#maybe ill get lucky and he ends up ok

[ghost-bard]

Playing through the aeducan origin rn and im immediately enamored with gorim so obviously hes either going to die or betray me

[doitforbangchan]

honeyy, as you can see... i'm missing my people so much 😭 can we get jinnie - getting rid of the boys - and sneaking into omega's room to spend the night with her when channie's away, please? 🥹❤️

heheheh i love this idea it is very cute 😍thanx bb i hope you like it

ABANB Drabble 02

"This is a long grocery list, Hyune. Are you sure you need all of it?" Felix asked, looking at the texted list that Hyunjin had sent him.

*cough* " Yeah, m' sure. I need everything on that list to feel better." Hyunjin faked another cough, thankful that he was only speaking on the phone or else Felix would have seen the sly grin on the other betas face.

Everyone was out of the house right now. Felix, Jisung and Minho were out shopping, Changbin and Jeongin were at the gym,  Seungmin had gone to visit his family for the weekend and Chan had left this morning for a client meeting. That only left Hyunjin alone… With you. A rare moment he would not pass up on. Hyunjin had not had any time with his omega in what felt like centuries ( about 4 days) and he was beginning to go crazy. 

You were just getting over a cold, having spent too much time dancing in the rain with Jisung a few days prior. Jisung hadn’t gotten sick somehow but you weren’t so lucky. You were feeling much better now but still not one hundred percent so you (more like Minho) thought it better to rest a little more. Your cold gave Hyunjin the perfect cover- ‘somehow’ you had given him your illness so he just had to stay home today while everyone else ran errands. 

He added for good measure, “Plus, Baby would benefit from a lot of that stuff too.” 

That seemed to do it as he heard Felix hum in agreement. “I suppose so. Alright then we will grab it while we’re out, but we may be gone a little longer than usual. Are you gonna be ok taking care of yourself for a while?” 

*cough* “I think so.” He hid his snicker behind the cough. 

The phone was snatched out of Felix’s hand, a loud ‘HEY’ being heard then Minho’s voice rang through the phone. “Do not go bothering Baby while we’re out. She needs to recover and get her rest, and she can’t do that if you’re up her ass the whole time.” 

‘Oh if only you knew just how up her ass I can be, Minho’ Hyunjin thought snarkily. “I won’t. I Promise.” 

Minho scoffed and Hyunjin could imagine how the elder beta was rolling his eyes, “ Yeah right. Get some rest, Hyune.” 

Min had ended the call before he could respond, the line cutting with a quiet beep. Hyunjin pocketed his phone and stood from his place on the couch. The beta listened for any sign of life but heard nothing except the muffled voices coming from the tv in your nesting room where you were resting. He was giddy as he ascended the steps to the second floor, a fluttering in his stomach that he never grows old of was making him jittery and he couldn't fight the smile that lingered on his lips. 

Hyunjin approached your door and gave a tentative knock on the wood. He heard the tv pause and a light shuffle, then a quiet “Come in.” Your voice was still slightly scratchy. 

The beta slowly cracked the door open and peeping his head inside, his long hair swaying with the movement brought a little crackly giggle out of you. “Hi beautiful, how are you feelin’? He asked, taking in how cute you looked snuggled up in your nest.  

“Hi Jinnie. M’ feeling ok, still a little under but definitely better.” You replied, “What about you? Did I get you sick too?” 

He shrugged, “Ah a little, no big deal.” He faked another cough, turning away for a second. Hyunjin needed a way in and playing with your nurturing instincts was the way to go. You seldom let the boys enter your nest, only when you deemed it necessary. 

“Oh Jinnie I’m sorry! How about you come cuddle with me, maybe the body heat will help with your fever!” Bingo. 

*cough cough* “I can’t just invade your nest like that Baby. I’ll be ok.” *Sniffle* 

“Nonsense. You get your skinny little butt in here Hyunjin.” You waved him in with a stern look on your face. 

“Well, if you insist.” He wasted no time before shuffling over to you and flinging himself into your nest next to you. He cuddled up close when you wrapped your arms around him. 

You placed your lips softly upon his forehead, feeling a light fever in the warmness of his skin. “Hm you are warm. Lay down. I have some tea on the bedside- you should drink some, it will help your throat.” He wanted to swoon, even when you yourself were feeling bad you still took care of him in his ‘time of need’. You weren’t lying when you said you felt a fever on his skin though. 

“You’re the best, Baby. What are we watchin?” 

“Greys anatomy.” You picked up the remote and resumed the program. 

“Again? Haven’t you seen every episode like.. Four times?” 

“Shhhhhh” You hushed him, “This is a good part, their plane is about to crash.” 

You both settled in together, cuddled up watching the drama series with drooping eyes. That is where the other members of the pack found you later; both asleep wrapped around each other. Minho grumbled about Hyunjin being a liar and Felix giggled and took pictures to print out later. 

Hyunjin woke up a few hours later with a scratchy throat and a very real congestion in his nose.

Worth it.

©doitforbangchan

@jehhskz

[giveafike]

kinda obsessed with the prompt of ben x fem tennis reader being together for a lil while and being the cutest couple , breaking up bc the distance hit them too hard after two straight months of different tournaments/locations, then seeing each other for the first time at a 1000 tournament, going out to dinner with the same group of people and end up going back to bens hotel room to clear the air and obvs end up in bed together realising they’re gonna have to get thru the distance cos they can’t be without each other now 😭

TLDR: tennisplayerfem!reader and ben break up bc you can't handle being away and then surprise, you can't handle being not together. Losers.

Word count + info: 10k. Am I mentally ill? This is supposed to be a blurb.. Dialogue (angst, texts, calls, conversation).

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! Breakup and kinda mean stuff said (nothing physical description wise). Otherwise, it's all good! (i think)

Azzie Notes ✚: SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD. AM I OKAY??? 10K?? ON A BLURB?? idrk what angst is fr chat lmk if i did that one fr idk....im a LOVER girl ok IDK HOW TO DO THIS SAD SHIT - in saying that, was part of my dialogue in this lwky..loosely based off of my ex...........maybe...

I fear I loved this prompt so bad and like...I love to yap..so...

Socials + Updates: twitter ( @azziegivesafike) - feel free to follow and msg me about non requests there, I'll be posting life updates, story + req updates and spoilers/teasers alongside other things, so it'd be nice to have a community over there!

————————————————————————

Shattered - B.T.S.

In the beginning, being with Ben is the kind of whirlwind you've only seen in movies, a connection that feels so natural, yet thrillingly unexpected. Well, in hindsight, that might've been a lie. It wasn't exactly love at first sight, but instead, a slow, magnetic pull that drew you together, like the tension building in a long rally. You met on the circuit, both hungry, ambitious, and dedicated to your own success. But from the start, Ben had this way of getting past your disciplined, guarded exterior with that relentless charm of his.

He’s everywhere, it seems—posting highlights from your matches on his stories, sneaking your name into press conferences, tagging you in his silly “lazy Saturday” shots where your game is always playing in the background. He flirts shamelessly, flashing that grin across the court, his voice lifting over the crowd to make some cheeky comment that leaves you stifling laughter. Your friends see it before you do: Ben is crazy about you, and soon, so is everyone else.

