#idk i feel drawn to it but also feel like i could never TRULY belong because im such an outsider

[interstellarbooty]

maybe its just growing up in a small conservative town, but does anyone else feel really isolated from their own sense queerness? idk i just sometimes feel like such an outsider to the whole history and culture of queerness, and despite being queer myself, its hard to feel a sense of true belonging after having been so removed from it. everything i learn about queer history feels so new to me, and yet i feel sad and ashamed that it took me this long to learn.

[euphoricfilter]

hi <33 i just read your yandere jeongguk fic and immediately rushed to see if your requests are still open. (i'm thanking all the gods and the stars that they are😭)

you're so talented and creative, and i'm really hoping you'll accept my prompt. if you're willing, could you please write a non-idol smutty, possessive and jealous yoongi fic?? maybe with a slight age gap? thank you for sharing all your work with us!! have a great day/night <333

𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭:

pairing: brothers best friend! yoongi x f. reader

genre: fluff || pwp || non-idol au || age-gap au || brother’s best friend au ||

summary: your brother’s best friend isn’t too happy when you come home with a lipstick stain on your chest, and has no issue about reminding you who you truly belong to.

word count: 2.8k

tags/ warnings: porn without plot, fluff, secret relationship, mild age-gap (5-6 years) smut in the forms of: oral (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected penetrative sex (this is fiction, don’t be stupid), breeding kink (but she’s on the pill so no babies yet), exhibitionalism? kinda because they fuck in the living room with other people in the house, multiple orgasms, creampie, cockwarming by the fire

notes: thank you so much my darling!! i hope you have a good day/ night too!! it’s all smut, there is a hint of plot but it’s minimal. this is my first time writing pwp so idk how i feel about it :’(

requests rules can be found here || my masterlist

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“You’re home late”

You pause; eyes meeting Yoongi’s gaze, always calculating. Always watching each little move you made until you were squirming, almost begging him to look away— your cheeks flushed red and voice barely above a whisper. And all he had to do was look at you.

If eyes are the windows to the soul then Min Yoongi’s windows have the curtains drawn shut— he had you figured out the minute the two of you met, and it’s taken over a decade for you to even remotely figure him out. And even now, both adults, you really could never figure out what he was thinking.

It’s the frigid caress of the winter wind on the back of your neck that has you shutting the front door. Careful not to slam it shut, assuming everyone but your brothers best friend was already asleep if the lack of lights on from the windows outside was any indication.

You stomp your feet to rid of any snow as you shrug your jacket off. Hanging it on the overcrowded hooks, evidence of another family living with you as you only pray it doesn’t fall.

“It was one of my friends’ birthdays” you explain, dropping to the floor in front of the fire. Skin tingling at the drastic change of temperature, your cheeks still a little red from the bitter weather outside (though it may also have to do with the man sat before you)

Your brother was home for the holidays, along with Yoongi and his parents. It had become a tradition over the years that both families gathered for the winter break— they took “the more the merrier” very seriously. And it wasn’t all that surprising for one of your families to stay over the others’ until new year.

“Looks like you had fun” his tongue wets his lips, book long forgotten on the arm of the chair as his eyes flit down your body.

Your fingers run over your collarbone, his eyes lingering a little longer than proper.

“It’s just my friend, she gets a little touchy when drunk” you wave him off, lipstick stain smudging under your thumb as you rub at the skin, no real force behind the action.

“Touchy?” Yoongi laughs.

“Mhmm” you smile up him.

And Yoongi groans, head tipping back as he readjusts himself in his sweats.

“Baby, the things you do to me” he tilts his head, eyes meeting your own. “Always a little minx”

“What do I do to you?” you dare ask, fingers toying with the hem of your sweater.

“That’s a loaded question, darling” his smile is lazy, hips rolling languidly up into his palm; short lived relief enough for him to stay sat on the chair.

“I can handle it” you reassure him. That gentle smile that tempts him time and time again, that gentle smile that he wants to kiss off your lips until you’re moaning his name, any thought of another man off your mind until you’re wholly consumed by him; and him alone.

“Bad things” he groans, not missing the way your eyes flit down to his lips, fingers fiddling and he knows you’re trying your hardest not to look at his cock— straining heavily against the fabric of his underwear.

“How bad?” you whisper.

“Very bad. You make me wanna do bad things, darling” he pushes himself to the edge of the chair.

You stay rooted in your place, and Yoongi thinks you look pretty on your knees; maybe prettier if you were between his legs.

“What sort of bad things?” you prod.

“Like fucking you silly” he leans forwards.

He watches your thighs clench, eyes widening a little at how blunt he was.

“Oh?” he croons, “You like the sound of that?” he asks, slipping off the chair.

“Yes” you nod, still unsure in yourself as you let his hands graze over your neck; unsure what to do with your own.

His thumb brushes over the lipstick stain, “You know I hate other people touching you, doll” his fingers dig into the skin, your breath coming out alongside a shudder.

“I told her not to” you tell him, lips pouty. And Yoongi leans forwards to kiss it away, ever so gentle that you fall into him. Early trying to deepen the kiss as he pulls away, lips tugged into a ghost of a smile.

“Yeah?” he whispers against your lips, “Did you tell her you have a boyfriend? One that doesn’t like to share?”

Your eyes fall shut when he presses wet kisses along the length of your jaw, his hands slipping under your sweater; rough skin caressing your bare back.

You tug at his shirt, and Yoongi pulls away from your neck to let you pull it over his head. He follows suit, tugging your sweater off before his lips find your neck, teeth nipping over your collarbone.

A hand clamps over your mouth, moan muffled by Yoongi as he sucks on your skin. He pulls away with a wet pop, thumb running over his bottom lip as he eyes his work.

“You’re gonna have to keep quiet, baby. Don’t want anyone waking up now, so we?” he pulls his hand away from your mouth, “Okay?”

“I know” you whisper, suddenly aware of everyone sleeping upstairs.

“Good girl.”

You flop back onto the floor, hair sprawled out on the carpet as Yoongi braces his arms on either side of your head.

“Yoongi” you smile up at him.

“Yeah?” he leans down to press another kiss to your jaw.

“Need you” your hands fumble with the waistband of his sweats, knuckles brushing over his cock.

Yoongi groans, muffled as he shoves his face into your neck. Goosebumps prickle your skin as his warm breath brushes over your shoulder, your hips rolling upwards— desperate for any kind of friction, any sort of relief.

“Yeah?” he grunts, helping you pull your jeans off, panties soon to follow, and you don’t bother to look where he throws them.

“Please” you whine, hands taking a hold of his face as you bring him in for another kiss, the heat of the fire melting your lips, moulded into one, so close that you don’t know where you end and he starts.

You mouth falls open into a breathy moan when a teasing fingers runs over your slit, your hole clenching around nothing as he teases over your clit. Touch so gentle you could barely feel it, pleasure like thin stardust as it fizzles through your body.

Your hips roll upwards, tempting him to give the release you so crave. You both pull away finally, breathing heavy as your chests connect. Hearts in sync with one another— and truly, Yoongi knows you’re his. Knows that your hearts are wrapped with a think red string and that you’ll always fall back into his arms. His love, his reason to breathe, his soul melded with yours that he couldn’t begin to imagine another woman underneath him.

Your fingers tug at the clasp of your bra, fingers a little shaky as adrenaline pumps through your body. Somewhere in the back of your mind still aware that anyone could walk down those stairs any moment and see the two of you.

Your hands find their way to your tits, tugging at your nipples as they begin to pebble— as Yoongi works his way down your body, trail of kisses following him. Lips barely there, though they feel searing against your skin. Printed in invisible ink that you’ll trail your fingers over later when you’re alone; a secret message left for you from him.

He kisses over your mound, fingers parting your lips before he licks a long stripe up to your clit. Your hand flies over your mouth, chocked moan bubbling up your throat as he repeats the action.

“Yoongi” you whisper, one hand tangling in his hair as his lips close around your clit. Your thighs twitch when his teeth graze over the bundle of nerves, eyes squeezing shut as a lick of pleasure wracks over your body.

You feel a finger prod at your hole, teasing the entrance before he slowly dips into you. You bite down on the skin of your arm as his tongue flicks over your clit, finger curling, before he’s pulling it out.

You barely feel the stretch of a second finger as he plunges it into you, the lewd squelch of your sodden pussy drowned out by the crackling of the firewood.

Your back arches, Yoongi pulling you closer into his face by one of your thighs. You feel him gently tug at your clit with his teeth, fingers expertly curling up into you; the slow build of your orgasm rising within your stomach.

Your thighs begin to shake, clamping around Yoongi’s head as he pulls his fingers out of you. Instead, replacing them with his tongue while his slick-coated thumb flicks over your clit in tight little circles.

You bite down on the skin of your arm as you feel the pressure of your orgasm reach its peak, Yoongi doesn’t need to ask if you’re close— knowing you were seconds from tipping over the edge as your cunt dribbles slick over his chin.

Your thighs to continue to shake around his head as you reach your orgasm. Your hand falls over your mouth, hiccup of a moan hard to contain as Yoongi continues to flick your clit, helping you ride out your high as the white behind your eyelids seems to fizzle to black.

Yoongi watches you tremble when he brings his face away from your soaked cunt. And you dare look down at him, light of the fire catching the sheen of your cum on his lips and chin as he smiles up at you; his fingers continuing to toy with you clit.

“Too much” you try to squirm away, his arm laying heavy over your waist to keep you down.

You feel yourself fall into another orgasm, buzzing overstimulation on your clit pulling you into a less intense but just as pleasurable high that has tears prickling your eyes.

“Yoongi” you snivel, mouth falling open into a silent moan, Yoongi not letting up on your poor clit.

Another dribble of arousal is pushed out of your clenching pussy, walls pulsating around nothing as you squirm, toeing Yoongi away from you— and finally stopping his unrelenting thrumming on your swollen clit.

Your next breath comes out jittery, hand held over your cunt as Yoongi licks his lips.

“You’re mean” you whine up at him, clit still buzzing with pleasure as the soft skin of your palm brushes over it.

“Can’t help it, your pretty little pussy is too addictive” he drawls, hands running over your sides to try and quell the slight tremble.

“Think you can take my cock?” he asks, wary of how sensitive you’ll be.

“Yeah” you nod, hand trailing back up your body to tug at your nipples as Yoongi pulls his sweats down.

You watch his cock spring free, pearly pre-cum smeared on his lower stomach, wet slap making you cringe.

He leans down, hand tugging at his length as he presses another kiss to your lips, drinking in your moan when you taste yourself on his tongue.

He kisses the corner of your mouth when he runs the head of his cock through your folds, cock slicked up with your arousal before he’s nudging the head against your entrance.

“You ready for me?” he murmurs against your skin, smiling when you hum.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer and he angles the head of his cock right over you cunt before he’s pushing in. The head pops inside with little resistance, and Yoongi has to bite back a moan as your walls clench around the tip of his cock.

You pull him in further, your boyfriend pushing his hips forward slowly before gently pulling back. Slowly, agonisingly, feeding you each inch of him until he’s buried to the hilt.

You revel in the feeling of being so full, cunt sporadically clenching around his length as he starts to pull out; gentle drag of his cock against your walls enough to bring you to a third orgasm of the night.

It wouldn’t be hard to make you cum again, not when your pussy was so sensitive after two consecutive orgasms. And Yoongi is kind enough to leave your clit be as he starts up a pace he’s happy with. Hand covering your mouth as you start to moan, fingers gripping your jaw and he worried he’ll bruise you.

Yoongi’s hips snap forwards before he’s pulling back until only the tip of cock is nestled inside of you before he’s ramming back into you again.

You feel his balls slap against your ass, squeaky moans tumbling off your tongue like honey that he licks from between your lips as he bends you in half, knees pushed up next to your shoulders.

You can’t help the red that stains your cheeks when you hear how wet you are, each brutal thrust of Yoongi’s cock ramming into you followed by a wet squelch as your cunt weeps around him.

“I’m close” you manage to squeeze out, eyes falling shut as your mouth opens, only Yoongi is clamping his hand over it moments later when he can see the moan ready to drip off your lips.

You’re the image of pure sin underneath him, nails digging into his arms as his hips continue to slap against your ass, and it’s a wonder as to how no one seems to have woken up.

“Me too, baby. Together okay?” he grunts, hands grabbing onto any part of you he can hold.

“Inside” you whine, “Cum inside me please”

“Yeah?” he grunts, “Like the idea of me putting a baby into you huh?” his laugh is mean, “What would your parents say? What would they think when you tell them you’re pregnant?”

“Probably ask whose baby it is” your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close enough for you to kiss over his jaw.

“Yeah? And whose fucking baby would it be?”

“Yours” you cry, body being pushed up the carpet with each harsh thrust, your arousal starting to dribble down Yoongi’s balls. Each wet slap of them against your ass a lewd reminder of how wet you truly were for this man. “I’d tell them it’s yours” you sob.

“Yeah you will”

His hips start to stutter, thrusts less calculated, sloppier and he reaches his high. You feel his cock twitch and Yoongi smashes his lips against your own, more teeth than tongue, when his fingers find their way back to your clit; a cry being ripped from your throat at the harsh press of a finger against your swollen bud.

Your body trembles, Yoongi pushing his cock as far into you as he can before he’s cumming. Thick cum painting your walls white as he holds you close.

You shake through your own orgasm, tugging his hand away from your clit when you feel the overstimulation become painful, thighs shaking in the aftershock of it all.

Yoongi barely pulls out before he’s thrusting back into you, a foamy ring of white surrounding the base of his cock as he gently rocks into you.

You don’t bother telling him to stop, each electric thrum of overstimulating pleasure of his cock dragging against your walls too delicious to let up on.

Yoongi feels your walls rhythmically clenching around his slowly softening cock; and he’s gentle as he pulls the both of you to sit up— making sure he was still nestled deep inside of you as his hands run over your back.

Both of your skin shine in a sheen of sweat, bodies sticky as you flop into his chest. Your toes burning as they get to close to the fire.

“When are we gonna tell them?” you whisper, breath tickling Yoongi’s bare chest when you yawn.

“Whenever you’re ready sweetheart” his fingers run through your hair, catching in a knot and you wince at the pain. Though he feels you clench at it, he chooses not to comment. That was a discussion for another day.

For now he needed to get the both of you cleaned up, and you into bed before someone wandered downstairs wondering what all the noise was. Though he thinks that can wait a while, more than happy with you flopped against his chest while his cock stay impaled into your cunt; cum filled and swollen. Nothing a few kisses can’t fix and maybe his tongue in the shower.

“Maybe new year” you shrug, “I’m sorry about my friend kissing me” you peer up at him through his lashes.

He simply hums, “Just don’t let it happen again, fucking hate how touchy all your friends are” he grunts, “You’re mine, y’know?”

“I know” you giggle, wincing a little when you jostle his cock inside of you, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek in apology.

And you let him off this one time, his smile too bright for you to even dare tease him about it when the atmosphere was so cozy.

[onesapphireeye]

just a word

You and Aemond had grown apart over the past few years. But, when he finally rid himself of the shackles of his on again off again relationship with Alys, he shows up at your apartment.

modern!aemond x reader. modern!aemond x alys rivers. warnings: sex at the end. annoying, probably unreliable reader. not for minors. p in v sex. use of she/her for reader.

nori says: this is something no one asked for. i just needed to get this out of my head. lots of backstory? idk it's probably terrible. please be gentle, as i haven't written anything in so long. i'd love feedback! also send me ideas if you want to! xoxo.

word count: 4,752

Your parents, both renowned politicians, attempted to make you feel as though you were a child of the greatest value. It didn't help that the whole world appeared to be enchanted by you; and you, a cherubic faced little demon, were not afraid of using the power of your charm.

You could easily call out the names of people at school and expect them to come running, but the luxurious adoration grew boring and made you crave something more than simple admiration.

You remember meeting Aemond Targaryen in middle school. Everyone steered clear of him, but you were drawn in. Despite hearing stories of his temper, and how quick he was to throw a punch, you worked up the courage to approach him. Surprisingly, he had been welcoming of your advances. He smiled and spoke in a gentle voice, and you felt like you had known him forever.

Soon enough, he became a regular guest at your house, where the two of you would sit and talk about literature and history. He said he envied you in a way—you were an unusual child who was often in the thoughts of those around her, while he never quite fit in anywhere.

You told him that he belonged to with you.

Aemond seemed to come alive during those conversations, talking endlessly of the history of old Valyria, and his enthusiasm was contagious. The more time you spent discussing that ancient culture, the closer the two of you became, and he opened up to you in a way he said he had rarely done with anyone else.

He spoke of his family and his feelings—his loneliness and his anger—and his search for identity and purpose. Those moments were like a window into his soul, and you felt honored to be in the presence of someone so complex. He was the perfect mix of boy, man and monster.

You felt as if you could truly relate to him, and you had never felt so understood.

As the years passed, Aemond became your closest friend and ally in mischief. Everywhere you went, you were inseparable.

Yet, when the two of you entered high school, you suddenly felt out of place; you were a late bloomer who had gone from wanting to be different to being treated like you were.

Any pubescent confidence you had was gone, replaced by feeling small and insignificant, while Aemond was already transforming into an adult.

Despite your differences, there was an unspoken connection between the two of you, and you silently vowed to be best friends forever.

It was only once he began dating popular Alys Rivers in your senior year that you comprehended the permanence of 'forever'.

Despite your own awkwardness and insecurity, it was easy to see why she liked him. At seventeen, when you still looked like the underside side of a foot (thanks Aegon), Aemond had grown into an ethereal creature, almost magical in his beauty. Some sort of elf like thing from those fanfiction smuts you read online at night beneath the covers.

As you watched Aemond and Alys grow closer, you couldn't help but feel a deep pang of sadness in your chest. Seeing them together was a stark reminder of everything you had shared with him before she came into the picture.

When you did manage to hang out, there was a tension that hadn't been there before. The relationship had changed him - he was different than he used to be; more mature, more sophisticated, more aloof and distant.

And his hugs goodbye started to linger on. He would whisper something softly in your ear when he would embrace you, but not look back once he was out your front door. You were left to guess what his true intentions were.

It felt like maybe you were two steps away from being in a relationship of your own with Aemond, but the fear of being wrong kept holding you back from taking the plunge.

You wondered what it would be like if you came clean and told him how you felt, but didn't like the risk of getting your heart broken if he wasn't interested in being more than friends.

You had to watch from the sidelines as he poured all of his energy into Alys in a way that had even his mom giving him sidelong glances and unsolicited advice; telling him not to spend too much time focused on her instead of himself or his future goals.

And then one day it happened - things changed between the two of you again.

After a tense discussion about which college you would both attend, he'd blown up at you for saying you wanted to run as far away from King's Landing as possible.

There was an exchange of harsh words and hurtful remarks. He told you it was time to grow up, to face your fears head on and that things between you couldn't stay the same forever.

He didn't want to keep dwelling in the darkness; he wanted to be his own person, not defined by his anger.

He wanted you to change with him and you had told him no. You told him no longer believed in forever anyway.

It felt like you were having two different conversations, but misunderstanding both.

You wanted to be you and Aemond; not you, Aemond and Alys. He'd given you a strange look then, and stormed off angrily.

By the end of that school year, you almost couldn't bear to hear either of their names. He gave off the impression of being happy and content with Alys and it made you feel even more invisible.

The wilder elements of your nature urged you to claw your way through Alys' skin. You yearned to become her, believing it would raise your self-esteem. The thought of imitating her style and mannerisms crossed your mind, only to be instantly dismissed as foolish. All that you really wanted was for Aemond to speak to you like a true friend and not like just someone who wasn't her.

There was no way to win, so you decided that your friendship meant as much to you as it did him.

Not shit.

After graduation, you distanced yourself and went ahead with your plan to pick a university as far away as possible from his (and Alys') choice of Drangonstone: White Harbor U.

Living without Aemond was difficult. Not more difficult than it had ever been, but with that sickly sweet feeling of codependency gone, you felt scared. You had never been your own person before, but you were determined to try now.

You found that the city was teeming with people who had something to offer, but you couldn't make a lasting connection. The men you dated never stuck around, leaving you feeling more and more alone.

Eventually, you settled with Dalton Greyjoy, an art major who made side money by selling prints of stormy coastlines and mermaids in the harbor. Dalton was everything Aemond use to be; wild and unpredictable, like the sea he so often painted.

Dalton made it easier for you to open up about yourself. He saw that a spark of fire simmering just beneath your surface. With him, it felt okay to be vulnerable; he listened without judgement or condescension whenever you told him about your struggles with self-esteem or shared stories from your past.

A hint of distance kept things from going too deep between you two. You could tell he liked being around you but it never seemed like enough for him to commit fully or even discuss anything serious beyond weekend plans or art exhibitions happening in town.

It wasn't until months later that he finally admitted he wasn't ready for more than what you already had – a friendship with physical perks.

Leaving Dalton was easier than you wanted to admit... but something lingered in the back of your mind: an ever-present reminder that no matter how close someone is willing to get to you they still may not be able stay by your side forever.

With college finished and the anxiety of the future looming, you realized that you didn't have the funds to keep going.

You had girl-bossed your way into exhaustion and credit card debt. Your father wanted to take the situation into his own hands, but that meant you would be indebted to him. He'd been suggesting marriage for a while now and had dropped several names of eligible partners. You'd attempted to brush it off, but you knew he disliked Dalton and he didn't have much faith in your romantic decisions.

Politically, he needed you to attach yourself to someone who wouldn't cause any scandal. Rather than hawking yourself like a prized horse, you cleverly conned him into providing you with a job that utilized your freshly-obtained degree.

Your parents had split up shortly after you graduated high school, but they both made a strong attempt to coax you into choosing one side to live with.

It didn't matter to you that rent would eat up most of your paycheck. Returning home felt like a never-ending loop; like your life was repeating itself, constricting all your freedom.

You desperately needed some kind of liberation.

Three days into living off of salads in a dimly lit room, you heard a knock on the door. You almost decided to pretend you weren't home, but then remembered you had ordered some things online to help cure your depression and thought that it might be your packages.

To your annoyance, it wasn't the courier, but Aemond.

He was standing in front of you with takeout from the local Yi-ti place and a bottle of Dornish red. As completely unexpected as his presence was, it didn't take a genius to figure out who must have given him your address. You definitely hadn't, in fact you hadn't even told him you were moving back.

'Aegon' you thought, 'you fucking prick.'

Yesterday, Helaena and the older Targaryen boy had helped you move in what meager furniture you had; and you knew Helaena would never have given you up.

Aemond, for his part seemed content to ignore your discomfort, his broad smile contrasting against his bright blue eyes.

You narrowed your gaze, glaring up at him as you queried, "Are you stalking me?"

"I was in the neighborhood and wanted to see how a junior press secretary lives." He replied, flashing a self-assured smirk that sent shivers through

you. You could tell he was joking but your frown only deepened. You were going to kill Aegon.

"Poorly." You gripped the door handle. "Now that you've blessed us mere mortals with your judgement, you may leave." You tried to close the door but he uttered your name in a pleading whine.

"I lied, I just needed to see you. Please." You found it difficult to stand your ground against him, even after all the time that had passed. You clenched your jaw before letting him in. He cast a brief look around your small living space, and your anger mounted.

You kicked the door close and spoke, "I've been eating in my bed and no I don't have two glasses." You directed him to the bedroom and gestured for him to sit down.

He slipped off his shoes, and you stopped yourself from examining their size. You couldn't let your mind go there. "You better have ordered the Jade Emperor chicken."

He laughed, taking out the Styrofoam containers from the brown paper bags. "I almost didn't, but you know I know what you like." You watched his hands as he opened up the containers and began to set them up on your bedspread.

You settled beside him and began to eat, savoring all bites of the delicious dish. Take out was a luxury that you weren't quite ready to allow your dad to set up blind dates for.

You didn't see the amusement in Aemond's eyes as you moaned in pleasure between bites. "This is why I love Yi-Ti," you said after you swallowed another satisfying mouthful of chicken.

He nodded in agreeance knowing his plan was working; despite everything, it was nice to have someone to share a meal with.

The wine helped you two to fall into the easy way things use to be.

Aemond started talking about how he was working at the family company and some of his recent projects. You listened intently, nodding as he spoke, occasionally making an interesting comment or two when asked for input. When he was done recounting all of his work adventures, he turned his attention back to you.

"So what are your plans now that you're back in Kings Landing?" he asked with genuine interest. You sat down your chopsticks before wiping your mouth with a napkin and then responded slowly.

"Now that I have this degree, I'm hoping to make something out of it...eventually." You paused for a moment, looking away from Aemond and out the window which revealed an empty street below your apartment building. "I guess I'm just trying to figure out where I belong."

He looked down at the floor. You didn't let the silence stretch too long and updated him on your parents. Your dad has just started dating some woman that was closer to your age than his. Aemond knew something about that.

"Yeah," he commiserated, "my dads still a dick too."

You chuckled dryly before taking another sip of wine and falling into a comfortable silence as you both thought about all of the things in life that weren't going as planned.

Once dinner had ended, Aemond asked if he could stick around a little longer, and you couldn't believe how swiftly you'd agreed. You reasoned that it must be because you didn't want to act disrespectful, given your past friendship with the person who had just brought dinner over to you.

You both moved to settle against the headboard and continued your light chatting.

You worked up the courage to ask about Alys. He surprised you when he said that he had broken up with her for good this time. She had started pressuring him about marriage, but she wasn't the one he saw himself being with forever. You had scoffed at the word, but let him finish talking.

"I realized that she was like a band-aid, she helped my anger but my wounds underneath were festering." He looked at the wall opposite of you, "that's how I felt with her, like large parts of me had putrefied off. I woke up and I missed those parts."

His voice was hollow and desperate, and he paused as you tried to clear the lump that had formed in your throat. You being the parts of him that were missing was left largely unsaid. "So when Aegon let it slip that you'd come back... I had to see you with my own eyes."

You waited a bit, to find the right words, but nothing was poetic enough. "I missed you too. You don't deserve it, but I missed you so fucking much, Aemond." Your breath was coming out in shallow gasps as the air seemed to thicken between the two of you. You were both so close, your lips barely an inch from each other, and it felt like time had stopped. "You need to apologize to me."

"I'm so sorry." He began immediately, "You don't know how much I've hated myself for ending our friendship." He was looking straight into your eyes, all trace of bravado gone.

You wanted to be mad at him. This was supposed to be a person from your past you had gotten over. But the truth was, you knew you still loved him.

For a moment, neither of you moved or spoke. Then, almost simultaneously, you both leaned in slightly and your lips brushed against each other for the first time. The kiss was tender and filled with longing and regret – all the things that had been left unsaid between you two for so long.

Your hands reached up to intertwine in his hair as he kissed you more deeply, exploring your mouth like it was something precious he'd been searching for all along. You felt him wrap one arm around your waist while the other ran down your back softly before gripping onto your ass. Aemond pressed against the curves of your body as if trying to meld himself into you completely. You could feel his heart beating fast just beneath his skin.

The kiss slowly faded into soft pecks until finally it ended with one final gentle nip on the corner of your mouth before he pulled away to give you a look asking for permission to go further. You nodded your head.

It was then that Aemond let out a quiet moan, he reached behind him to pull off his shirt in one fluid motion before quickly removing off the rest of his clothes.

You could feel your face flush as you followed suit, shedding your own clothing until the two of you were sitting there naked in front of one another. The only sounds were your labored breath and the beating of your hearts as they surged with adrenaline from what was about to come next.

Aemond leaned forward, bringing himself closer to you as he cupped your face tenderly with one hand while using the other to brush against your exposed skin softly. His touch felt like electricity running through your veins and it caused an involuntary shudder run through you body in response.

All of your previous anger dissipated.

His eyes were full of need and desire as he pulled you to the edge of the bed effortlessly. Spreading your knees apart, he knelt before you. It was your turn to smirk. He looked like he belonged there.

"Finally humbled before me, huh?" In response, he tugged on the back of your legs, which prompted a yelp of surprise and a burst of laughter.

His hands explored your lower body with a slow intensity that had your heart racing and your skin tingling with pleasure. His mouth left trails of kisses across your belly and thighs. He found all of your most sensitive spots, caressing them with a gentle care that had you gasping for air.

Years of fingering yourself, pretending it was him touching you had finally come to this. Through the haze of lust, you realized that you must have said that out loud because he hummed into your skin.

Kissing the inside of your thigh, he looked up at you. "I was obsessed with the idea of you masturbating. Imagining how you touched yourself, imagining what turns you on."

"When we were younger?" Your eyes were wide.

He shook his head, confessing. "Then and now. I jacked off to the thought of you yesterday." You were taken aback by his admission, but you couldn't help but feel flattered that he'd been fantasizing about you for so long.

Finally, when you thought you could stand no more, his tongue darted out to send shockwaves through your system as it circled around and then dipped inside your already wet pussy. Your mind blanked out at the sensations coursing through you. You felt like flying into pieces just from this one act alone.

He buried his face deep between your legs, while murmuring words of adoration in between each delicious lick of his tongue. Every movement sent orgasmic ripples down your spine until, it hit its climax and all that was left was to bask in its aftermath: complete and utter euphoria.

When he decided you were ready, Aemond reached over to his pants and pulled a condom out of his wallet. Your jealousy was glad he had at least been practicing safe sex with Alys.

To avoid going to a dark place, you said the first thing that came to mind. "Of course your penis would be pretty." It was thick and pink, with just a slight curve to the right that had you expecting good things. A bead of precum leaked out of the tip and you subconsciously licked your lips. You wanted to taste it.

He laughed at you, shaking his head, as he rolled the rubber on. "You think so?"

You didn't trust yourself to speak so you just nodded. With a smirk, he pushed your shoulder lightly, so that you fell back against the bed again and positioned himself so his cock was against your clit. He entered slowly, letting out a moan of pleasure as he filled you up completely.

You dug your nails into his back with each thrust, wanting him deeper and harder each time. His hands were again all over your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He felt like absolute bliss inside of you and it was making your entire body quiver with pleasure in anticipation for what was to come next.

Just when you felt your climax hitting, Aemond’s hips began to cant back and forth in a lazy rhythm. You barely registered that he was fucking with you. You made mewls of protest as he grinded into your pussy.

He wanted you to feel as frustrated as he had felt all these years trying not to chase after your shadow. He chuckled, the low rumble vibrating against your skin. "I've waited so long for this and I'm not going to rush it." Your head felt dizzy.

"P-please, Aemond, please, can I cum? We can go again." You begged between moans.

Aemond seemed to take pity on you, his fingers dug gently into your waist and he kissed your neck softly as he started to thrust fast again. You gasped in pleasure as you felt the delightful sensation of him inside you as his movements increased in depth and intensity.

He was relentless in his pace; each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge until finally he whispered into your ear “Tell me what you need, baby."

One hand moved up to cradle your face while his other caressed down the length of your body. Your skin burned wherever he touched and when his thumb moved to caress circles around your clit you couldn't contain a loud moan that escaped from your lips, "More, Aemond please!"

He grinned down at you "Say it like you mean it, Baby." He commanded before increasing the pressure with each stroke of his thumb on your sensitive bundle of nerves until finally the pressure became too much for you to take.

With a shuddering cry, you threw back your head and shouted out his name as waves upon waves of pleasure cascaded through every inch of your body, leaving no part untouched in its wake.

He thrust twice more, his mouth slanting over yours in something that was more teeth clashing than a kiss, and stilled. As your breathing slowed down, Aemond collapsed on top of you, exhausted and satisfied.

"Aemonddd," you whined, weakly trying to push his heavy body off and you heard him laugh again. He moved to lay beside you and and held you close. You nuzzled into his chest and felt the warmth of contentment.

You lay there together for a while afterwards, feeling sated yet blissfully relaxed all at once. He kissed your forehead, cock long having gone soft.

