugh every day because I get to spend my days with you.”

Taking hold of your shoulders she turned your body to face the end of the pitch where you didn’t realise the rest of the team had appeared standing in a long row. One by one they unzipped the jackets to show their shirts spelled out ‘WILL YOU MARRY ME?’ Tears rolled down your cheeks as you clasped your hands to your mouth, turning back towards Rachel who was now kneeling on the floor with an open ring box “(Y/f/n), would you make me the happiest person on Earth by becoming my wife?” her voice a little shaky but the smile showing the adoration she had for you. She had barely finished her sentence when you threw yourself at her on the ground. “Yes!! Yes!! A million times yes!” shouting your answer for everyone to hear, tears streaming down both of your faces as she slid the ring onto your finger. Hearing the team cheer from behind and the footsteps of them sprinting towards you both filled your hearts with joy until you heard a more familiar voice. Glancing over in the direction it came from to see all of your family and friends running towards you from the opposite direction. You hadn’t seen your family for months and was quick to run over and meet them half way, your sister jumping on your back when she was close enough and holding your hand up for everyone to see.

After the audience had departed to give you time to enjoy the moment you laid on the floor side by side on the centre half, looking up at the heavens that had turned a deep blue with the stars twinkling against the night sky. Even Pop’s had showed up for the special occasion!

[cr1msonsta1ns]

I have some new Creepypasta Head-cannons for Eyeless Jack, BEN, and Jeff.

Eyeless Jack:

- Eyeless Jack occasionally buys tampons for his eye sockets because they have a flow of a period; constantly fluctuating.

- The tar from his eyes occasionally makes the skin around his eyes really sore from burning it.

- Y/N totally was wondering where her tampons went until she ran into EJ, and saw one in his eye.

- Y/N started buying him his own afterwards

- One time, EJ and Y/N ran out of tampons, so he stole some of Y/N’s pads and wore them like eye patches.

- Y/N bullied him out of ever doing that again.

Y/N: “What's that in ur eyes?”

Ej: "Eye plugs so my tar doesn't spill everywhere."

Y/N: “Oh C'mon, it can't be that bad.” *takes soaked tampons outta his eye sockets*

Ej: *His eyes gush out tons of endless tar*

Y/N: *Gets soaked in tar and it spills all over the floor* “Fuck.”

BEN:

- BEN saw that EJ was using tampons to stop his tar flow, and since his flow was literally only blood; like a girls period; he tried to do the same thing.

- Jeff walked in and totally bullied him for it.

Jeff: *Enter’s Ej’s room with BEN*

EJ: *Tar starts flowing out*

Jeff: “Stop leaking bro.”

EJ: “I CAN’T STOP IT.”

BEN: “I get you bro.”

- BEN was super embarrassed abt this situation, so he made Jeff SWEAR not to tell anyone.

- Jeff can’t keep a secret though and BEN knew that.

- BEN and Jeff are best frienemies.

Jeff:

-After seeing both EJ and BEN wear tampons and pads on their face; Jeff surprised them with a box of it for Christmas

Jeff: “Hey BEN, you know that Ipad you wanted?”

BEN: “OMG!” *Tears open gift* “Wth is this?” *Grabs a box of pads out*

Jeff: “EYE PADS!”

BEN: “FOR FUCKS SAKE JEFF, LET IT GO!”

Jeff: “IN YOUR DREAM TAMPON TILLY!!!”

- Jeff never let BEN live it down, on the other hand; he was too scared to bully EJ abt it because he didn’t want to wake up on the operating table one day.

- Jeff also has a sleep cycle since he struggles to sleep

- Day one after waking up, he’s nice and refreshed; but over the course of the week, he becomes more and more cruel and violent.

- Eventually, he ‘s able to fall asleep if he wears an eye covering and puts in eyedrops.

- That prank was definitely one of his nicer ones towards BEN.