He flirted shamelessly and relentlessly, everywhere and anywhere, often catching you off guard in ways that left you flustered despite your best efforts to stay cool and professional. With that, you started to look out for the way his eyes would find yours in a crowd while you sat in the stands during his matches or how he would nudge you at practice with that easy, casual touch like he’s done it a thousand times before; like you belong by his side.

Once, when he's asked in an interview if he’d dedicated his recent win to anyone, he grins and looks straight across the room, making everyone laugh. “There’s someone special right now, but no need to say names, she knows.”

It’s sweet, funny and more than a little bold. Later, when you called him out for it over one of your first late-night calls, he shrugged, entirely unapologetic, telling you with that stupid drawl of his, “What? Ain’t no point hidin’ it. The world knows who my lucky charm is.”

Soon, it was you reaching out for him, your hand slipping onto his arm, leaning against him during walkouts, letting your barriers fall. And every time he catches your eye, every time he manages to make you smile, he looks at you like he’s won the lottery. His heart stammers a little each time you shove him playfully or roll your eyes at his antics. Whether it was on the bench or during changeovers, Ben would rest his hand gently on your lower back, a touch that makes you feel, just for a moment, like you're the only two people in the world.

When the rare break in your schedules comes around, you steal hours together. You grab a coffee, turning a "quick run" into a day spent together and wander around a city you barely know, or stumble upon a hidden café with pastries too flowery for your tastes. He made everything feel easier, like no matter how intense life gets, you’ll always have that balance with him. Around Ben, you can be softer, and more vulnerable; he brings out a side of you that isn’t just about winning and competing but about laughing, sharing, and letting go.

People noticed the way you look at each other, the easy affection that passes between you, the more daring and intimate PDA, sharing kisses and lingering stares. Soon, fans were shipping you openly, posting photos of you courtside, or whispering to each other when you lean close and murmur something that makes him laugh. On tour, you’re one of those “it” couples, a little slice of joy in the relentless pace of your careers. And in those early days, you both believe that together, you can take on anything. In those early days, you believed you could take on anything together. You and Ben were partners, equals, and even in the midst of a gruelling season, there had always been time for him, always a reason to smile. It felt perfect, like a love story you had stumbled into but were both entirely committed to.

But that honeymoon phase comes crashing down real quick.

As seasons shift and tournaments stretch across continents, the cracks start to show. At first, it’s just a few hours difference, but then come the miles and oceans, and the texts dwindled, conversations cut short, replaced by more missed calls than made and vague apologies. You both had tried, in every way you knew how. But eventually, the memories weren’t enough to bridge the distance. You’d catch yourself staying up just to wait for his call after practice, only to fall asleep disappointed, staring at a dark screen. And every time you woke up to a hastily sent sorry, something came up text, it felt like another tiny fracture.

Ben wasn’t the only one caught up in the chaos of your schedules; you had your own demands, too. The strain went both ways. In an attempt to keep things alive, you’d push yourself to keep up with his time zone, adding another city to your Clock app, setting alarms accordingly to his lunch and dinner times, staying awake far too late, eyes heavy as you sat alone in your hotel room, scrolling through old photos just to feel closer to him. When the call finally did come, your voice was barely more than a whisper, tired and distant, and Ben couldn't bear the exhaustion in your tone, his heart aching as he hushed you to sleep, meaning neither of you would stay on long.

It all piled up slowly, almost imperceptibly, until the weight felt crushing. Conversations became one-sided, it’s like chasing the sun itself, moments of silence replacing the laughter that had once felt endless, and that spark, the one that made you feel unstoppable together, felt further away with every day that passed.

Then came the day of your match, a game that should have been easy, one you’d normally have breezed through. But you were dragging, exhaustion wrapping itself around your every heavy, drooping step, and somewhere in the depths of your mind, a bitter thought took root:

If only he cared.

You knew it wasn’t his fault, but still, the frustration boiled over. Would things have felt different if you weren’t so alone in this? If you didn’t have to wonder when, or if, he’d remember to call? If he scheduled calls to your time for once? If he could just postpone everything for 20, 20 measly minutes for you?

A ball zips right by you, snapping you back to reality.

Lying in your hotel room that night, you stared at the ceiling, replaying the best moments of your time together like an old movie reel. In those moments, it had felt perfect. You’d believed you could take on the world, side by side, partners in everything. But now, with miles and silence separating you, you wondered if those memories were all that was left of what you once had.

But even with that ache, even with the emptiness filling the room, one thing is clear as day: loving Ben, for all its messiness, for all the distance and loneliness, had never felt like a mistake but God, was it hard. You pondered on those same irritating thoughts that itched at you until your fingers found your phone and hit the FaceTime Call button. Part of you wanted him to not pick up, knowing that you had nothing kind or sweet to say, but a small part of you wanted to dish back what he deserved.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice tense, worn. His drawl feels distant like he’s talking to you from across an ocean.

“Hey.” You can feel the iciness in your voice, colder than you intended.

“Long day?” he asks, though his expression is already tense, wary.

“Yeah. Almost lost today,” you say flatly.

Ben’s gaze flicks down. “I saw the score,” he says, his voice cautious. “Guess it was a tough match, babe.”

“It shouldn’t have been,” you snap. “But maybe it’s hard to focus when I’m barely sleeping… or constantly waiting for a text that never comes.”

He blinks, his eyes narrowing. “So this is on me?” The familiar accent is a little rougher around the edges. “You’re losin’ matches ‘cause I’m not callin’ you enough? That’s what you’re sayin’?”

“Don’t play dumb, Ben. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about” You feel the bitterness twisting in your chest. ““You’re barely here, Ben. Half the time, I don’t even know if we’re still together or if we’re just two people sending pointless messages every few hours. Half the time, it feels like I’m talking to a ghost.”

He lets out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head. “You think it’s any easier for me? I’ve got my own stuff, my own schedule, darlin'. I’ve got my career to think about too, you know, this ain't just about you.”

Your jaw tightens. “Yeah, well, at least when I'm on the court, I don’t exactly have the luxury of tuning you out, Ben. I’m not the one who forgets to call after saying I would. I don’t have time for half-assed texts and waiting around for you to call when you feel like it.”

“Oh, don’t go there,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “You know what it’s like. The fans, the interviews, the time spent on court-”

“Yeah, I get it, Ben. But last week, you bailed on a call to go sign autographs. Priorities, right?”

He takes a deep breath, visibly holding back. “C’mon, babe, you don’t mean that.”

But you press on, unable to stop yourself. “You’re too busy with whatever ‘big thing’ you have going on, right? Maybe if you cared enough to focus on your game instead of your ‘commitments,’ you wouldn’t have dropped that finals match. Just maybe.”

He flinches, his expression turning dark. “Oh, that's low from you, Y/N. You really wanna go there?”

“Yeah, I do,” you say, your voice unwavering.