"Let me go get something to clean you up with." You didn't want him to get up, but you were too tired to stop him.

After Aemond went to the bathroom, his phone started ringing from somewhere on the floor. You shuffled to hang off the edge of the bed to look at it. You didn’t want to invade his privacy, but the screen was face up. What if it was important?

A small voice in the back of your head reminded you that you didn’t know enough about his current life to discern whether this call could be an emergency… but you looked anyway and your heart sank. That same small voice laughed bitterly ‘and that’s what you get, you dumbass.'

It was Alys. 

You watched the phone vibrate until it stopped ringing. Not two seconds later, a ding signaled that a text message had been delivered.

[INCOMING] “Great seeing you last night, Aem. Sorry I had to rush off but I’ll take that raincheck tonight. Xoxo.”

Your stomach twisted with nausea as realization sunk in—you were just a second choice, the back-up plan for when Alys was too busy. He’d ended up at your door, because he was bored. Or whatever. The schematics didn’t matter.

Anger flooded through you and tears stung your eyes as the voice in your head laughed bitterly at your foolishness. He could never look at you the way he looked at her.

You heard the water shut off from the bathroom and quickly scrambled back to the head of your bed, propping yourself up against the headboard. You mustered up your best lopsided grin for Aemond, trying hard to feign indifference as he entered the room with a towel slung over his shoulder.

He gave you a wink in return and then turned his attention to his phone, picking it up off the ground, he sent out a flurry of messages with a smug look on his face. You scowled when he smiled at the screen, feeling foolish for expecting more than he was capable of giving.

"Texting your ex-girlfriend back?" You allowed the bubbling anger to seep out, feeling completely and utterly played. You sounded every bit of an asshole you thought he was.

Aemond tossed the phone down and looked at you in confusion, all traces of happiness gone. You didn't like how his eyes made you feel anymore, and his silence felt like a confession.

“Wow, I should have known. You two are made for each other you know that." Tears rimmed your eyes "Fuck you, Aemond. I’m so fucking stupid.”

You got up and grabbed your clothes off the ground, you needed to get as far away from him as possible. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing your heart break.

He all but jumped over the bed and grabbed your arms, “hey, hey” he tried to calm you down. You wanted to lash out, but knew it wouldn't do any good. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”

You didn't want to talk. What was there to say? He had a girlfriend and he only came around when she wasn't available - you get the picture.

So instead of talking, you just looked away, avoiding his gaze and focusing on the floor. Your breathing started to slow as he gently enveloped you into his arms and held you close.

For a moment, everything felt okay again. But then reality hit - your eyes widened as you remembered what had just happened and your stomach dropped in despair. The anger was back in an instant and before you knew it hot tears of rage were flowing down your cheeks.

He held onto you tighter as if trying to shield you from pain with his embrace, rocking back and forth until eventually the tears stopped.

When the storm passed, he pulled away slightly so that he could look into your eyes. He shook you, “Don’t you get it? I didn’t come here because of her, I came here for you, I came here because despite all of our differences, I still care for you.” He pleaded, “I don't want to be with her again.”

Aemond looked more apologetic than you had ever seen him; his features softened as soon as he saw how broken up inside you truly were. You blinked, you were upset and yet so confused. He smiled and kissed your forehead, “It’s you I’ve always wanted, it’s you I still want.”

You desperately wanted to believe him. In your silence, he pulled you back to the bed and held you. Once he was certain that you wouldn't try to flee, he let go of you and picked up his phone. "I want you to see what I wrote to her, Baby."

He showed you the conversation thread, and you audibly groaned in response.

[OUTGOING] 'no need. i meant what i said last night, Alys. i'm not going to change my mind.'

[OUTGOING] 'i'm tired of us getting in the way of better things. better relationships.'

[OUTGOING] 'have fun with the stark kid, i hope you don't fuck that up.'

He waited for you to finish reading and look back at him. "I blocked her too."

[reiverreturns]

hiii eivor x vili for the ship meme 😁😁

YOU KNOW I SHIP IT SO HARD.

What made you ship it?

it has literally all of my favourite tropes rolled into one:

friends to lovers

idiots in love

battle couple

girlboss and malewife (because for all his viking nonsense vili absolutely wants to be malewifed up)

parental trauma (not a shipping trope but i go feral for characters with complex relationships with their parents and this is like the jackpot on all sides)

you couldn't write a pairing that was more up my alley than these knuckleheads.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

Oh, so many things (mostly of my own making.) i could write reams about what i love about their dynamic but for brevity i'll sum it up like this - i think, at their core, eivor and vili are both deeply driven by a need for familial connection and a sense of belonging. in vili this manifests in the tension with his father and disconnect he feels with a throne he sees as disrupting or weakening his relationship with hemming. in eivor you see it in the dogged way she works for sigurd - almost everything she does is (arguably) for him and his approval, even though he doesn't always give it.

and i think when they're together you see the commonality of their experience and how they fill that need for each other. they grow up and change as people, but they never change who they are to one another. eivor doesn't really laugh and joke in the game they way she does with vili, and in my head he's also probably similarly serious away from her (there's enough context clues - the thegns not liking him has always suggested to me that vili doesn't suffer fools and can be quite rigid in his views once he makes them.) they're each other's true north, their honest home, and i truly believe that.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

that as far as satisfying canon narratives go, eivor and vili shouldn't end up together. as much as it hurts my little shipper heart, i'm drawn to the poetry of two people in love living parallel lives but not together. becoming jarls when they're both reluctant to take the seat but growing because of it, always better for being in each other's company but knowing other people need them more than they need to be together, loving each other from afar nonetheless. maybe vili can die alone in the fuckin' middle of nowhere too just for dramatic effect. he visits rollo in francia and ends up somewhere in a field in normandy idk. i've given it as much thought as darby did to eivor's last chapter so it's canon now i guess

thank you for the ask!!

Send me a ship and I’ll answer three questions based on if I ship it or not.

[impyssadobsessions]

Wittle Jazz headcannon

Having trouble writing this chapter. Brain refuses to work with me so I'mma just type out a HC for Jazz. I think Jazz is a dreamer. Like she loved fairytales and being idea of being whisked away when she was younger, and even a bit as she grew older. Younger it was the thought of prince charming taking her away to live happily ever after, maybe during her early middle school days it was about a famous/rich person that she either had a crush on or idolized taking her away. And sometimes she would dream that her real parents show up on the door because of a mistake in the hospital. She always feel a bit guilty, because she loved her family. She just never quite felt like she belonged. So part of her adored the idea of someone whisking her away.. but the other part of her had realized fairytales are not full of happy endings. She would have to work hard to get anywhere, but she could still dream. Dream that her hardwork pay off and things will be smooth sailing from there.

Either way, she just longed to be somewhere she feel like she belonged. Where she didn't have to work hard to try and get her parents attention. Where she didn't have to worry about her little brother getting hurt because her parents got distracted again. Can see that's how she got into psychology, she was depressed, her parents obsession was driving her nuts, and she kept having reoccurring dreams of waking up with a different family. Like it started small, just her wanting to know what dreams meant. Then slowly getting fascinated more and more by the workings of the brain. And then learning about psychology. It suddenly became lifeline, a hope. She didn't have to dream about a new family, she could fix her family. So she excitedly showed her Parents, her findings. Going into a "fenton" rant because she was so excited.. only for her parents to just say their happy that she found something she's passionate in. They didn't even hear half of what she said, more so treating her finding as if its a badly drawn picture of a dog. Danny didn't seem thrilled either, though at least he didn't pretend to care. He was disinterested right away. Jazz was devastated at first. She found something that could fix their problems and yet they didn't seem to care. So she dived in more, realizing her mistake. Then slowly tried to learn more, thinking she could show them instead. Danny being her main target in her analyzing, which put more strain in their relationship. I can see her getting frustrated more and more when her parents refused to see and often just ignored what she said with a that's nice. It isn't until she realize Danny was phantom that the way she viewed psychology was wrong. It wasn't a fix. Which she knew that, but experiencing it was different. She couldn't make her parents see and she couldn't make Danny talk. More so she realized, she wasn't the only person in the family that didn't feel like they belonged. He needed a sister, not a therapist.. not yet. Support. She needed to rethink. And so I imagine as the years go on, she becomes more and more passive with therapy. Deciding to not be aggressive with it but still promote mental health. She looses her want to have a normal family, deciding to accept the one she got. Focusing on her brother's health. Also idk if I explain this well.. It sounded better when I was talking/thinking about it to myself.. and then I typed it and I loose all the points I thought of :T Anyways just one take I see in Jazz. Is that she wanted to escape but ends up accepting life instead. Doesn't mean she quits just she isn't going to let it effect her or distract from what she truly cares about/wants to do.

[help-im-a-gay-fish]

Brightly Shone The Moon That Night. A Dark-Cream Christmas story.

The following is a slice of life story about my Dark-Cream family at Christmas. It exists in a universe different to @zu-is-here​ cannon. In this universe positive emotions are not fatal to Shattered so Cross and Dream didn't rush to break the curse. It splits off around 'things will never be the same' or 'the price of happiness'. The twins were created before the last 3 chapters of Dark-Cream were drawn. Any changes to the story or changes to the characters should be accepted as being part of an alternative timeline. Thank you. Enjoy. Original cross and dream belong to jakei95 and joku blog. Original shattered dream belongs to @galacii. This design for shattered is based off the one by @zu-is-here and the Dark-Cream story is also by @zu-is-here​. Most of the Story will be under the cut.

"isn't this a bit much?" the gloopy one said, as his partner wrapped a scarf around his neck.

"nope" the former guard replied "can't have you getting frost bite my love"

Dream simply rolled his eyes. "but I can't really get cold? Or even hot for that matter"

"what are you talking about? you're always hot" Cross replied with a sly smile. This earned a confused look from the smaller skeleton, as Cross carefully tied the scarf and gently folded it under Shattered's jacket. Though it became clear to Cross that Dream had twigged what he'd meant a moment later, evident by the creeping gold blush spreading across his face.

The golden guardian playful punched Cross in the shoulder. "Shush you, keep in clean in front of the little ones"

At that Cross couldn't help but smile and turn his head to his two daughters. The two were in their cot, all dressed in snuggly winter clothes, waiting for their Dad's to be done getting ready. Celest was dressed in a cosy jumper with a little bobble hat, while Luna wore a full bodied coat. Their consistent look of confusion and wonder changed into toothless smiles when their dad looked at them. (idk how teething works for skeletons..... Teeth magically form or something......also tbh they should start teething soon) it warmed Cross' soul.

His attention was drawn back to dream by the sound of metal being placed down on wood. He looked to him, seeing that he'd removed his crown band and set down on the bedside table. Dream then sighed and sagged his shoulders. "it.... It feels wrong not having something on my head"

Cross chuckled.

The 4 of them where taking a trip out today. This was something both Dream and Cross had agreed was a good idea.

Cross' eye lights travelled back to the little ones. They seemed so innocent right now, as if recent events hadn't happened. As if the last two weeks hadn't been difficult to get through.

Celest's code had been burning her a lot, to the point where she'd screamed when either of them had tried to hold her, or even touch her. As for Luna, her throat had become clogged with more gloop then ever before. So much Shattered had to use a tentacle to pull some of it out. She had surely been 5 seconds from suffocating.

It had been a fortnight of sleepless nights, screaming babies and a large amount of arguing. The stress of the situation had pushed them very far apart. Many things had been said, old wounds jabbed at, tears shed. But after a lot of long talks they had sorted out each fight. They were a lot stronger then some petty arguments. There was no room in their relationship for emotional strain......not anymore. The two loved each other, it had just been a difficult time.

In recent days, the twins seemed to have recovered to a stable state. Back to the laughing, smiling, Cow lovers. Cross never thought he'd be so happy that they'd started playing with their cow collection again.

After a long talk with his finance, the two concluded that they'd all been stuck in the void space for way to long. Even with the few rooms and furniture, it's not like there was much to do there and a serious cabin fever had developed. So while the twins were in a good place, they had to take the opportunity to spend some time together as a family.

Cross once again looked back at his partner. Only to need to do a double take. Dream was wearing a hat now. A festive white one with golden stripes running across it. It was reminiscent of a classic Santa hat, other then the colours. The fabric had black stains in several places due to where Dream had touched it. Though despite that Cross recognised it all to well. To his dismay, he felt his face slowly get warm. Their first kiss.

He could remember it clearly in his mind, the mistletoe, the hotel, Gaster sniggering in the corner. But mostly, Dream. The sweet, positive skeleton from back then was very different to the one who stood before him now. But he wouldn't have it any other way.

Remembering that day caused his blush to darken. It had truly been one of the most embarrassing, but best days of his life. Though a part of him wondered how Dream still had the hat. After everything, the hat had been saved.

"you've still got that hat?" he said, in a half teasing tone.

Shattered smirked at Cross' flushed face "of course, so many good memories".

A stream of positivity ran through him and with it, it brought a sudden, but expected twinge in his soul. It was a sharp pain, like a knife being slowly pressed in. Dream tried to ignore it but he visually flinched causing Cross to come over.

"positivity again Dreamboat?" he questioned.

Dream nodded "it's alright, I'm used to it" The guardian sensed some sadness from Cross, even if he kept a natural face.

"I'm OK Crossy, promise!"

Cross sighed and gently kissed Shattered's forehead. "if you say so my love"

With that he walked back over to the twins so that he could get their carriers. Dream sighed slightly. It was strange seeing Cross in an outfit different to his guard uniform. So much so that Dream already kind of missed it, not that Cross didn't look handsome is what he was currently wearing.

The last time the family had left the void to go shopping, (which is really a story in itself) they had been stared at from all angles. Every man, women and child. Monster or human, had taken part in watching them. Like animals in a zoo. Cross had insisted that it was the twins they were staring at, since his children were so beautiful that of course people would stare. But in the end both him and Dream knew the real reason.

They were staring at them.

He couldn't really blame them though, how often do you come across a monster with heterochromia wearing what was best described as fancy dress, accompanied by a slime covered skeleton in heels and a crown? Many things had changed since the apple incident, but people staring as he passed had not.

Today they both wanted a peaceful day with their babies, so they had opted to wear more normal clothes. Cross had traded his normal cape and jacket for a puffy white winter coat which he wore a red jumper under. Dream had opted for something similar, though a deep brown colour as to not show the stains so much. It felt odd being in a new outfit, but also very nice. There was only so long someone could take being in tight trousers and shirts with big collars.

The former guard straightened up, clutching a harness in his hands.

"these were definitely a good buy" he said, as he walked back to Dream.

Dream raised an eyebrow "did you really 'Buy' them Cross?" he said is a inquisitive tone.

Cross' body tensed and his partner gave him an sharp stare. Even without his emotion sensing ability, Dream could read Cross like a book.

"uhhhhhhh.......yes?"

"sure" Dream replyed, with slight amusement in his voice.

A nervous chuckle came from Cross. "look they were a good thing to get ok?....... Very helpful for the little ones"

Dream gave him an unsure nod. He still wasn't exactly well versed in child care, so he wasn't really sure what these harnesses where even for yet. Since he figured that the answer was probably obvious, he didn't ask.

"want me to help you get it on?" Cross asked, raising an eyebrow. Shattered wasn't the only one who could easily read his partner.

Shattered said nothing but nodded. His golden blush reappeared when Cross started to run his hands across and around his body to get the harness into place. His soul gave a tiny learch for a moment, but not one of pain.

He knew there was a part of him that wanted Cross to touch his soul again, It had been such a close experience for them both and had brought about a lot of pleasurable feelings. It was truly something he wanted to experience again. A feeling he almost craved. But he knew all to well, as his eye sockets fixed onto the cot to his right, that the potential consequences made it impossible. He was just going to have to live with these unmet desires. Just as he was sure that Cross lived with similar ones.

"there all done"

Dream jumped. Snapped out of his thoughts by his future husband's voice.

Now the harness was all attached. Not too tight, but not too lose. He could see that he now had a pocket on his chest which he guessed the baby sat in. Clever. It was kind of like a kangaroo pouch.

Cross strapped a identical carrier around his own chest and walked over to the babies cot to collect his daughters.

Luna smiled wide at the sight of him. The older skeleton matched her smile and slowly picked his child up. Luna giggled and kicked her tiny feet out as he did. Her tentacle flickered around the corners of her mouth as she laughed. Cross could feel his own joy fill him at the sight. But he nullified it for his partner's sake.

Speaking of which, he turned back to Dream.

"you wanna take Celly or Lu Lu?" he asked.

"I'll take Luna" the smaller skeleton replied "since you are already holding her". He held his arms out in an awkward, slightly unsure way.

Cross gave a soft, knowing smile "Its OK Dreamboat, I'll help you get her in the carrier"

Shattered sighed, irritated by his own incompetence and nodded.

With that Cross carefully attempted to slip the wriggling baby into her carrier. Which wasn't easy, as she cheerfully shifted her legs around. In fact Cross had a slightly hard time keeping hold of her.

After much difficulty, Cross managed to feed her legs through the leg holes and sit her safely inside. The whole time, Dream remained mostly still, he didn't want to do anything in case he ended up hurting Luna.

Once she was buckled in, Cross took a slow step back to admire his handy work. Luna bounced excitedly in her carrier and her Papa looked almost comically uncomfortable by all her movement.

"do you want me to take her Day Dream?" Cross said, upon noticing Dreams unease around the wiggling baby. Dream shook his head "no, its fine" he replied as he relaxed his shoulders. "you get Celest and we can go"

Cross gave a nod and turned back to the cot. As he went to pick up his slightly younger daughter, he noticed that she had in fact fallen asleep. Cross sighed - not again....

For most parents, the time when the children slept was a time of bliss, and after a fortnight of little sleep, Cross almost agreed. But his child had a habit of falling asleep suddenly and for long periods. Dream had told him that when this happened her energy levels were low, showing that her body couldn't regulate itself fully.

With another sigh, Cross carefully picked up the sleeping baby and slipped her into the carrier. It was very hard to wake her when she was like this, but he was still extra careful. Not waking a sleeping baby was basically a universal law, though he would have to if she was asleep to long. After double checking that she was safely inside and her head was supported, he walked back over to Dream.

"any particular preference for an au Dream boat?" he asked

Shaking his head, Dream replied "Not really, just try and get a pacifist timeline"

With a nod, Cross extended his arm. There was a spark of magic at his figure tips and his knife materialised. He dragged it through the air in a fluid motion, as he did it split the air as if it where a piece of cloth. It was a causal splitting of space and time. Simple.

Luna watched her dad with a look of wonder. Her silver eyes where wide and bright.

"gahhhhh daaaaag" she cooed and reached for him.

Cross glanced back at her with a smile "just you wait Princess, when you are older I'll teach you how to do this"

These words hung heavily in the air for a moment, as Cross carefully finished opening the portal. The same thing was on both Cross and Dreams minds.

If you get older.

With a sigh and a snap of his fingers, the knife was gone and the portal was open.

"After you" Cross said, stooping into a slight bow and winking at his fiancé.

Dream covered his mouth with his hand and fake giggled. "Oh what a gentleman" he said with a large smile across his face before walking forward and entering the portal.

The first thing that hit Dream as he reached the other side, was a cold crisp breeze. The chill made him feel grateful that he was wearing his boots, even if they were old and an obnoxious shade of yellow.

The breeze blew lightly causing Luna to shiver. There was no wind in there home, so this brought a welcome change to Shattered. He took a deep breath into his non existent lungs.

It was evening. Strange? He figured that their sense of time must have been thrown out a little. They did live in a void after all. However it was a pleasant evening, with sky littered with stars and a full moon.

Shattered allowed himself to bask in the fresh air for a while, as he heard footsteps behind him and the portal close.

"Oh it's good to be outside again" came Cross' voice from behind.

With a nod, Shattered turned around to face his partner. Luna wriggled more in her carrier, looking around at all the new things she'd never seen before.

"someone is excited" Cross said, leaning down and kissing his daughter on the forehead. She giggled and very nearly headbutt him as he did. Chuckling, he pulled away.

The guard looked around "looks like we're in a small town... If I had to guess its the surface"

The two of them started to look around, trying to find something to engage with. It wasn't long before they spotted something.

Both skeletons attention was caught by something in the near distance. A large crowd of people. Among them were people in hats, jumpers and coats, carrying bags and cups of hot drinks. A vast amount of stalls and stands were among them, not to mention fur trees in fancy dress and lights. Hundreds and hundreds of lights.

"a Christmas Market!" Dream said, his voice hinting an excitement "I've never been to one! I forgot that it was this time of the year"

His excitement felt like a balloon filling inside him. Only to be burst when his soul gave a sting inside his ribs.

But Dream couldn't help but feel a little happy, this was such a good thing to come across, perfect for their trip out.

Cross tilted his head "how do you know what Christmas is my love? It's more of a human custom".

"well that's easy" Dream said, a slight smugness in his voice at the fact he seemed more knowledgeable then Cross about something.

"Christmas is a time where positive emotions take hold, even in the darkest of times, positively rules here"

He eye lit up slightly as he spoke. Even if Dream was corrupted, and technically not the positivity guardian anymore, he was still happy to talk about it. It reminded him of easier times.

"as the former positively guardian it was only natural for me to learn about the festival...." his voice turned somba for a moment "Heaven taught me...... remember?"

There was another heaviness in the air at those words. A unspoken guilt and regret and then a thought. Dream now possessed the very power that had killed him.....

The gloopy one sighed and straightened the baby carrier. Luna gurgled as he did so.

"he would have loved to meet these two wouldn't he" he spoke, his voice twisting in its somba state.

"yeah... But it's ok" the guard replied, taking Dreams hand.

"in a way, he is here" he said in a soft tone, running his finger across Dreams ring. A smile ran across his face before he realised Shattered's hand.

After a short moment of silence they were disturbed by a soft noise. Celest had woken from her sleep. She wriggled and shifted against Cross' chest, her tiny voice gurgling.

"Nice of you to join the party Sweet pea" Cross said, upon noticing.

"we should probably get going, before she falls asleep again" Dream stated in reply. Cross nodded.

The family started to walk together towards the market. As they approached the air was filled with the smell of food and the sound of cheesy pop songs. The emotions of the people around them where starting to fill in.

The first thing that Dream felt was a lot of emotion around him. He was going to need to take a moment to get used to it. From what he could feel it was primarily positive, but then he felt something else.

To his right he felt anger and frustration. That wasn't the kind of thing that he expected this time of year, so he turned his head slightly. There was a human and a monster stood in the huddle.

He caught a few words of what they were saying.

"typical every year you leave gift buying to the last minute" said one.

"it's not completely last minute" said the other.

"it's the 23rd! How is that not last-" and then he was out of ear shot.

"23rd?" Shattered said to himself "huh.... It was my birthday 2 days ago". He counted on his fingers for a moment, trying to figure out how old that made him.

"it was!? Oh my goodness that's right!" came a voice from his side. It was slight panic from Cross. Uh oh.

Dream waved his hands in a jazz hand fashion "woah woah woah, before you go flying off the handle, we both didn't realise-

"I'm so sorry my love!"

Shattered groaned. Here we go.

"I can't believe I forgot! I'll make it up to yo-

Dream cut Cross off with a peak on the teeth. Cross jumped and his face flushed.

"......... Cross, I'm going to have hundreds more birthdays... Its OK if we skip one" the guardian whispered before nuzzling his gloopy face against him. "presides.... We had more important things to worry about"

As if on que both twins cooed.

A little smile creeped on to Cross' face. Dream mirrored it.

"now let's stop standing here go to the market" he held his hand out "it's waiting for us".

With a soft smile, Cross took his hand and they started walking again. It wasn't long before they finally reached the market.

The market was busy.

Both humans and monsters were walking around, talking happily. Children of all ages were rushing around with chocolates in their hands and candy canes in their mouths. Positive emotions were swirling like the snow in the wind. A warm blend of joy, song and family.

The smells of cakes and and pies were everywhere. Hot wine, ginger, cinnamon, dried fruit and nuts. Coffee, chutney, jams and cheeses.

For Dream it was like being spun in a giant bath of spice. The smells did not help his developing headache. There where positive emotions everywhere, every angle.

He let go of his partner's hand and stumbled slightly. The emotions were threatening to make him collapse as they came at all sides. Being in a void space for so long meant he'd gotten used to only Cross' emotions being around. But now there must have been 100 people at lest.

With the surrounding area becoming a blur, the sky and ground became one and he felt something hit his back and press it.

After a moment of silence he could hear the sound of a baby crying from off in the distance. Someone was calling his name but he could hardly hear it as the crying baby got closer. But eventually both got clearer.

"Dream! Dream are you OK!? Can you hear me?"

It was Cross.

"C.... Cross?" he said, looking for his partner's face. He eventually found it, hovering above him.

"why....." he said reaching his heavy arm up "why are you flying?"

The former guard gave him a confused expression. A moment later, Dream realised that the pressure on his back was in fact the floor and he was laying on it.

"you collapsed" said Cross with a pained expression. Cross' worry and stress washed over Dream and snapped him back to reality. The crying baby was very close. In fact it was coming from his chest.

Dream pushed himself onto his elbows and looked down. Luna was crying and wriggling in her carrier.

"oh.... OH!" Shattered said as a sudden and huge instinct hit him. Something he'd not really felt up till this point. Caring not about his state, he pulled her out of the carrier and rocked her in his arms.

"shhhh shhh it's ok, I'm sorry sweetheart, are you hurt?"

If Dream hadn't just collapsed, Cross would have felt happy at the sight of him comforting Luna. The tiny skeleton quieted down, but her non-existent lip was still trembling. Shattered inspected her, happy not to find any marks that would indicate she'd been hurt by the fall. Probably just scared.

"what happened my love?" came Cross' voice again.

"emotions" Dream bluntly responded, before attempting to get to his feet. He hadn't gotten far when he felt his partners hands grip his and help him pull up. He'd barely just gotten to his feet when things started to blur again and his head started to once again throb.

He fell forward slightly into Cross' chest, the guard put his arms around him to support him and keep him steady. He had to be careful to make sure the babies didn't get squished.

Cross' fiancé give out a low, pained groan and Luna give a wine of discomfort.

"Keep hold of her Dreamboat, I'll find somewhere where you can sit down" he softly said, looking around to find a seat. Luckily he spotted a park bench not to far from them.

Cross slowly and gently guided Dream backwards until Dream's legs brushed against the bench and he was able to slowly sit down. He sank his weight against the wooden frame, his limbs felt heavy and his head felt horrible. After a short time he started to adjust. Feeling himself coming back into reality, Shattered adjusted his hold on Luna to make sure he didn't drop her. Cross kneeled in front of them both.

"we can always go home if it's to much for you"

Immediately Dream shock his head, which he regretted a second later as the dizziness ramped.

"no Crossy, we both agreed we needed some time out of the void. ...im sorry that I'm ruining it"

The tall skeleton lightly gripped Dreams shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes.

"you are not ruining anything"

He kissed the bridge of Dreams nose.

"you have made everything in my life better, don't forget that"

A smile ghosted Shattered's face at those words.

"you know.... You're blind, unconditional love for me is really cheesy" he said, his smile turning into a smirk.

"I do try"

The couple shared a laugh and Dream felt himself feel a bit better. He didn't feel great though. The emotions around him where still dizzying.

Behind Cross he could see the market. It truly did look like fun and he felt bad that he'd soured the mood. He continued to rock Luna and she turned around in his arms to burry her face into his chest.

"you should....." Shattered paused as another wave of dizziness hit him "You should go ahead of me, I'll catch up"

"Absolutely not" Cross stated firmly "I will not leave you, I refuse"

"Cross" Dream said in an equally as firmly manner "I can look after myself for 10 minutes, it will be fine..... I want you to go have some fun"

The guard's expression softened and he stood up again, running his hand across the back of his skull unsurely as he did. "I.... I don't know"

Dream rested Luna in his lap and reached his hands out, Cross took them.

"Cross, I want you to go ahead, I'll join you soon, I promise"

Letting go of Dreams hands, Cross sighed. "Alright..... But I'll come back in 15 minutes, if you are still here then we are going home"

Dream nodded slowly "Deal"

After a few more unsure moments Cross started to back away from Dream. He went slowly in order to give Dream time to tell him to stop. After he didn't, Cross turned and walked in the direction of the market.

As Shattered watched Cross walk into the market, he felt his daughter start to fuss in his arms. His golden eye travelled down to her again. She looked a bit confused or upset. Her emotions weren't developed enough to be easily readable by Shattered. But from what he could sense she was distressed by her dad walking away.

He looked back at Cross again, as the guard inspected what seemed to be a stand of various pastries and cakes. There was a sad, yet nostalgic smile on his face.

Shattered watched as he exchanged some words with the vendor and took Celest's little hand and waved it. Clearly he was introducing them. The vendor seemed to coo at the baby a little and Cross straightened up proudly. Probably bragging about something cute Celest had done recently.

After a few more words he put some coins on the counter and was handed a paper bag, containing what Dream had to assume was a pastry of some kind. He waved good bye to the vendor and started to walk away.

As he did, he took his food item out of its bag and went to take a bite. He locked eyes with Dream mid-bite and gave him a slight deer in the headlights look. After finishing taking his bite, he smiled and waved to his lover. Dream waved back.

It was clear from Cross' expression that whatever he was eating was very tasty and it caused Dream to wonder how much food Cross was going to buy tonight.

Luna fussed again as her father and sister got further away.

Luna and Celest had been almost inseparable since day one, Shattered was still a little unnerved by it. They were always most comfortable when together. Knowing this, Dream told himself that Luna was fussing because she was parted from her sister. But another thought came to him.

What if she was sad about Cross leaving?

It was a stupid thing to think, both babies had been apart from Cross before and not responded this way. Yet the thought wouldn't leave him. It was the kind of thought that bounces around your head and burrows into you the moment you try to forget it.

The first time he left them with me for an extended period of time, I'd tried to....

A chill ran over him followed by a long twang of guilt, which caused him to tighten his grip on his daughter. Cross still didn't know about that night and he wasn't sure he could ever tell him. What was wrong with him? He acted like he cherished them these days (or at lest most days), but how could he when he'd thought of doing such a thing? When all he'd felt upon seeing them for the first time was nothing. His eyes stung and threatened to start crying. In that moment he felt tempted to call Cross back and have him wrap his arms around him. But he couldn't. Not while Cross didn't know.

"I'm sorry that I'm not the best parent to you Mi hija"

The words left his mouth as barely even a whisper. They sounded if he'd not been aware he said them. As if he'd not fully intend to say them out loud. His throat was dry and his soul was burning and twisting.

Cross says you are getting better.

One part of him said

But who's to say they will live to see you be better?

He answered to himself.

He felt the fabric of his jacket get tugged slightly. This drew his attention back to Luna.

She had turned in his arms slightly and was looking up at him with wide eyes. If Shattered hadn't known better, he'd have thought he could sense her worrying. Her tiny fist was curled in the fabric of his coat.

"paaaaaa gaa?"

Dream sighed.

"I get a lot of things wrong..... And I'm going to keep getting things wrong, I might be wrong most of the time"

The former guardian continued to speak in a near whisper, his finger stroking the tiny creature's cheek.

"but I'm going to get some things right as well...... And I'll make a deal with you"

Luna's face scrunched up a little. It was almost amusing to see, as if she was thinking really hard.

"if you and your sister keep on fighting, I'll keep on trying" Luna turned her face into his hand and chewed his glove.

"if you stick around long enough, you'll see a day when I get things right most of the time.... You want to see that right?"

"maaaaaa"

"deal?"

"gahhh gahh"

Dream laughed slightly "I'll take that as a yes"

He looked away from her again. Cross had completely disappeared from his view now, probably off stuffing chocolates. Since Dream wasn't someone who needed to eat, he didn't fully understand, but the sweet and warm smells in the air were very pleasant. He'd not eaten a thing for at least two and a half years, maybe he could try a little something. Carefully he slipped the tiny skeleton back into her carrier and fastened her in.