[grace-lost-in-space]

Update/My Mom/*CW* Abuse

Hi you guys. I know it has been a long time since I have been on here. I have a lot of dm’s but there is no way I can get to every single one of them so I just want to do an update. Please know I am so thankful for every single person on here who has messaged or commented. Sometimes I think you guys are all I really have. This has been my platform to use my voice for so many years now.

-first of all I tagged @taylorswift because for the past 13 years she has unknowingly gotten me through the hardest times. There is zero chance she will ever see this but if she does, I want her to know she has helped me stay alive for the past 13 years. This life is so hard.

-my mom is still abusive. My therapist reported bruises on my neck from being choked. DCFS waited almost one week to come out and “look.” Then they said there were no bruises. I said that is because it had been almost a full week. The social worker said “if your mom choked you with enough force, you would still have bruises today.” She asked “why would you want to tell on your mom and lose all this nice stuff you have here (my apartment, my dog, my iPad that I use to communicate). I said because this is how my mom keeps me in this cycle. Then she said well if you’re saying your mom hurt you I have to ask her if she did it. Then I told her no that always makes my life get worse. So she told me then I would have to tell her I lied about the bruises or else she would talk to my mom. So I did. I told her nothing happened and then I said “but I really wish I could tell you the truth.”

-about 7 days later my mom blacked my eye and pushed me into the wall. I went to CB’s (the judge) house right after because she told me come straight there. She took pictures of my eye then. That was a Sunday. The next day I went to DCFS and the secretary took pictures of my eye with her phone. She told me to ask for another meeting with the social worker and ask if she can be there. So I did. The social worker waited one week to call me back and said no, no one else would be there for a meeting and she already closed my case. She said “you don’t have a mark on you” then I said yes I do come right now and you can see it. CB (judge) also took pictures. She said “No Grace I’m not wasting my time. And do you want to have to give up your dog and your apartment and live at a shelter which by the way has long waiting lists just because you’re mad at your mom?” So I hung up on her.

-Candy bar is really mad but she said we can try to get help for me in other ways without going through the state. Right now my biggest thing is money and having enough money to make it until January when I will be moving to a subsidized apartment. And my mom will have no access to me. I am on a waiting list for it.

-I feel so sad. Everything has been so bad. Nothing has changed except my mom is really really hurting me again.

-I need help getting completely free/away from her. If any of you know some ways to do that please tell me because I am scared and I am exhausted and the state is obviously never going to do anything. My mom has too much influence because she knows them.

-I am still really really sick and on disability so my money is a fixed income. I do not really have the option to go out and get a job. I have no savings. I have nothing.

-I just wish this was all one bad bad bad dream.

[inhibitionfreewriting]

okay so, i definitely got off track of the initial way i planned on writing this, but i got into a groove and... just gonna put it into (at least) 2 parts.

jerma x reader x ludwig (part one)

it starts totally innocuous, you're helping on dollhouse and end up just getting in with the two of them. you click at one of the end of day get-togethers. jerma makes you laugh first and then lud comes over to investigate what's going on and they've both got you doubled over. you end up getting food together and just spend more hours than you should have talking. by the end of the dollhouse event, you're in a group chat with the two of them and by the end of the first week of it existing, it's... always active.

you start to send good morning and good night messages, talk about your day even when they're busy and when they catch up on the memes and stuff you send. they're both busy bees so you know they get back to you when they can, but at some point it starts to make you sad when it's got long periods in between. not just that platonic sad but... longing. you're a little embarrassed over it, but it doesn't really come to an apex when you send a very tired 'ok love you guys im goin to bed'

it makes them both panic separately for the same reason but they don't talk about it on the side. ludwig replies immediately without thinking, 'love you 2, sweet dreams' and jerma replies 49 minutes later after trying to not overthink it (but did for all 49 minutes) a very simple 'love you'. he thinks about deleting it too, or changing it, but he thinks it's better not to and manages to go to bed after some tossing and turning. (and putting on something mind-numbing on his ipad) but that first time comes and goes and it just becomes routine to say it all the time. all the time.