He pauses, his face hardening. “If you were out here on the ATP tour, you’d understand how rough it really is. You wouldn't even get past a challenger. It ain’t the same league as the WTA.”

You laughed, a cold, bitter sound. “Oh, don’t even start with that. Rougher than the WTA? Is that supposed to make me feel better? Maybe come and join WTA then, you wouldn't manage it out here either, Ben.”

He snaps, his voice cutting like a whip. “You know how much I’m fightin’ to make a name for myself out here. Just ‘cause you got a few more shiny titles doesn’t mean you get to talk down to me like this.”

The sting of his words hits like a slap. Your face flushes, a mix of anger and hurt bubbling up. “So, that’s it? Just because I’ve actually earned my success, I’m some kind of… what? Nag?”

“I didn’t say that,” he shot back, voice tight, his eyes narrowing as he looked away. “But maybe you’re doin’ too much. Bein’ all… dramatic, blamin’ me for stuff I got no control over.”

“Right, okay, so I’m being dramatic,” you scoff, your voice edged with sarcasm. “I’m the one asking for too much because I want something real, something you clearly can’t give.”

He laughs, bitter and raw. “Maybe you just want too damn much.”

You feel the tears prickling behind your eyes, but you clench your jaw, holding yourself together by sheer force of will. Your voice trembles as you speak, the words thick with a pain you can’t contain. “I just want you to care, Ben, or at least pretend to care and make it believable. I want you to care enough to be here when it matters. But you’re so wrapped up in yourself, you don’t even see it.”

His face hardens, his jaw set, but his eyes hold a flicker of something unspoken. “You think I don’t care? I’m out here pushin’ myself every day, for us, for this future we’re supposed to be building 'n shit. But it’s like no matter what I do, it ain’t enough for you.”

A sharp knock sounds from his end, followed by muffled voices. He glances away, then back at you, irritation flaring in his eyes. “Look, I gotta go. Dad’s waitin’ on me; he already gave me an extra ten minutes to talk.”

You feel your heart twist, an ache of disappointment settling in. “Oh, of course,” you mutter, your voice dripping with bitterness. “Go ahead. I’m sure your training’s way more important than anything I have to say.”

He turns back, his eyes blazing with frustration. “Maybe it is right now,” he spits. “Talkin’ to you like this, all it’s doin’ is makin’ things worse. We're not getting anywhere like this-”

The words cut deeper than you expect, and you can barely hold back the surge of anger and heartbreak choking you. “Fine. Go, then. At least one of us can prioritise something.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he looks away. “You’re bein’ unfair, 'n you know it.”

“Am I?” you whisper, your voice tight and choked. “Or am I just done waiting for you to show up?”

You stare at each other, an endless silence stretching between you, sharp and seething, words too heavy to be unsaid. Then, with a frustrated shake of his head, he mutters, “I can’t do this right now. I’ll talk to you later. When you’re not actin’ like this.”

Before you could respond, he hung up, his face disappearing from your screen, leaving you alone with nothing but the cold light of your phone. Your hands shook as you stared at the blank screen, tears finally spilling over.

With trembling fingers, you took a breath, letting a cold, steely calm settle over you. You typed out a simple, blunt message, leaving no room for second-guessing, no room for soft words or explanations. Just the truth, as raw as you felt.

“We’re done. I can’t do this anymore, Ben. I’m sorry.”

Your thumb lingered for a second before hitting “send,” and as soon as the message went through, you blocked him on every platform, cutting off any way for him to respond, to apologise, to convince you otherwise.

But as you tossed your phone aside, a crack appeared in the calm you’d forced on yourself. The tears came suddenly, your breath hitching as a tidal wave of heartbreak surged through you. You buried your face in your hands, pressing your palms against your eyes as if you could somehow contain the emotions clawing their way to the surface. You tried to stay quiet, muffling the sound in the dark, but the weight was too much, every sob raw, grieving and heavy, pouring out the frustration, the loneliness, and the love you’d tried so hard to salvage.

By the time your tears subsided, you felt utterly drained, hollowed out in a way that made everything around you feel distant and surreal. The city lights flickered outside your window, the glow indifferent to the storm that had torn through you. And in that quiet, broken moment, with only the shadows as company, you lay there, letting the exhaustion seep through your bones until sleep claimed you.

When sleep finally came, it was restless, fractured. You tossed and turned, flashes of memories from better days with Ben haunting you, the sound of his laugh, the way he’d smile, gummy and wide, his nose scrunching with that easy confidence. You woke up more exhausted than when you’d closed your eyes, feeling like you hadn’t rested at all. But you forced yourself out of bed, pushing yourself through your pre-game routine, your emotions locked away, frozen under layers of determination.

As you walked onto the court, the crowd buzzed with excitement, but you barely registered it. You were a storm, calm on the surface but seething underneath. Every shot you took was hard and brutal, the ball slicing through the air with an intensity that made your opponent flinch, the impact echoing through the stadium. You played as if your life depended on it, your body moving with sharp, lethal precision.

Your serves were relentless, your groundstrokes vicious, each one faster, sharper, as if each shot were a way to expel the anger and hurt still simmering in your chest. The crowd murmured, noticing the shift in your energy, the way you were pushing yourself, almost recklessly. A couple of times, your shots zipped past your opponent’s hand, barely missing, almost daring her to try and reach for it - "try me". You were untouchable, unstoppable, playing like you had something to prove.

But there was no smile, no hint of joy in your movements, solely mechanical. The usual lightness in your footwork was gone, replaced by a cold, ruthless efficiency. You’d already decided: this match was yours. You weren’t here to give an inch, weren’t here to let any lingering emotions cloud your focus. The crowd might have wanted excitement, but you were giving them precision, a display of control and fury that left no room for doubt.

You won, of course. Your opponent barely had a chance. But as you walked off the court, sweat trickling down your brow, fists clenched, you felt no thrill in the victory. Just the dull ache that lingered, a hollow space where your lightness, your smile, used to be. The heat of the court only made your head throb. The applause faded into background noise as you strode away, head high, shoulders tense. You’d won, but it felt like a hollow victory. You had no one to text after your game, anyone to call you baby - you had done it to yourself, were you really that desperate for a man to validate you? You were sick of feeling this way, sick of the exhaustion, the anger, the loneliness that clung to you even after everything you’d given today. At least, for now, you’d proven something, to yourself, to him, even if he’d never know, or care.

In the month that followed, you threw yourself harshly into your schedule, determined to erase any trace of him from your routine, your heart. Matches, training, travel, interviews, photoshoots, more matches, each day bled into the next, filled with an almost mechanical sense of purpose. If you weren’t on the court, you were working out, perfecting your strokes, spending hours on serves and footwork. Anything to exhaust yourself to stop the thoughts from lingering too long. Your routine was relentless, your focus razor-sharp.

But even in this frenzy, despite it all, reminders of him still slipped through. You’d scroll through social media, and every so often, an ATP post would pop up: Ben at a tournament, Ben celebrating a point, Ben grinning with that easy charm that used to make your heart ache. He looked different now. His curls were longer, spilling out from over his sweaty headband, and his frame had hardened, leaner, with muscle that seemed to outline his strength in sharper lines. His chubby cheeks had slimmed down into something harder, replaced by the quiet confidence of someone who’d grown, adapted, maybe even suffered a little.