"Should we go check out the market mi pequeña estrella?" he asked, finally getting back to his feet. His daughter gave a gurgle of approval.

"then let's go shall we"

The atmosphere of the market was all together jolly. As he walked into the heart of it, his head throbbed again, but he didn't feel dizzy. He'd adjust to it fully soon.

Despite what he would want to admit, he felt a very slight anxiety without Cross by his side. He was in no way dependent on Cross, but he was so used to having him near, it was strange to have him absent. To not be able to feel his energy or be able to hold his hand.

No Dream! He thought. Don't be such a baby.

He patted his daughters head with his hand absentmindedly, feeling the fabric of her bow slip down slightly as he did. She giggled and a smile creeped onto Dreams face as she did.

A stand caught his eye. It was a stall of what seemed to be jewellery. As many of the stalls were, it was adorned with colourful lights and decorations of all shapes. Though this one in particular stood out to him. He wasn't sure why, but he decided to approach it.

The monster running the stand stiffened as he approached, but he paid it no mind. He could see the jewellery much closer now. Each piece seemed unique and hand made. There were bracelets, earrings, rings and necklaces, shimmering in all different colours. He greatly enjoyed looking over each individual piece, until his eye socket landed on one.

It was a necklace. Gold, set with a blueish purple stone. There was a small crescent charm on the chain as well. Dream stared at it and knitted his eyebrows. For a moment he wasn't sure why it caught his eye. But as he moved his hand up and traced his thumb across the stone, he realised. He then retracted his hand is if he'd been shocked. He stepped back and folded his hands together, but his sight remained locked on it.

Where are you? Are you even still alive?

A long sigh left his mouth as he forced himself to think of something else. But as he turned to walk away, he glanced at it again. It was almost like he couldn't bare to leave it.

I'm being silly, I'm a man, why would I need a necklace anyway?

With that, he tore his eyes away and proceeded to the next stand. As before the monster running it tensed slightly.

This vendor was selling what seemed to be plastic toys and figures. These weren't home made and seemed to be just the same old toys you could buy anywhere. There was doll house items, human figures and animals. He was so busy looking over the collection, that he didn't notice as his daughter reached for her favourite animal. He was only alerted to what she was doing by a slobbery squish sound.

She had suck the head of the toy into her mouth and was chewing on it.

"Luna no!" Shattered said "I don't want to have to buy that"

Carefully his pulled the plastic cow from his daughters mouth. A thin trail of a mix between gloop and saliva followed it. He had no idea how one baby could produce so much spit so fast. He wiped some off on his coat, but it didn't come close to cleaning it. Yeah....... he was going to have to buy it. He had a small purse of gold coins that Cross had given him. He hadn't asked where Cross had gotten the coins, it was probably best not to.

As he handed it to the seller and asked for the price, the slimy coating ran onto his fingers. Yuck. Not that he could really talk though, he was almost completely covered in something worse.

Dream expected to feel anger or disgust come from the stall owner. But instead he could only sense fear. His eye locked with the eyes of the monster behind the counter. It didn't take long for him to realise. Cross might have treated him like he was the most beautiful and sweet skeleton in the multiverse, but that didn't stop his appearance from being...... Striking at best.

He grimaced and handed the monster the money he owed and took back the toy.

"have a nice evening" he said, trying to sound friendly.

"y-you too sir.... Merry Christmas"

He turned away from the stall and walked back into the market. After inspecting the toy to make sure there was nothing small that she could choke on he handed it back to Luna. She happy put it back in her mouth, flicking his hand with her mouth tentacle as she did.

Shattered felt a burst of joy from his daughter, which made him light headed for a moment. After collecting his bearings he smiled.

"Adorable idiot" he said leaning over and kissing the top of her head. "now let's go find Daddy shall we?"

It wasn't a market that was too large, just a fair amount of stalls and stands and a handful of people. There was no doubt that he and Cross stood out, so it shouldn't be to hard to find his partner.

If I where cross.... Where would I go?

The answer came to his mind not even a second after asking it.

Chocolate...

As he'd noted before, there was a vast amount of edibles all around him. Mostly foods of the sweet variety, commonly fruity cakes and pies. But it wasn't long till he saw what he wanted. Out of the corner of his eye socket, he spotted what he was looking for. Just as he'd expected, chocolate.

Humans and normal monsters, seemed to be fascinated in forming chocolate into many different shapes. Animals, people, stars and bells. Shattered supposed that they got more pleasure consuming the sweet substance when it involved biting the head off of a defenceless reindeer, or mutilating a Santa or two.

He approached the stall of chocolate items. It was a pleasant smell, reminding him strongly of Cross' coat. There was no doubt the guard would have come here. He just had to find him.

Meanwhile, as Shattered looked for him, his mate was busy in a hearty conversation with his daughter.

The guard slipped a snowflake shaped chocolate into his mouth, having finished off the pastry long ago.

"now what should be get for Papa as a late birthday present hmm?" he asked Celest as she blew a spit bubble. "Something simple, you know he doesn't like flashy things"

Celest continued to blow a spit bubble and watched it as it expanded. "why is it that he must be so difficult to shop for....

His voice trailed off as he continued to ponder the question. What to get someone who didn't like material things. Other then his scarf, his ring and his crown, Dream never held onto things. Maybe he could get him a new accessory, like a new piece of jewellery or something. He continued to think and slipped another chocolate into his mouth. As he did this, without him noticing, the tiny skeleton had popped the spit bubble and was now reaching for the candy cane sticking out of his shopping bag full of goodies. She grabbed it and without hesitation, plunged the bright stripped stick into her mouth without a care.

After not even a second her face screwed up and she recoiled. She let out a wine of regret and disgust, which alerted Cross that she was distressed.

"No sweetie , that's pepper mint" the guard sighed, plucking the now sticky candy from his daughters hands. He put it on the counter of the stand they were stood next to. A stall selling Christmas fauna such as Holly, pinecones and mistletoe.

As he set the candy down, he saw daughters face still looked unhappy. "that must have tasted horrible" he said, dabbing the spit from around her mouth with his sleeve.

"we'll get you some nice warm milk when we get home ok?" he said in a baby voice, bouncing her slightly to try and cheer her up. It worked and she giggled. Cross sighed in relief, crisis averted.

He thought back to his question about presents. About Dream. It had been a little while since he'd left him. It would probably be a good idea to go back.

"Now if you are done sampling my treat bag Celly, maybe we should go check on-

"hey" came a voice from up close to his left. He jumped. After a second he realised he recognised the voice and turned to meet Dreams gaze, some chocolate still on his cheek. He was about to say something about how it was go to see that Dream was feeling better, when Dream spoke.

"wanna prove you aren't just a 20g wager?" the golden guardian said, with a slightly sly smile.

For a moment Cross was confused. Had the emotions caused his partner to go loopy? Before he could ask, Dream pointed his finger upwards. Feeling more confused, Cross glanced up. He could now see that they were in fact stood under a mistletoe. Quite a few actually. The sight of the white berried plant made his cheeks flush. He'd fallen right into Dream's trap. How had he not noticed.

He swallowed what was left of the snowflake the chocolate in his mouth "uhh um.... Uh"

He locked eyes with Dream again, finding that he'd taken a step closer. Taking a gloved hand and cupping Cross' cheek, he said.

"I'll take that as a yes"

With that he gently pulled Cross' face closer, till the gap was closed between them with a soft kiss. Cross' soul fluttered as Dream leaned in more to kiss him stronger. The taste of chocolate in his mouth was soon replaced with the flavour of bitter apple sauce. But he didn't mind it, he much liked apple sauce. Unfortunately the kiss wasn't long lived. The two were forced to separate after feeling their daughters starting to fuss, since they were being pressed between them. Dream stepped back slightly, giving his children room and took a breath of winter air. The euphoria from the kiss surged through him, as it had been a while since they had and therefore felt really good.

In fact, It had been a while since they'd done a lot of things. Including telling Cross that he........... That's something he needed to fix and fix straight away. His eyes locked on Cross.

"Te quiero, mi soldado" Dream said, with his face dusting gold. He looked away and pulled his scarf over his face slightly.

Cross returned his blush and smiled "yo tambien Te quiero, mi sol"

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

Captain I see you have requests open🥺🥺🥺🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 if you don't mind can pretty please have Akaashi angsty to fluff if you can if not then only fluffy🥺🥺🥺🥺 it can be smau or written which youd like and can it please be the 15❤️❤️❤️❤️

The venomous wavelengths shooting through the high school hallways did not begin quietly. The sound erupted without warning the second the status of your relationship with Akaashi Keiji was revealed. Although, no one was truly interested in you, the problem was who you had chosen as your partner. The setter for Fukurodani’s boy’s volleyball club was titled a prince of the academy, sharing that title with the captain, Bokuto Koutarou. But the titles thrust upon individuals by the student body did not hold much weight to someone who had moved to the school recently. And it would hold no weight to someone who merely wanted a friend, but accidentally discovered much more.

“Hey, y/n. You okay?” Concern decorated Akaashi’s delicate features, a sight that had the power to bathe your heart in temporary relief. If only you could bottle the properties of his affection for later use, that way you could survive the emotional hits that were awaiting you once he left for class.

“I’m fine.” The response has become automatic at this point, requiring little mental process. It had been two weeks since you had acquired a target on your back. And Akaashi was blissfully unaware of the whispers that were casually transported from one mouth to the other. The commentary was never meant for his ears. Every time he emerged from the crowd to join your side, the conductor would silence the orchestra, with each player obediently complying.

You should have told him about it; you knew that. But instead you chose to battle the storm on your own. Akaashi had other matters on his mind – why would you add to the numerous anxieties that fogged the space around him?

“I’ll see you after class, okay?” The limited pain relief his presence granted you was used to present a confident smile. As always, you would ease his worries, just the way he eased yours.

“Okay. But if something happens, or you need me… Text me.” The way he scanned your face flooded your stomach with nausea, yet the smile remained plastered, unwavering.

You would be his courage; you would be his strength. You would deal with the worst that was thrown at you. And you would show them all that you were enough, even if they didn’t deserve to find out.

While the insecurity may have begun small, not much larger than a single droplet, it quickly morphed. The emotion contaminated more and more, until your entire body was compromised. Things would have been easier if you had a friend, someone to confide in. Someone you could lower your fists around. It also did not help that Akaashi continued his inquiry into your mental state. As more time went on, it became harder and harder to swallow the bitter words. Afraid to taint him with the blood of your words, you continuously shook off his questions, smiling to conceal the substance inside of your mouth.

While the goal stitched into your armour was commendable, it was equally foolish. And Konoha was the first one to pierce through the shield you had adorned.

“You don’t have any friends here outside of us, do you?” The male was drenched in sweat from practice, yet instead of joining the others in the showers, he decided to provide you company as you waited for Akaashi.

“Are you trying to insult me?” Raising an eyebrow, you shifted your weight against the doorframe. Konoha was one of the few third years who made a considerable effort to speak with you, and you appreciated it.

“No. It was an observation from a worried friend.” He studied your change in posture, toying with the volleyball in his grasp. Although, he almost dropped it when he caught the alarm striking your features.

“I’m okay.” You tried to package it with a sturdy tone, but the wing spiker didn’t seem to buy it.

“Yeah… I’m not Akaashi. I’m not gonna believe that.” The answer was offered after he stole a glance over his shoulder. “You know I hear them too? The things they’re saying.”

“So, let them say it. If people want to talk shit, they can. It’s how high schoolers are.” A weak shrug brought your shoulders to raise and drop.

“True enough, but that doesn’t mean you need to deal with it alone.” The additional emphasis on alone made you twitch involuntarily. Weakness was not to be shown, and yet you were unable to maintain your façade around him.

“He’s already got so many things to worry about. I’m not going to add to that.” Casting your attention aside, you chewed on the inside of your cheek.

“Alright, so lay them on me instead. If you can’t rely on your boyfriend, at least rely on a friend.” Releasing the volleyball in a fluid movement, a grin pushed at the corners of his mouth.

“That sounds nice.” Puzzled, the reply escaped your lips softly.

“Cool. We’ll talk later kid.” Proceeding a step away, he gave you a thumbs up motion before sprinting off the court.

And for the first time in awhile you remembered that your armour was not skin, you could remove it, and sometimes you should.

The conversation that occurred at the gym led to a confession of the feelings you were suffocating in. Upon hearing the cruel reality you were the protagonist of, Konoha vowed to help you. For the following weeks, if Akaashi was not present to subdue the pain, Konoha was. His terrible comedy was enough to distract you from the poison your fellow students were trying to inject you with. And when both boys were unavailable, the wing spiker would ask his other friends to accompany you.

It was a start. You were finally able to begin to collect the shattered pieces of your soul, all without bleeding in the process.

However, withholding information from your boyfriend would not come without a cost. And with your changing relationship with Konoha, a new wave of uncertainty had been cast onto your relationship.

“Have fun at practice, Keiji.” Extending your toes, you pressed your lips against Akaashi’s in a fleeting kiss. But when you settled back onto the ground, the setter wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you mounted into the spot ahead of him. “Hm? Is something wrong?”

“Do you still have feelings for me, y/n?” The question visibly pained him, the small wrinkles in his forehead illustrated his stress.  But the signs of agony were replaced with relief when you stared up at him in disbelief.

“What? Of course, I do.” Planting your palms on either side of his face, your chest constricted. At first you wondered if the rumours had finally reached his ears – did he think your love wasn’t true?

“So then, why can you tell Konoha-san what is hurting you but not me?”

The question did not eliminate the strain weighing on your chest, instead the sensation increased, with guilt adding to the mix.

“Keiji, I don’t want to burden you.” It took every ounce of courage you could gather to keep you from turning into an apologetic mess.

“That’s not fair, now is it? Your feelings will never be a burden to me.” Exhaling softly, he relocated his hands to cover yours, before guiding your left palm to his lips.

“You say that but…” The warmth from his kiss soon spread across your body, dissolving the armour you were desperately clinging to.  

“Won’t you let me be there for you? What if I ask very nicely?” Tilting his head, he blinked slowly and thoughtfully down at you. A tactical move really. 

“…Keiji. I want you to be happy. I want to be your safe place. I want to be strong for you.” The explanation sounded like a low whine, partially stripping the seriousness behind the words.

“I want that too, y/n. Let me be your safe place.” His irises naturally were drawn to the pout registered upon your mouth, and he had to resist the urge to kiss you. “I know in the past you had to deal with everything on your own. But for the present and the future, I want to be there beside you. Your problems are now mine.”

“You know, you really are a prince.” Defeated, you shook your head then blew out a heavy sigh.

“Your prince.” A dim smile graced his mouth as he pressed his forehead against yours. Instinctively, you sought to capture his lips with yours but the emergence of another person forced you to stop.

“What’s going on here? If we’re doing a group hug, I want in!”

Upon recognizing who the voice belonged to, Akaashi quickly released your hands and whipped around to face the Ace.

“Bokuto-san wait-”

But his instructions were dismissed by the Captain, and within seconds a larger person joined your embrace, bringing the three of you onto the ground. Laughter filled the corridor as Akaashi tried to keep Bokuto from squishing you with his weight. The setter mouthed an apology, prompting you to shake your head with a smile.

Maybe this would be enough. Maybe you didn’t need the entire school to know your worth. As long as you knew it, and those you loved did… that would be enough.

A/N: My sweet baby bodyguard, I hope you liked this! I kinda put some heart into this one, idk. ;-; 

General taglist: @haikyuufairy  @newfriendjen @lvoejimin @moonlightaangel @gyozaaaaa @byun-nies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @amberalisa @graykageyama @yourstarvic @chaichai-the-weeb @dreamstormings @chibishae34 @haikyuusimp91 @volleybloop  @rajablast @idiot-juice-enthusiast @melonmayhere @cuddlesslut  @athenarosaline @memes-and-money @coconut-dreamz  @mismatched-loves @elianetsantana @tsumume @tsukkismamagucci @the-golden-jhope @camcam1617 @ivsahi @prettyforpapiiwa @swoonhui @neobakas

Bolded means I can’t tag ya, and if you would like to be removed, please message me! ~

[fuckspn]

fuckspn’s mini deancas fic rec

i said a few days ago that i would write a mini fic rec list, and here it is! i tried to limit it to fics i hadn’t seen on other rec lists before, but there are a few that i couldn’t resist adding even though everyone and their mother recommends them. there’s a whole section for “dean pulls cas out of the empty” fix-it fics because i know what the fuck i’m about. also literally all of these are deancas because i don’t read any other type of supernatural fic, and they all have happy endings because i’m not reading supernatural fanfiction to make myself sad.

a quick disclaimer before we start: i generally don’t like explicit sex scenes in fic unless i feel like they’re really narratively earned, realistic, in-character, and necessary to the emotional arc of the story. so while there are explicit fics in here, all but the last two on the list are sufficiently character- and plot-driven that you can skip the sex scenes entirely if you want.

Finale Fix-Its:

(they’ll never break) the shape we take by ~ME~ (Teen, 9k) Yes, this is my own fic, but listen, I wouldn’t have written it if it didn’t hit what I wanted to see in a fix-it! I’m not gonna make any promises as to whether or not you’ll like it, but I do, and that’s what matters here. Read it if you want to see basically every wrong prediction about the finale rolled up into one fic, if you wish they’d kept the Empty as a morally neutral outsider instead of a villain, or if you just like somewhat uncanny, slippery dream logic and gratuitous callbacks. Also even though idk if I’ll ever finish or publish it, I’m working on a fluffy domestic follow-up featuring, among other things, fixes for both Jack and Billie’s endings. I’m just saying that so if you read this fic you know that even though it’s not mentioned, Jack does come back and get to be a normal toddler with his two dads.

my heart a compass by lagaudiere (Teen, 10k) Again, I REALLY hope you like uncanny, slippery dream logic because that’s in this fic too! Cas POV is such a rare and difficult thing and I think lagaudiere nails it. Literally my only complaint about this fic is that at one point Cas imagines Jack having missing baby teeth at age 4 and my immediate reaction was to worry about why Jack would be missing teeth that young. This is because my brain is broken. Your brain is presumably not broken in the same way mine is, so you should enjoy this fic fine.

The World At Large by cenotaphy (General, 4.9k) This fic is so sexy because cenotaphy was like “hey what if there were actual stakes for Dean in the Empty besides the threat of losing the love of his life? Like what if he had a time limit? What if he got fucking stabbed?” and then somehow turned it into the softest little thing about how much all the characters love each other. Truly incredible artistic decisions made here. Despite being relatively short and deancas-centric, Sam and Jack get a lot of screentime here too and they’re absolutely delightful. Tbh you should probably read all of cenotaphy’s season 15 fix-its but if you’re only gonna read one, make it this. (Or Bring Home, but I’ve seen that one on so many rec lists that I think statistically everyone on Earth has read it.)

Other:

You And Your Husband by mikaylamazing (General, 17.9k) 5+1, Dean and Cas getting mistaken for a couple, 80% fluff then 10% angst that genuinely hit me like a gut punch then 10% fluff again. Dean and Cas are at PEAK old married couple in this fic. Yeah they bitch at each other constantly, but they also will tool around the country in their car like a couple of retirees and Dean will indulge Cas’ random flights of fancy even when they’re for something he hates, like the original Starbucks at Pike Place Market. (I’m with Dean on this one.)

Command Me To Be Well by prosopopeya (Explicit, 28k) Not gonna lie, this one hits the “angst with a happy ending” trope hard. The author is NOT fucking around with the warning for internalized homophobia, and I damn near cried at how Dean and Cas clearly loved each other and wanted to be together but just couldn’t because Dean’s psychological hangups were hurting them both. But not only does the happy ending come, the fic luxuriates in it—this is no band-aid slapped over the end, they genuinely fix their shit. Also, this fic has my favorite “Dean coming out to Sam” scene I’ve ever read.

Bring Up the Deep by deathbanjo (Explicit, 22.6k) Okay. Listen. Yes, this is the fic I was talking about the other day, with the tags that make it sound way kinkier than it actually is. And yes, technically this fic does contain dom/sub undertones and sex pollen. But look at me—hey, look at me. This fic owns. It’s a horror case fic, so it’s mainly plot (and three brief sex scenes, but two of those are part of the plot). The monster is genuinely creepy and creative, the supporting characters are enjoyable to read about, the setting is well-drawn, and the ending is something I’m still digesting but in a very enjoyable way. As far as the kinky tags go, the fic basically plays out like Dean and Cas (who are in an established, albeit new, relationship) are slightly randier than normal due to case weirdness: the dom/sub undertones are so light that I barely noticed them, the “sex pollen” is a deliberately unnerving plot device, and both Dean and Cas have nuanced emotional reactions to the whole situation that they are allowed to process and talk through with each other. I’ve never read A Complete Kingdom and never will, but if you’ve ever wanted a Deancas horror casefic set in coastal Maine that won’t leave you a shattered husk of a human being, Bring Up the Deep is for you!

Though The Course May Change by imogenbynight (Explicit, 51.5k) I’ve seen this one on a number of rec lists, but I couldn’t not include it because it’s just so fun. Another case fic involving Dean and Cas staying in a cabin in a rainy, semi-isolated location surrounded by colorful OCs, but this time the only horror is the prospect of fake-dating the guy you’re secretly actually in love with. It’s a delightful read.

More Than Ever by Sass_Master (Explicit, 20.2k) Canon-divergent fic from 2015 about Cas choosing to become human and Dean being a real bitch about it. It’s very fun, but I’m mainly recommending it because it’s part 1 of a series and therefore provides the necessary backstory/buildup for the next fic on this list.

You’re There by Sass_Master (Explicit, 11.5k) This is part 3 of the same series (part 2 is not required reading, it’s just a short explicit fic set in between these two fics), and while most of it is about sex, it’s also a fucking A+, 10/10, award-worthy character study of Dean and his internal relationship to his sexuality. Literally I was reading it going, “That’s it! That’s the Dean Winchester who lives in my head!”

till the juice runs by deathbanjo (Explicit, 8.4k) The epic saga of Dean’s terrible knockoff-Grindr hookups while Cas waits at home for him like if you could see that I’m the one who understands you been here all along so why can’t you see you belong w— Listen, I’ll be honest here, this fic is completely not my usual speed (lots of sex, relatively light—but not nonexistent!—romance, zero Big Emotions), so it doesn’t have much in common with any other fics on this list besides a rotating cast of fun OCs. It is, however, the single funniest fucking deancas fic I’ve ever read in my life. Fun minigame: count how many times one of Dean’s hookups is described as having messy dark hair and/or blue eyes.

[joontier]

Ramen Rivals

synopsis: Rivals in the kitchen, rivals even with ramen -  two rivaling restaurateurs fight over the only cup of instant noodles left in the convenience store

pairings: kim seokjin x reader (oneshot)

rating:  R | genre: classic e2l trope; gourmet chef! seokjin and reader ; smut; humor; fluff ; crack | warnings: swearing, explicit sex, kitchen sex, implied bathroom sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 12k RIP MY BRAIN

a/n: Ahhhh, his is actually a re-written version of one i posted way way back 2018 LOOOL idk what to feel anymore after this akfaowiejfoawe the last parts are actually heavily unedited ACK 

navi. 

Kim Seokjin. 

That’s it. That’s the name. That’s the tweet. 

You never knew three syllables could affect you this much, could bring you this great distress. The mere mention of it makes you reel, roll your eyes, ball up your fists, makes the tiny hairs on your nape stand on end. 

Long story short, Kim Seokjin makes your blood boil. 

It doesn’t help either that he was Adonis himself – complete with cat eyes, plump lips, and a dashing smile, or that he has rock-hard abs hiding underneath that white double-breasted jacket, or that he busts out corny ass dad jokes as much as he winks at people (which is a LOT of times, by the way), or that he’s an undeniably an exceptional chef (such as yourself, duh) and has now erected a gourmet restaurant next door to rival yours, OR the completely obvious fact that you two have history. 

The short period of time in the past that you shared with him wasn’t exactly one you would be embarrassed of, or something you want to forget. Instead, it’s the exact opposite. You’re ashamed of the fact that you hadn’t gotten over it until now, three years later. He was your OGF – Mr. One Great Fuck. Kim Seokjin still holds the belt for the title of making you cum six consecutive times in a single night. How he managed to do that and how nobody else has measured up to that, you’ll never know. 

You’d initially met him at Les Coulisses Du Chef in Paris, where you had enrolled yourself in a patisserie class to expand your knowledge on French pastry and hopefully get a certificate for it. You’d been meaning to take the class since forever, yet you’d been waitlisted year after year until last year when one of the applicants had backed out, they’d called you in, merely half a month before the program started. 

Three weeks into the semester, Seokjin had introduced himself to you, or rather, had told you a dad joke as an introductory preview of his personality. You’re glad he did though, else you would have been surprised if you discovered the kid was part Greek god, part chef, part dad jokes, and .01% brain cell. 

“What do you call a fake noodle?” asks .01% brain-cell-man seated beside you, rolling up his sleeves to reveal the prominent veins on his forearms. You’re momentarily distracted by the action, completely missing out the question he’d just asked you. “Sorry, what?” 

“What do you call a fake noodle?” Gosh, you shouldn’t have asked him again. If only he knew the number of times you’d hear- “Impasta!” He snorts, holding a fettuccine noodle in one hand and the other clutching onto his tummy as he doubles in his laughter. 

You’re just standing beside him, slack-jawed, unsure if this was just a sick dare. Who was this guy? Was he even in the same class as you? Was he high? Perhaps he mistook flour for coke? His laughter dies down when he sees your face, sans-reaction. 

“Wait, you understand English right? Um… comprendre English? Oui?” 

“Yes, I can understand English.” 

“Then why didn’t you laugh?” You raise a brow. This stranger just comes up to you, tells you a lame joke, and now he expects you to laugh? 

“This is gonna sound real mean, but it was really an old joke...and a lame one at that,” you retort, your face crumpled into one of faux pity. 

“Hey! No need to make it personal!” he counters, placing a hand over his heart, face contorting into a grimace. “You, Rafa!” He half-shouts, pointing an accusatory finger to someone behind you. “You said it would be a great ice-breaker!” Your eyes follow the Rafa he’s pointing at, the latter quickly shakes his head, telling you he doesn’t know the man in French. 

“Is this man bothering you?” Rafa nods sadly. 

“What?! How dare you turn the tables on me?? I’m your only friend!” You turn to glare at pasta guy, who continues to wail behind you. Rafa snorts from across at the sight of pasta guy making a fool of himself behind you and eventually takes pity on him. 

“I’m sorry, Jin’s just been meaning to talk to your since the start of semester, so he’s asked me for advice on how to approach you...I told him to tell you a good ‘ole joke in the kitchen since we’re all chefs here...I didn’t actually think he’d take it...seriously.”

“Wow! Betraying and exposing me all at once!! Why won’t you just fry me alive in olive oil, huh? That would be less painful.” Jin-pasta complains, arms gesticulating wildly in the air. You watch them unabashedly bicker in front of you concurrently amused at the whole spectacle. 

The three of you become close friends soon thereafter, Jin claiming your trio as the ‘Kitchen Musketeers’. Yes, he managed to convince the entire class to call your tiny group of friends that name. And yes, that wasn’t the worst idea Seokjin had in mind when he was considering a name for your trio. You didn't even want to start to reminisce about the rest of Seokjin’s bizarre suggestions: Charlie’s Cooks (to his defense, you did have a substitute mentor named Charlie), Gourmetbusters, Pecanpuff Girls, The Three Sausagees (more like two sausages and one bun). You’ve always cringed at the last one.

Despite your trio’s antics, Rafa considers himself the third wheel more than anything. Rafael was not oblivious to the crush on Seokjin that you’ve been harboring for months. 

It was the day of your graduation from the short course you’d taken - the three of you decided to have a celebratory wine party at Seokjin’s rented apartment. That same night was when you found yourself drunk on pinot noir and Seokjin’s lips. The rest was history. 

Finding the bed and the rest of his apartment empty the next morning, you took your leave and fared your walk of shame along the streets of Paris with teary eyes and a bruised heart. 

Your Mr. OGF also turned out to be Mr. One God-Tier Fucker. Or perhaps the title also belonged to you, Ms. One Gigantic Fool, who thought that maybe she could have been more than a one-night-stand between two colleagues whose relationship could never be more than a professional one. 

Colleagues. The apparent ‘label’ lets out a boisterous laugh at your face. Gosh, you’re a pathetic fucking fool. 

Thankfully, your flight back to Korea was scheduled that day as well,, so you wouldn’t have to see Seokjin’s pretty face any longer or rather - what you wouldn’t admit even to yourself - you wouldn’t be able to confront the face of the truth you wanted to hide deep beneath the recesses of your heart. 

At least, that’s what you thought. 

One and a half years after you got your certificate in Paris, you had finally saved enough money to start your business - a gourmet restaurant situated in the heart of Gangnam. You already had patrons from the restaurant where you previously worked, and the opening of Canapé had garnered more customers than you initially expected. 

Business had been thriving for a year, that is, until someone decided to erect a new gourmet restaurant just beside yours. Having a rivalling establishment wasn’t new news to you, neither did it truly bother you as to no longer having the monopoly in gourmet restaurants located in this part of Gangnam. 

A week after the opening of your neighbor’s Ambrosia - you decided to bring over a friendly bottle of wine you had shipped straight from France with the hopes that you can become acquainted with your fellow restaurateur. 

As you move along the crosswalk and reach Ambrosia’s podium outside intended for the maitre d’, you shift your weight between your legs, an unconscious habit that only Seokjin took notice of. Ridding your thoughts of the man who shall no longer be named, you let your mind wander off to your own worker’s description of the alleged owner. 

Out of all your staff’s depiction of Ambrosia’s owner, it’s your sommelier’s and manager’s descriptions that have struck you the most. 

Yoongi, your timid sommelier, tells you that the owner was a stout man in his mid-forties with Caucasian features, while your manager, Jinhee said he was a man around your age with a face and built that could easily pass for a K-Pop idol. 

You were leaning towards Yoongi’s description because Jinhee would have most likely mistaken a real idol for the owner since there were plenty of celebrities who hung out in Gangnam and would meet up in restaurants like yours. Either way, celebrity look-a-like or not, you were determined to meet your neighbor. 

“There’s someone outside, Hobi,” a busser informs the maitre d as he wipes the last table for the day. Three pairs of eyes look at you through the glass. 

You continuously peer from the outside as you can’t see much from due to the darkness inside, where only a few dim lights are on. “Go on then, Hobi,” the owner states, nudging the maitre d towards the door. 

Hoseok takes a glimpse of you through the glass panel and faces the owner. “Hyung, she seems pretty. Why don’t you do it? You ought to have a proper girlfriend right now. It’s about time you move on from your love interest in Paris! Plus you’re the owner of the restaurant!”

“Hobi, I still have to do kitchen check, remember? And for the record, I have moved on from her. Chop chop.” Hobi gives him an incredulous look, highly doubting his boss had already forgotten about her. “Right away, Mr. Seokdon Ramsay.”

You’re drawn from your thoughts when you hear the melodic sound of the bell as the door opens and a man with a bright smile comes out. “Hello! My name’s Hobi, can I help you with anything?”

“Um..hi! I’m from Canapé just across the street… are you, perhaps, the owner of Ambrosia?” 

“Oh! I’m not the owner…I wish I was though if I had someone pretty like you looking for me…” You laugh awkwardly in response, unsure of what you should reply to such a line. The two of you remain standing there, staring at each other. “Um...is the owner there then? It would be nice if I can speak to him or her or them…” you let out a small cough, looking away.

“Right! Of course, sorry about that! I’ll tell him to come out.” Hobi scurries back inside and soon you hear incoherent yelling and laughter from inside the restaurant.