it's not until you go hang out with jerma again that the energy is just.. different, not bad, just different. maybe even a little awkward. your hands are a little sweaty but you two spend the entire night playing dumb shit on the switch and you cook dinner together and somewhere along the line you're sitting next to each other and blurt out that you both miss Ludwig and then laugh and are like haha y-you too? but there's the electricity between the two of you too, and he invites you to stay the night "not like that of course... i mean unless you-" "yes" and you share your first kiss and it's fun and you still just...

you're both still thinking about Ludwig, and he knew you were hanging out but didn't realize it was a date and he feels this empty pit in his stomach because the two of you aren't talking to him even though he knows it's because you two are hanging out. and there's this seed of not jealousy but sadness because he isn't there too.

ludwig comes out with an awkward confession after you and jerma start to hang out more and more. "kinda hate when you guys go on dates tbh" tone is impossible to read through text and you prod him on why and after the conversation starts to get heated you open a call, and it. for what it's worth, the civility between you and ludwig lasts exactly 3 sentences and jerma is really trying to just mediate but once you both start yelling it's impossible (but he definitely feels like he's listening to two children bicker).

"it was one date and we've only seen each other twice! out with it, why is it such a problem only now?? it was two days where you were busy anyway so it's not like we skipped out on a night time video call!"

"that's not the fucking problem!"

"you didn't say anything when jeremy asked you if it was okay?? he asked you!"

"because it's not just you!! it's both of you, both of you are the problem."

"what does that even mean?? how is it--"

"wait, both of us? stop let lud talk"

you stopped out of indignance, almost throwing your headphones down instead of listening to whatever he had to say but with your arms crossed and mouse hovered over the leave call button, you stayed. you couldn't tell if ludwig had walked away from his computer or if he had muted his microphone and just gave up on talking. jerma breaks the silence first and cracks a half hearted joke, "i-i think this is the longest he's gone without talking to us. i don't think we've ever heard him this quiet for so long" it gets the driest chuckle out of you, almost like a pity laugh, but ludwig groans loudly and it genuinely cracks you up further. you can almost see it as he sighs, too, the way his hands are braced against his forehead and it's wrinkled with frustration.

"i fucking... it feels like shit knowing you two are hanging out and i'm all the way in los angeles. it's not just... one of you, it's both of you, i don't know. saying that out loud feels so fucking dumb." but you both scrambled to interject, explaining that you both felt that way too. neither of you knew how to bring it up and that it had been plaguing you especially hard, feeling like one side of the feelings were fake, both jerma and ludwig were scared that it would wildly change the dynamic the three of you had.

but it didn't.

[dangerous-disposition]

grow back your sharpest teeth (you know my desire) [WIP Wednesday Snippet Part Zwei!]

Annnnnd here is a snippet of my Steddie Week fic for Day 7! AKA Transmasc Steve's Strap Collection. The premise is Eddie is a tattoo artist, Steve is very much into him. Also Steve is trans and has insane strap game, and also only xenodicks. It's.... a very self-indulgent AU I've created where I get to live my dreams as a trans man in love with Eddie Munson, okay? also Robin is trans, stobin is t4t platonic soulmates ;p

Also I got impatient so I'm posting this at lunch instead :)

“Hey! You’re early,” Eddie said as he walked out to greet them properly. “I’ve got a couple designs done for you to choose from.”

Soon they were huddled around a battered iPad, discussing the designs Eddie drew up based on the Barbie logo until they decided on one they both liked the best.

“I want mine in baby blue, and Steve wants his in the Barbie pink,” Robin said and Eddie laughed warmly at that.

“Listen, normally I don’t care about the tattoos my clients get, but since you’re friends I’m really curious,” Eddie confessed, gesturing at the design. “Why the Barbie logo?”

Robin laughed a bit nervously and Steve spoke up. “I mean, you know we’re both trans, right? Well, Barbie is the ideal, she’s everything, so especially for Robs here, she’s kind of a huge deal. Y’know?”