And you could almost feel it, the quaking, gaping pain of missing him, but you’d swallow it back down, pull yourself together, and look away.

Your own press conferences became something else entirely. You were more composed, a bit sharper with your words, confident in a way you hadn’t been before. Where you used to smile shyly or laugh softly, now you leaned in with humour, a hint of flirtation, your charm more self-assured. You handled reporters’ questions deftly, especially the ones that tried to pry about Ben. The same questions came up over and over:

“So, do you still keep in touch with Ben?”

Each time, you’d respond with a practised, cool smile. “Right now, I’ve got all the support I need from my team and the people I have with me.” You’d turn the conversation to your work, your skill, and your grind on the court, dismissing the topic with subtle elegance, always steering it back to your goals, your game, and your people.

Yet, away from the cameras, the facade cracked, if only slightly. Sometimes, after a long match or a particularly brutal day of training, you’d find yourself scrolling through your old photos or feeling tears prickling your eyes, this messy situation taking a bigger toll than you would like to admit.

In his hotel room, Ben watched your interviews alone, a faint crease between his brows. There you were, in all your brilliance, flashing a confident smile at the camera, handling the press with a wit and boldness that felt both familiar and strange. He could see the way you’d grown, the way you’d steeled yourself, and it stirred something in him, a pang he couldn’t ignore. It was like watching someone he knew intimately and yet… not at all. The way you answered questions about him, and your subtle redirection to your career and team, it stung. Maybe it was petty, but he missed the way you used to talk about him with such pride, with that lovestruck glow. He loved seeing how shy you would get at the sheer mention of his name. Your hair was different, your skin glowing, you had more confidence, even if it came off a bit cocky but he still felt like you were his, just as much as he was yours. Ben didn’t know how to reach out, didn’t know what he’d even say. There was a distance now, both physical and emotional, that seemed impossible to bridge. He’d scroll through his own phone sometimes, finding old messages, ones before distance got the better of you both, photos of the two of you, half-written scripts in his Notes app he couldn’t bring himself to deliver. If he flew out tonight to you, what would he even do after? He’d think of calling you, of reaching out somehow, but the memory of your last fight, the bitterness in your voice, the way you’d shut him out… it held him back.

One evening, as you sat alone in the players' lounge, your forehead pressed against the back of the sofa, you felt that familiar ache pulse through you, the one that came every time you thought of him. It was then that Coco came by, her familiar, steady presence filling the room as she settled down across from you, cross-legged on the seat in front of you. Over the past year, it was Ben that introduced you but, you and Coco had grown even closer, bound not just by shared victories and losses but by the pressures only someone like her could truly understand.

Coco tilted her head, her gaze warm but unwavering. “Alright,” she said, cutting through the silence. “What’s really going on? Are you… over him?”

You exhaled slowly, running a hand through your hair as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I wish I could say yes,” you murmured. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried to move on, focus on the game, on everything else, but… he’s still everywhere. Even when I’m doing well, even when I’m focused, it’s like… something’s missing.” Your voice dropped to barely a whisper. “It’s like I can’t fully shake him.”

Coco nodded, her expression both sympathetic and knowing. “I get it. You two had something real, something intense. But maybe this time apart is what you both need. I mean, look at you. You’re stronger now, on and off the court. Maybe that’s part of this whole journey, you know?”

You managed a faint smile, though your heart still felt heavy. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. It just… doesn’t always feel like enough.”

She reached out, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me. If he’s the right guy, he’ll figure it out, too. Until then? Focus on your game. Focus on you.”

Her words stayed with you, offering a small but steady comfort in the days that followed. You have been throwing yourself into training, pouring everything into the sport, trying to find solace in each match and each moment of growth. Somewhere out there, he was doing the same, and maybe, just maybe, this was what was best.

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t completely smother the small spark of hope, that someday, somehow, your paths might cross again.

It was similar in the men’s locker room, Ben slumped forward on the bench, his elbows propped on his knees as he stared blankly at the floor, holding an uncapped bottle of water. Frances Tiafoe, who’d been eyeing him from across the room, exchanged a knowing glance with Taylor Fritz before making his way over.

“Alright, bro, spill it,” Frances said, tossing a towel over his shoulder as he leaned in. “You’ve been lookin’ like you’re living in some sad dog for weeks.”

Ben gave him a sidelong glance. “There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

Taylor rolled his eyes as he joined them, settling down on the other side of Ben. “Come on, man. We’re not blind. Ever since she blocked you, you’ve been… different.”

Ben scoffed, looking away, his voice low. “She didn’t just block me, man. She… she threw down, real hard. Said some things I thought she’d never say.”

Frances let out a low whistle. “Was that rough, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ben said, rubbing a hand over his face, his frustration mingling with regret. “It all just blew up. We were on a call, talkin’ like usual, and suddenly… it was like everything we hadn’t said just came out. She starts throwin’ things at me about how I’m not there, like… like I don’t care enough or not workin' hard enough. And it pissed me off, you know? I work just as hard, and it’s not like I’m sittin’ around, right?”

Taylor nodded, leaning back against the lockers. “So, what’d you do?”

Ben shrugged, his expression pained. “I pushed back, told her she couldn’t keep actin’ like she’s the only one workin’ for this. Told her ATP is just as tough, maybe even more competitive. Didn’t mean it that way, but she took it wrong. She thought I was tryin’ to downplay her game.”

Frances shook his head, giving Ben a sympathetic look. “Man, she must’ve felt hurt.”

“Yeah,” Ben muttered, a bitter laugh escaping him. “And next thing I know, I get this text. ‘This isn’t workin', we’re done.’ Blocked me on everything. Cold as ice, man. It’s like she flipped a switch, just… shut me out completely, as easy as shuttin' a door.”

Frances gave him a gentle nudge. “You still care about her?”

Ben’s gaze softened, a faint smile breaking through his frustration. “Yeah, man. She’s… she’s my girl. Even if she’s not my girl right now, you know?”

Taylor chuckled, nodding. “So, what’re you gonna do about it? Sit around here moping, or actually make a move?”

Ben sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “What am I supposed to do? She’s made it pretty clear she’s done with me.”

Frances grinned, crossing his arms. “Bro, just ‘cause she blocked you and sent a text after you called her game easy, doesn’t mean it’s over. She’s mad, yeah, but she’s probably missin’ you just as much. You just gotta show her you’re willin’ to do what it takes.”

Taylor nodded in agreement, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “And it doesn’t have to be some big romantic gesture, man. Sometimes, it’s the small things. Something to let her know you’re still thinkin’ of her, still care. You know where we're at next, right?”

Ben chuckled, shaking his head. “And do what? Just show up at her hotel room? She’s liable to call cops on my ass for that shit, bro.”