“Hyungnim! Hyung!!” Hobi calls out once more, eyes searching wildly for Seokjin. “What now?” Seokjin emerges from the kitchen with the busser in tow. “Hyung! She’s fucking hot! And I feel like I’ve known her from somewhere…plus she says she’s from our neighboring restaurant! I told you, you were the one who should’ve gone out there. By the way, I think she’s calling wine o’clock too – and the bottle she’s holding looks like expensive French Cabernet Sauvignon!”

Seokjin narrows his eyes at his maitre d, “You seem to have been spending a lot of time with that sommelier from across the street.” The owner of Ambrosia shakes his head at his friend, who pushes him towards the door. “Hurry! You wouldn’t want to keep a pretty girl waiting!”

You’ve been waiting patiently outside, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you watch people come and go. The streets of Gangnam was always lively, and it still surprises you at this point that you had decided to put up a restaurant in the midst of the hustle and bustle of a city like such because you’ve always wanted to erect one by the countryside with the whole organic theme going on. Nonetheless, you were happy with your decision of establishing one in Gangnam.

The bell dings again, and as you turn on your heel to check the much-anticipated owner of Canapé, you nearly drop the pricey bottle of red wine in your hands. It’s Mr. man-who-shall-no-longer-be-named. You’re stood there shell-shocked, mouth agape at the man in front of you.

He hasn’t changed one bit, well, except for the more handsome features. He’s changed his hairstyle too, now opting for an exposed forehead instead of those bangs he’d impulsively cut by his own in the middle of the night. His shoulders remain the same, miraculously; just an inch wider and he could’ve been a great replacement for a meter stick at Encore, the clothing store that offered bespoke clothing just down the road.

“_________?”

Seokjin starts to speak, yet you can’t seem to bring yourself to do the same. There’s too much you wanted to say, ask , and rant about that your mouth remains hanging open awkwardly – almost as if you’re squawking. You bow in embarrassment, apologizing for your behavior and run back to your restaurant.

The Gourmet Chefs Association of East Asia was holding its annual even today at The Andaz Seoul and you just had this gut feeling Seokjin was going to be there. With yesterday’s discovery that your neighboring, rivaling, restaurant was owned by none other than Kim Seokjin himself, you already had an inkling he was invited to GCAEA’s event tonight.

Your suspicions had been confirmed as one of the event’s producers sent you an email earlier this morning, that which contains the list of nominees for the title of GCAEA’s Chef of the Year – the same title that was bestowed upon you just last year. Seokjin was the first nominee for this year’s awarding ceremony.

Kudos to him. Despite knowing that your hatred for him was fueled by more personal reasons, you knew deep down inside the recesses of your brain that he was a really, really talented chef. Probably just as good as you – of course, you can easily admit that you’re still lacking in plenty but you don’t think your pride will allow you to accept defeat from Seokjin just like that after all he’d done.

You only had the chance to look at Seokjin for a good seven seconds yesterday, but it had taken you at least seven hours, a tub of ice cream, and a Captain America movie marathon to reassure yourself that having seen him so close yesterday wasn’t just an actual nightmare.

As much as you hated to admit it, he remained just as handsome as he was three years ago. What you couldn’t get over with though, was how he actually smiled at you yesterday. That little fucker had to audacity to show his perfect little pearly whites at you! All over again, you’re reminded of how he left you in his room the morning after, or how much of a fucking fool you were for having believed that the two of you could’ve been something more than friends.

Rearranging your dress for the nth time today, you take another look at the mirror, twisting and turning to see if there might be some thread hanging off the hems of the dress. You’re starting to question your decided outfit for the night. You had a dress done just for this event – or more specifically, what sort of dress Jinhee had ordered to be sewn just for this event.

It hugged your curves perfectly – the dress a perfect merger between modest and seductive. It had a nude-illusion base with silver sequins sewn onto the thin fabric and a low-cut neckline that gives everyone a lovely view of your cleavage.

This one could easily pass as an evening gown for a Miss Universe candidate. You felt confident, beautiful, and sexy but at the same time you felt like you wanted to just huddle yourself up in your duvet in the corner of your room and eat ice cream. You weren’t uncomfortable with showing skin from time to time, but having been clad in a double-breasted jacket on a daily means it felt strange having your neckline displayed in public.

Your phone dings, indicating a text message. Yoongi had offered to be your chauffeur for this evening, of course, after being coerced and bribed by Jinhee into doing it.

[yoongles 🍷 ] 6:43pm

hurry up, or i’ll leave you behind

[you] 6:43pm

yoongs

It’s MY car WE’RE using

you don’t even have my keys yet

[yoongles 🍷 ] 6:45pm

u get the idea, woman

dont keep me waiting

“Well maybe if you won’t stop texting, I’ll be quicker,” you grumble to your phone, placing it inside your purse so Yoongi won’t bother you any longer. Doing one last twirl in the mirror, you grab your necessities you’ve gathered on your bedside table and sweep them into your purse.

“You clean up nicely, boss.”

Squinting your eyes at Yoongi with his words, you send him a grateful smile nonetheless. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.” This was the closes thing to an actual compliment that you were ever going to receive from Yoongi in your entire lifetime, so you were sure to keep his words close to your heart.

Taking your car keys from your purse, you toss them to Yoongi who catches them deftly with one hand. “Ooh, you looked cool when you did that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You gave me a compliment, so I’m going to give you one in return. As a token of gratitude.”

“Remind me never to say anything to you ever again.”

“Hey! You talk back like that to the woman who’s giving you money for your daily needs?! And you won’t even open the door for me?” you ask your past neighbor-turned-sommelier-turned-close-friend. “It’s called a salary, Ms. _______. And I receive that as compensation because I give you my services in exchange for it. Plus, I’m already seated here,” Yoongi shrugs, adjusting the rear view mirror.

Rolling your eyes, you begrudgingly open the door to your backseat, exerting much effort in swinging one leg after the other with your incredibly tight evening gown. And, of course making sure the short train won’t get caught between the car doors.

Yoongi checks if you’re all good through the rear-view mirror and once he sees you buckle up, he lets the engine roar to life. You take out your phone from your purse to see if you’ve received any other emails, only for the phone to get flung from your hands – including you.

The car surges forward all of a sudden and Yoongi steps on the breaks just in time. You hear Yoongi curse under his breath, looking over his shoulder to check if you’re okay. “Shit! I forgot you drove a Maserati!”

“I think the more appropriate thing to do is to ask me if I’m still okay…Also, it doesn’t matter what kind of car I drive, because I think you forgot how to actually drive at all.” You complain, adjusting the seatbelt across your chest, the sudden jolt leaving a diagonal red mark just by your collarbone.

“Well, you aren’t dead, so technically speaking, you’re okay.” Unbelievable. You let out a loud scoff, unable to think of anything wittier to say. “Just please get me there in one piece, Yoongs.”

You manage to get to the hotel in one piece. Thank heavens.

The small talk you made with Yoongi on your way to the hotel had temporarily taken your mind off the jitters but now that he’s left you standing by the entrance of the hotel, the nerves had definitely returned, tenfold. You’re also unfortunately dropped off at a spot where a standee of yours holding the Gourmet Chef of the Year award is staring back at you. God, you hated that photo. They did not give your eyebrows justice, at all.

You exhale all your nervousness away as you take the steps to the lobby. “_______!” Someone calls out, the voice too familiar to miss out on.  “Sunbae!” You turn around to see one of the most revered chefs in Korea, and definitely one of your favorite mentors, Choi Jiyoung. The woman nearing her fifties extends her arms out in greeting and you give her a tight hug. You had worked under her supervision in the past, and she had taught you almost everything you knew about Korean cuisine.  

“Ah, it’s been too long darling! Look at you! You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman!” Misun praises as her grip on you tightens and pulls you by the elbow, “Surely, there’s a lucky man that has swept my sweet _______ by now!” Your senior adds, punctuating her sentence with a wink at the end.

“I’ve been pretty busy these days… and dating hasn’t really crossed my mind recently.”

‘That’s because the last man I’ve wanted to date was three years ago and he’d just considered me a one-night stand and now after I’ve struggled to burn his existence from my memory and to be very frank with you, I really haven’t gotten over him and now he just so happens to be the owner of the restaurant beside mine. Also, he’s stealing my customers.’ Comes your real answer inside your head, but you’ll never tell anyone that.

Jiyoung pouts at your answer, but taps your forearm, “We’ll talk more about that inside. Come on darling, the event is starting.”

Seokjin sees you finally enter the lobby, eyes scanning the few people scattered around the area as you look for a familiar face you could approach. All eyes are on you, yet you don’t notice, like always. You don’t realize how beautiful you are, blushing furiously under the simplest compliments. You’ve got this certain charm that certainly draws people towards you, all the more when they get to know you better, just like what you did to him.

Seokjin remembers the first time he’d actually seen you – on the television. He’d been scrolling aimlessly through the channels, trying to look for something to watch as he waits for the water to boil for his ramen. He’d accidentally stopped by Channel K99’s ‘Choi Jiyoung Kitchen Specials’ reruns during midnight when he checked his phone after it dinged, alerting him of a notification on his email: just another alert to renew his ‘KOREA’ magazine subscription, where he’d secretly get new recipes, try them out, add a little twist, and serve them to his customers at his parent’s restaurant.

As he was about to press the off button on the remote, you enter the frame as the camera pans out when Choi Jiyoung introduces you as her new assistant and protégé. For some reason, this show just got all the more interesting for Seokjin, who’s clearly drawn to you and not the scrumptious seafood platter that Chef Choi was preparing.

He’d followed you on all his social media accounts after that night, even going as far as turning on his notifications for each post you made. He was unsure what had drawn him to you in the first place – whether it be the fact that you were probably the first female chef he’d seen in Korea that was just about his age (that or he really just didn’t pay any attention to women in the same field during the early years of his career), or that you were unbelievably skilled at such a young age with apparently, a lot of culinary awards and certificates under your belt.

Funny enough, Seokjin wasn’t really one to delve into the world of pastry but judging from your most recent Instagram posts during those days, you had taken interest in patisserie, which only caused Seokjin to attempt baking his own first croissant. He finally understood your enthusiastic devotion for it ever since. Then came Les Coulisses Du Chef, where Rafa, an exchange-student-turned-friend of his from his culinary school days had secured him a slot for a semester at the prestigious school of gastronomy in Paris to get a certificate on French pastry.

He wasn’t expecting you though, out of all people, to join the official list of the class as well, last minute.

It took him three weeks before he finally spoke to you, much to Rafa’s exasperation. Seokjin would keep nagging the French man, telling him how much he wanted to talk to you, yet he can’t seem to grow some balls to do so. In annoyance, he’d told Seokjin that the best way to break the ice was to tell a joke – this time, much to Seokjin’s chagrin. He’d never thought secondhand embarrassment was a thing until Seokjin actually heeded his advice and told you about the ‘impasta’. Surprisingly enough, it worked, so voila!

If only you knew how nervous Seokjin was during that time, clammy hands and all. In fact – if only you knew how jittery Seokjin was whenever he was near you. He’s pretty sure he’d ruined his credibility and career after busting out that lame ass joke Rafa had told him, but it turned out to be the only way he actually got closer to you so he was partly grateful for Rafa’s advice – reputation be damned. 

Just like tonight, the moment his eyes fall on you, he feels like he’s being drawn back to his room, eyes trained on you as you diligently followed each of Chef’s Choi’s directions, or that time he’d first spoke to you back in your French patisserie class. He diverts his gaze elsewhere from the fear that you might catch him staring.

“Hey, man. Isn’t that ________? The girl you’ve been crushing on since forever?” Minjae asks, elbowing Seokjin at the waist. The latter grimaces slightly in pain, before reluctantly letting his gaze settle on you once more.

Jungkook returns from the bathroom, joining the duo by the reception. “Wow, who’s that?” the younger man asks, nodding towards your direction. With Jungkook being a fairly new member of the association, curiosity is getting the best of him with all the faces he’s seeing.

Similar to a little kid at a toy shop, he’s constantly asking his hyungs if the people he was seeing were the actual people he’d seen on the internet or on the television. Minjae, who indulges every question of the maknae of their small circle of friends with great enthusiasm, answers Jungkook. “That’s _______, Kook.”

“No way! That’s her?! As in the _________?” The only female chef in Korea who received her first Michelin star in her twenties?! As in ________ Choi Jiyoung’s protégé?!”

“Yes, Kook, that’s her alright. And also the same ________ who will hear you soon enough and will find you weird if you don’t keep your voice down.”

“She’s also the same recipient of the award your Seokjin hyung is nominated for this year,” Jiwon adds, wriggling his eyebrows at Seokjin.

“That’s so cool!” Jungkook exclaims as their whole group watches you approach the infamous Choi Jiyoung. “Hyung, do you think she’s single?” Jungkook asks to nobody in particular, considering they were all his hyungs. Minjae and Jiwon glance at Seokjin who returns their glances with a light glare.

“Why don’t you go find out after the party then?” Seokjin suggests, ignoring that certain pang of jealousy that blossoms in his chest at his own proposal.

“Tell me you’re kidding, hyung.”

“Huh?”

“Come on! That’s your girl! You’re going to let go of her just like that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kook.”

“Hyung. I may be the maknae, but I am neither blind nor dumb. Anyone with two eyes and a functioning brain will know you have the hots for her.” Minjae and Jiwon snicker at the younger one’s comment. Seokjin, albeit being second to the youngest, gives them a glare the makes them cower behind Jungkook.

“Am I really that obvious?”

“Well no. But every time we go out, the only notifications that pop up in your screen are her posts on Instagram. Don’t you think that’s a tad bit…pathetic, hyung?”

Ooh and aahs  come from the two other men, who are reveling at the harsh bluntness of Jungkook’s words. It’s the maknae who receives Seokjin’s side-eye next. “Need I remind you who’s the older one here?”

“The point exactly! We’re not getting any younger, hyung. Better ask her out now…before I beat you to it.” Seokjin’s mouth falls open in astonishment, while Jungkook just smiles at him in return. “Come on hyung, they’re calling us inside.”

“Well, well, would you look at that stunner over there?” She comments, nodding her head towards someone over your shoulder. There he was, the infamous Kim Seokjin, clad in an all-black ensemble, a single silver chain necklace hanging on his neck. His hair is swept to the side, revealing a bit of his forehead.

“Oh boy.” Jung Chungae fans herself as your greatest rival turns sideways, showing off his side-profile while animatedly telling a story to a fellow colleague seated with them. “Oh how I wish we could just go back to our golden years for just one night!” The rest of the table laughs at Chungae’s comment.

“I personally think you and that man would make a great couple.” Jiyoung says, leaning towards you.

“The other man sat on his right doesn’t seem to think that way though,” Chungae says, picking on her dessert, whispering ‘cute guy from same table’ discreetly. As if on cue, the rest of the ladies, you included, turn your heads towards Seokjin’s table. True to sunbae Chungae’s implications, there was another man beside Seokjin who was staring back at you. You believe Jungkook was his name… nevertheless, you get shy under his stare, averting your eyes back to the presently attractive flower arrangement at the center of your table.

The servers pile inside in pairs, approaching each table to take your dessert plates. You see the host rise from his chair and take the stairs to the stage. He taps the microphone, checking if the audio was working, “To announce this year’s Gourmet Chefs Association of East Asia – Chef of the Year award, may I call on Ms. _________.”

Minjae nudges Seokjin as you stand up from your seat. “Hyung, quit it before other people see you.”

“Come on now, get your ass up and walk her to the stage!”

“She can perfectly walk on her own though?”

“Come on, it’s plus points both for her and the crowd! Give these oldies a show, idiot.”

“N-“

“Hyung, if you won’t do it, I will.” Jungkook says from across the table, eyeing you as you excuse yourself from the other ladies in your table.

Seokjin stares at Jungkook and purses his lips. He discards of the napkin on his lap at once, lightly throwing the piece of cloth on the table. As he stands up, few murmurs of curiosity follow him as he approaches you.

“Ms. ________, may I?” You’re surprised when somebody suddenly appears on your side, offering his arm out for you to hold onto. You hear sunbae Jiyoung quietly cheer you on, nodding her head once to accept Seokjin’s display of manners. The rest of the audience likewise cheers the young man on with a few men whooping and a number of ladies cooing at the sight.  Frankly, it wasn’t even that long of a walk until the stage but a part of you was grateful, knowing for yourself that you truly weren’t used to wearing long dresses like these. 

As you both reach the stage, with your hand hooked around Seokjin’s elbow, he places another hand atop yours for extra support. The action seems to have the opposite effect. Suddenly all too aware of the proximity between you two, a shiver runs through your spine, secretly hoping the gulp that you make at the sensation goes unnoticed. At the end of the stairs, you give him a curt bow and say your thanks, unable to look him in the eye.

The emcee hands you the microphone and an envelope, containing the name of the awardee. You tap the mic once, then twice. “This is on, right?” The audience laughs in response. “Woops, sorry,” you apologize meekly before starting your half-impromptu, half-practiced speech.

“I’d like to take this opportunity to thank, first and foremost, the board of judges who have bestowed upon me this same award this time last year, and now I have had the greatest honor to announce the awardee later on. I would also like to send my gratitude to all those who have been my mentors here in Korea and overseas – for I have taken your pieces of advice to my heart and they have guided me wonderfully throughout these years, especially sunbae Choi Jiyoung, who has molded me into the woman and chef that I am today. Also, here’s a special mention to Chef Lee for having prepared this wonderful course for us this lovely evening – I absolutely admire how he manages to make Korean staples like Kimchi Jjigae and Pajeon so…flavorful like it’s been made with his entire heart and soul poured into each detail. Wow. Could we have a round of applause for Chef Lee tonight?”

The audience complies quickly with your request while Chef Lee gives you a bow of gratitude by the doors of the event hall.

“Lastly, I would also like to acknowledge the presence of a beloved mentor of mine, back when I took patisserie classes back in Paris – Mr. Frank Boucher, who had, by the way, also prepared his signature Apple Tarte Tatin for our dessert tonight. So without further ado, the Gourmet Chefs Association of East Asia – Chef of the Year award goes to, drumroll please!” Your tongue feels like it got stuck in your throat, but you pull yourself back to reality quick enough so no one else notices.

“Kim Seokjin! Congratulations!”

Seokjin had just barely gotten back to his seat when he hears his name being called. He stands up, beautiful facial features twisted into one of confusion. “You won Chef of the Year bro! Congrats!” Minjae pats Seokjin’s butt briefly before pushing him back towards the stage.

As you hand him the trophy, you give each other a small smile, likewise posing for the cameras. The photographer gestures for you to scoot closer to each other with his hands. It’s getting harder to fake your smile. You wanted nothing more but to go home. Or maybe you could pass by Canapé and take a bottle of wine home for yourself 

Thankfully, the awarding the Chef of the Year signals the nearing conclusion of the event, and as soon as you get back to your seat, you send a text to Yoongi, telling him that the event will be over in a couple more minutes.

The event ends quicker than expected, and you find yourself bidding goodbye to everyone else as soon as the emcee officially ends the ceremony. You badly wanted to go home and rest, with only a few hours left for sleep before another work day starts.

You see Yoongi pull up by the entrance after a few more minutes. “How was the party?” You tell him what happened during the event, completely leaving out Seokjin’s appearance and antics. “Let’s just drop you off by your apartment first then I’ll go drive back to the restaurant to grab something.”

“I can go with?”

“It’s fine Yoongs. Besides, we have work in a few hours. You already sleep during work, what more if I keep you awake for an extra couple of minutes tonight?”

Yoongi just shakes his head at you, saying nothing else in reply. He finds you uncharacteristically quiet after a big event like this and wants to ask you about it, but you seem too lost in your thoughts that he doesn’t want to bother you any further. You arrive at his place shortly and as you get down from the car to switch places, you give him a hug and thank him for being your chauffeur. “Oh, and _______? Your French Cabernet Sauvignon is at the third row from the top. And drink at home, please. See you tomorrow.”

Passing through the main entrance of your restaurant, you turn on a few lights by the wine rack to aid your search for the alcoholic beverage. You make a beeline for the wooden structure attached to the wall. Third row from the top… reaching out, you grab on a bottle, reading out its name, ‘Chateau Pichon Longueville 2015 Pauillac’. This will most likely do the trick.

All of a sudden, a knock comes from your door, startling you out of your wits. Quickly, you scurry to the kitchen, looking for something that can protect you in case this person means harm. Your extensive collection of knives is what comes into your mind first, but you wouldn’t want them to be considered murder weapons, in case the worst scenario comes into play.

So you settle for the rolling pin, clutching the cylindrical utensil tightly in your hands. “Who’s there?” you call out, hoping the fear wont seep through your words. “Um, it’s Frank. Frank Boucher. Is that you inside, _______?”

Letting your hands fall to the side, you cautiously near the door, still clutching the rolling pin in your hands. You can’t be too sure nowadays. You sneak a glace through the glass panels to confirm his identity. Breathing a sigh of relief when you see it really was your mentor back in Paris, you set aside the rolling pin and unlock the door.

“_________!”

“Ah, and to what do I owe this pleasure, Chef Boucher?”

“I wanted to talk to you back at the event, but I’m guessing you left early…”

“Um, yes…still a lot of work to do tomorrow.”  

“Can I get you anything, perhaps? I- I grabbed a bottle of wine just now… would you like some? Or water maybe?”

“Wine is always a great choice, _______. Also I’m here to tell you something important, but I’ll let you grab two glasses first, for our usage.”

“Of course! Please feel free to sit anywhere you like.”

“Quaint restaurant you have here, ______. This is the same Canapé you told me in your email right?”  

“Yep! Would you mind a few crackers and goat’s cheese to go with the wine?”

“That sounds perfect, though you really don’t have to bother yourself with all of that…” You shrug off his comment, reassuring him that it was the least you could do after having taught you so much when you were back in Paris.

You finally get everything ready, one hand holding a plate full of crackers and cheese, while the other holds two wine glasses. As soon as you get seated, Frank takes upon him the honor of opening the bottle, pouring a sufficient amount of the beverage onto your glasses. “I meant to give this to you personally earlier, but I could no longer find you after the party ended.” He hands you a white envelope with your name and Canapé’s address printed at the back. 

“You’ve been invited to the Asian Gourmet Conference in the Philippines next week.” You choke on the wine you’re drinking, embarrassingly turning into a coughing mess in front of your mentor. He looks at you expectantly as you open the envelope.

“Wait. This is real?! No way!” Frank laughs at your reaction, excitement evident in your voice as you skim over the words indicated on the paper. “Oh my goodness! This is such a great event! And the opportunities! Please bring the wine home, Chef Boucher! It’s on the house.” The French man laughs harder at your offer, but he doesn’t decline.

“I’m glad you’re this excited, because you’re going with Seokjin.”

Immensely thanking the heavens that you were looking down the whole time while reading the document, else your mentor would’ve seen the instantaneous scowl that graced your face at the mere mention of the-man-who-shall-not-be-named.

You force a smile onto your features before looking back up at Frank. “Kim Seokjin? As in Kim Seokjin who just won GCAEA’s Chef of the Year Award earlier?”

With slumped shoulders, you lean farther backward in your seat. The Asian Gourmet Conference was one of the most anticipated conferences in the whole of Asia. It was an event highly awaited by many in the culinary field, especially one of its main events where they invite gourmet chefs from all parts of the world to compete for the best dish ever and a $200,000 prize.

The contest was another thing though, because two representatives will be vying for each country, so the winning pair will get to come home with $100,000 each. You really wouldn’t have put any thought into who your partner would have been if you were.

Your head fills with dread at the thought of having Seokjin as your partner. It was bad enough that he owns the gourmet restaurant next to yours, and that he’d attended GCAEA which caused more unwanted interactions with him.

“Yes him. From what I’ve heard, people say he’s a rising star, and that his newly established restaurant was getting a lot of good reviews.”

“It’s the restaurant next to mine, chef.”

“Ha! Seems like you’ve finally met your match, darling. Pretty sure that can apply romance-wise as well…”

“Why does everybody keep shipping us?” You wonder, subconsciously vocalizing your thoughts.

“You two look like you have his-…I think… you two would just look great together!”

“Ship? You know what ship means?” You look at him incredulously.

“It’s when you like the idea of two people together right? My daughter says it all time because of these Korean boys with bright hair – actually, when she knew I was going here to attend GCAEA as a guest she kept on nagging me to buy her albums and these sticks…”

“Sticks?”

“Yeah, the lightning ones?”

“Lightning?” You stifle a laugh. “You mean lightsticks, right?”

“Whatever they’re called, _______.” Frank Boucher gives you his infamous glare.

Nearly snorting at the sight of your mentor looking physically and mentally exhausted with trying to keep up with his fangirling daughter, you offer him another bottle because he seems like he needs it more than you do.

Your conversation falls into talking about your current lives and the stresses of running a restaurant, with Frank eventually leading the conversation about the person you’d least likely enjoy talking about. He tells you about your neighboring rival, how he’s done just as well with his own place like what you did with yours. He’s proud that both of his students had established their names in Korea’s gourmet society even at such a young age.

The clocks finally hits ten thirty and Frank takes this as his cue to get going.“Great! Your plane ticket and hotel booking has probably already been sent by my secretary to your email. The convention is only for three days, but the two extra days are on me. Take it as a gift for Canapé’s opening. Go enjoy yourself, _______”

Forcing another bright smile onto your face, you bid your goodbye to your mentor, locking the front door of your restaurant as he leaves.  Five days with Seokjin. May the gods have mercy on you.

The four-hour flight to the Philippines had been excruciatingly awkward. To say the least.

You hadn’t talked to each other for the most part. In fact, the only time you had interacted with each other was when you’d waken him up because you had already landed at the airport. The both of you had barely spoken to each other even on your way to the hotel. Occasionally he’d ask you questions that only warranted monosyllabic responses from you.

You’re glad that weariness passed as the only excuse for the lack of interaction. The moment you’d met up at the airport, fatigue had already been evident in both your faces, so your pair had ended up with alternating sleeping schedules during the length of your flight and up to the taxi ride to your hotel.

Only a few words were shared between you when you’ve finally arrived in front of your rooms – something along the lines of ‘good night’ and ‘see you tomorrow’. As you let sleep take over you that night, you pray that everything will go smoothly for the entirety of your stay.

“Lovely afternoon to all of you present here today at this year’s Asian Gourmet Conference!” Excited applause falls amongst the crowd, cheering on different countries, even though they screamed the most for Team Philippines. The host greets the audience and the participants one more time, before proceeding to the guidelines of the event.

“For the first challenge of our main event, we’d like the chefs to cook two staple dishes from their respective home countries – but with a twist! Our chefs will have to use Filipino ingredients only! This is where we put their creativity and talent to the test. To our chefs, please be reminded that we will be giving you an hour to prepare your fusion dishes. While you guys are cooking, I’ll be going around to interview almost fifty chefs who have come from all parts of the world just to join us today.”

You start brainstorming with Seokjin the moment the host leaves the stage. “You’ve been to the Philippines a few times right? You’ve tried some of their food?” your partner asks, turning to you. You’re surprised he even remembered…if you had recalled properly, you had only mentioned it once back in Paris that you did visit the Philippines on occasion.

“Um, yes…I’ve been here a couple of times,” you reply, racking your brain for any Korean dishes that might hold any similarity with Korean staples. “I only remember Sinigang, and Adobe…”

“I’m pretty sure they call it Adobo here Seokjin,” you make no attempt to suppress the giggle the escapes your lips as he mistakes computer software for food.

“But the challenge is only to make our home country’s staples with Philippine ingredients… so this shouldn’t be that big of a fusion problem since rice is also considered a vital part of their meals here…”

“You think good ‘ole Bibimbap will do? Pretty much all the ingredients are available here…What else could we have?” Seokjin asks, taking a notepad and a pen from his jacket. “We can have tteokbokki for the appetizer and bingsu for dessert.”

You get to cooking right after you and Seokjin agree on the ingredients you were going to use. Maybe working with Seokjin wasn’t so bad after all. Not even fifteen minutes into the competition, you see a few girls cheer Seokjin on, ceaselessly calling your partner “Seokjin oppa!” They screams only seem to spur Seokjin on, who’s now showing off his knife skills. You roll your eyes as you shake your head, crushing the garlic a little too hard against the board.

“Jealous much?” your partner asks. You can feel Seokjin smirking beside you.

“You wish, Kim Seokjin.”

“Whatever floats your boat, ________,” he sighs, “If only my partner could also send me words of encouragement rather than staying silent the whole time,” he mumbles to himself, thinking it wasn’t loud enough for you to hear.

“You and I both know this mouth is better at something else.” You turn to him, giving Seokjin a playful wink before setting the ingredients to the bibimbap on one side. He nearly drops the knife he’s holding at your comment, obviously scandalized by your innuendo.

Even with the time racing against you, everything was still going as planned, you just needed to hurry with the final parts of the dishes and you’d be able to beat the buzzer which was bound to ring in less than twenty minutes. That is until the salt container placed on top of this tall arrangement of pots topples over the shaved ice you’ve prepared for the bingsu. You see the ice melt before your eyes, and you quickly move to the container, removing some of the ice that was turning into water.

“Shit! Sorry ________!” He drops the pans he held in his arms onto the sink, scampering to your side afterwards. “Can I help –“

“No! I…It’s fine, Seokjin, just…just go back to whatever you were doing earlier. And please be careful next time.” Seokjin nods curtly, before going back to clean the pans. “______, why does it smell like something’s burning?”

“Fuck!” Cursing under your breath, you hurry towards the pot where the rice was cooking. As you remove the cover, the smell of burnt rice and a failed dish wafts through your nose, causing you to take a deep breath as you attempt to calm yourself down.

Reluctantly, you scoop out the rice that wasn’t burnt and place it onto the stone pot and start plating your bibimbap. Seokjin likewise helps you finish plating the tteokbokki and bingsu in silence.

Needless to say, your burnt rice didn’t make it through the first round. It didn’t mean that you were disqualified from the competition though, but in order to win the cash prize, you will have to make it through all three challenges of the event. That same evening as you take the cab back to the hotel, the despondence in the air is thicker than ever.

“See you tomorrow, ______.” Seokjin says, giving you a small smile as he stops in front of his door.

“Right. See you tomorrow, Seokjin. Sleep well.”

It’s ironic how it was you who actually needed that phrase and not Seokjin. You’ve watched the clock tick away, turned on the television for something to watch on the local news channels which were thankfully spoken in English, you had also resorted to Netflix on your phone, but all to no avail.

Admittedly, you had finished an Iced Americano in fifteen minutes earlier this morning but you figure it’s the entire ‘burnt rice’ accident that’s keeping you awake at this hour. Heaving a deep sigh, you lift the covers off your body, put on a hoodie and headed outside.

You pause by Seokjin’s door momentarily, with the strong urge to knock on his door and apologize for your lack of professionalism earlier this afternoon. Seokjin didn’t really mean to pour the salt over the ice at the event, and the way you reacted was unnecessarily rude.

Seokjin was probably asleep though, and you didn’t want to further embarrass yourself by waking him in the middle of the night. Retracting your hand that was merely inches away from his door, you turn on your heel and decide to apologize to him first thing in the morning tomorrow. Maybe even get him an extra something to show the depth of your regret and guilt.

After having asked the receptionist for directions towards the nearest convenience store, you’re suddenly regretting having worn shorts on your way out – the exposed skin of your legs prickling as the chilly evening air bites at it. Spotting 7-Eleven just across the street, you walk quickly towards the convenience store, desperate to feel warmth in this cold night.

The mellifluous sound of the bell echoes throughout the small store as you enter, that particular smell of convenience stores wafting through your senses. You decide to explore the shop a little, trying to look for something to eat.