Eddie nodded with a grin. “That’s sick, I love it,” he said before turning a sly look on Steve. “Wouldn’t you be Ken, though?”

Steve had hoped Eddie would ask a question like that and he had to refrain from punching the air and ruining his punchline.

“I come with all the coolest accessories, so obviously I’m Barbie,” Steve retorted, his voice going just a bit deeper as he leaned closer to Eddie.

Just as he’d hoped, Eddie blushed lightly and he glanced at Steve’s mouth, just like he always did when Steve flirted. Then Eddie laughed breathlessly and he smirked suggestively.

“I bet you do, big boy,” he teased and Steve had to hold back from cheering loudly as once again, Eddie played into the little script he’d practiced all week.

“You can always come over sometime and see for yourself,” Steve offered almost innocently if not for the way he nudged Eddie’s ankle with his foot. “Maybe even take a couple for a spin?”

Eddie’s eyes widened and his face turned a gorgeous shade of red before he cleared his throat. “Stevie, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were asking me out,” Eddie said with an almost nervous laugh and Steve nearly screamed in frustration. Why was this man so oblivious?

“You apparently don’t actually know better,” Steve pressed...

Annnnnnnd I'm only tagging a couple people: @scarcrossdlvrs, @patchworkgargoyle, @steve-harringtits, @rugbertgoeshome (tagging u bc ur tags on the post i linked made me laugh VERY hard), @scoops-stevie (tagging u bc u originally reblogged the og post like 👀 pls do not feel like u HAVE to interact w this xkxndkmsjd)

[invitationtoher]

You're in my Way, Cage. | Chapter 2: Kitana

Chapter 1

Summery: Kitana Edenia, smart, beautiful, and stressed. With dreams of becoming a doctor due to her sister, Mileena, having a major case of chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS). Throughout her entire school life she's been focused on her goal of getting into the very same college that her mother and father went to and fell in love at, Mortal Kampus University (MKU), an ivy league school where the only people are intelligent as they are talented. Kitana vows to make her mother proud with no distractions, at least that was the plan until she met an obnoxious dirty blonde in her English Class.

Jonathan Carlton? No, he's Johnny Cage! Hollywood's next big star! He may not act as smart as he actually is, but he shines when it comes to entertainment, if it's on the screen or behind the scenes Johnny can do it all, thanks to the Carlton family being in the film industry for generations. Thanks to his parents money and his acting and martial arts talents (as well as writing), he got a scholarship to MKU's theater department! He knows MKU will be a good time, it's his chance to make his own name. When he sees a pretty girl in his English class whose walls seem unbreakable, he vows to break down those walls and see the real her by showing her a film.

                Keeping your head down in college is much easier than keeping it down in high school, it seemed like most of my classmates had the same idea. Yet, it was only the first day, anything could happen, just like how those planners to help students stay on top of their work will disappear next week.

            I was grateful that our professors seemed to be rather chill today, yet again, it was only the first day. We learned a little bit about the history of computers, mainly that ENIAC was the first electronic computer, and that the Colossus was the first programmable computer, I’m no tech nerd but so far it makes sense to me. Chemistry was about the first chemists, since it was a lecture instead of the LAB, Microbiology about LAB safety by watching a cheesy 80’s video (I have a gut feeling I’d have to rewatch it in my chem LAB tomorrow), the day was long but still not over.

            I was lucky that the academic resources building was right next to the technology building, my whole schedule today was pretty much walking a huge square, and I’d most likely do the same thing tomorrow as well. I was the first person to arrive in the lecture room, my professor greeted me and made a playful quip about how early I was that I must be excited to learn English. I gave him a pitiful laugh to entertain him, his friendly expression turning into a prideful one that I laughed at his lame joke.

            I sat down in the second row before the last on one of the edge seats, I always preferred to sit closer to the back during my dual enrollment classes I took, it kept me out of the sight of people and usually by the end of the second week the people that sit in the back eventually move to were ever their friends were sitting. No one ever sat next to anyone either, which means I have enough space to scatter my planner, my laptop, and notes that I took on my iPad. It also meant that I was free from unwanted socialization.