Frances laughed, shrugging. “So what? At least she’ll know you tried! Don't go doin' that though. Look, I’ve been with my girl for years now, and sometimes, you gotta be willing to look like a fool to show her you care.”

Ben leaned back, their words sinking in. He could still feel the sting of the things she’d said, the accusations she’d thrown at him like he didn’t care, didn’t work just as hard. But he couldn’t deny that he’d made mistakes, too. He’d let his pride get in the way, said things he regretted, and let the frustration of it all get the better of him.

Frances nudged him again, his grin widening. “Think about it, man. You got two choices: sit here, feeling sorry for yourself until she finds some other guy, or actually do something about it and get her back, even if that means standing in the rain with a fuckin' speaker.”

Ben finally cracked a smile, looking between his friends. “Y’all are ridiculous.”

“Hey, maybe,” Taylor said with a shrug. “But at least we got girlfriends. And you? You got a chance to get yours back. Just gotta decide if she’s worth it.”

Ben sat there, mulling over their words as a new determination started to burn within him. Maybe he didn’t have all the answers, and maybe there was a lot he’d have to figure out. But if there was even a chance to fix things, to bridge that gap that felt so wide, he wasn’t about to let his pride hold him back.

As he left the locker room that night, he felt a resolve solidify within him. He’d find a way to reach out, to let her know that no matter how far apart they were, she was still the one he wanted. Because when it came down to it, she was worth every bit of the fight.

A week went by before a 1000 game flew in, and both ATP and WTA were present if not, nearby for the games. You couldn't care less what was at stake, anything was a win if it kept you occupied. The courts were almost empty, shadows lengthening as the sun beamed high above. You bounced the ball steadily, the rhythm calm, your focus laser-sharp. The only sounds were the muted thud of your shoes on the court, and your breath falling into sync with the beat of your earbuds. Nothing but you, the court, and the quiet.

But then, that voice broke through.

"Aw, c'mon, man!" A laugh, deep and full of that unmistakable Southern drawl. Your grip faltered, the ball hovering mid-toss. That laugh, it was a sound you hadn’t let yourself think about for months, one that held too much of him.

Ben.

Your pulse jolted, the memories flooding back, warmth and bitterness tangled in the knots of your chest. You gritted your teeth, tossing the ball high before slamming it against the court, the crack of impact sharp in the quiet. It almost felt satisfying, like you could obliterate the tension he brought, shatter it with sheer force.

Almost.

You readied another serve, the ball bouncing harder than necessary as you forced yourself not to look. But you could feel his gaze, that familiar weight of his eyes lingering on you. The pull was magnetic, almost maddening, and despite every ounce of resolve you’d built up, your gaze betrayed you, slipping over to catch a glimpse of him.

Ben, laughing with Taylor, curls tousled longer than before, his hoodie slung carelessly over those familiar, ridiculous short shorts. The same hoodie you'd worn too many times to count, drowning in its warmth during late-night snack runs and lazy Sundays. The sight tugged painfully, a cruel reminder of the little things you’d pushed down, tried to forget.

He caught you looking, and his laughter faded, his gaze holding yours for just a second too long. You gripped the ball tighter, the ache settling heavy, and forced yourself to turn away, channelling the flurry of memories into another sharp serve, a fierce crack reverberating across the court. You didn’t look back again.

Hours later, your body was tired, your mind a bit clearer. You were scrolling through your phone in the lounge, zoning out, when Coco dropped down beside you with that familiar, mischievous grin.

"Hey, you!" She nudged you, hands on her hips.

You eyed her warily. "What’s up, Coco? Awfully perky for...5:30p.m."

“We’re having dinner tonight. Big group. Wanna come?” Her tone was casual, a little too casual.

Your guard went up immediately as you dropped your phone to your lap. “Who’s ‘we all’?”

Coco shrugged, twirling a loose curl around her finger. “Me, Frances, Arthur… maybe another WTA girl or two. Just a fun little dinner. Nothing formal.”

You narrowed your eyes, reading the glint of mischief in hers. "Coco, don’t mess with me. He's not gonna be there, right?"

She tilted her head, pretending to look innocent, but the sly smile gave her away. "Well… he might show up, but that's on his own accord. I didn't mention anything to Ben and it’s not like anyone’s setting anything up! It’s just dinner."

Your stomach twisted, a sigh slipping from your lips as you looked away. “I don’t think so. Not after… everything.” Your voice softened the weight of old arguments and unsaid things hanging between the words.

Coco’s face softened, her hand finding your shoulder. “Look, I’m not saying you have to sit next to him or anything. It’s a big table. You can stay on the opposite end and ignore him if that’s what you need. But everyone misses you, it’s been ages since we all got together. We all need to see your pretty face off the court too, ya know?”

You hesitated, rolling your eyes, the ache of missing them settling somewhere deep, the sense of family you hadn’t felt in months tugging at you. After a long pause, you finally nodded, rolling your shoulders back as if bracing for a match. “Fine. But I’m serious, Coco, no funny business. If he starts anything, I’m out.”

Coco grinned, throwing her arm around you. “Girl, trust me. If anything, you’ll be giving him the funny looks. Just friends, no drama. Now, let’s go get you out of those sweats.”

Meanwhile, in the locker room across the court, Ben was doing his best to act indifferent as Frances nudged him for the third time.

"C'mon, man!" Frances said, leaning against the lockers with a knowing grin. "So you are coming to this dinner tonight, right? Don't make me beg again, I'll start singing.”

Ben tried to play it cool, leaning back with his arms crossed. “I don’t know, man. You really think it’s a good idea?”

Frances rolled his eyes. “Look, you’ve been moping for months. She’s not gonna make a scene in public, and especially not with all of us, and who knows? Maybe she’ll talk to you, be all civil. It’s worth a shot.”

Ben let out a huff, rubbing the back of his neck. “Civil? You remember the last time we spoke, right? She has me blocked on everything.”

Taylor, stretching nearby, smirked and chimed in. “Man, you got nothin’ to lose. At the very least, you’ll see her. I saw how you were after you caught a glimpse of her training earlier. Besides, Frances and Coco will keep her from killin’ you.”

“Kay, thanks,” Ben muttered, though a flicker of hope sparked under the sarcasm. He didn’t want to admit it, but he couldn’t shake the longing to see her again, to maybe fix even a sliver of what had been broken.

Taylor nudged him, grinning. “Hey, listen, if I wasn’t taking Morgan out tonight, I’d be there just for moral support. But hey, maybe next time it’ll be a double date. Me, you, Morgan and your soon-to-be girlfriend, just like old times.”

Ben shook his head, the thought both terrifying and oddly thrilling. “You’re jokin’, right? She’d probably throw her drink at me before she’d sit through a double date.”

“Only if you act like an idiot,” Frances pointed out, laughing. “Just be yourself, man. You can handle the heat on the court, you can handle this. And maybe tonight’ll be the thing that finally breaks the ice.”

Ben sighed, running a hand over his face before finally surrendering. “Alright, alright. Fine. I’ll go. But Frances, don’t expect me to be all… chatty.”

Frances clapped him on the back, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “Yeah, you say that now. But I know how you get around her, man. Just don’t chicken out. Remember, we got your back.”