Quite ironically, you’ve cooked nearly a thousand dishes in your lifetime, and having to cook another shouldn’t be that much of a burden but when your mind is swirling with thoughts just like tonight, you can’t seem to bring yourself to cook even the simplest dish – like it’s too great of a task to burden yourself with.

So during times like this, you turn to instant noodles, the ultimate lifesaver since your culinary school days. Hopefully no one from GCAEA or the AGC finds you like this, a dignified gourmet chef who’s starting to establish her name in the culinary field, crawling convenience stores in the middle of the night and slurping instant noodles away like it’s her last day on Earth.

You finally get to the noodles section, where you see a man in a hoodie, likewise skimming through the same aisle as you. The receptionist had told you to be wary of sketchy-looking people especially during the wee hours of the morning so you hurry with your own search as you look for a certain brand of cup noodles. Shin Ramyeon.

It should be here somewhere… As far as you’re concerned as a consumer, it’s being exported to over a hundred countries now so it must be here. Going over the entire aisle one last time, you finally see the red cup, reaching over the lone cup of Shin Ramyeon left on the shelf. The problem was, you weren’t the only one who was reaching for it.

Why do those fingers look insanely familiar?

Your eyes widen gradually as you slowly trail them up to see the owner of those hands. Of course, who else could it have been? You call out each other’s name at the same time.

“Seokjin.” “________.”

“You can have it.” You spoke in unison again.

“It’s fine really, you can have it. I’ll just look for another brand,” you tell him, handing over the cup with perfectly controlled reluctance.

“Would you mind if we shared, perhaps?” You stare at him, completely taken aback by his offer. “Or not…I mean- forget I even said that… Here take it.” He hands the cup to you and starts to leave.

“Jin! I- I don’t mind sharing.” Biting on his lip, he attempts to hide the smile that slowly etches into his face as he hears the nickname only you have for him. He turns to face you again. “Okay.” Seokjin gives you a smile, grabs the cup noodles from your grasp and orders you to look for seats while he pays for your shared midnight snack.  

Slowly, you trudge towards the limited number of seats they offer at the convenience store and find a spot by the windows. Seokjin arrives at your table a couple of minutes afterwards.

It was now or never. You owed Seokjin an apology after having rudely declined his offer of help during the event, even when the whole fiasco was just an accident. You figure if you don’t apologize for your unjust behavior, guilt is most likely going to eat at you for a very, very long time. Seokjin’s dejected yet still beautiful face will haunt you in your dreams.

As Seokjin busies himself with adding the ingredients onto the paper cup, you take this opportunity to speak up. “Jin,” you start, the nickname sending Seokjin’s heart into another frenzy. “About the bibimbap earlier, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, ________. It was my fault anyway. I should be the one apologizing right now, but…hold that thought for a moment…” He looks away, letting out a sneeze. “….it’s the powder seasoning, sorry… As I was saying, I’d also like to apologize about what happened earlier, I mean if I didn’t try to carry so much, the salt wouldn’t have toppled over.”

“Hey! I should be the one apologizing right now! Stop stealing my thunder!” You pout, begrudgingly taking the small carton of milk Seokjin bought to go with the ramen. You can’t say you aren’t pleasantly surprised at how he remembers this habit of yours too. For some reason, he remembers how you always have milk ready whenever you eat something spicy.

“Anyways… I also wanted to apologize for my rude behavior towards you back at the event. It was an accident, yet I reacted badly and declined your assistance. It was only after the event that I realized that we’re supposed to be helping each other, and not treating each other poorly.”

“Don’t worry yourself too much about it, ______. Besides, we still have two days to redeem ourselves right?” Seokjin sends a warm smile your way, one you cannot help but return.

“What else are you waiting for? The ramen is getting cold and lonely.”

“You sure you aren’t talking about yourself?”

“You know, I’m thinking maybe you should get your own instant noodles,” Seokjin comments, fingers curling around the paper cup.

“Okay, okay, geez.” Throwing your hands up in defense, you thank him for paying for the noodles and the milk before pulling your chopsticks apart and digging in. As you take your first bite, Seokjin suddenly speaks up.

“Is it just me, or I am really very anxious right now…what if someone might see us?”

“Last time I checked, there’s nothing wrong with eating inside a convenience store.”  

“No, no. But we’re like… owners…of restaurants…that serve gourmet food…yet here we are, at half past twelve in the morning, sharing cup noodles like it’s the last meal in the world due to a zombie apocalypse.”

“I get how you feel, but I don’t think we’d agree on the zombie apocalypse part…”

The conversation flows naturally between the both of you, like two friends casually catching up with each other’s lives. Seokjin was in the middle of talking when you hear the pitter-patter of rain outside. Tiny droplets of water slide down the glass panels, slowly turning into heavier ones.

You look at each other. “Should we?”

“We can wait this out if you’d like…” Seokjin proposes, though he isn’t so sure he wants to go with his offer either. The sudden downpour doesn’t seem like it was going to stop anytime soon. “Forget what I said, we should leave before this gets worse. Wait here.” Seokjin stands up,  goes through each aisle of the convenience store, and returns to where you’re seated. “Damn, they just ran out of umbrellas.”

“We could just run back the hotel…it’s just one crosswalk away.”

“You sure about that? What if you get sick?”

“Let’s just hope we won’t then.” Seokjin gives you a nod in approval. “Before we go out though,” he pulls his hoodie off his torso, giving you a slight show of his abdominals as he raises his hands. You abruptly look away, before nasty thoughts overcome you.

Placing his hoodie over both your heads, Seokjin peers down at you. “Ready when you are.” The quick sprint back to the hotel has you both screaming and laughing at the same time. You weren’t surprised that Seokjin’s hoodie barely served its purpose. You were both drenched from the neck down, attracting unwanted attention from people with your appearance.

With less than a few more steps before you reach your hotel rooms, you feel trepidation bubbling in the pit of your stomach. What’s going to happen now? Were you supposed to forget what happened between the two of you three years ago just like that? Was your midnight ramen run officially a clean slate?

Seokjin has his back facing you, the thin, white material of his shirt clinging sinfully to his skin. Every second spent with Seokjin was the best form of punishment in both ways “Are you going to sleep?” You don’t think that was going to happen anytime soon, now that you’re once again blessed with his visuals and perfectly sculpted body.

Seokjin turns to face you, waiting for your response. You shake your head no, eyes unabashedly staring at the outline of his six-pack. The man lets out a cough, drawing you out of your reverie. “Wanna keep warm for a bit and talk over hot chocolate?”

Why do you get the feeling it’s not just hot chocolate that’s going to keep you warm tonight?

“Sure.” Your voice comes out small, swallowing loudly as he unlocks the door to his room. 

The tension in the air is so thick that you’re actually having difficulty trying to breathe normally. Seokjin sets his wet hoodie on the floor before meeting your eyes, pupils already dilated. He momentarily holds his stare, eyes raking all over your equally drenched body. He points a finger sideways, “Hot chocolate.” Subconsciously chewing on your bottom lip, you nod, unable to form any coherent words in your head.

As he heads towards the kitchenette, you rub your face with your hands, before placing a hand over your chest. “Calm down, girl. It’s not like you’ve never seen abs before.” This is like Paris all over again, and you weigh the possible outcome of this situation. If you’re reading the signs right, Seokjin is clearly just affected as you are. Are you really willing to wear your heart out on your sleeve like this one more time? You rack your brain for answers, yet all it does is betray you with images of the rippling muscles underneath Seokjin’s shirt.

Ah, fuck it.

“Jin?” you call out as you reach the wall separating the kitchenette. Just as you peek through the divider, Seokjin rakes a hand through his temple, his hair now pushed back and forehead visible. You practically hear your resolve shattering into pieces.

Taking initiative, you close the distance between the both of you, connecting your lips with his in a feverish kiss. He tastes spicy – just like the ramen you’ve shared just minutes ago, but god, your favorite ramen and Seokjin’s lips; if that ain’t the hottest combination in the world – both literally, and figuratively.

You kiss Seokjin fervently like you’re going to crumble if his lips aren’t connected with yours. One hand of his raises to get rid of the scrunchie holding your hair up in a ponytail, and he lets his fingers card through your wet hair gently. The intensity of his kiss practically devours you, his hands grabbing hastily at your clothes. He’s itching to take them off your body, yet you feel the hesitation in his actions, waiting for that sign from you before he can do so as he pleases.

Pulling away to take a breather, you tug your hoodie up and off you, with Seokjin helping you with the task. "You don’t know how much I’ve longed for this, fuck." He seizes your mouth with his once more like a man starved.

Seokjin groans as he finally gets a view of the amount of lace you’re wearing underneath your hoodie. “I’d love to have you in your lingerie another time, but for now, let’s get you naked for me, hmm?” You’re barely allowed a second to fully comprehend his statement about lingerie and another time before Seokjin discards of the red lacy bra you have on and attaching his lips to one of your nipples.

Gasping at the sensation, you arch your back so that you’re practically pressing your chest against his face, greedily asking for more. Hooking a finger inside the waistband of your gym shorts, Seokjin easily tugs your shorts down along with your underwear.

He grabs you by the waist and lifts you up to the counter for his convenience. You shiver slightly when your ass comes in contact with the coldness of the marble. As if on instinct, your legs spread wider, seemingly inviting him to come closer to you.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that?”

“Mhmmm,” your words are muffled as you ardently kiss him. Seokjin brings his lips back to your breasts, biting and pulling at one while the other gets kneaded under his palm. Equally just as impatient as you are, Seokjin lets a hand trail in between your bodies, tentatively brushing against your core to gauge your reaction.

Your body quakes in anticipation, and Seokjin teases you even further by slowly rubbing the pad of his finger on your clit. “Jin, please,” you beseech. “Gotta prepare you first, baby girl.” Letting your head fall back at the sensation (and the pet name!), Seokjin decides to give you what you want, seeing as though you were wet enough that taking his cock right now won’t be a problem. He finally slides a finger inside, your body trembling at the intrusion. God, it’s been too long.

Okay, honestly speaking, you really didn’t take interest in another man when Seokjin entered your life three years ago, and now that you’re back here in this compromising situation with his finger sliding in and out of you languidly, you feel like you could just cum at the thought of it alone.

Seokjin adds another finger, continuing the pace. You moan wantonly as Seokjin curls his fingers, your velvety walls clenching around his digits. He can tell you’re getting close, but he knew it wasn’t enough.

Without having to slide his fingers out of you, Seokjin grabs at one of the chairs and pulls it towards himself so he can sit.

He hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you closer, merely centimeters away from your cunt. Your cheeks are set ablaze at his brazen action, opening your mouth to say something, falling speechless yet again as Seokjin’s lips come in contact with your nether lips. The man licks a bold stripe along the length of your folds, your hands instantly finding purchase on his hair as you’ve got nothing else to hold on to. He repeats the action all over again, this time adding his fingers to slide in and out of you and toy with your clit. A few more licks and a particular curl of his digits, Seokjin makes you cum for the first time again in three years, so hard that you’re body’s trembling even after he sets your legs down 

You’re breathing heavily, resting your forehead on Seokjin’s temple. “Mind taking a shower with me? It’s important to bathe after running the rain” Seokjin looks up at you, eyes pleading.

“I would, if I’m still able to walk.”

“Who said you were going to walk?” Seokjin maneuvers you on top of the counter, placing his hands under your knees and on your back, carrying you bridal style towards the bath. As soon as he settles you down onto the tub, he turns the faucet on and leaves you there for a moment, telling you that he was just going to grab something from his luggage.

You rest your head against the edge of the tub as you wait for Seokjin. You slowly feel exhaustion taking over you, but when you hear Seokjin’s muted footsteps against the carpeted floor, your eyes pry open only to see Seokjin in his boxers, holding a bath bomb in his palm. You gulp. This was going to be one hell of a night.

Just like before, Seokjin has you cumming thrice in the bath, once when he took you from underneath, making sure that the water fell perfectly on your clit for added stimulation as he slid his length in and out of you. He’d made you cum when you rode him as well, water sloshing everywhere at your naughty shenanigans in the bath. Even after two orgasms, Seokjin just won’t quit, having bent you over as you faced the wall, pounding you from behind.

Seokjin, with his libido seemingly running 24/7 tells you he wasn’t done with you just yet, saying he’s still got three years worth more of fucking to give you. He wanted to give you the most unforgettable sex of your life, and boy, was he adamant about it.

Seemingly not having had enough of you yet after helping you scrub almost the whole expanse of your skin, he finds himself getting hard again at the sight of you in just his shirt and nothing else.  You meant to sleep by that time, but as soon as Seokjin spooned you, you’d felt his clothed erection already grinding against your ass. You no longer kept count of how many times he made you cum.

The sunlight peeks through a tiny slit through the curtains, the heat perfectly hitting your face, causing you to wake up. Your body is sore all over, and as you roll to the other side while stretching out your limbs, you spot next to you empty.

Of course. You’re a fucking dumbass.

Hastily grabbing your clothes strewn across the floor, you head out of his room, tears already brimming in your eyes. Your vision is getting blurry by the second, and you angrily swipe at your cheeks as you feel a singular tear roll down. As you curse Seokjin under your breath, you bump into none other than the devil himself. “Oh! You’re awake?”

You don’t answer, stepping aside so you could go back to your room and rethink your life decisions.

“Where are you going, _______?”

“Out of your room, and hopefully out of your life as well.”

“Wait - ______! What are you talking about?” Seokjin extends his hand to grab your arm.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Seokjin.” The venom laced with your words makes him reel, retracting the arm he had held out to reach you. “I really never meant anything to you, hm? Fuck, I have probably reached desperation to return back into your arms that easily.”

“Desperation? That’s all it was last night? And the one three years ago?”

“I should be the one asking you that question!”

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? Are you really that fucking dense, Seokjin? You were the one who left me alone in the room that morning, and now you’ve done it again. Congratulations on having a new notch on your belt. And I’m a fucking fool for even thinking you felt otherwise!”

“You think I left you that morning?”

“I’m not done yet—what did you say?”

“You were the one who left that morning!”

“I did not! When I woke up, you weren’t there, nor were you anywhere inside your entire apartment! Do you know how embarrassing that was!” You pause, lips trembling, “F-For someone who actually meant something to you only seeing you as just some one-night stand?! Someone who you could use to get your dick wet?!”

“You like m-“

“You’re missing the entire point here, Kim Seokjin!”

“What’s happening here?” A raspy voice asks, the familiar mop of curly hair coming into view. Rafa?

“Oh my god! You like me, fuck! I could just kiss you right now!” Seokjin doesn’t even hesistate, already leaning towards your face and connecting your lips. You almost melt into his arms at the sensation, but you pull away just as instantly, tears freely rolling down. “Am I really just a joke to you, Jin? Have you ever even taken into consideration my feelings, even once?”

“______, darling. This is all a misunderstanding. Well, I did leave that morning, but I just went out to Rafa next door to shower. I—you looked so peaceful as you slept that I really didn’t want to bother waking you up to tell you that I can’t shower with cold water and it’s like déjà vu all of a sudden and…wait!” Seokjin drags poor Rafael who’s still looks like he’s half-asleep. “Rafa can verify the truth!”

Rafael sighs, once again caught in the middle of something he no longer wants to be a part of. “It’s true, ______. This guy’s pretty much in love with you. It’s just an unfortunate fact that this same guy has plenty of annoying habits that gets him in trouble most times. Just like not being able handle water that is below 26 degrees Celsius.”

You’re looking back and forth Seokjin and Rafa, trying to study their features if they’re being questionable or not. Finding no trace of mirth in their eyes, you turn to Seokjin. “You really didn’t leave me that morning and… today?”

“No. I could never. I’m a fucking dumbass for not thinking about what you could’ve felt that time and today…or telling you that I was just heading out to Rafa’s to shower because for some reason my heater isn’t always functioning…” 

“Glad to know you’ve finally acknowledged that you’re a bloody idiot.” Rafa speaks up, narrowing his eyes at Seokjin, taking a sip from his mug. Since when was that in his hands? Rafa sees you stare at his mug, and answers your silent question, “Was planning to drink this while it was hot earlier but I don’t see anything wrong with drinking cold coffee while watching a live action soap opera.”

“Funny how a night of fucking like wild rabbits can do so much to people,” Rafa adds, scoffing as he retreats back to his room. You lean your head towards Seokjin’s chest, embarrassed out of your wits. Seokjin puts an arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to him. “Don’t mind Rafa. He’s just jealous.”

“I can perfectly hear you, Kim Seokjin!”

© hhyungz 2020. All rights reserved.

[utterlyinevitable]

I want them all for E&O but will settle for 4-7 from each category for E&O please 🙏

Aaa you’re too sweet! Thank you for asking 💕

> ship questions <

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

4. Who felt romantic feelings first?

Ethan. Like in canon, Miami is when he started to see her as more than just an attractive, brilliant intern. She retreated back to her room amicably for the evening before Ethan could even kiss her. Of which he’s thankful because he respects her and her career too much to have a moment of lustful weakness. 

5. Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

They both did. Ethan got good at it for the most part, but once they started spending time together outside of work related things after the Louise thing, he couldn’t help but be soft in the name of friendship. But idk any friends that would buy be a $2k keyboard 👀

Ode caught feelings after the Louise thing too. She has a better poker face though and with their weird boss/friend/mentor dynamic she couldn’t wrap her head around losing all of that because of fleeting romantic feelings. 

6. If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

Ode would laugh and says she knows - he’s her medical hero and their brains work similarly. If anyone was going to be her soulmate it would be him. Though she means it absolutely platonically. 

Ethan would just shake his head and say such notions don’t exist. Though if you told him this after his 40th he’d be silent on the matter, while everything inside him would be inclined to agree. 

7. What would their lives be like if they had never met?

ooooo this is interesting! 

If Ethan never ever met Ode I think he’d continue his jaded, mostly celibate lifestyle. He’s devoted to his work and it would take a truly magnificent person to change him - and that can really only be done by a soulmate...😏 He and Harper would fall back into their back and forth companionable coexistence. It’s not perfect but it’s something to make him feel like he’s a living man and not a machine. 

So for Ode... if she never stumbled upon Ethan’s research that completely turned her world around, she would be studying to become a dentist maybe? She always leaves music for the greater good of medicine, idk what she’d go into if it wasn’t diagnostics. 

 GENERAL

4. Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

I think they’re each others first real and true love. Ethan certainly didn’t love Harper or any of his other past partners since he doesn’t believe in the concept. And Odette... she has only had 2 other relationships and they never really stuck long enough to move past the initial infatuation.  

5. What’s their height difference? Age difference?

Ethan is 6′6 and Odette is 5′8 so nearly a foot lol. They’re also 10 years and 4 months apart. 

6. What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Odette and Alan adore one another. Alan’s crashed enough of the pair’s study and dinner not-a-dates enough times to forge a bond. It’s become quite a joke between the small family that Ode just comes by in hopes of running into Naveen and talking about classic rock and what growing up in the 60s and 70s was like. (for a girl who’s quite poised and refined in her clothing she is really drawn to the 70s billow and floral aesthetic). At the start Ode really didn’t want to get involved with Ethan’s parents because that’s his business - Alan made it really hard to stick to that. And by the time Louise turned up they already had a little bond on top of her hating the broken look on Ethan’s face. 

Odette is an inherently private person. Her parents know about Ethan and their mentor/friendship. They don’t find out that they’re dating until she goes home to visit ~9 months into their relationship and tells them she’s bringing someone. She has never ever introduced them to a boy before and they’re over the moon that she’s found happiness. Just from this alone they know Ethan is special. When they get there things are very awkward - Ethan’s not good at this and Ode doesn’t like how attending her parents are being. Long story short, things go great and when they’re sipping beers while the ladies clean up, her dad gives Ethan a small photo album of his favorite pictures of Odette through the years. It’s Ethan’s most prized possession to date.  

7. Who takes the lead in social situations?

Odette, for obvious reasons. She’s able to schmooze a lot better than he can. She’s also able to diffuse situations with such elegance and grace he has never seen in his lifetime. She gets him out of a lot of things with a smile and swapping business cards. 

LOVE

4. How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

Cuddling is their favorite downtime activity. She rests her head against his shoulder or his chest as their sat on the couch, or throws her feet over his lap. 

They’re not big on PDA. Sometimes they hold hands when they’re around close friends. More often than not you’ll find Ethan with his hand on or forearm wrapped around her lower back. Kisses are short and only happen when they’re certain no one they know is around and if there are people around, no one is paying them any mind. For them intimacies really belong in the privacy of their homes. 

5. Who initiates kisses?

Ethan for the most part. Physical touch is one of his love languages and he needs that sort of contact in the relationship. Ode never denies him, she always sighs into him. 

6. Who’s the big and little spoon?

Ethan’s obviously big spoon because he’s like double her size. He also prefers to have his arms wrapped around her when they’re asleep.  

7. What are their favorite things to do together?

Running. Their thing is long jogs and then brunch right after. Odette hates running but took it up because it was the only thing that could get Ethan out of his head and talking enough during the Louise thing. Now running has a place in her heart because it’s more or less where they started falling in love with each other as people and not as just doctors. 

Opera. Farmers Markets. And of course they both just love being in one anothers company. Ethan also adores listening to her play. A lot of the time she hides away but he can still hear it through the door and walls of the apartment. When they get their big house she’s more comfortable with him in her creative space - their piano is the focal point of the indoor/outdoor sitting room. He likes to sit on the patio with the bi-folding doors open while she’s at her grand playing away. The music cascading through their home and out to their beachfront property. 

DOMESTIC LIFE

4. Do they have any pets?

No, they don’t. They keep talking about getting a dog or a cat. They look at rescue websites and discuss which ones they should go meet. But really they both know they’re much too busy to give a pet the attention they deserve. 

5. Who’s the stricter parent?

They don’t have kids. If they did it would probably be Ethan. 

6. Who worries the most?

They both do but in different ways. They both worry about work and the future. As director and only child, Ethan worries about bigger life things. Whereas Odette is quite secular in her worries - she takes them one at a time as they come. 

7. Who kills the bugs in the house?

Ethan. Odette is not touching that nope nah ah ah 

[jjpogue]

❝Bombastic and Wild — t.t

Request: “Could you do a topper x reader where she used to date JJ but he broke up her for kie and topper and Sarah already broke up. Also reader and topper’s family are super close and they end up getting closer idk” - @sweetestdolan

Pairing: topper thornton x reader 

Length: 973 words

Warnings: angst, emotions,  topper not being a terrible boy

You were only 16, you had to keep reminding yourself that. You were piling expectations too high on yourself that were utterly realistic. You felt like playing a grown up would be fun but it felt good to let that go and enjoy the freedom of your childhood.

You thought that freedom belonged with the pogues, living each day as it came and breaking the rules to have a good time. You ended up with more than a few nights locked in your room grounded but at the time you didn’t care.

You had JJ, Kie, John B and Pope to go back too. You loved them all with your heart- perhaps loved them too much. You fell quickly for JJ, a whirlwind summer romance that count handle the strain of emotional struggles and parental abuse. 

Nights spent combing your fingers through golden hair and wiping tears. A sixteen year old girl isn’t any replacement for a therapist.

Then the fateful night happened, the stars dim and the air warm and breezy. You were dumped, dumped for your best friend and all those feelings of love and kinship shattered in one fell swoop. You cried, cried until you thought you couldn’t anymore and cried some more. You fell asleep on a wet pillow that night. 

You hadn’t spoken to the pogues since that day. Kiara was the one to try and speak to you but ignored her and burned any bridge that hadn’t completely crumbled.

It was around the same time Sarah Cameron became a part of the group. And you couldn’t help but to suspect you had been replaced. One kook girl for another. And that only made it stung worse, to be replaced. To know someone had taken a spot you once thought was special, unique, that no one else could fill.

Then the incident at the hawk’s nest happened and that really emphasized were the lines were drawn. As Sarah and the pogues knelt around John B you cried, still feeling such raw emotion to see you past friend laying unconscious in the grass. Why couldn’t your feeling truly die? Were you always doomed to be tortured by your own stupid compassion? It didn’t matter, because Topper was there to pull you away.

You sat in Topper’s car, pulling away from the unfortunate scene. You still had tears in your eyes, blurring your vision. 

“I didn’t mean to... I didn’t know it would break.” Topper muttered under his breath, his eyes focused on the dark road in front of you. 

You nodded numbly. You believed him. You and Topper’s families were very close and you and Topper had been friends ever since you were in diapers. Topper had of course changed since then. But he wasn’t cruel enough to commit such an act. He was prone to violent tendencies, he had gone too far before. You reprimanded him each time, in fact. But Topper deep down had a good heart and you knew he ended up regretting a lot of what he did.

“I know, T. I know.” You whispered, reaching over the console and holding his hand in your own. “I can sleep over a yours tonight.” You offered, wiping your eyes and finally turning to look at him.

He nodded slowly and cut the wheel, refusing to look at you. You understood why. Topper was never good with his emotions. They came out of him like an explosion of fireworks, bombastic and wild. He had always tried to restrain himself, to be the good son and it was never a good thing; to let it build and build. 

“You can’t keep this up, you know.” 

Hands traveled down your side, delicate and careful and all the things Topper was known not to be. You were sidled up to his side in no more than your underwear. But it wasn’t weird, and it wasn’t sexual either. When you reached a certain point in friendship you trusted yourself to bear it all to that person. They could see you for the raw, whole entity you were and not get hung up on something trivial as showing a little skin.

“T, I’m scared.” You admitted, nesting your cheek more into his bare chest. Hot nights meant little clothes and sticky skin. “I don’t want to see you go so far you can never come back. Because you know, I care about you so damn much.”

Topper took in a deep breath and you could feel it, his rib cage expanding and opening up beneath you. “It makes me scared too. But I get so caught up in my anger and..” He raised his hand, his fists shaking erratically, “I don’t know how to make it go away (y/n).”

You frowning and sat up on you elbow, looking down at Topper as your hair curtained around her face.

“It’s not too late to ask for help.”

Topper looked up into your eyes, the bright wane of the moon reflecting off them in a nebulous mix of hopefulness and affections you suspected weren’t so platonic. Topper was always there, your constant and while it had never appeared obvious you always knew.

You both met halfway in a soft, plush kiss. Topper pulled your loose hair back and cradled your head in his hand.

People say it’s supposed to be a bright spark, lightning in a bottle. That you feel overwhelmed like the world is spinning around this one beautiful moment in time.

But everything was calm, relaxed and slow in the best way possible. You laid back down with Topper, his chin rested on the top of your head and one hand running circles on your lower back. It wasn’t a grant revelation but a small step in a big picture. And you knew it was going to be okay.

MASTERLIST

If you want more content like this my ask box is always open!

I love getting comments and feedback so please consider it ^^

[accio-moony]

Not My Type || George Weasley x Reader Angst/Fluff

Request: { @jxsminedrxgon​ asked @eleven-times-lively​: “Hi! I was wondering if I could get a George Weasley x transfer student (female) Ravenclaw angst that turns to fluff?”}

Word Count: ~6K [way too fucking long but I had originally planned more] [not completely proofread]

Summary: you’re a transfer student, new to Hogwarts, and a particular Weasley seems to be infatuated with you, and you deny it to yourself that you’re equally as infatuated. Jealousy makes you admit it to yourself, and eventually to him. [takes place during The Goblet of Fire/1994/George’s 6th year, but there is no tournament. There is quidditch as usual and there is a yule ball as if it is a yearly thing.]

WARNINGS: angst? Exploding potion, detention, idk

*not my gifs*

Being a transfer student is rarely easy, that’s for sure. It’s not often that someone jumps the pond, already knowing people on the other side. As you try not to scare yourself, you stare out the misty, wet window to the expansive hills flying by. Your father got a new job, which meant moving from North America to England. At your previous school, Ilvermorny, you were familiar with everything as you had gone there for the better part of the past five years. By second year, you knew the halls like the back of your hand, and you belonged to a group of friends within your house, Thunderbird. But now, as you ride the Hogwarts Express to your new school, you can’t help but feel nervous. Everything will be different, except that you’ll still be learning magic, something you were born into, and your parents were over the moon that you’d attend the same school they did — the school they met at. Until now.

Yet, now, as the train screeches to an eventual halt, everything is beyond your imagination. You aren’t quite sure what to expect, or what to do exactly, but you know you’ll keep to yourself and follow the rules. A new start isn’t necessarily so bad.

You stand on your toes, grab the handle of your new trunk, and haul it down, almost crushing yourself with its weight. You open the compartment door and check the halls for a clear spot to step out; they’re bustling with people greeting their friends and trying to get off the train first. As soon as an opening comes, you step into the corridor and struggle to drag your case and keep up with the crowd at the same time. The mild September heat engulfs you as you near the door of the train cart, and you can hear the shouts of other students as they scurry around in the rain.

As you step into the rain, you look at the world around you, finding a sign reading Hogsmead Station. You could’ve stood there all night, rain or shine, and taken in the new scenery, but the crowd jostled you along with them and towards some carriages. Many groups piled into the carriages together, still wrapped in conversation. You stood back, waiting for an empty one, and seized your moment when you saw one pulls forward, drawn by seemingly nothing. 

“Leave your trunk here, miss,” you hear a raspy voice from behind you. 

You turn to see an older man with many wrinkles and thin, messy grey hair standing next to a pile of hundreds of trunks. “Sorry, sir,” you apologize to him and give him your trunk. “I’m a transfer student.”

“Evidently,” he sneers at you, looking at you as though he smelled something fowl. 

“Right,” you say to yourself and run back to the carriages. The one that you were about to get on before being called for your trunk was now almost full. Quickly, you nutty up to the back and muster up all your courage to speak to them. “Excuse me?” You clear your throat, and the two boys who were sat turn to look at you. “May I- uh- may I ride with you?”

The girl in the wagon lifts her head finally, her bushy hair bouncing around her. “Oh, hi! Of course,” she smiles and motions to the seat in front of her. 

The two boys fall back into conversation as you sit down next to a tall red-headed boy. The girl had returned her head to be buried in the book she holds, and though you don’t want to be rude and interrupt her, you also don’t want to sit in awkward silence while the two boys talks loudly. “Uh, what’re you reading?” You ask, shyly.

She looks up at you, a big smiling growing on her face. “Oh, goodness. I like you already; these two gits never care for books.” She hands you the book, and you look over the colorful cover. “It’s called A Wrinkle in Time.” She explains. “It’s a muggle novel by Madeleine L’Engle.”

You look up at her, almost confused. “I don’t think I’ve ever met another witch who reads Muggle books,” you state.

“Oh, well,” she chuckles. “I’m muggle-born.” She almost shrinks, as if she’s scared of your reaction. 

“Oh, that’s awesome!” You smile, and hers returns.

“Oi!” The red-headed boy next to you calls, and you and the bushy-haired girl look over at him. “You’re from America aren’t you?”

“Oh, uh,” you scoff to yourself, knowing you should already be expecting this question. “Yeah, I am.”

“Is this your first year at Hogwarts?” The girl asks. 

“Yeah, it is.”

“Welcome! I’m Hermione Granger. This is Ronald Weasley,” she motions to the redhead next to you, “and Harry Potter.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you guys. I’m Y/n Y/l/n.”

“You can call me Ron, by the way,” says the redhead. “Hermione and my mum are the only ones who call me Ronald.” You nod.

“And fair warning: my older brothers — they’re twins and loud so you can’t miss them — anyway, I’m pretty sure George has a thing for American girls.”

“Great.”

When the carriage rounds the next corner, a castle beyond what you could dream of glows against a lake and mountains. Your jaw drops as you look up at it.

“It’s truly beautiful,” says Hermione. “You’ll get used to it soon enough though.”

“I’m not sure I want to get used to it,” you say, still awe-struck until you realize how that may have sounded rude. “I mean — it’s so amazing I could look at it forever. I never want to feel used to something like this and not be in awe every time I see it.”