            I pulled out my phone from my bag to check in on Mileena when I noticed the time, 12:15. I felt heat rising to my cheeks in embarrassment after realizing that I was 30 minutes early to my class, I bit my bottom lip, tasting that same strawberry lip gloss I just reapplied after Micro-bio ended.

How’s your day been? ┃

            I sat there and waited for the three dots in the bubble to appear, it didn’t take long for Mileena to text back, it never does. She was a fast texter, always replying as fast as she could with her thumbs going fast enough to leave a trail of fire behind them.

┃Good, boring, how’s urs been?

  Just great. ┃

I arrived at my English class half an hour early. ┃

And my teacher thinks he’s a comedian. ┃

┃Oh u poor thing 😢

┃I’ll make you some cookies for ur troubles

            I rolled my eyes at her words; I could practically hear the sarcasm spewing through the screen.

            Mileena’s day seemed… uneventful. We talk about our classes and what we’ve done so far to kill time, she already decided that her world history class would be her “fucking around” class since she so happens to be an expert on it all (doubtful, since they’re starting with a government unit.), as she so gracefully puts it.

            She’s always been good at history, she’s definitely one the biggest history buff I know; she says that the class is like reading a whole book on the world and the mysteries of what happened before us, that the history textbooks we were forced to carry around were just a book filled with short stories that happened so we could learn from our mistakes and triumphs.

┃Have u talked to anyone?

┃U know dad’s gonna ask when he calls tonight

┃He wants u to get out there and meet people this year

┃And so do I…

┃I’m tired of them asking when I’m gonna meet a guy 😭

┃And have brats 🤢

┃As if I go outside at all even on a good day

            I pressed my lips in a thin line, the once fun mood turned into a serious one as those three dots bounced on my screen message after message with her horrendous texting grammar.

┃Look

┃I’m gonna bffr Sis

┃Ur pretty and smart

┃Just like me 🤭

┃U listen too much to mom

┃U work too hard

┃Have fun this year

┃Meet a guy (or girl if ur into that😉)

┃It’s time for some romance in ur boring dull life

            I looked up as I heard the door open and a stampede of shoes walk into the classroom to try and get a seat away from people, the professor smiling and welcoming them all to the class and to sit anywhere they pleased, but the class just studied the seats, trying to figure out where to sit and who to sit by. The grilled chicken wrap churned in my stomach at the feeling of all the eyes of my peers on me.

            I looked back down at my phone, reading the text choppy strings of text again. She was right, I know she was right. But I’m not going to just push all my hard work aside just for someone who I’m not even sure I’ll end up with. My thumbs dance across the screen in a rush to respond- something to show her that I’ll take it into consideration but it’s not definite- as the class is about to start.

I’ll try.┃

            As I put my phone away, I heard a chair scrap against the floor of the classroom, a chair that sounded way too close to me for my comfort. I glance beside me to see a bulky man leaning back against the chair, he had Ray-Ban sunglasses that prevented me from seeing his eye color, his head was tilted back and supported by his large hands that were interlaced behind his head and into his dirty blonde locks that were styled, his elbows pointed up and his large muscles on his biceps slightly covering his face. His blue button up shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the fabric of the shirt that was held closed by the buttons stretching across his broad chest. His legs spread out in a man spread, his knee barely grazes my thigh.

            My face turned pale at the slight contact, I quickly pulled my leg away and turned my head. I hear a small chuckle from beside me, from him. I bit my bottom lip and hesitantly turned my head to face him again, his hand pulled down his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose, his sparkling brown eyes staring at me. His lips formed a smirk as he gave me a flirty wink just like the kind a jock would give a cheerleader in a Hallmark movie my mother plays for the cats when she leaves the house.

            I scoffed and rolled my eyes before looking in front of me, great, looks like I got stuck next to a guy that can only think with his dick. I’ve encountered a few people like that today, but I was watching from a distance. Looks like it’s my turn to have an interaction with one of the most insufferable types of people that could be on a college campus.