Ben couldn’t help but smile nervously, feeling a strange mix of dread and anticipation tighten in his chest. He wasn’t sure if this dinner would be a chance at redemption or just a painful reminder of how far they’d drifted, but one thing was clear, he was tired of hiding from whatever was left between them.

You walk into the restaurant and let Coco lead you to a long table, feeling an odd mix of nerves and determination fluttering in your stomach. Your outfit is cute but simple, just a sweater and leggings; just enough effort to feel put together without trying too hard. You take a seat between Coco and Arthur Fils, with Frances across from you. There’s an empty chair across from Arthur, and for some reason, that empty space makes your heart beat a little faster, feeling torn between wanting and avoiding Ben there.

As everyone settles in, you catch Coco’s eye and mutter, “Please tell me he’s not actually coming.” She just shrugs with an easy smile.

Moments later, as the group banters along, about to order drinks, Ben strolls in, catching you entirely off-guard. He’s slightly out of breath, apologising to the group with that familiar grin, explaining he’s late because he’d just finished showering after practice. You can’t help it, you nudge Coco under the table, whispering through gritted teeth, a frustrated, “Great.”

Coco just gives him a casual greeting, and you force yourself to turn back to the table, focusing your attention on ordering a glass of wine, pretending not to notice him as he takes that empty seat across from Arthur, just barely within your view, diagonally. But as he sits down, you feel his eyes on you, and for a brief moment, you glance up and catch him staring, his face almost dazed.

You’re caught off-guard by the look in his eyes. His breath seems to hitch, his big brown eyes wide and you can see a faint blush creeping up his neck as he stares at you, almost like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. There’s a softness in his expression that you weren’t prepared for, a kind of awe that makes your stomach twist with memories and longing. But just as quickly, you look away, turning your attention to your wine as Frances elbows Ben with a teasing hiss, “Be normal, man.”

Throughout the night, you manage to keep to yourself, mostly talking to the other WTA players or Arthur whenever he cracks a joke. You keep Ben at the edge of your vision, resolute in ignoring the way his gaze keeps drifting back to you.

Every once in a while, Ben attempts to draw you into the conversation, maybe a lighthearted comment or a direct question, but each time, you meet his gaze with a steely look, making it clear with just one glance that you’re not interested. When he tries again, you let your eyes meet his for a moment, long enough to show him you’re serious before turning away, cutting off his effort entirely, almost to say "not interested". Across the table, Frances raises his brows, murmuring with a barely hidden smirk, “Damn, she is good at this,” as Ben slouches slightly, clearly trying not to look embarrassed.

As dinner winds down, the plates are cleared away, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment alone. Inside, you take a deep breath, facing yourself in the mirror. You’d been bracing yourself for tonight, but nothing quite prepared you for how it would feel to see him sitting right there, looking at you with those big sweet brown eyes and a pout, filled with that same soft pleading that used to make you melt.

But tonight, all it did was remind you of those late nights waiting by your phone, checking it over and over for messages that came slower and slower until they just…stopped. It reminds you of the countless hours wondering if you mattered as much as you thought you did, replaying his empty promises and half-hearted reassurances that seemed to fade with each passing day. He couldn't expect you to take him back with a pout and some half-assed joke. But damn, was it a good attempt, he knew how to make you crumble, even if it wasn't his sole intention.

You force yourself to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you look in the bathroom mirror examining yourself with a sigh, applying a bit of lip balm with fingers that tremble just slightly. Anything to distract yourself, to remind yourself that you’re strong enough to face this without breaking, reminding yourself to keep that mask on. You straighten your posture, determined to push all those memories back down where they belong, buried.

But just as you step out of the bathroom, Ben is standing right there, leaning against the wall as if he’d been waiting for you. His eyes soften the moment they meet yours, and he opens his mouth, his voice just a whisper. “Can we…talk? Just the two of us?”

The look he gives you, hopeful, no, desperate, stirs something deep inside you, and you clench your jaw, wanting to say no, wanting to walk away without a second thought. But as much as you’d like to ignore it, part of you still aches for some kind of closure, maybe even just one honest conversation.

With a reluctant sigh, you nod. “Fine. Outside.”

As you head out the restaurant’s door, you quickly fire off a text to Coco:

me n Ben talking outside. brb.

You stuff your phone back into your bag, clutching it tightly to your shoulder as you step into the cool night air. Wrapping your arms under your chest, you try to keep yourself shielded from more than just the chilling breeze.

Ben falls into step beside you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. There’s a moment of silence as you both find your footing, the quiet thick with everything that’s been left unsaid. You glance sideways, catching him opening his mouth like he’s about to say something, only to close it, his shoulders shifting awkwardly.

“So… how’s the tournament going for you?” he starts, his tone casual, a little too casual.

You blink, trying not to roll your eyes, feeling the irritation growing. Really? But you bite back and just sternly say, “Ben.”

He rubs the back of his neck, glancing up at the streetlights overhead. “Sorry, yeah, that was- uh, okay.” He lets out a breath and shuffles closer, his voice almost a murmur. “I just… I wanna make this right. Another chance- Just thought maybe… you know, talkin’ would be easier if…”

“Ben, stop.” You sigh, tightening your grip on your bag strap. “Stop being weird. Just… just say what you have to say, and let’s get this over with. Let's not make this longer than it needs to be, I've got shit to do tomorrow.”

He glances at you, brows knitting together. For a second, he looks almost frustrated, like he’s holding back something sharper, something rougher. But he lets it pass, letting out a long, resigned breath. “Fine. I’ll just ask one thing.”

You arch an eyebrow, scepticism thick in your voice. “One question. Shoot.”

His voice comes out softer, edged with a hesitant curiosity as if he knows it’s a stupid question but can’t help but ask. “What hotel you stayin’ at?”

You let out a dry chuckle, shaking your head. “The Merrion.”

His eyes widen slightly, a small, stupid smile breaking on his face. “No way… me too.”

You sigh, looking up at the night sky, feeling the inevitability of whatever this night is becoming. Of course, he’s at the same hotel. Only Ben could make the universe align like this. And only Ben would think of a stupid question like that. He shifts his weight, stepping closer, his gaze steady.

“Look,” he starts, “it’s just a short walk back, twenty minutes or so. Just… give me that time. Just enough to walk back. Let me talk. And then you can go to your room and go to bed. How 'bout it?”

There’s a hopeful edge in his voice that you can’t ignore, and for a moment, your resolve falters. It’s ridiculous, this is exactly the sort of thing he would come up with, some half-baked plan to get you to keep listening, to keep him around just a little longer. You want to roll your eyes, to brush him off, but something about the way he’s looking at you, those earnest, brown eyes so damn full of longing, makes you sigh.

“Fine,” you mutter. “But if you get weird again, I’m out. No small talk, you know how much I hate it.”

A small grin creeps onto his face, and he falls into step beside you, a little closer than necessary, his arm brushing against yours as you start down the quiet street. For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, just walks alongside you, letting the silence settle around you both. But then, in that familiar southern drawl, his voice comes softer.