The boys look at you with blank looks on their faces. 

“Sorry, that didn’t make any sense.”

“I know what you mean,” Hermione places a hand on your arm. “The first years take little boats across the lake to the castle for their sorting ceremony. And now that I think of it, I wonder if you should’ve gone with them. That’s okay though, I’ll introduce you to Professor McGonagall — she handles the ceremony every year.”

Hermione stays to her word, and once the four of you have dismounted the carriage, the boys go ahead of you two, and Hermione walks with you to the front doors of the castle. “What year are you, Y/n?” She asks you as you both walk up the stone steps.

“Uh, sixth,” you say.

“Oh, goodness,” she laughs. “What?” You say, on the verge of panicking.

“Ron, Harry, and I are fourth,” she says simply. “But Fred and George — Ron’s brothers — they’re sixth years.” She looks up at you and raises an eyebrow suggestively.

“Oh, great,” you sigh.

“Professor!” She calls when the two of you cross the threshold. 

An older woman with grey hair tucked under a large witch’s hat turns toward her, her emerald green robes falling down her tall figure.

“Welcome back, Miss Granger!” Her sharp tone intimidating but still welcoming. “Is there something you need help with, dear?”

“Oh, not me, Professor. This is Y/n Y/l/n. It’s her first year at Hogwarts — a transfer student.”

“Yes, of course,” she smiles warmly. “Welcome, Miss Y/l/n. You can stay here with me until the ceremony begins. Hermione, dear, go take your seat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she smiles and turns on her heals, beginning to walk away.

“Hermione?” You call after her, and she turns back to you. “Could I borrow that book when you finish it?”

“Of course!” She says, her smile wide enough to tear her cheeks. 

After the main herd of students had filed into the Great Hall, a much smaller group of students enters the Entrance Hall, though they may have seen like a much smaller group not only because there were fewer of them, but also because they were smaller children, especially next to the very large bushy man accompanying them. You follow them and Professor McGonagall into the Great Hall and listen to her introduction speech.

After several moments, she stands next to the old hat, which then tells a poem through the rip in the brim. 

“We’ll start with our transfer student,” she smiles down at you, and you straighten your posture. “Miss Y/l/n, if you will take a seat.”

You walk to the front of the group and sit on the short stool in front of the podium. The hat lowers onto your head, and you can hear it humming as it thought.

Next to Ron, at the Gryffindor table, Fred and George look at you, and then between themselves, then back to you. “Wicked,” they say in a unison that would make it seem like they share a brain. 

“RAVENCLAW!” The hat bellows through the hall.

“Damn,” the twins say together, and look down at their plates in identical movements, the trio also seeming disappointed. Though Fred and George aren’t going to give up that easily — at least George isn’t going to give up that easily that is, and he drags Fred along with him through everything, not that Fred ever minds.

Once the feast is over, and you’re following the other Ravenclaws to the common room, you almost run into two people, when they practically suddenly appear in front of you, having been running and then suddenly stopping. You look up as you stumble so as to not physically run into them. You’re met with the faces of two identical boys, both of them with shoulder-length, shaggy red hair, and you conclude to yourself that they must be Ron’s older twin brothers.

“You’re the new girl,” one twin says matter-of-factly. 

You nod and plaster a painfully obvious fake smile onto your face.

“I’m Fred,” says the other twin, gesturing to himself. “And this is my less attractive brother, George.”

Despite your best efforts, as you look back and forth between the two boys in front of you, noting the subtle differences so you can tell them apart, you can’t help but think how handsome they both are, and undeniably charming. You have to remind yourself that you’re not a social person, at least not yet to those at Hogwarts, and you’d like to keep your head down and out of trouble. 

“Hi,” you entertain them. “I’m Y/n.”

“Pleasure,” George cheerily bows before you.

You giggle, not being able to stop yourself. “The pleasure is mine,” you smile and give an equally cheesy curtsy.

“Say, how do you feel about Quidditch, Y/n?” Fred asks.

“I love Quidditch!” You pipe. “I was a Chaser for my house back at Ilvermorny.”

“Well, George and I play,” Fred explains, George being left quiet, almost seeming suddenly shy. “We’re Gryffindor’s Beaters. And we heard that Ravenclaw is short a Chaser.”

Your face lights up, excited by the opportunity for a familiar past time.

“You should ask Flitwick,” George finally speaks again. “He’s head of the Ravenclaw house.”

“And the Charms Professor,” Fred continues. 

“Well, thank you for the heads up then, boys,” you smile, and walk off after the rest of your house without another word.

Next day, the first day of term, you end up having a Charms class with both of the Weasley twins. You notice the two of them turn and pay attention to you as you walk up to Professor Flitwick. 

“Professor Flitwick?” You call, standing politely behind him. 

The extremely short man turns to you. “Ah, yes,” he claps his hands together. “Miss Y/l/n, welcome to Hogwarts and to the Ravenclaw house!”

“Thank you, sir,” you smile. 

“How can I help you?”

“Well,” you start. “I got a tip from someone that one of the Chaser positions for the house team is open. I was wondering if I could try out for the spot? I was a Chaser at Ilvermorny.”

“Oh no need to try out, dear. No one else seems to want it. It’s yours!”

“Wow, ok. Thank you, Professor.”

You turn and take a seat at one of the desk rows across the room from the twins, but closer to the front of the room, closer to the blackboard. You pull your reading glasses out of your bag along with your Charms book and quill. You put your wand neatly in front of you on the desk, and your ink pot in the corner of your area. 

Professor Flitwick clears his throat from the front of the room as he climbs onto a stack of books to be well seen by the students. You slide you glasses up your nose, quickly glancing at the twins, subconsciously hopping that they’ll have already been looking at you, but they were huddled into a small group with another Gryffindor boy in a deep discussion. 

As class begins, and Professor Flitwick explains what to expect from this term, the boys don’t break their herd until their names are called loudly by the shrill voice of the Professor.

“If both Misters Weasley and Mister Jordan would pay attention,” he called them out, quickly pulling their attention to the front. “While I know that the first day of class is usually the most boring, if you pay attention, it will save from questions you will have later.”

Fred, George and their friend turned to the front for just a moment, but as soon as Professor Flitwick had turned to find the papers he was going to hand out — well float out — the boys turned back to their huddle and continued their conversation like nothing had happened. 

“Detention, Mister Fred and George Weasley, and Mister Lee Jordan,” the Professor called, without even turning to see that they were back to talking. “And 10 points from Gryffindor —“

The Gryffindor students, including the group of three that have just cost their house points, groan loudly as they start the term with negative points. 

“— each,” Professor Flitwick finishes, and the groaning becomes louder. 

One student on the opposite end of the class threw something across the room at the three boys, an apple that Professor Flitwick caught with a simple flick of his wand and returned to the students desk. 

“Detention for you, too, Miss Johnson.”

For the remainder of class, you did your best to pay attention to the lesson, but found it increasingly difficult. While the boys kept the talking to a minimum, you could feel George’s eyes on you the whole time. The moment Professor Flitwick dismisses class, you gather all your belongings in a handful — something you never do due to the level of unorganizedness — and bolt from the room, but not quick enough. 

“Oi, Y/n!” You heard the twins call after you in unison, and sigh as you politely stop and turn to them with a half smile. 

The events of the last hour and a half had left you disappointed to say the least. After your encounter with the twins after the feast the night before, you had begun to think maybe befriending them wouldn’t be such a bad thing, but seeing them not pay attention in class and get disciplined on the first day of term harmed your hopes, though you weren’t going to start being rude to them.

“Hello, boys,” you greet them as they approach you. 

“Say,” Fred begins, “we were wondering if you’d like to do our Charms homework?”

George remained silent once again as you gave them both a look of astonishment. 

“Absolutely not!” You scoffed, changing your mind slightly on the ‘not being ride the them’.

“You’re our only Ravenclaw friend,” he continues, “and with Quidditch and planning, we hardly have time to eat and sleep, so we thought we’d at least try.”

“Fred thought,” George corrects him, and Fred subtly nudges him with his elbow. 

“I don’t mean to be rude,” you say softly, “but we’re not friends. We only met twelve hours ago, and now that I’ve seen the way you two are, I’m not sure I would consider becoming friends with you.”

“What do you mean, ‘the way you two are’?” Fred laughs. “We’re two fine lads if I do say so myself.”

“Fred,” George says, almost pleading.

“Y/n!” Another voice calls behind you, and you wonder how there are already so many people who know you. You turn away from the boys and down the hall to see the trio you met on the carriage marching down the corridor. “I finished the book,” Hermione smiles at you and pulls the book out of her bag, handing it over to you.

“Thank you, Hermione!” You smile. “I’ll be sure to give it back once I’m done. Shouldn’t be too long.”

“No worries.” “Say, George,” Ron says, looking quizzically behind you. “You’re awfully quiet; are you feeling okay?”

“It’s nothing,” George mutters and leaves to walk down the hall, almost at a jog.

Fred winks at you before following his twin, and you turn back to the trio blushing.

“Don’t let those two morons bother you, Y/n,” Hermione assures you, putting a hand on your forearm kindly.

“I’ve never seen anyone make George nervous before — much less quiet,” Ron admits. “You must be one hell of a girl in his eyes.”

“Uh, yeah,” you mutter, looking down at your black flats against the beautiful stone floors as you shyly rub the back of your neck. “I’ve got to get to my next lesson,” you smile to the three fourth years. “I’ll see you guys later.” Without waiting for a response from the group you continue down the hall, but stop at the corner before turning it and look back over your shoulder in time to see Ron shrug at something Hermione said as they enter the Charms classroom.

Fred and George end up being in several of your classes, including Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. One fall morning, on your way down to the dungeons for Potions, you hear the two familiar and almost identical voices talking outside the hall. Before you could turn the corner and see them, you hear your name being mentioned.

“It’s obvious you like Y/n, George,” Fred says.

You stop in your tracks behind the corner, thinking about how throughout the term so far, Fred and George have been restless. You’ve witness their pranks and loud jokes. During Quidditch games, Fred forces the bludgers at you, nearly knocking you off every time. The one time he actually managed to, George quickly flew down to the ground to see if you were okay, but you rolled your eyes as you got up with Hermione’s help. “Fuck off, Weasley,” you had jeered at him as you stumbled off the pitch and towards Madame Pomfrey to be cleared to continue the game. Once you were cleared, you worked harder than you had before at Hogwarts, and though Harry caught the snitch, Ravenclaw was only two goals away from having won without the snitch. You feel a bit bad about having told him to ‘fuck off’ when he didn’t do anything wrong, but you’re also mad that Fred thinks that’s a suitable way to get your attention. 

“Well, no shit, Sherlock,” George scoffs at his brother, still out of your line of sight. “How could I not? She’s the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen. She’s smart and funny and dorky and adorable and everything I’d ever want. Her being good at Quidditch is always a plus, but because the move you pulled at the game last week, she’s bound to still be mad at me.”

“Make it up to her then!” Fred protests. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you — like you’re an idiot, but a handsome idiot, you know?”

“Thanks?”

“You just have to try, brother. You’re the George Weasley, you can do anything you want.”

“Whatever,” he sighs and you hear footsteps retreat down the corridor.

You take this as your signal to stop hiding, to stop ease-dropping, and go to class. You quickly turn the corner and hurry into the Potions room, finding everyone standing around the room instead of in seats. 

“What’s going on?” You ask a fellow Ravenclaw girl. 

“New partner assignment, I think,” she explains, without really even looking up at you, keeping her nose in the Potions book, turned to the page which you assume is what today’s lesson will be, though you can’t see what the title of the page is.

“Quiet!” Professor Snape’s deep nasally voice echos through the dungeon over the loud conversations of the students, effectively quieting them.”You have new partners as of today,” he said, then began to call out last names in pairs.

“Y/l/n,” he calls, then pauses to think of who to pair you with. “Weasley,” he decides, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

“Which one?” Fred pipes from across the room.

“I don’t care,” he says, then continues to pair off students.

You quickly take a seat at a desk in the second row, waiting for whichever twin to join you, but you had a feeling it would be George because of what you just heard in the hall.

“Hi, Y/n,” he says as he takes the seat next to you.

“Hi, George,” you say with a smile, but don’t look up from your Potions book to look at him.

“How’d you know I’m George and not Fred?” He says, and this time you do look up at him.

“Uh,” you hesitate, “gut feeling?”

“A Befuddlement Draught,” Snape begins as George sits down next to you and slouches back in his chair. You try not to pay attention to George and his demeanor, comparing it to your own, instead of paying attention to Professor Snape’s pre-lesson speech. “Is a potion that causes the drinker to become belligerent and reckless.” He looks between the Weasley twins. “The ingredients are scurry grass, lovage, and sneezewort.”

You wrote quickly as he spoke, taking notes to help you with studying and homework later. George looked at you, then pulled our his own piece of parchment, but he wasn’t writing notes. He wanted to seem like he was, but really he was righting a sort of journal entry about how beautiful he thinks you are, so paying attention even less than if he wasn’t “taking notes”.

“These plants are most efficacious in the inflaming of the brain,” Snape continues, and you recognize his words as a passage from the Potions book you had read to get ahead. “And are therefore much used in Confusing and Befuddlement Draughts, where the wizard is desirous of producing hot-headedness and recklessness.”

You laugh to yourself slightly, just loud enough for only George to hear, and he quickly looks up at you at the beautiful sound. 

“What’s so funny?” He whispers.

You hesitate a moment while you smile to yourself. “You wouldn’t need this potion to be reckless, would you, Weasley?”

His face turns beat red, and as you look over at him, he quickly folds his piece of parchment and stuffs it into his bag haphazardly.

“You will be making this today,” Professor Snape said, waving his wand at the blackboard, making the chalk write the instructions on its own. “It is nearly impossible to mess up.” He looked around the room down his long nose, examining every student. He sees your readiness and eagerness to start, and he notes the twins lack of interest as they look across the dungeon at each other mouthing in conversation. Snape rolls up the papers in his hand and walks towards you and George’s desk. He lifts the parchment and brings it down rough on George’s head and making you gasp while he looks sternly at Fred. “Get started.”

You tie your hair up effortlessly, and George can’t help but notice how beautiful and natural you look. Then as you walk off to go get the ingredients listed on the board and in the book, he looks after you longingly, following you like a lost puppy as he grabs random ingredients from the shelves.

When you come back, you slide your house robe off your shoulders and drape it over your chair, getting to work as you roll up the sleeves of your jumper. 

“Are you going to let me help?” George asks.

You look at him, silent for a moment as you think. “Are you going to actually help, or blow it up like every other potion you and your brother make.”

“I’d like to actually help.”

“Okay then, would you put the sneezewort into the cauldron?” You ask him politely. 

He picks up an ingredient, not paying quite enough attention to what and holds it over the cauldron as he looks over your book. 

“George, no!” You yell and reach out to grab his arm. “That’s —“ but it was too late. 

George had dropped what he was holding into the pot, and it immediately blew up. You screamed as you covered yourself with your arms and ducked, but George was too shocked by his own action to react, and his face was left covered in dirt. 

You stand back up and look over at him. “That was an Erumpent horn!” You exclaim. George looks down at his hands, not knowing what to say. The clicking of boots fills the dungeon as everyone had gone silent and was staring at the two of you. You look up and see Professor Snape approaching you. 

“You’re quite right, Miss Y/l/n,” Snape says, and you blush deeply. “Maybe you should have been watching him more carefully.”

“I thought I was, I thought I could trust him,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else. 

“50 points from Gryffindor,” he sneers, and you jerk your head to look at George, who’s face is almost expressionless. “And Ravenclaw as well.”

“But sir —“ you begin. 

“And detention, Saturday evening.” 

Your jaw drops, practically hitting the floor. You had never gotten points taken from your house before, much less gotten in trouble. 

“For now, there is no coming back from this mistake,” Snape looks at George intently. “You are both excused from the rest of the class.”

Without thinking much, you shove George with both your hands, and he stumbles backwards, watching after you as you grab your bag and hurry out of the room. He’s frozen in his spot a moment, until Snape clears his throat. George grabs his own belongings and hurries after you.

“Y/n!” He calls when he gets into the hall, but you’re already turning the corner without even a glance back at him. 

Later that evening, at supper, you sit alone at the Ravenclaw table with a book, but you weren’t paying much attention to it, rather just staring at the page as you push the food around on your plate. 

“Oi, Angelina,” you hear a familiar voice call, and look up to see the twins looking down the Gryffindor table at one of the house chasers. You see George as he reaches across the table towards her. “Will you go to the ball with me?” 

You barely hear him from where you’re sitting, but you hear him enough and can read his lips enough to know he said it. Your eyes shift over to Hermione, who’s looking across the tables to you. Your mouth thins into a line as you fight back the tears, though you know they shouldn’t be there. Not knowing what else to do, and not wanting anyone else to notice your dismay, you grab your book up and leave the Great Hall.

You’re already on the grand marble staircase when you hear Hermione, Ron, and Harry all call after you. You don’t stop and pick up your pace. 

“Y/n, please!” You hear Hermione call, and you can’t help but stop. 

You turn around and wipe the tear off your cheek.

“Why are you crying?” She asks as she pulls you into a hug.

“Why would he do that?” You snuffle out. 

“I don’t know,” Ron says. “He’s so infatuated with you, I couldn’t believe it. But I thought you despised him?”

“He got me detention, I do despise him,” you say, but continue, “did — I did despise him. At least I thought I did.” You slump down and sit on the staircase with your head in your hands. Hermione its next to you and sets hand on your back. “He’s really not my type of person. I’ve never been in trouble before! And he’s constantly in trouble! I don’t know what it is about him. He’s handsome and funny, and I’m only now realizing it, but I can’t help but like him. Merlin, I’m so stupid.”

“You are not stupid,” Harry says. “He’s stupid.” “That’s not news, mate,” Ron says. 

“Well, yeah,” Harry says, “but we didn’t know he was this stupid.”

You sniffle a laugh at his words and look up at him, only, you notice a pair of fiery red hair, just like Ron’s, standing in the corridor behind Harry.

You swallow the lump in your throat and quickly run up the rest of the stairs, sprinting to the Ravenclaw tower. 

“I—“ George begins from behind Ron, but doesn’t know what to say and just closes his mouth.

“You’re fucking stupid,” Ron scoffs at his older brother and turns and walks away with Hermione and Harry. 

George looks over to Fred, who’s face reflects the same disbelief as his own.

That night, for the first time, you didn’t touch your homework, but instead went straight to bed and cried yourself to sleep. 

When Saturday’s detention rolled around, you arrived early as is normal for you. Snape let you start on the task he decided to assign you for detention. You were to go through one box of old discipline reports before you could leave. You sat in the corner of the room and pulled the lid off a box, beginning to sort it. It wasn’t long until George joined, but Snape gave him a rag and told him to clean all the desks. George sighed, and Snape walked out of the room. 

You could feel George’s eyes on you from where he stood unmoved. 

“Y/n,” he beings. “I’m sorry.”

You refuse to even look at him as you give him the silent treatment. 

“I shouldn’t have been so cocky with the potion,” he continues. “I just wanted to seem like I knew what I was doing.”

You remained silent as you shifted through the box. 

Throughout the unnecessary hour George was taking to wipe down the tables, he continued to try and apologize or make conversation, but you still ignored him.

When you finished the file box, you closed the lid and pulled out a bit of parchment. You put the box on Snape’s desk, along with a note offering to continue to file to earn back the points you had lost the House, and you leave the room without a word. 

“Y/n!” George calls down the dungeon corridor, his voice echoing off the stone walls. 

You don’t respond and keep walking, but you hear his heavy footsteps running closer to you, until you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, sending sparks through your skin. You snatch your hand back instinctively, but he holds his grip

“Don’t touch me, Weasley,” you say punctuated. 

“Why won’t you talk to me?” He asks, almost yelling. 

“You’re not good, George Weasley,” you shout back. “Never have I ever gotten in trouble before. But you made me get detention! You don’t study, you don’t pay attention, you probably don’t even think! Please, just leave me alone.”

You twist your wrist from his grasp and turn up the stairs, walking away from him again.

You managed to avoid him for the most part, besides Potions, where you just refused to talk to him. 

One day, a few weeks after your detention, you’re sitting in the court yard wrapped in a blanket, leaning against a pillar as you read in the snow. You’re the only person in the courtyard, but you liked it that way. People had started congregating inside because of the cold, and the library and common room had become too crowded. 

You hear a group of feet crushing snow as they walk towards you, but you don’t look up, too enveloped in your book. 

“Hey, Y/l/n!” A cold voice jest. “What’s you doing out here all alone?”

You look up to see the school bully, Draco Malfoy laughing at you with his posse. He loved poking fun at everyone outside of the Slytherin house. 

“I’m reading,” you smile. “You should try it sometime. Maybe you’ll learn how not to be such an ass.” Your voice remains steady and polite as you speak. 

“How dare you!” He announces, and reaches towards you, pulling your blanket off of you, leaving you cold.

“Give it back!” You demand. 

“No.”

You open your mouth to speak, but a flare of red light comes over your shoulder and hits Draco in the chest, sending him several feet backwards, your blanket still in hand. The caster walks out from behind you and over to Draco on the ground. He pulls the blanket out of Draco’s grasp with difficulty, but kicks him in the side to get him to let go. Draco cries out in pain, his friends bustling away.

The caster turns towards you, and you see the red hair poking out from under his beanie, and the familiar face. George.

“Here,” he says softly, as he hands the blanket to you.

“Thank you,” you say simply, reaching for it, but before you can touch it, George pulls it back, and you sigh in frustration.

“Actually,” he starts. “I’ll give it back if you come with me and let me talk.”

You knew you weren’t getting out of this, so you stood up. “Let’s go then.”

He leads you up the the astronomy tower, and you look over the untouched white canvas of the grounds. “I’m sorry,” he continues. “I’m sorry I got you detention. I’m sorry about the bludger. I’m just sorry, for everything.”

“Okay,” you say.

“I really like you, and I know it’s obvious. I’ve never been so nervous around someone before. I’ve never felt like I needed to actually try to make a good impression, and when I did try, I fucked up and got us in trouble. I just don’t know how to act around you.”

“You really like me?” You ask.

“Yes, of course.”

“Then why did you ask Angelina to the ball?” You murmur. 

“I didn’t think you liked me. I was trying to just move on before I made anything worse, but then that made it worse. I heard you talking to Ron and them in the hall, and I heard you say it. I immediately cancelled the ball with her so I could ask you once I’ve apologized but you never let me. You’re all I can think about, Y/n.”

You look up into his soft eyes, and your heart melts. “I forgive you,” you mutter.

“Really?” He asks in disbelief.

“Yes,” you blush and look down at the grounds from the ledge as you avoid George’s eyes.

He clears his throat. “Will you, Y/n Y/l/n be my date to the Yule ball, and my date to everything else from here on. Will you please be mine?”

You couldn’t control the smile on your face as you looked back at him. “Under one condition,” you giggle. 

“Anything,” George pleads.

“Kiss me,” you say, building up your confidence to straighten your posture and look directly into his eyes.

“Definitely.”

George grabs your face softly and leans down, putting his soft lips on your own as you both smile ridiculously as the fireworks blow within the both of you.

[polkadotpatterson]

Hi for the ask meme, Workman or Morse? *eyes emoji* -Kit

what if… Workman and Morse? I love them both so very much

Workman!

favorite thing about them: Workman Gloom my absolute beloved. they're the best hitter of all time. they refused to die until they scored a final home run. they came back from the dead to kill a god. they love their dog so much. they're so warm and understanding and fun and just generally such a great person to be around. they can steal absolutely anything, including my heart

least favorite thing about them: one time they died and it was sad :( they got better though!

favorite line: This is not exactly a specific moment but the fact that they still have the best all-time batting average despite having not played since Season 7 is truly incredible

brOTP: Dot and Workman are my favourite platonic relationship of all time, they are qpps and they love each other so much and I love them so much. you know this. I hope everyone knows this. it's very important to me. and of course also Workman and Beasley! Do Not Separate Them (the sim did anyway but shhhhh) Also! I think they got really close with Kiki after being Hall Stars together and she's one of the few people who can really understand what they went through. Admittedly I don't spend nearly enough time on their specific relationships with the Thieves but I think they’re really close with Morrow (especially after they were Hall Stars together) and Esme

OTP: I'm not ultra opposed to actually shipping them with people in the same way I am with Dot, but also still I feel like they're just not really interested in dating. There aren’t really Workman Ships out there that I know of, anyway

nOTP: see above

random headcanon: I think coming back from the dead was a lot more difficult than they tried to let on. imo it was like their body was totally reset, they didn't have the gills anymore, didn't even have any little scars that they got from heisting or anything else, and of course their cloud had become CV. and they were kind of left wondering where they even belonged when all their history couldn't be seen on them anymore. I think they did eventually get moist adaptations again when they felt ready for it, and of course some new scars eventually, but they spent a lot of time wondering if they were even themself anymore. plus the guilt of getting to be alive again when so many other players in the Hall didn't. And Dot can relate to a lot of those things after being saved and transformed by the Monitor and feeling like a new person and feeling the guilt of having narrowly missed being a Pod and that's one of the many reasons why they're good for each other!

...that got kind of angsty so uh. bonus headcanon that you know about but the world doesn’t: for some reason, Kiki’s coffee preference changed to “anything” after she came back from the dead, and that's what Workman’s preference has always been, so I like to think that they introduced her to new exciting styles of coffee and bonded over that :)

unpopular opinion: idk, the popular opinion about Workman seems to be “they’re really fucking awesome” and it's hard to ever argue with that

song i associate with them: ok it's not them individually but have I mentioned often enough that Sun 2 is THE Workman and Dot song about Dot coming back from alting? bc it is

favorite picture of them: I love all Workman Art but I have to say this one by Sanic of them and Dot skating bc they just look so soft!!! (yeah I’m biased but shhhhhhh) also every art that's ever been drawn of their final home run is beautifully painful

Morse!

favorite thing about them: someone once described him as “half star pitcher, five star person,” and like… yeah! he's just so good and kind and supportive and such a perfect team dad. he may have literally been one of the worst pitchers ever but his games were never a dull moment and he could be clutch when it really mattered

least favorite thing about them: he got feedbacked and then Shadowed and never pitched again and I miss him very much :(

favorite line: Ortiz Morse pitched a no-hitter long before PolkaDot Patterson ever did and that's extremely iconic of him

brOTP: I love his dynamic with Dot so much. they're extremely different people but they have so much respect for each other.

OTP: his husband! there isn't really lore for him but they're married and in love

nOTP: literally anyone else

random headcanon: I think he becomes like a father figure to Kiki once she starts hanging out in Seattle because Quack's there. love all these Moist Garages just hanging out and having a good time. Also Mike Townsend is there and I think Morse keeps trying to get him to meet Lachlan because he knows they could be good friends. can’t wait to actually finish the fic about it. maybe someday

unpopular opinion: this isn't exactly a Morse Opinion but I think it kind of sucks that we all love him for being a terrible player but a lot of people hate Lachlan for the same reason and he's not even that bad

song i associate with them: idk

favorite picture of them: I don't think there’s enough Morse Art in the world. we need more. there are of course some really good ones out there but the one that comes to mind is the one Joe did where he's trying to communicate with Dot through the shell

[dolcetters]

vanilla sunday .

no one asked, i just heckin’ felt like it m’dude. under readmore for length. i’ll try to keep my answers relatively to-the-point, too, since this’ll be a longer post but feel free to inquire on things or ... whatever u-u/ aye. i go sleep now.

is your muse a romantic? do they dream of love and marriage?

short answer: no.

as a teenager, dol didn’t have much interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with any of his peers around yuflam--or at all, really. by the time he got to academy things were either too busy or starting to get too tense for him to consider the idea. and shortly after that he went over a decade thinking he’d never even see sunlight again.

at this point, he just... --it’s just another thing he might want but doesn’t recognize it as something he wants. because he’s earnestly so bad at listening to his own desires and is more than willing to cast them aside if it means aiding someone he cares about achieve their own.

is your muse a deviant? are they overly flirtatious or forward?

no. there’s no real expansion on this, just no. <xD he tends to be much more bashful and sheepish, partially because of aforementioned inability to recognize he might want a relationship with someone. and even if he DOES realize this, he’s... extremely self aware. we’ll leave it at that.

is your muse good at kissing? are they experienced?

NOPE. and no. he’s never kissed anyone.

does your muse initiate a lot of physical contact?

nooooo no no no. he has an anxiety disorder (haphephobia) revolving around physical contact and even something as “small” as shaking hands or a shoulder bump can make him very nervous, uncomfortable and alert. the reaction is almost doubled if it comes with the sensation or energy of being grabbed.

it’s going to take a lot of time, patience, and trust for him to be comfortable initiating physical contact with you.

is your muse comfortable with public displays of affection?

no, for both the above reason as well as the paranoia that comes with being a fugitive/legally dead. the less attention that’s drawn to him, the better. at most, he’d hold your hand... but refer to the previous question for that.

does your muse steal clothing from their partner?

less “steal” and more borrow. due to having limited resources after escaping the labs and very few belongings he can truly call his own, dol wouldn’t/doesn’t just take or use things that belong to friends, family or potential partners (part of this spurs from his OWN resource guarding). he’d be more likely to approach you while you were brushing your teeth and be like “hey, s’it cool if i wear your hoodie today” and then respond based on that answer.

and he’s going to ask you every time. he doesn’t assume.

is your muse the big spoon or the little spoon?

varies! but most likely, when they’re facing each other, he little-spoons because pressing his face into the curve of the neck just above the collar is not only secure and comforting somehow, but he can hear your heartbeat.

when one of them is facing away, he tends to big spoon. --and obviously this is all assuming he’s at that level of comfort when it comes to physical touch + the partner.

is your muse comfortable with, or proud of their body? are they insecure?

complicated?

he’s very comfortable and proud of his body when it comes to his physical build, strength, fitness, etc. his strength and speed is something he values and keeping himself healthy and capable is very important to him. he knows he’s done a good job (those arms don’t lie) and he takes pride in that.