            I know it’s not exactly nice to assume that about my seat neighbor, but what happened to “Hi, how are you?”, “My name is blank, what’s yours?“, or any sort of chivalry. I could hear him grumble quietly, disappointed that I didn’t give him the reaction he wanted.

            As I looked around the room, I noticed that everyone was sitting side-by-side, but there was enough room for another chair in the middle between each group of two.

            “I like the buddy group system.” He says, answering all our silent questions, “I was always a shy kid in school, never wanting to get up and ask for anyone to be my partner for a project. Think of it as useful for when you guys do your peer reviews and projects. If you have an issue with your buddy after the first essay, then you can talk to me about switching, fair?”

            The class all mindlessly nodded. Great, now I’m stuck with him until our first essay. I sigh and rest my face in the palm of my hand, my neighbor letting out a small hum in amusement. ‘The buddy peer review system’ was always a pain in my ass in high school. I usually just asked if I could have my sister at home review it, most of my teachers said sure, but others said no. Which is understandable, they wanted me to get out of my comfort zone

            “Now, we’re going to do an activity to get to know your partner, that way you guys get to know each other. Maybe you’ll find things you guys have in common, maybe you’ll end up as friends. Don’t be shy.”

            He explained, as he placed a paper in front of each student. My shoulders slump, I glanced slightly at my “peer review buddy” to see him smiling playfully, his sunglasses off and his eyes glancing at me as well. As soon as our eyes met, I looked away quickly, he let out another small chuckle.

            “Keep staring, princess, looks like you’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

            I try not to roll my eyes and look up at the clock, silently praying that whatever is out there will have mercy on me and speed up the clock, I don’t think I can last the semester without strangling this guy.

© invitationtoher 2024

[oathbreakerapologist]

One Half Year of Oathbreaker Apologist

It's been almost exactly six months since I started drawing regularly for the first time in years and subsequently turned this blog into an art blog, and it felt like a good opportunity to do a little retrospective!

Warning that this post got ridiculously long lmao.

Several years ago, I left the art school I'd spent pretty much all of high school dreaming of attending, and I went off to get a very different degree and pursue a STEM career (of my own free will, lmao). I'm starting this post with that bit of information in order to say that for most of my life, I fully planned on being an artist professionally, and I was well on my way to doing so; I did sculpture, installation, and performance as well as (traditional) drawing and painting, and I'd shown work in galleries and a museum. Then, for a variety of reasons, I left the art world, and I mostly stopped making art. Towards the end of my short time in art school, I'd picked up digital art, and I picked it up occasionally throughout the post-art-school period, mostly to make the odd portrait of a DND character approximately twice a year. But I was busy, and I felt like I just didn't have much to say through art anymore.

A kind of funny series of events happened in late December/early January of 2024. One was that I finally started playing BG3. The other was that I encountered the art of @/meanbossart and @/barbatusart for the first time. I could say a lot more about what the body of work produced by those two has done for me as an artist, but all I'm going to say for now is that their work taught me to love digital art again. So, in approximately early January, I picked up my iPad, and I drew something, and I drew something, and I drew something, and I drew something, and... I just kept drawing. For the first time in a long time, all I wanted to do was draw. My life began to revolve around it. When I was working or out and about or otherwise busy, there was a little clock ticking in the back of my mind, counting down the hours or minutes until I could go back to drawing.

All I want is to make images I like, and have fun while making them. If I've done both of those two things, I've succeeded. Over the past six months, I've succeeded a lot.

All that being said, I wanted to do a bit of a look-back at some of the things I've drawn over the past six months!

January/February

My first-ever pass at drawing Ghost, an approximately 30-minute sketch-paint, is top left. I've changed his features quite a bit since then, but it's fun to know that the downturned eyes and high nose bridge were rock-solid locked-in since day one. You can also see the vague shape that eventually evolved into his weird little U-shaped forehead wrinkle. After that I moved into my "tidy hatching and geometric forms" era, which was interesting and which helped me improved my line confidence and pen control quite a bit, but which was ridiculously tedious to do lmao.