“Y’know, I've been thinkin’ ‘bout us a lot… probably more than I should.”

You keep your eyes on the sidewalk ahead, willing yourself to stay unmoved. “And?”

He swallows, his gaze tracing your profile, softening with each word. “I messed up,” he admits. “I know I did. I shoulda… been there more, answered more, I dunno. Shoulda been better at handlin’ it.”

You nod slightly, keeping your face blank. “Mhm, you should've.”

There’s a flicker of frustration in his expression, but he doesn’t let it throw him off. “You think I didn’t feel it too? That whole time, it felt like- hell, like I was losin’ you, like somethin’ was slippin’ right outta my hands, and I couldn’t do nothin’ to stop it.”

You feel the tension in your shoulders loosen just a fraction, though you keep your arms folded as a kind of armour. His words settle into the silence, raw and rough, and you can feel him glancing over, waiting for some kind of response. But you keep your gaze forward, biting back the little stirrings of emotion that are beginning to creep in.

He keeps talking, voice low and steady, drawing you in without giving you a chance to look away. “I’m not tryin’ to make excuses, alright? I know I coulda tried harder. But it’s like… the more I tried, the harder it got. The distance, the time zones, the schedules… it all just made me feel like I couldn’t keep up. And I just didn't know how to juggle it and that's my fault.”

You shake your head slightly, finally glancing over at him, the faintest of smirks tugging at the corner of your mouth. “So this is your way of apologising?”

He laughs, a little sheepish. “Guess I’m not real good at it, huh?” He nudges you with his shoulder, a familiar, easy gesture that makes your arms slowly loosen. His hand brushes your arm, just for a second, and a warmth blooms where his fingers graze your skin as if your body’s memory of him can’t help but respond.

“Look,” he says, his voice dipping softer, “I just… I miss you so much. Like hell.”

The honesty in his tone hits you hard, unravelling the cold exterior you’ve worked so hard to keep up. He keeps his eyes on you, watching your face carefully as if gauging your reaction. You feel your resolve slipping even more, your arms slowly falling to your sides, your heart aching as you fight against the wave of warmth that’s threatening to break through.

“Ben…” you start, barely a whisper, but you don’t know what to say, feeling torn.

He moves a little closer, his eyes wide, pleading, like he’s trying to hold onto every inch of you he can. “I know I messed up, okay? But I don’t wanna lose you. Not for good. Please, Y/N. Give me one more chance, you won't regret it 'n if I fuck up bad, you can do whatever, however; I deserve it but please. Just one more chance.”

You press your lips tight together, feeling your heart tighten as his words sink in, as he stands there looking at you with that same vulnerability you’d once fallen in love with. For a second, you forget the hurt, the sleepless nights, and you’re left with just him, the version of him that’s open, sincere, the Ben you’d once held so close.

The walk to the hotel stretches out as he keeps talking, spilling out and laying his heart bare with that easy, boyish charm that only he can pull off, and little by little, you feel your icy exterior start to melt. He talks about his time away from you, how he admired you from videos, watched highlight reels, his endless hours at night going through photos and texts; the whole lot. He cracks a joke, and despite yourself, you smile, trying to hide it but failing. He nudges you again, grinning as he sees the hint of laughter breaking through your guard.

He apologises over and over, more earnestly each time, his voice steady and low, and you can hear the regret, the guilt, the need to make things right. By the time you reach the hotel entrance, you’re feeling something dangerously close to hope, your heart betraying you, making it harder and harder to keep up the facade.

You glance over at him, catching the way his eyes soften as he looks at you as if you’re the only thing he can see. He’s staring, the blush from earlier creeping back up his neck, and when his hand brushes yours one last time, you don’t pull away.

You stand just outside the hotel, a faint chill brushing past as the streetlights cast a warm glow around you. You shift on your feet, glancing up at him, your eyes soft but determined.

“Can I talk?” you ask, breaking the quiet, your voice barely above a whisper. The first thing you had actually said this entire time.

Ben raises an eyebrow, leaning in with a playful smirk. “Talk? What else have we been doin’ for the last twenty minutes, girl?”

You roll your eyes and reach out to smack his arm, earning a chuckle from him. “Fine then. Can we go up to your room?” you add, a small, daring smile tugging at your lips.

Ben’s eyebrow quirks higher. “My room, huh?” His gaze narrows, teasing you with that familiar glint. “What exactly ya got planned, sweetheart?”

You swat him again, harder this time, and he laughs, raising his hands in mock defence. But then you drop the smile, your voice softer. “I wanna talk about what I did, Ben. I messed up too.”

The teasing fades from his expression as he studies your face, searching. After a pause, he nods and gestures toward the lobby. “Alright, then. Let’s go talk.”

In the elevator, silence hangs thick in the air, tension as familiar as it is unspoken. You don't even notice, spending your time stilling your breath and running through everything you want to apologise for. When you reach his room, you head over to the small couch by the window and settle in, tucking your legs under you and giving him a steady look.

“Ya gettin’ comfortable already?” he jokes, leaning against the wall, his eyes dancing with that old spark that makes you ache.

You try not to smile, steeling yourself for your confessional. “Can you be serious for a minute?”

His smile fades as he walks over, sitting across from you, his gaze intense and focused. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything you’ve held back.

“I shouldn’t have put so many expectations on you,” you begin, your voice wavering. “You’ve got your own life, your own competitions, your own dreams. All this constant travelling, the different time zones… it’s not fair to expect you to be there every time I needed you at the drop of a hat. You get burnt out too- God. I never even asked how you were before I'd launch into my own day.”

You bite your lip, blinking back tears as they start to blur your vision. “I should’ve known better. I should’ve been more understanding, given you more grace.” Your voice catches, barely a whisper now. “And what I said… on that call… it was cruel, Ben. I was mean and unfair, and you didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve any of it. At all. I wouldn't want myself back after all I had said and done.”

As a tear slips down your cheek, Ben’s face softens, and he reaches out without hesitation, his hands cupping your face as he brushes the tear away. His thumb lingers on your skin, his gaze is unwavering, and then he leans forward, pressing the gentlest kiss to your temple, another to your forehead, and a final one at the crown of your head, his hand resting tenderly against your hair.

You let out a shuddered breath, your hands covering his as you finally let everything pour out. “I miss you so much,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I miss everything about you… the way you laugh, your ridiculous voice…” Another tear rolls down, and you don’t try to hold back. “I miss the way you’d talk about cars or food for ages, and you’d make everything feel so normal, even when my life was a mess. Without you, it’s like this haze I can’t shake. I just… I miss you. I barely recognise myself these days.”

Your body shakes with the sobs you’ve tried so hard to bury, and Ben doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you close, wrapping you in his arms like he could shield you from all the pain, all the regret. He holds you there, one hand smoothing over your hair, his lips pressing soft, tender kisses to your forehead and cheeks, murmuring gentle words against your skin.

“S’all right, darlin’,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

You cling to him, burying your face into the crook of his neck, as his hands trace soothing circles along your back. Your sobs gradually quiet, but your breaths are still shaky, each exhale unsteady.