~however~, being a chimera... --he’s optimistic, yes. he’s just happy to be alive, of course. it’s not so bad. ...but he is fully, deeply, and painfully aware of how someone might react to witnessing some of his “quirks” when it comes to his splice or the idea of being with someone who isn’t entirely human. and the fact that he often became a target of light jabbing and jokes with the nesties, because dog behavior is much more well-known and commonly familiar than croc or snake or bull behavior, has only added to this awareness.

then, of course, there’s the added detail that he’s not even a perfected chimera. he’s just a successful one. a C- on some government biology test; barely passing.

so yeah. there’s some surface level pride, but... a lot of shame underneath.

is your muse attracted to any features in particular?

physical? no.

he has a soft spot and respect for people who refuse to give into their pain, though. where he experienced trauma and fear and let it make him hardened in a lot of ways, there are other people who have only become brighter, warmer, and do whatever they can to keep someone else from experiencing what they have.

to say he admires that trait in a person is an understatement.

have their crushes been mostly male, mostly female, or evenly split?

he’s only really had two, and they’ve both been gals, so i guess that makes it mostly female. i’ve mentioned before that he might have been uselessly in love with martel in the time before the raid (whether she felt the same is unknown) and he in default verse is lowkey sweet on rose.

have their partners been mostly male, mostly female, or evenly split?

he hasn’t had a partner.

is your muse easily flustered? do they blush, swear, etc.?

yes, yes, yes. him being flustered is usually a combo-result of: (1) not being used to that kind of attention from someone he actually likes,  (2) having no idea how to respond, (3) internalized shame over what he is, and (4) he’s a fucking idiot.

where is your muse most sensitive?

his head, mostly, especially on his hair line and around the ears.

and i can 10000% promise to you that if he ever lets you comb your fingers in his hair or rub around his temples and you make some kind of dog-related-comment, you’re actually going to cause a shit-ton of psychic damage i’m gonna need you to roll like 10d6 for me.

please, please please please don’t ever refer to him as--or make jokes connecting him to--a dog in moments that are supposed to be vulnerable and/or intimate, i can’t... express this enough, it will hurt him.

is your muse more submissive or dominant in a relationship?

idk, i guess submissive but again: idk

would your muse ever tempt their partner, e.g. flirting, wearing tight/sexy clothing?

nah. not really his thing.

if he does “tempt” them it’s going to be sincerely accidental. like... yeah you walked in on me doing pull-ups i guess. would you hand me my water bottle? i’m parched.

does your muse initiate heated/sexual contact, or do they wait for their partner?

i feel like this question deserves it’s own post because i have a LOT of thoughts regarding rosecetto, specifically, on this topic.

outside of that ship, however, the answer is likely no. he’s not the initiator primarily for touch-anxiety reasons and also chimera-related-shame reasons, even if the partner has assured him there’s nothing wrong with him in the past.

does your muse leave hickies? do they ask for them?

eeehhhhh???? ... i guess accidentally sometimes?? and no.

does your muse like to be pinned down, or to pin their partner?

that’s a big NO. if you pin him down, even if he’s reached a point of security with you that he allows you to touch him, you’re going to flare up any of that anxiety that had previously subsided. he’s been physically restrained and held down far too long and all for bad/painful reasons, and he can’t associate it with anything other than “they’re going to hurt me and i need to get away, no matter what i have to do”.

as for pinning his partner, it’s likely also a no because he’d just... be too aware of his own trauma to even try doing it and he’d probably be uncomfortable being asked to do it.

has your muse reached first/second/third base? home run?

honey, he’s done nothing, he hasn’t even swung--

would your muse be interested in engaging with multiple partners?

no. he doesn’t see anything wrong with it when it comes to other people but this is definitely not for him or something he could be comfortable with.

would your muse ever send a sexual text message? would they send pictures?

n/a, but even in modern verses the answer would be no

does your muse read smut, own magazines, or watch p-rn?

nah

is your muse the type to discuss their sex life or sexual prowess with others?

abso. fucking lutely. not. no no no.

at absolute. MOST? he might open up to sakura (yinseal) about it. maybe greed (avadite). and it’d only be if he felt like he was doing something wrong or felt overwhelmed and self-conscious. but otherwise this is his and his partner’s business.

is your muse a top, a bottom, or a switch? do they have a lean?

defaults to bottom but will top if asked or in some circumstances.

crystal has confirmed that rose (forsakenflora) tops, so jfdlfjklsjkldhsd

how interested is your muse in sex and sexual activity?

he’s not.

it’s not a priority of his, and he definitely doesn’t want to hear about yours.

do they have sex frequently, occasionally, or rarely?

not at all right now jf kljdklhshf lhfklsdg

[7to3sorcerer]

Of Waltzes and Sugar Plum Fairies

rating: explicit hehe

word count: 11.5k i am so sorry

warnings: fluff! angst! daddy!kink if you squint, loss of virginity, uhhhh sexy times? porn WITH plot because i can. this is truly filthy and totally self indulgent, enjoy at your own risk.

a/n: ok so first fic on here, yay! also, i recommend visiting this page to give you some context about Arkanians if you don’t know about them. idk if the nutcracker exists in star wars, so just go with it. listen to this if you wanna get immersed in the sounds of the dance scene.

ao3 link here

-

Din Djarin knew exactly what he was doing bringing her to Chandrila in the winter.

His princess - a literal one at that - from Arkanis, had missed the taste of home. Not in so many words, but he could tell by the wistful look on her face whenever they passed a shop with dancing gear or a music store.

He also knew that Life Day was her favorite holiday.

“It’s perfect,” she had said one day in the cockpit, her eyes starry as she watched the planets fly by. “You just spend the day with your family, dancing and eating and celebrating. Some cultures even give presents.”

He didn’t know what to say to that then, just gave a grunt and kept his eyes on the nav chart.

But since that day, he’s thought of what that would be like, spending a Life Day with his foundling and his crewmate who he wished would be so much more.

Ever since she dropped everything and ran off with him and the child, his life has been so much...brighter. Full of color when she skips around the ship, the child in her arms as they play dress up with her seemingly endless wardrobe (Din still doesn’t how she manages to keep her quarters clean). It’s full of sound when she plays her holorecords from her favorite ballets, the child following behind her as she does allégros and arabesques.

When she agreed to join his crew to take care of the child and give her extensive knowledge of cultures and history that she gleaned from university, he also made a pact: he would give her firsthand experiences of the galaxy that her life as a royal had robbed her of. 

Her first wish was to visit a cantina, a wish that was fulfilled within her first three days aboard the Razor Crest. Though the dingy, thin clothes she bought from a merchant blended her in well, her stark white hair, white eyes, and ethereal beauty caused a bar fight, one that may or may not have ended with Din breaking a man’s arm, simply because he looked at her suggestively.

In the year that she’d been traveling with him, he’d tried to accommodate her wishes as best as he could, but with the Empire constantly on their trail, their time had mostly been devoted to tracking down the child’s people. But it seemed that the galaxy was on his side for once.

Life Day was rapidly approaching, and Din was scrambling to try and make it special for her, and with the information that Bo-Katan had given them about Ahsoka Tano, Din was torn about what to do. That was, until he charted a path to Corvus and realized it sent them right by Chandrila - the dance capital of the galaxy. A couple of holonet searches later, and he found a showing of The Nutcracker.

He knew it’d make his princess happy, he just didn’t know how to tell her that there weren’t anymore tickets left. He wasn’t surprised really, after all, it was already Life Day Eve, and he knew The Nutcracker was wildly popular, even though it was a Wookiee ballet that was centuries old.

The rapid beeping of the proximity indicator dragged him out of his thoughts. He disengaged and the ship lurched into real time, the blue streaks of stars fading into black mottled with blinking white. He made up his mind in that moment. Squaring his shoulders, Din set the ship on autopilot and made his way down to the cargo hold.

Stopping in front of her room, he could hear giggles and her soft voice as she spoke to the child.

“...and then he transforms into a handsome prince, and leads Masha away into the forest!”

He hears the child giggle again, and can only assume they’re playing with the wooden toys she had crafted once while bored when Din was on a hunt.

Steeling himself, Din knocks.

“Hey, we’re landing...put on something...nice,” he says through the door. He moves to return to the cockpit when the door whooshes open, revealing the princess’s glowing smile.

“Why?” She asks, her eyes wide.

His hand itches to brush the wisps of hair that got displaced from her bun when the door opened.

“I um, I have a surprise,” he says tentatively, suddenly feeling unsure of himself. He shifts his weight as she turns to the child.

“You hear that? Daddy has a surprise for us!” She coos, sweeping him up into her arms as he laughs. She turns back to Din.

His stomach does flips hearing that word come out of her mouth, no matter how innocent the context.

“Well, what is it?”

“That kind of ruins the point of the surprise, don’t you think?” He says, a hint of humor in his modulated voice. He finally gives in to his urges and gently tucks he hair behind her slightly pointed ear.

Din’s heart feels as though it might burst out of his chestplate as she tries to hide her blush behind the baby’s ear, playing it off as though she’s giving him kisses. She hums before looking back up at Din.

“Okay, well what should I wear?”

“I don’t know, something nice.” It comes out a little rough, and Din mentally kicks himself, seeing her face turn into a slight frown.

“Din, I’m a...” she pauses, covering the child’s ears before continuing. “I’m a fucking princess, Din. You can’t just say ‘wear something nice’ expect me to know exactly what you mean by that.”

He huffs. “Move.”

She complies, and he enters her small quarters, stepping over the various toys that litter the floor. He opens her closet, running his gloved fingers along the plethora of lush fabrics inside.

Life Day, Life Day, Life Day, he thinks to himself. What colors go with Life Day?

He pauses on a silky green gown, thinking about how good it would contrast with her skin tone. He hesitates a moment before removing it from the hanger and holding it out to her.

“Here.”

She sets the child down before taking it from him and examining it, a slightly confused look on her face. 

“Din, this is...this is one of my nicer ones. Are we doing something quite fancy?”

He says nothing for a moment, watching the way her milky eyes scan the dress before deciding on his answer.

“I just think...that it’ll look good on you,” he says, so quietly that the modulator barely picks it up.

Her head shoots up to stare him straight in the visor, the very faint grey of her irises making her expression unreadable. Everyone likes to think he’s intimidating, but they’ve obviously never never made eye contact with an Arkanian. Arkanians that belong to the oldest bloodlines have pure white eyes, but if you catch them in the right light, you can barely make out grey irises and darker grey pupils.

Experiencing second thoughts, Din quickly exits her room without another word and the door whooshes shut again.

He leans on the wall next to the ladder leading up to the cockpit feeling like he’s just run a marathon. His heart races as he begins to worry that he was too forward.

“Fuck...” he mutters, leaning his head on the wall behind him. “Too late now I guess.”

Sitting back down in the cockpit, he guides the Crest into the docking bay that air traffic control instructed him to, and sets the ship down as gently as possible, not wanting to disturb anything the princess may be doing to get ready.

If she’s even getting ready at all, his conscious supplies. She’s probably gonna bolt as soon as the cabin depressurizes. 

But as he descends back into the hold, he’s pleased to hear her puttering around in her room. He checks the time on his chrono.

“Hey, I’m going out for a few. I should be back in a bit...make sure you’re ready by then, okay?” He calls out, holstering his gun and attaching his jet pack.

Something in her room clatters to the floor, causing her so let out a string of curses. He hears her give the child an apology, who just giggles in return before he himself gets a response.

“Yeah! Sure, sure, yeah I’ll be ready!” She says from behind the door, but her voice is unsteady, like she knows she won’t be ready in time.

Din just huffs out a slight laugh before exiting the ship.

...

He returns to find her heels click clacking back and forth between the ‘fresher and where the child sits perched on a box, wiping his face down with a rag and the spots of food on his clothes. She turns to Din, who stands just inside the ship, a dumbfounded look on his hidden face.

Her hair is in a low, loose bun with a few pieces of hair framing her face that he can only assume came out while she was getting the child ready. The matte maroon lipstick she wears gives the allusion that she’s much older than 23, but the subtle blush and highlight adorning her cheeks and nose do well to bring back her youthfulness.

“I tried to get him cleaned up as best as I could. I also fashioned this little hat to fit his head as best I could. I don’t want him to be spotted, and I know it’s cold out there,” she rushes out breathlessly, running back into her room and grabbing the beanie and smushing it on the child’s head. “I know it’s not perfect, but I just want us to be able to have one night where we’re not constantly looking over our shoulders.”

She runs back into her room and returns with a small scarf, wrapping it around the child’s neck. Din wants to reassure her that everything’s okay, but he’s speechless, admiring the way the silk hangs on her body, accentuating her curves. His eyes are first drawn to the slit that exposes her leg almost to her hip when she bends down to pick up a toy the child dropped.

She speaks again, but he still can’t answer. He’s transfixed by the way the neckline plunges down her sternum, just shy of where her ribs start. Her tits are unbound, supported by the fabric that stretches up and over her shoulders, turning into yards of thinner fabric that cinch the dress up across her back.  The straps criss cross her exposed back and end in a bow just below the dimples of her lower back, highlighting the expanse of tight muscles that she’s earned in her tenure as a crewmate, and from her earlier days as a dancer.

He watches as that enticing triangle of missing fabric on her chest gets closer and closer until it’s right in front of him.

“Hey, laser brain! Are you listening to me?” She says, waving her hand in front of his visor and snapping him out of his trance.

“What?” He asks, his voice cracking and making it sound like he hasn’t had anything to drink in days.

She huffs, before saying “I was asking if you were ready to go.”

“Oh,” he coughs out. “Y-yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Are we taking the pod, or just carrying him?” She asks, holding the child on her hip.

He thinks a moment before saying “The pod.”

The princess sets him in his pod before slipping on a long black coat and following Din out of the ship. They head out into the busy streets, the child floating in between the two of them.

“Soooooo,” she drawls out, clasping her hands and giving Din doe eyes. “Where are we headed?”

“Uh uh,” he tuts. “Don’t even try that on me. That’s cheating.”

“Why?” She asks, jutting her lip out. “Because it works every time?”

“Yes,” he sighs. “Because it does work every time.”

She just hmphs and says nothing else as they walk along the sidewalks dusted with a light covering of snow. The streetlamps above cast an orangey-yellow glow on the pedestrians that pass them, many of them carrying parcels covered in paper, or large sacks filled with delicious smelling food.

The child makes grabby hands at some of them and the princess chuckles. Din glances over at her and sees the corners of her eyes crinkle as she laughs. They make eye contact for a brief moment before she looks at something above his head and her eyes go wide.

Din flinches, looking up for the threat, but all he sees is snowflakes beginning to fall from the sky. He looks back down at the princess and watches her stick out her tongue to catch a snowflake. They make eye contact again, but this time, she doesn’t look away. She keeps her tongue out until a small fleck of snow lands on it, then she pulls it back into her mouth. She throws him a sideways grin and then looks away, facing her eyes forward.

Din feels his hands get clammy as blood starts to flow south. Fuck, nononononononono, he thinks, balling his hands into fists and trying to think of literally anything else besides they way that snow looked on her tongue. He grits his teeth and looks around, hoping they’re close to the theatre. Thank the Maker.

Just ahead across the street sits the theatre, its twinkling lights and marquee sign dazzling in the white snow. He peeks at the princess without turning his head, and comes away satisfied when she doesn’t seem to notice it yet. He quickly grabs her elbow and pulls her into an alleyway on their right, covering her mouth with his gloved hand when she lets out a yelp.

“Do you trust me?” He breathes out, his chest mere inches away from hers. She nods her head and he lets go of her mouth. He looks down and presses some buttons on his vambrace, quickly recalibrating the child’s pod before shutting its hatch. “Hold onto me.”

She arches her eyebrows before stepping forward and pressing her chest against his, hissing at the frigidness of his beskar against her clavicle. She wraps her arms around his neck as he hooks an arm just below her ass.

“Din...” she warns, not sure where this is going.

“Just be quiet and hang on.” He commands, and with that, they shoot up and into the sky, the baby’s pod going up with them. He feels the princess bury her face into his cape and groan. In his excitement about the surprise, he forgot she doesn’t care for heights.

They land on the rooftop of the theatre, his knees and his back protesting from the extra weight that he’s not used to. Din gently sets the princess down and opens the child’s pod to make sure he’s okay. He smiles up at Din, who waggles a finger in his face.

The princess still hasn’t let go of Din, and Din still hasn’t entirely let go of the princess.

“Hey,” he says softly, and she pulls her head back from his shoulder but keeps her eyes squeezed shut. “It’s okay, we’re done with the flying.”

She exhales a breath he didn’t know she was holding and lets go, opening her eyes. Din reluctantly lets go of her and she takes a step back, looking at their surroundings. The faint sound of instruments taking their final warmups can be heard through the duracrete below them, and the princess finally puts two and two together.

“Din,” she gasps, shaking her head and covering her mouth with her hands. “You didn’t...that’s like, impossible. These are impossible to get. There’s no way...”

He grimaces behind his helmet and sighs. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I couldn’t. But I came by earlier and figured out another way for us to get insi-oof.”

He’s cut off when the princess envelops him in a hug so tight, he feels his back creak in objection.

“I thought you forgot a-about Life Day,” she says into his neck. “You didn’t have to do all this. N-no one’s ever-”

This time, it’s his turn to cut her off. He gently pulls her back until he can see her face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“You can thank me later...it’s cold out here, and we don’t wanna miss the show.”

She nods and sniffles, dabbing under her eyes and motioning to the roof access. “Lead the way then, captain.” She says with a blinding smile.

A wall of warmth greets them as Din slices the door open. He glances around to make sure no crew members are up this high before motioning the princess in. The door zips shut behind the three of them and they’re sheathed in darkness, save the warm glow coming from the theatre below them. Catwalks stretch out in either direction, one going across the crowd, the other going adjacent to it toward the stage. They have to be at least 20 meters above the crowd.

The princess rushes toward the railing on the catwalk above the crowd and peaks down and Din finds himself surprised she’s not fainted yet. She answers his question before he asks it.

“This, I’m fine with. What I’m not fine with is careening up 100 feet into the air and 60 miles an hour with no warning and no seatbelt,” she says, fixing him with a glare that could cut durasteel.

This time, he doesn’t hide his chuckle, moving to stand next to her as she removes her coat and drapes it over the guardrail. He leans against the railing, the child floating just to his left, the princess on his right.

“You’re sure no one will see us up here?” She asks, lowering her voice as the lights begin to dim and the music starts.

“Would you be looking up to the rafters during this show?” 

“Fair point, but I meant the dancers...”

“No, I think we’ll be fine, it’s dark up here.” 

She just nods in return and keeps her focus on the stage as the curtains draw up and reveal the setting of Act I.

Din looks down at the child whose eyes light up at the glimmering tree on the stage. Underneath it sit huge presents wrapped in patterns of paper that Din couldn’t even think up. Multicolored garland hangs from the windows on the backdrop. Fairy lights dangle from the ceiling, bathing the stage in a magical light. He sees the children on stage laughing with each other as their parents dance to the music and suddenly feels the urge to cry,

His heart sinks at the thought that he could’ve had all this if the Separatists hadn’t invaded Aq Vetina that fateful day - and maybe he did have all of this, he just doesn’t remember. Did he have brothers and sisters? He hardly even remembers what his parents look like, just blurry features, sad eyes as they locked him away in that cellar to save him. What did he used ask for for Life Day? Did his parents dance with each other like that? 

Resentment burns so hot inside of him that he has to tear his eyes away from the ballet and stare down at the crowd below. He grits his teeth and wills the tears threating to fall away. His bitterness flares briefly toward the princess as he catches the gleam in her eyes, the joy on her face as she looks on with glee as the act progresses. But it fades as quickly as it grew, his features softening under his helmet.

Who am I to be spiteful toward her for something I had no control over?

He looks down at the stage again, having not even noticed that Act II began. The music crescendos as the Nutcracker, having just turned into the Prince, begins to dance with Masha. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the chlid giggle in delight.

Just because I don’t have happy memories of my parents, doesn’t mean he can’t. Woah shit wait fuck. No, Din, shut the fuck up and don’t overthink the weight of that. 

Carefully, Din removes both of his gloves and tucks them into his belt before gently resting his hand on the princess’s lower back.

He feels her gasp before she melts into his touch. She looks over her shoulder at him, the light from below causing her features to look sharp and dangerously beautiful. He leans forward so that his helmet is right next to her ear.

“Show me how you’d dance...if that were you on that stage down there,” he whispers, and this time the modulator doesn’t pick it up, so all she hears is his raw, unfiltered voice.

The princess looks up at his visor and smiles before nodding enthusiastically and backing away. She leans down and ties her dress in a knot at her knees before unbuckling her heels.

Din finds himself thinking that she wanted this all along, that she was made for this. His little wild fairy, stripping herself of the titles and the pageantry, barefooted and relaxed with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.   

She hasn’t taught him much, but he’s tried to listen as best as he could when she’d be doing a routine on the ship.

That’s a pirouette...I think. Okay, okay, plié. That’s first position? No...? Okay, yes, that was first position because this is second position, and now she’s in third.

Din finds himself swaying back and forth and nodding his head to the sweeping instrumentals, and the princess seems to smile when she notices this. She completes an attitude devant before slowing and giggling at him.

“What?” He asks, not quite laughing, but the smile in his voice is evident.

She just shakes her head, her own brilliant smile still plastered on her face before holding out her hand.

“Come on...look, he wants you to,” she says, pointing at the child who has long forgotten the ballet below, instead focusing on the ballerina in front of him.

Din watches the child for a moment more before pushing himself off the railing and taking her outstretched hand. He would be lying if he said this wasn’t the outcome he was hoping for, but when she pulls him into position, he realizes he’s in way over his head. 

“I...I really don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing...” he murmurs, trailing off when she places his hand on her waist, his fingertips meeting the bare skin of her back. She grabs his other hand and holds it up at a 90° angle and it completely swallows her own. He watches her eye their conjoined hands for a moment, an almost awestruck look on her face.

“I’ve never...I’ve never touched you before,” she whispers, looking into his visor where his eyes are. “Like this at least. Your skin.”

He leans in closer to her before whispering “Would you like this to be the last time?”

She slowly shakes her head, keeping her eyes trained on his visor.

“Me neither,” he breathes out. “Now show me what to do.”

She inhales as if falling out of a haze. Clearing her throat, she adjusts Din’s legs by tapping them with her feet before getting into her own position.

“Okay, now I’m not going to tell you it’s simple but you are a fast learner, so I expect you to excel, unless you have two left feet,” she chuckles, straightening her back. “But I’ve seen you in a fight, and fighting and dancing are actually more similar than you’d think. Just like in fighting, if you’re not doing a practiced routine, you have to predict your partner’s moves, and for you, this isn’t a routine.”

“Mmm, cocky are we?” He teases, her reassurance easing a bit of his tension.

“For good reason,” she purrs, giving him a smirk. He doesn’t have time for a smartass reply because she’s already moved on. “Now, the music should be at a good tempo for us to start at any moment if I remember correctly. We’ll take it slow, just remember, feel me, okay? Anticipate my movements, and you’ll be fine. Nothing fancy for now until you get the footwork down.”

She taps her foot and looks out over the balcony, and Din swears he can see the notes swimming in her brain. He notices that in this light, he can see her irises better than he ever has before. But again, before he can complete the thought, she begins moving.

He follows her feet, feeling the way her muscles tense and flex underneath the tips of his fingers. Her eyes move back to his visor from their position over his shoulder and it’s like it clicks for him. If he weren’t going to sound crazy, he’d say it was like she transferred her consciousness to his.

They glide together like that across the catwalk, the child’s giggles following them as the pod, still connected to his vambrace, moves with them. The princess moves to twirl them around and Din’s foot catches a little, but he quickly corrects himself, getting back into step with her. 

She suppresses a laugh before asking “Ready to step it up a notch?”

He just nods and she - seemingly reluctantly - lets go of her grip on his hand and twists so that her back is facing his chest. He readjusts so his grip is on her opposite hip, and she guides him to take her other hand.

“Same steps as before...yeah, good job,” she instructs, and it kindles a fire in his stomach that he thought he had quelled about an hour previous. “Okay, when I tell you to, keep stepping but lift me as you do a 180°, got it?”

His heart stutters, mostly out of fear of his poor, abused back. At 37, he shouldn’t be groaning every time he gets out of bed. But when he glances over at the kid, who is excitedly clapping his hands, he decides he’ll do it.

“Sure, but you’re gonna have to give me a few bacta patches on my shoulders later,” he says, slight amusement in his voice.

“I’ll do whatever you want...now!”

He falters for a moment, his brain short-circuiting like a C-1 series astromech before he realizes she means the lift is now, not...everything else that he wants. She pushes off of her right foot and he lifts her into the air, spinning counter clockwise before setting her down just as the music crescendos and finishes with a loud clash of cymbals and flutes.

They’re both breathing heavily as she turns in his arms to face him, and neither one of them go to move away. The tension is palpable at this point, with Din wanting to just bend her over and take her right there. His helmet tilts down to where her chest heaves and he swears he can see her heart beat in the pulse point on her neck. The thought of sinking his teeth into it and marking up her skin is suddenly overwhelming.

It’s only when the child squeals in delight that they’re snapped back to reality.

“I...I think we should go,” he says, catching his breath and tightening his grip on her waist. “Y’know, because the show’s over and crewmembers are gonna be up here any minute.”

She nods.

“Do you wanna take the elevator this time?” He asks her, hesitantly removing his grasp on her.

Again she shakes her head. “No,” she says hastily, donning her coat and looking like a ball of nervous energy. “Just do whatever gets us to the ship faster.”

They exit the way they came in, the princess clinging to Din, but he notices she’s not nearly as stiff as she was on the short flight up. They land near the same alleyway as before. The princess immediately exits the alley, setting course for the ship as Din struggles to keep up with her brisk pace.

“Hey,” he says, grabbing her arm. “You okay?”

She huffs air out of her nose before crossing her arms and shifting her weight. The snow has picked up since they entered the theatre, big enough now to cling to her hair and eyelashes. He watches as she leans over and snaps the child’s pod shut.

“I don’t know how to say this...” she begins, and Din’s heart sinks.

Dank farrik, I’ve gone and fucked this up, he thinks, his thoughts so loud that he only catches onto the last part of her sentence.

“...a virgin because of tradition on Arkanis, but I’ve wanted you to fuck me on every surface of the Crest since you asked me to join you. And I know this is forward, and maybe too brash, but I can’t stand it anymore and I just think that...I think I lo-”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. I...” he licks his lips under his helmet and lets his brain catch up. “You want to...you want to have sex with me?”

She fixes him with a look that says “duh, weren’t you listening, dumbass?”

He sighs before responding. “Okay, look, I want this too, I have since the first time Karga, Dune, and I saw you at that library on Coruscant. But listen, if you’re...if you’re a virgin, then this is something I don’t want you to just decide to do on a whim, you understand me? That’s something that should be done with s-someone you care about.”

“Is that how your first time went?” She questions, narrowing her eyes. It’s a low blow because he revealed the answer to her one night while they were both drinking up in the cockpit. In this light, he can’t see her irises at all, and it’s extremely intimidating.

“I, well, no, but you’re missing the point-”

“Am I? I care about you, Din. Do you care about me?”

There’s no trepidation in his voice when he answers this time. “Yes.”

“Then what’s the holdup, hm?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you!” He shouts, earning furtive glances from the few last minute shoppers out and about. He sighs. “I’m not a prince, okay? I’m not some nutcracker that turns into a handsome prince and runs away with you into the forest. I’m not what you were taught to look for in your happily ever after. I’m not supposed to be your forever. I’m not even supposed to be the kid’s forever...”

The princess glares at the sky, clenching her jaw, and Din can tell from past experiences with the cauterizer that she’s trying not to cry.

“And don’t even try to tell me that it’s not about that. I know you. You crave connection, you feed off of it. You just deserve someone better than me. After I find his people, I’m gonna go back to the only thing I was ever any good at: killing.”

She sniffles and he suddenly, selfishly wishes he hadn’t been honest with her. That he would’ve just lied and whisked her back into the ship so he could fuck her every day until he inevitably broke her heart.

She looks back down, and the placid look on her face terrifies him more than the thought of someone ripping his helmet off (though his faith in the Creed is becoming increasingly shaky). She just sets her jaw and nods, turning on her heel and getting back to her brisk pace from before. It’s then that Din realizes he’s turned the sexual tension into the need for a nasty, ugly fight, having denied his feelings for so long that he’s used to feeling anger and frustration after a close encounter with her.

“Since when are you one to run away like a Corellian hellhound with your tail tucked between your legs, huh?” He says, grabbing her elbow again once he’s caught up with her.

She yanks her arm out of his grip and faces him with a scowl on her face. “Since you decided you were so unlovable, that’s when. You think you’re this horrific, terrible person. Well, Din, I’ve got news for you; plenty of people all over this galaxy do what you do for a living, and then go home and eat dinner with their partners and kids. It’s you,” she says, jabbing a finger into his chest. “That has decided you’re so unlovable. Not this galaxy, not your profession, you. You can’t even call your son yours because you’re so afraid of what? Commitment? Someone giving a damn? And guess what? Even more bad news; you’ve failed so fucking miserably at that, because he loves you. You’re his father, Din, and he loves you. I love you. And you’re not doing yourself any favors by ignoring those two blatantly obvious facts.”

The unshed tears in her eyes start to fall and Din wants to rip his helmet off right there and kiss them off her face, but he doesn’t even know what to say except that she’s right. She’s exactly right and oh, Maker, he’s a dumbass.

“To have you sit here and say that you even might possibly feel the same way about me but in the same breath say that you’re afraid of breaking my heart is...well it’s fucking stupid!” She exclaims, tossing her hands up in the air. “I’d be stupid not to love you, I would know, I literally have three degrees, Din. You risked your life to save your son, you’ve risked your life to save me, Karga, and Dune on multiple occasions. You’re trekking halfway across the galaxy to find some fabled wizard, all for your kid to be reunited with his people. You are one of the most selfless people I’ve ever met, and the only person you’re convincing that you’re some bad guy is you. You’re the good guy...that much is true.”

“I’ve done...I’ve done bad things, sweetheart. I can’t even begin to name them all...” he mutters, looking over at the child’s closed bassinet.

“Okay? We all have. My parents were grooming me to be a politician for fucks sake. What could possibly be worse than that?”

She turns and walks away then again, while he sits there staring at her before his brain, reliable as ever, finally does the mental math. “Oh, Maker, I insulted you, didn’t I?” He calls out.

“Yes!” She barks without turning around, stomping through the snow that builds up on the sidewalk. “If you got me a present for Life Day, I’ll consider it forgiven. Come on, it’s cold, we can talk in the ship...after you’ve fixed that.”

Things Din Djarin needs to stop forgetting: 1) don’t ever insult an Arkanian, or you’ll spend your whole life savings trying to get back in their good graces.

...

They don’t speak a word until they get back to the ship, and even then, words spoken aren’t to each other, only the child. The princess gets him fed and tucked in for the night before disappearing into the ‘fresher. Din fiddles around, unsure if he wants to keep going on their journey or stay on Chandrila for the night. Eventually, he decides to keep going, knowing that the temperatures will drop too much overnight on Chandrila to keep the engine off.

He hears her emerge from the ‘fresher just as the ship lurches into hyperspace, and he reaches over and grabs a parcel from underneath the control panel before heading down into the hold. He gets a strange sense of déja vu, except this time, he knows where he stands.

She’s in her quarters, but the door isn’t shut, so he takes that as an invitation to enter. He sits on her bed, watching her wrestle a chunky knit sweater over her wet hair.

“That’s more like it,” he says, and she turns to face him, a quizzical look on her face. She spots the parcel in his hands, but says nothing of it, just looks at him expectantly. “Your look, I mean. You looked, incredible tonight, but this feels more authentic, more you. You look freer.”

She just nods and bends down to slip on some socks. He holds the parcel out to her when she’s finished and she takes it without a word, sitting down next to him and unwrapping it.

The paper reveals a box. Even though her irritation at his earlier behavior rolls off of her in waves, he can almost feel her excitement piquing.

She opens the box to reveal a pair of pointe shoes in a blush pink color, delicately wrapped in red and green paper.

“...does this make up for me being a fucking idiot?”

She holds the shoes up to the light to inspect them, a revered look upon her face.

“I...I don’t even know what to say.” She whispers.

“Well, you could start with ‘thanks’.” He says, which earns him a light punch on his pauldron. 

“I hope you know it’s customary to give the present on Life Day, not the night before, so don’t think this means you get yours tonight. But how did you know?” She asks, finally turning to look at him.

“Well you only drool all over the sidewalk every time we pass a store that sells them, so I picked some up a few rotations ago when we stopped to fuel up.” He answers softly.

She smiles bashfully and tucks her hands into her lap, suddenly finding a spot on the floor very interesting. Din gently takes her chin in between his pointer finger and thumb, guiding her to look at him again.

“I’m sorry...for everything I said. I’m not used to this, any of it. I didn’t mean to insult you in anyway, but you understand that you and I come from completely different worlds, different realities...” he trails off, trying to find the right words to say. “The truth is...I’m scared, terrified of you leaving me. Everyone I’ve ever loved has...has, well, left. I know the kid is gonna have to leave at some point...I don’t want you to, too.

“After we left Nevarro, before we came here, I wanted nothing more than to take off my helmet and tell you...tell you how I love you face to face, and I’ve wanted to do it so many times tonight, but I don’t think I’m ready yet...to take off the helmet, that is. I-I don’t want you to think less of me for that, but I do love you.”