March

I tried doing a comic for the first time (top left), and while the final product is hit-or-miss to me now, I learned a lot from it, and I produced one of my favorite Ghost faces I've ever done (top left image, top right panel). I also drifted away from the super neat, tidy, geometric style. Around this time was when I really locked in on the way I wanted to do most of Ghost's features—his triangle eyebrows showed up for the first time here and have stayed ever since—and I played a bit with his body type (which still looks different every time I draw him lmao). Then I did another comic (bottom right image), which I like the look of quite a lot more.

April

I rediscovered white on black, something I did quite a bit of when I was doing traditional art. It produces a look I find really evocative, like good black-and-white film photography. I also drew a different guy. Allegedly I do that sometimes.

May

I don't know how I did this, and I couldn't do it again if I tried. What the hell.

January through March was pretty sparse on strong highlights. I started to become less afraid of them around this time. I also started to pin down Ghost's sense of personal style (for the rare occasions when he's not naked).

June/First Few Days of July

I'm in my Ghost Backstory Era and loving it. Every day I'm conniving about new ways to engineer Orin/Durge relationship agony. Genuinely, though, in the past couple months I've attempted and then finished several pieces that made me think, "Holy shit, I drew that," which is insanely exciting. Also, I'm starting to feel like I've finally started to land in a satisfying place with respect to the ongoing battle between my two favorite ways to depict anatomy, using either a lot of blocky, geometry forms or a lot of slinky curvy shapes.

I don't really have much of a conclusion to this, other than to say how much I appreciate the handful of people that leave fun comments/tags on my work—y'all's comments mean so much to me, your enthusiasm about my art makes me insanely stoked, thanks for all the love for my guy!

If any of y'all made it all the way through this long-ass post, thanks for reading :)

[digigraphs]

Nova Scotia, Day 4. {Bucket List Shot} My most productive day so far, because one: I’m feeling better, thanks for all the good thoughts, and two: that breezy weather I was whining about finally moved those sticky and stubborn clouds by noon. So I drove to Blue Rocks and did my first and pretty short time lapse in this trip, and meanwhile taking random shots with other camera, with super wide and super tele lenses (I like extremes lol) that turned out pretty good, but needs some time to pick and process and I’m too tired! Then I drove back to the Peggy’s Cove. And I’m sure I’m gonna visit it again; absolutely in love with it. Even when it’s not too kind. @rich.nixx reminded me of Geminids meteor shower, and I was on my way to do a Milky Way with the lighthouse in foreground. Two birds with one stone? Sure! Got there at 7, and the “breeze” was insane. Guessing too over 70km/h, I couldn’t even stand still, even with all the great. So I took shelter behind these big rocks, which limited my composition options, but still something that I could only see in my dreams. Two hours of shooting in that condition. Timelapse, some other shots for stacking the foreground, and a few shots of the Orion in the end, when the Moon rose, and believe it or not, hid behind the clouds. No moonrise then. Just imagine what a day it could have become! I’m walking on the clouds right now because of this. This is one single shot, edited in Lightroom on iPad (limited filters), and no photoshop to enhance those colours. We have to wait until I get back home to make a stacked version and composite the foreground. And for a time lapse that I am so looking forward to! Shot on #Canon R5 + #7Artisans 10mm f/2.8 #fisheye lens 13sec at f/2.8, ISO 6400, 10mm Mounted very low on #Manfrotto Element Planned on #Photopills Tags: #canoncanada #peggyscovelighthouse #halifax #novascotia #explorenovascotia #peggyscove #geminids #meteorshower #meteor #geminidsmeteorshower #milkyway #cangeo #yourshotphotographer #shotoncanon #natgeoyourshot (at Peggy's Cove, Nova Scotia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmIqXpgsQ43/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=