The princess, his princess, cocks her head to the side.

“I knew what I was signing up for, silly. I never expected you to take it off in front of me, not now and maybe not ever. That doesn’t make it any less meaningful.” She tells him with a smile, resting her hand where his cheek would be. “Even though I would really like to kiss you right now.”

“Well, that I can make an exception for.” He says, and removes his hand from her chin, moving it to the lip of his helmet and pulling up slightly.

He knows she’s staring at his bronzed skin and three day old stubble when he says “Well, kiss me then.”

It’s awkward at first when their lips meet, the angle of the helmet meaning that she has to tilt her head almost sideways to avoid a large gash on her nose from the sharp edge, but after a second or two, it’s like magic. They move in sync, chapped lips moving against perfectly moisturized ones. After a moment, Din takes the lead and deepens the kiss, keeping one hand on the helmet and moving the other to the back of her neck. He tentatively pushes his tongue into her mouth, but his eyes almost pop out of their sockets when she starts to suck on it. He groans and she moves her hands up to the sides of his neck.

“How’d you get so good at this?” He asks as they both pause to take a breath.

“Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I wasn’t a horny teenager once. I spent plenty of summers at the Young Senators Retreat and-”

“Yeah, okay I get the picture,” Din huffs.

She laughs a full bellied laugh, the kind that crinkles the skin around her eyes and shows her teeth.

“Aw, is someone jealous?” She teases, poking the sliver of his cheek that was revealed to her.

He slips the helmet down and moves to stand up, and she does the same.

“Wait I didn’t mean to-”

“Sit down. I’ll be right back.”

He exits her room and takes a deep breath. He’s wanted this for so long, to be touched by another...to touch another. To touch her.

He returns moments later with a strip of thick black cloth in his hand and shuts the door behind him.

“As much as I want to see the look in your eyes when I make you come, I’d much rather be able to see the pretty little expressions you make when I eat you out.” He says moving to kneel on the edge of the bed. Her mouth drops into an “o” shape, her face flushing as bright red as it possibly can.

She clears her throat as he ties the cloth around her head, sheathing her in darkness. “You’re, um, good at complimenting.”

He laughs darkly, removing his helmet all the way and setting it on the floor at the foot of the bed before placing his lips next to her ear. “I think you mean dirty talk, angel.”

If it was possible for her to flush anymore, she would’ve, he thinks. He suddenly stops when a thought flashes across his mind that maybe she’s just doing this because he wants to.

“Hey, is this okay? I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with or not ready for, so if you want me to turn off the lights, or we can just stop altogether, just-”

“Din,” she whispers, reaching her hand out until she finds purchase on his knee. “It’s okay. Please, just touch me before I melt into a puddle of goo.”

Din just hums and stands, beginning to remove his armor. The pieces clank to the floor by the edge of the bed one by one, and he swears her face gets redder and redder from the anticipation. Finally, he’s left only in his underwear. He reaches out and grabs her hand, pulling her to stand. His fingertips move down to brush against the hem of her heavy sweater.

“Is this okay?” He asks, tapping his finger over her stomach and he feels her muscles flutter. She nods her head and he tries again.

“No, you have to use your words, sweet girl. Is this okay?” This time, his tone is more firm.

“Yes,” she replies breathlessly. “Please, Din.”

“Please what? What do you want?”

At this point, he knows he’s just riling her up, making the tension palpable before she snaps. He hears a whine in the back of her throat before she responds.

“I-I want you t-to do what you said you’d d-do to me earlier.” She mumbles, looking down at the ground as if to avoid his gaze, even though she can’t see anything.

“Mmm,” he tuts, stepping closer to her and leaning down to nuzzle his nose against the pulse point in her neck. “Which was?”

She huffs. “I want you to eat my pussy until I cry, and then pin me down and fuck me however you want.”

He pulls back at her sudden forwardness, not expecting her to be baited by his teasing. Her hands are balled into fists at her sides and her chest heaves. She huffs again and starts pulling at her clothes.

When her sweater comes off, Din’s cock gets ten times harder at the sight of her bare chest. He’s so caught up in the way her nipples harden and her chest flushes that he doesn’t realize she completely naked until she gingerly steps back toward the bed and flops down.

“Are you even still alive?”

When Din catches a glimpse of wet slick in between her legs, he decides that he’s not.

“N-no, I’m still here...you’re just. Looks like you were sculpted by the Maker himself. I’m not ever gonna to be able to keep my hands to myself around you.” He murmurs, stepping in between her legs and drawing a finger up her calf.

“You haven’t even hardly done that yet.” She grumbles, twitching as his hand trails behind her knee.

“Mmm, that may be true, but I’m never gonna want to leave this room ever again.”

She smirks and he leans over her to plant a kiss on her mouth, his body not yet touching hers. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in closer, winding her legs around his torso. When Din feels her wet heat touch the skin just below his bellybutton, his patience thins. He deepens the kiss, carding his hands through her hair and holding her flush to him. She lets a soft moan out and he thinks he might explode.

He pulls away and moves down her body, leaving wet kisses in his wake that have her shivering. He licks a long stripe with the tip of his tongue from just above her clit to her navel and she claps a hand over her mouth.

He stops himself from drowning in her cunt and reaches up to pull her hand away from her mouth. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that I wanna hear you, sweet girl.”

As soon as she says okay, he dives in, immediately attaching his lips to her clit and sucking gently. Her hands fly to his hair and tug, which makes him groan at an ungodly loud volume into her pussy. He releases her clit and licks figure 8′s on her fluttering hole and back up to her clit. 

She squeals and brings her thighs up to cage his head, and Din resolves that if he dies, this is how he wants to go; devouring her pussy and soaking up the cute little noises she makes, getting his head squeezed by her thighs and his hair pulled by her tiny hands.

He sucks on her clit again and she lets out a long moan.

“Din, please, s-something put something-”

He cuts her off by slowly wedging his pointer finger into her and starting to thrust. Her back arches off the bed and she lets out an even longer moan than before.

He lets go of her clit and asks “Is this what you wanted, angel? My thick fingers? Or just my mouth?”

She hums before shaking her head. “I-Is both an option? I w-want both, please.”

“Good job using your manners. And yes, both is an option.” He says before diving back in.

This time, instead of hearing her moans, he’s not even sure he can hear her breathing. He inserts a second finger and she exhales, letting go of his hair to fist the sheets. His dick jumps at the loud squelching sound his fingers make in her pussy as he picks up the pace.

“Ohh,” she groans out, and his eyes flick up to see her tits moving slightly with the force of his fingers. “Din, that feels so good.”

“Mhm, I’m gonna have to give you one more finger, sweet girl. Do you think you can take one more?” He asks, his voice muffled as he keeps slurping on her clit.

“One more? B-But it already feels so...so...” she trails off into a whine when he curls his fingers up and gives her the ‘come here’ motion.

“Tight? Yeah, angel, I know. But I’ve gotta do one more if you wanna be able to take it.”

Her pelvic floor contracts at his words and she squirms, bringing her hands back up to his hair and tugging.

He slowly gives her a third finger and watches her face to control his pace. It scrunches up into a frown that wrinkles her nose, but relaxes when he uses his tongue to lick a flat stripe across her clit. She uses her purchase on his hair to guide him to suck her clit again, and shortly after that, she’s moaning again.

He scissors his fingers on every thrust, trying to get her as relaxed as possible for the real thing. He curls his fingers up one more time and she’s inhaling loudly, her thighs shaking around his head and her fingers tightening around his locks. She screams as she meets her release, the sound coming out rough and scratchy. She curls in around his head, refusing to let go of his hair as he continues to suck on her clit.

She finally lets go and Din keeps thrusting as she exhales and it turns into a whimper. He slowly removes his fingers and crawls back up her body, pushing her legs back up to his torso as he goes. Her chest is still heaving from her orgasm as he leans down to give her a thorough kiss.

“Suck,” he gently commands, bringing the three fingers that were just inside of her to her lips. She hesitates a moment before opening her mouth and doing as he says. He groans as her tongue slips in between each digit and she licks off her come.

Din feels his heart stutter as he watches her.

“You look so perfect like this, all open for me, being a good girl.”

She hums around his fingers and he removes them, shucking his underwear off and fisting his cock with her spit.

“Are you on the implant?” He questions.

“Yeah, it’s against the law not to be on Arkanis...is it going to hurt?” She asks softly, clutching her hands to her chest.

“I think I’ve got you pretty wet and worked open, but we’ll go slow. It might hurt a little,” he answers, rubbing his thumb on the inside of her thigh while his hand spreads her spit around the head of his dick. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” she says, nodding her head, but she replies again, seemingly remembering his warning from earlier. “Yes.”

He adjusts her legs so that her calves are resting on his hipbones. He brings his thumb back to her clit and rubs gently as he starts to push the head in.

Now, Din is a cocky bastard by any means, but he’s not surprised when she starts to scrunch her face up and hold her breath when his cock gets about an inch in.

“Uh-ooh uh Din...Din it’s thick. Let me...can I feel...” he slows his movements as she trails off, grabbing her hand and bringing it down to the rest of his length that isn’t inside of her yet.

“H-how is the rest of this supposed to fit in me, what the fuck?” She asks incredulously, barely able to wrap her hand around the diameter.

Din laughs lightly, reaching up and grabbing one of her pillows before lifting her hips up and sticking it under her.

“This might help. Just relax, the more relaxed you are, the quicker you’ll adjust.” He tells her, leaning down to give her a lingering kiss. He stays there, hovering over her as he gently pushes in some more, kissing her again when her face scrunches.

He gets about halfway in before she finally relaxes and Din’s cock doesn’t feel like it’s being strangled. He sits back up and watches as her pussy swallows the rest of his length.

“Oh, sweet girl you’re doing such a good job already. I wish you could see how good your little pussy takes this dick.” He tells her, choking on his words when her muscles flex and squeeze his dick. He pulls out a fraction of an inch before pushing in again and she mewls. “It’s like you were made for me.”

She brings her arms up to drape over her already covered eyes.

“I-it feels good...go faster, please, I want it.” She whines and Din can’t help but run a hand up her stomach and to one of her tits, pinching her nipple lightly before pulling back and giving her what she wants.

“I love it when you beg,” he breathes out, enunciating each word with a thrust that’s not too hard, but just hard enough to redden her chest and make her tits bounce. “Look at you, I’ve got a little princess speared on my cock, hardly able to even talk. Have you thought about this? Huh? Thought about how my cock would feel? I knew you were wearing those tight little leggings and those little tank tops with no bra on for a reason. Dancing around my ship like I didn’t want to bend you over a crate and take you right there.”

She moans, long and loud, and he picks up his pace, lifting up her legs and holding them against his chest.

“K-keep talking, please, please, ple-” Her voice turns into a whine when he angles his hips up and hits a spot inside of her that has her legs locking up and her ankles tightening behind his head. He has to grit his teeth to stop himself from coming too soon because of how much tighter her velvet heat gets.

“Yeah, you like that? This pussy feels so good, baby. I-I wanna spend the rest of my life just fucking you.” He grunts out, emphasizing his last few words with a hard thrust.

She lets out an absolutely pornographic moan when he does that, but it turns into a whine when Din abruptly pulls out. He pulls away to grab his helmet and slip it back on before plopping down on the bed next to her and pulling her hips up and over so she’s straddling his. He reaches up and yanks off the blindfold, causing her to reflexively cover her eyes.

“I have the helmet on, it’s fine,” he tells her, watching her shoulders deflate. “I want you to watch the way I fuck you, angel. Uncover your eyes.”

She tentatively does as he asks and when she looks down at his cock that rests on his stomach, her eyes bulge. When she takes it in her small hand, Din wants to burn the image into his brain. She looks back up at him with a look of amazement.

“There’s no way this was in me...” she trails off, lightly stroking it.

“Mm, yeah, well you can have it back in you if you’d stop talking. I like it more when you beg.”

He watches as the look of amazement turns to mischief, similar to the look she gave him earlier at the theatre. Her milky eyes pierce his visor as she licks her hand and then rubs her pussy, dragging her other hand up her body to grab a handful of her tit.

“Then why don’t you put it back in and keep fucking me?” She asks, looking down at him through her lashes.

“Every fucking day you’re full of surprises, angel,” he groans, grabbing his cock and teasing her clit with it before pushing up and into her. She throws her head back and Din suddenly wishes she had the blindfold back on so he could fulfill his earlier wishes of marking her up.

He grabs her hips and pulls her down to meet his thrusts.

“Look,” he barks, causing her to jerk her head down to the place they meet. “Look at how this cock stretches you. Look at how well you’re doing, such a good girl. Always such a good girl for me, doing what I ask you to.”

He rambles as his thrusts get harder and faster and the princess starts to clench around him again.

“Are you gonna come for me? Gonna come all over this cock? One of these days, I’m gonna make you squirt all over my armor and then I’m-I’m not even gonna clean it, I’m just g-gonna go pick up a bounty.”

The princess lets out a laugh at that, clapping a hand over her mouth as she does and Din slows his pace.

“I’m sorry this feels really good still, but that was just funny. Hot, but also funny. I-I think it was just your delivery,” she giggles, removing her hand from her mouth and placing it on his chest.

Din’s heart skips a beat at the sight of his girl straddling his cock with a smile on her face, looking at him so lovingly. It’s a gaze he hasn’t been on the receiving side of in a long time. He finds himself thankful for once that the helmet is on because of the tears that spring to his eyes. Crying during sex? Not Din Djarin.

He sits up then, holding onto her back and folding his knees under him, hearing them protest as he does. He pushes her shoulders down so that he’s bottomed out inside her pussy and she groans.

“Please don’t ever leave me,” he pleads, looking up and fixing his visor on her face. “Him and I, we need you.”

“I-wh-where did that come from? Are you okay?” She asks, placing her hands on either side of his helmet and looking concerned.

He ignores her question, opting to bury his helmet into her chest and hug her tight while starting to thrust back into her.

“Din...” she warns, but hugs him back anyway.

They stay like that for a few minutes, just slowly moving back and forth together until Din’s patience breaks and he can’t help but start thrusting harder and faster. His hand snakes down her front to rub at her clit and he can feel her start to come undone. Her cunt clenches around him as she’s quickly and quietly tipped over the edge, her thighs and back spasming. She says nothing, just pants heavily above him, clutching his shoulders and brushing the strands of hair at the back of his neck that have escaped his helmet.

“Can I-can I come inside? Please-”

“Yes,” she cuts him off breathlessly. “Please, Maker, yes.”

He thrusts in a few more times before speaking again.

“Tell me you-mmm. Tell me you love me, cyare.”

“Oh, Din, I love you so much. You’re so special, you’re such a special man. I loveyouIloveyouIloveyou.”

He comes inside of her with a long groan, burying his face further into her chest as she repeats herself over and over.

Eventually, Din flops back onto her bed and she follows. He notices she takes extra care to make sure his cock doesn’t slip out of her.

“Wanted to keep all that come in there, huh?” He jokes lightly, giving her a soft pat on the butt.

“Shut up,” she huffs with a laugh into his neck. “I’m gonna have to get up eventually though to turn off the light. Are you...will you stay with me? If the lights are off?”

He rubs his hands up and down her back before exhaling deeply and responding.

“I would sleep in all of my armor just for the honor of falling asleep next to you.”

“Mmm,” she hums, tracing her finger along his collarbone. “Well lucky for you, I have a strict ‘no armor’ policy in my bed. It reads like this: ‘No beskar? No problem.’.”

-

Din awakes with a start to a loud thwump, thwump, thwump from somewhere in the ship. Immediately fearing the worst, he throws his undershirt and pants on and rushes into the hold.

There she sits, his princess, in one of his long-sleeve tunics and a pair of his underwear that fit her like shorts, banging the absolute shit out of one of her pointe shoes. The child, his son, he reminds himself, sits across from her holding the other shoe, trying to mimic her and bobbing his head along to the music playing softly in the background.

He calms his racing heartbeat as he goes to take a seat on the floor next to them.

“Happy Life Day,” she says, leaning over to place a kiss where his cheek would be.

“Happy Life Day to you, too,” he responds tenderly, booping her nose. She looks down to return to her work and Din turns to his son. “Happy Life Day, buddy.”

He babbles in delight, holding up the shoe to show Din all the work he’s (not) done on it.

“Sorry if I woke you up...actually, no I’m not. He told me to,” she says without looking up, nodding her head toward the child who just laughs. “He wants his presents, daddy.”

Din clears his throat and stands back up while the princess just smirks, knowing exactly what she does to him.

“Oh, and while you’re at it, there’s one for you underneath my bed.” She calls out to him as he leaves to go retrieve the Life Day presents.

“Alright, but next time I sit down, I’m not getting back up for at least 20 minutes.” He calls back from the ladder.

When he returns, he sees that they’ve switched shoes.

“So what does that do anyway?” He asks, setting the presents on the floor in between them. The child immediately makes grabby hands.

“Oh, it just breaks them in, but trust me, you’re not gonna want to see my feet for at least a week once you see what pointe shoes do to them,” she laughs.

Din’s helmet tilts, trying to gauge if he should have even bought them.

“Hey,” she says softly, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “Thank you. They’re perfect. You have to do this with all of them, I promise.”

He just nods and pats her hand before reaching over and handing the child his present.

“This one’s mine?” He asks, holding up a large box wrapped in purple paper with a silver bow on top.

“Mhm,” she responds with a smile, tossing the shoe aside to pull his son into her lap and help him unwrap his present. “There’s a few things in there, but I could only do one box because the paper tax on Vardos was high.”

“That’s rich coming from the princess,” he teases, gently tearing into the paper.

“Hey! You know I don’t like using my parents’ capitalist credits,” she frowns.

He laughs, the modulator making it sound raspy. Their attention is grabbed by the child, who finally gets the box open and squeals in delight at the objects inside.

“Show dad what you got!” She tells him.

Din ignores his own present for a moment to watch as his son shows him a red shirt and black pants.

“Wow! That’s cool! Do you like them?” He asks.

The child babbles and Din looks at the princess. “Where’d you find something that small?”

“A maternity store,” she responds with a shrug, still looking down at the child. “Show him the next one!”

Din’s thoughts are swimming with the idea of her walking around a maternity store when the kid shows him his next present. The mental image has his blood rushing south until he reminds himself where he is and what he’s doing.

He clears his throat for the second time that morning because of explicit thoughts. “Oh, that’s neat!”

His son holds a tukka doll close to his chest with bright eyes and a beaming smile that shows his little teeth.

“Tell your dad to open his present,” the princess leans down and tells him, giving him a scratch on the head. When he babbles at Din again, his heart melts.

“Okay, okay, I’m on it hang on,” he responds, gently peeling open the cardboard.

In the box sits a camera, a photo, a cushion of some sort, and a folded piece of deep red fabric. The first thing he pulls out of the box is the photo. It takes him approximately ten seconds to realize that it’s a picture of him, smiling, as a boy. Next to him sits a girl, about four years older than him, and behind them stand his parents. There’s a tree with lights and ornaments decorating it in the background.

“Do you like it?” She softly asks him, placing a hand on his knee.

“I...how?” Is all he can muster.

“Well, I did some digging...a lot, actually. I found this on the holonet on an Aq Vetina tribute page,” she says, scratching the back of her neck and looking away. “It’s sad how many of those there are. Anyways, I saw your last name, your family’s last name, and figured it had to be you guys. I, uh, had it printed out because having to boot up a piece of technology every time you want to see that seems silly.”

“Is that...did I have a sister?” He whispers, drawing his finger over her picture.

“Seems that way. I could probably do some more digging if you’d like...maybe teach you how to use the holonet while I’m at it, old man.” She softly teases, squeezing his knee.

He’s scared that he broke something when he practically tackles her in a hug. His son hoots in delight, crawling his way up her front to be in the middle of the embrace.

“Thank you...so much,” he whispers in her ear, this time doing nothing to stop the tears that roll down his cheeks and catch on the lining of his helmet.

“It’s the least I could do,” she replies, giving him a soft smile when he pulls away. “If you need a moment, we can take a break before you-”

“No, no it’s okay. I’m fine,” he reassures her, the barest hint of a smile in his voice. “I’m right here where I want to be.”

He pulls the camera out of the box and inspects this.

“This is an older model,” he comments, looking through the viewfinder. “This must’ve been hard to find.”

“Yeah, but I wanted one that prints the photos out so you can keep them on you,” she responds.

“What’s this?” He asks, holding up the cushion.

She laughs. “It’s for your butt. For your chair in the cockpit. It’s supposed to help with back pain.”

He gently pops her on the head with it and she giggles. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Mhm...pull out the last one.” She tells him, nodding to the box.

He removes the fabric from the box and it unfolds as he holds it up.

“It’s a new cape. I got it so you guys could match.”

The smile on Din’s face threatens to break his helmet in half. “Hey, buddy, look...we’re matching.” He says, holding the cape out to his son.

The child giggles and wraps it around himself like a cape, and goes parading around the little half circle they’ve formed.

“This is...this is nice,” Din compliments, scooting over and slinging his arm over the princess’s shoulder. “All we need now is a tree.”

She leans her head into the crook of his arm and sighs contentedly. “Yeah, well they don’t survive in extended periods of hyperspace...trust me, I already thought about it.”

“I feel bad I only got you the one present,” he remarks, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

“Mm, I’ve got everything I want right here,” she singsongs, poking him in his side. “Now lets get all this paper cleaned up so we can eat.”

She holds her hands out and he follows her up.

“What if we...uh, can we recreate that picture? The one of my parents?” He asks tentatively once he’s fully standing.

“Like...with the three of us?” She inquires, her eyes widening.

“Yeah.”

“Of course,” she answers with a soft smile. “It’d be best to do it after breakfast before his nap though.”

He watches for a moment as she starts cleaning up the multicolored wrapping paper, thinking about how peaceful and domestic this moment seems. He almost brings up getting their implants removed and having a few more monsters running around the ship, but he decides that maybe that’s a conversation for next Life Day, where hopefully they won’t have to live in the ship anymore or be on the run.

Even if there aren’t any more kids in the picture, or if we never settle down somewhere, this is more than enough, he thinks before joining his princess and his son in the kitchenette for a Life Day feast.

And for a day, all is well with the Mudhorn Clan.

[therodrigator6]

Well, hello there fellers.

You can ignore this text post if you want, it comes straight from me, completely outside of Drawings or Proyect updates.

I just really felt as though I needed to take the time to write up my thoughts into a, very possibly, LOOOOOOOOOOOONG post, since I have a LOT on my head right about now.

So, my melancholy, rather depressing, but perhaps amusing, musings, under the cut.

Right, so my whole string of thought was sort of just... proppeled out of me reminiscing about the past... 2 years, maybe year and a half.

I got thinking hard about She-Ra again, LMAO. and I know, I KNOW, why am I even thinking about that damned show again.

BUT, I was really thinking hard about how much I went through, positively I mean, how much growth I had (Around my art and my vocation obviously) with She-Ra.

And really, if you were to scour through my blog, if you went back all the way to... maybe it was late 2018, early 2019, when I posted my first fanarts around She-Ra, you’ll see how far back I was, skill-wise. I mean I wasn’t exactly a beginner, but I weren’t no Grade A artist neither.

And PRIOR to all of that I had more or less drawn fanart intermitently.

Anyone who followed me back when I made RWBY stuff, specifically Whiterose fanart could attest to that. I wasn’t consistent at all, and I experimented more often than not with every single drawing I was making. And don’t get me wrong, I really enjoyed drawing stuff for RWBY, I sort of miss it now LMAO.

But I can certainly see just HOW POWERFULLY drawn I was to She-Ra, because my output of content and the growth of my skill as an artist was EXPONENTIAL. I suppose in a way I owe it really to MY sudden... obsession? Fixation? on that show.

VERY HONESTLY, at this point in time, I feel like I could REALLY speak on what things drew me to She-Ra, and precisely what things KEPT me there. IDK I think it used to be a very special little show.

On one hand? I really had just decided to watch it because I was starting to fall out of love with RWBY.

RWBY WAS a show I’d also loved, and which also meant a lot to me, but the things that MEANT a lot to me, were just not given the story I would’ve been interested in. That AND the small fandom space I’d carved out for myself was getting even smaller. Smaller AND very... toxic? Uncomfortable? I felt as though... my efforts and my involvement in that fandom were neither welcome nor appreciated at one point, let alone the fact that on the SHIPPING side of things, it stopped being fun.

So there I was, starting She-Ra up. I’d known about it for some time before, and I’d *Heard* that it was a fun good show, and most specially... *With an active, HUNGRY fandom, raging about a very popular Ship*. So I thought to myself, YAY, I’ll watch this show and I’m REALLY gonna do my best to go for everything popular.

I was tired of unwelcoming fandoms, tired of enjoying the very little measly, *Unpopular* things about shows, this was all about having a GOOD time. And maybe finally getting my works out, really finding a motivation to create stuff.

I mean in hindsight, now I know I fucked myself over MANY times.

You see because, as soon as I started watching She-Ra, I TRIED to do something different about the way I consumed shows.

In the past I used to be VERY ship-centered about my show experiences, to the point were FANON-Ship-centric relationships with shows would make the stories I was watching really boring and bleak in comparison. I had been afraid at the time, that THIS would also ruin She-Ra for me. So I really thought about... NOT tainting my vision and perception of the show with... Fandom stuff, Fanon or Ship-centric views, NOT EVEN CREATOR INTERACTIONS. I really tried to watch it blind and enjoy it for what it was.

Fool I was, I should’ve done the opposite.

It’s a tired old story, and a really redundant thing for ME to talk about. But I really felt a DEEP disappointment with She-Ra. Akin to LOSS almost.

Cuz you see, for a year and a half I ended up CENTERING myself on She-Ra, on more than one level.

On one hand, I TRULY believed She-Ra was a show with a story that I loved, there were plenty of characters that REALLY spoke to me. Characters like Glimmer? for example? And her storyline? for me are *one in a million*.

Of course I’m... REALLY compacting my She-Ra experience. I had come to appreciate MANY things about it. It’s world, it’s story, the characters, the comedy, the animation, the people who loved it and grew because of it, etc.

Furthermore, once my initial *doubt* about the show had passed, I really immersed myself in the fandom side of things. And I gotta say, I really enjoyed it for as long as it lasted. I think I experienced a new level of feeling like I *belonged* in a community, and a feeling that people LIKED what I did for it, and that people wanted MORE of ME in it.

Alongside that, and going back to animation. Geez, She-Ra came at the best *or worst* (depends on how you wanna look at it in hindsight now, LMAO), time of my life.

Literally on the verge of me finishing up with Prepschool and having to chose a career for University.

Prior to She-Ra, I really was trying to pinpoint my vocation, and animation had been in my mind for a LONG time, since Steven Universe really.

AND... Idk, AGAIN, THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT SHE-RA... which told me... “This is important”. Animation is important, being able to tell tales for people is important. Telling tales for people who need it, or people who don’t often get to tell tales is important. This medium is BEAUTIFUL, I MEAN, LOOK AT EVERYTHING IT CAN SPAWN OUT OF PEOPLE.

So it helped me make THAT decision.

Also alongside these things well... I go back to all of that about “Belonging”, and “community”.

Boy I met some of the most amazing friends I ever have in my life. People whom I respect, people who I admire, people who thought like me, liked ME, enjoyed this show, etc.

OF COURSE, at the time, and I really should’ve known better. We met out of our mutual LOVE for Glimmadora, LMAO.

ME? FALLING IN LOVE WITH AN UNPOPULAR SHIP? Who’da thought.

AND I DID SO, *DAMN NEAR DIVORCED FROM FANDOM* LMAOOOOO, you can see how my “I’ll learn to love whichever aspects of this show I’m *gonna* love, outside of fandom influence” policy really just fucked me in the ass.

AND GOD, DID I *LET IT* BE A PART OF ME.

That comunity, those friends, that ship, that show, those creators. It was all I thought about, and it DROVE me. so much so I put up with so much shit from my University. I put up with so many bad things in my life that were going on because of that show.

And I see now that many of those friends I mentioned did too. GOD, how I wish... we just hadn’t.

I think... for most of us things had already been pretty shit, not gonna lie.

There was the pandemic, for a start. Prior to May the 15th I had an uncle of mine die of COVID, which shook me to *my* core, but dear old She-Ra and the Glimmadora fandom gang were there to cheer me on. (This was around the time really horrid people in the She-Ra fandom, whom LOATHED Glimmadora with a passion were making “Glimmadora shippers must have Covid, since a symptom of Covid is a lack of taste” Jokes btw.)

And I think of my friends also, who have always spoken to me about their problems and their lives. For all accounts I think, they’d always had it harder than me, and they found themselves a WILL and a DRIVE to go on... through this, through She-Ra, and our friendship.

Then May the 15th came and it’s all been going downhill from there HSEBRGJKSEHRBGKJSERHGBJK.

I mean... I understand NOW, just how DAMAGING for myself it was to... cling so much to that show, to all of it. NEVER should’ve connected the drive of my vocation to it.

Cuz yanno... even if I HAVE continued to grow and get better the past few months, some things haven’t changed for the better.

For instance, I basically LOST my entire space here, in fandoms, in ejoying shows. I LITERALLY ONLY CREATE NOW... Either out of spite, or for my friends.

There is a VERY DEEP loathing now within me about stuff like... Catradora for example. I hate it, it makes me feel disgusting, simple as that. And THAT kind of feeling isn’t welcome here, also simple as that. So I’m out of a space and that hurts.

PFFT, basically all the pieces I produce now, which I still do with a She-Ra theme. Nobody’s gonna wanna consume MY content anymore, and they don’t. I made sure they couldn’t because I knew, I wasn’t going to be able to stomache this She-Ra fandom anymore.

That’s been another thing too. I don’t like being a contrarian, I don’t like being the guy who thinks the thing everybody loves is bad or wrong, and if I could SO HELP ME GOD, I’d change my entire view of it all. I don’t really care about being right or wrong anymore, I just want that peace of mind back.

HELL, there were people I knew since 2016 almost, who kinda just told me...

Shut the fuck up or leave.

On some cases I shut my mouth, on others I just left.

And yanno... I do feel miserable about it. But it also makes it all the harder when I think of my friends?

GOD DAMN, EVERYTHING THAT *COULD* GO WRONG, WENT WRONG FOR THEM.

ALWAYS, for all of my friends. And even through the hurt, I sit here and think, well I think I still have hope! I think I still have a drive to go on and persue animation  and tell good stories.

But I understand now... that *I* have a priviledge over my friends. The priviledge of support. I’m not REALLY alone, there’s people helping ME.

My friends don’t have that, and I can’t give them that, how I wish I could.

And it does just HURT only being able to tell my friends, “HEY! Have hope things’ll be better!” And then we all turn to the only beacons of hope we shared, and seeing them all dull and out of light. No Glimmer of hope.

Like, how do you tell people to hold out, to keep fighting, to keep trying to STILL CHASE THEIR DREAMS... When you can’t even help them keep their heads high when they’re trying yo get a damned job. When no matter how much THEY try they keep getting knocked down.

When there’s no longer a space were they feel confortable sharing their creations, because everyone they had ONCE tried to please with them? suddenly decided they were of no value.

So here we are.

I’m starting up a new semester in a couple of days, hopefully building myself up more to chase MY dreams... whilst all my friends suffer and can’t chase theirs.

Shit’s fucked. I wish I could do more.

PFFT, I guess, long story short:

Life unfair, Me Sad.

Me Angery, Me Bitter

Me Lost, They Won

Boohoo I guess.

SO ANYWAYS... I really just... needed to put these thoughts out in words. Scream to the void as it were.

I can’t wait to go back into discord or twitter or tumblr and see how my friends can’t catch a fucking break.

And how things will continue to get worse before they get better.

God I hope they get better, for all of us, if not atleast for them. They’ve already gone through enough.