“I’m so sorry, Ben,” you manage, voice barely audible.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Hey now,” he murmurs, his tone warm and grounding. “We both made mistakes. Ain’t just on you, alright? Takes two to mess up, but it takes two to fix it too. We can fix, can't we?”

You nod, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, feeling a little of the weight lift, softened by his words.

Ben tilts your head to hold your gaze, his own eyes glassy. “Can’t tell ya how many times I thought about callin’ ya or flying to ya,” he admits, his voice low. “How many times I’d pull up your name, wonderin’ what you’d say if I told ya all the things I wished I’d said. But I was… hell, I was scared, darlin’. Thought maybe I’d screwed up too bad, and you’d moved on.”

You shake your head, a small, breathy laugh escaping. “I couldn’t...I could never.”

He strokes your hair gently, his lips brushing your forehead once more. “Guess we’re both a couple of fools then, huh?”

You laugh softly, the sound wet and trembling as he pulls you back into his arms. You lean into him, letting yourself feel the warmth of his embrace, the steady beat of his heart, grounding you. Wrapped in the quiet, tangled together, you both hold on a little tighter, feeling the rawness of your honesty and the comfort of finally, finally being close again. In the safety of his arms, you feel, for the first time in so long, a sense of peace, letting the unspoken words settle around you like a quiet promise.

Ben’s hand rests on your cheek, his thumb tracing small circles as he learns your face all over again, making your heart flutter. His fingers move slowly, grazing down to your jaw, then up again, threading into your hair. You let your eyes close for a moment, his gentle touch working its way through the tension of the night, and a small, contented sigh escapes you. For the first time in weeks, you feel relaxed and content.

“Gettin’ comfortable, huh?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, though there’s a warmth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He leans in, giving one final push to a stray strand of your hair before tilting his head toward the bed across the room. “C’mon, darlin’. This couch is barely holdin’ us together.”

You hesitate, but Ben’s already moving, holding out his hand as he stands up. His grip is strong, guiding you as you follow him to the bed, and he lets out a soft chuckle as you settle beside him. His arm drapes around you, pulling you close as you lean into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against you. The warmth is so consuming, cocooning you immediately.

Ben smiles down at you, a playful glint in his eye, and as his fingers find your hair again, he starts twirling a strand between his fingers. “So,” he murmurs, resting his cheek on the top of your head, “ya still gonna keep me blocked, huh?”

You roll your eyes, smirking. “Fine,” you reply, unlocking your phone with a playful huff. You find his name, well, technically his new contact name since you’d deleted him in a fit of anger, and type a single white heart emoji, pressing send.

The vibration of his phone buzzes beside him, and he pulls it out with a grin, holding up the glowing screen. “There it is. Knew ya couldn’t resist me,” he says, laughing as he pulls you in close as he kisses your temple.

But just as you relax against him, you notice a missed notification. It’s a text from Coco, her reply to your earlier message asking where she’d disappeared to after dinner. You hesitate, then, instead of texting back, you tap the Facetime icon, feeling a strange urge to share this quiet moment, finding words couldn't suffice, nor were you in the mood to type out a lengthy paragraph.

The call connects, and Coco’s face appears, a gasp escaping her as she spots you two tangled up in Ben’s bed, nestled together with his arm around you.

“Oh my god! Yes!” she cheers, loud enough to make Ben chuckle. You hear laughter and cheers in the background too, and Coco turns the camera, revealing the whole dinner table watching with knowing smiles.

"Coco, this was a set-up plan, huh?" you giggle as you see the entire friend group on the other end.

"Somewhat, but blame Morgan and Taylor, not me. They did all that," she throws the blame as she points the camera over to them. Frances, Morgan and Taylor wave and Frances yells “Look at Ben! Already got her in bed, huh?”

Ben rolls his eyes, but a faint blush colours his cheeks. He pulls you closer, his hand resting protectively around your shoulders as he grins.

“Hey now,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “This one’s special. Ain’t like any other. My lucky charm.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words, and you’re so focused on him that you barely notice Coco and the others making gagging noises before Ben reaches out, ending the call on your phone with a smirk. Then he turns back to you, his eyes soft, filled with something that feels dangerously like forever.

He leans in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s slow and tender, each second lingering with quiet promises. And in the warmth of his arms, your heart finally feels at home, exactly where it belongs.

[heexseung]

꒰ 🌧 ꒱ ┄ ❛ dark academia ；caeruleum ❜

* pairing: vampire!heeseung x afab!reader

* tags: smut, fluff, romantic, human!reader, degradation (m. receiving), praise (m. receiving), mentions of free use, handjob (m. receiving), overstimulation (m. receiving), bratty!heeseung / switchy!heeseung if you squint, cunnilingus, body worship [kinda] (f. receiving)

* summary: because you two were loud last time, rumours have been spreading around about you two, causing you to receive a lot of unwanted attention from your peers.

* word count: 10k

* a/n: hello babes !! omg i almost forgor about this- but i DIDNT SAUR ENJOY THIS REPOST <3333 tysm for all ur support i wish u the loveliest days ahead c: and if you wish to come drop by my twitch streams, you can dm me and ill gib u my link ehheeheheheh ok thanks baiii

Even on weekends, you'd typically spend all of your free time cooped up in your tiny dorm, studying. Your timetable consists of waking up, getting ready, going to classes, studying and sleeping. You don't really do anything else and you don't really go outside much either.

It's not that you're in love with learning, although you do like learning — it's just that you don't really have anything else to do. Nothing interests you and oftentimes, you'd get so bored that you just end up thinking, well, the books are right there. Might as well do some studying. At least it'll give me something to do.

You thought about going outside and seeing the world; the world that is so unknown to you and many other humans out there, the world that any human would be extremely lucky to see… yet you can't bring yourself to step outside of your dorm unless it's for classes. You wish you had more courage to do so but after your first day here, you decided that it's best to lay low and not bring any attention to yourself. After all, your existence here is already controversial enough.

Thus, you live your life like this. It's boring and repetitive… but it's not like you're doing anything to actually change it. Plus, being here is something that you've always wanted to do ever since you were a kid, so it's not all bad and despite the less than ideal treatment you've got during your time here, there's still nowhere else you'd rather be at.

Besides, the isolation, gossip and rumours don't bother you much anyway. It'll never be as bad as the first week and you're thankful that everyone here usually lets you be — that is, usually.

Lately, you've come to notice that people are gossiping about you again but you're not sure why. You can't really hear what they're saying nor can you really ask someone about it… but you doubt it's because you're human, they've already gossiped about that on your first week here.

Maybe it has something to do with your lab partner, Heeseung. After all, the gossip did start right after the day you hooked up with him. But you doubt it.

Speaking of your lab partner, you wonder where he's been all this time. It's been a couple of days since you last saw him, he didn't even come to class two days ago. You hope he's okay.

You don't think you'll see him today either. After all, you both only share one class together, Intermediate Alchemy, and you don't have that class today. Even so, for some reason, there's a part of you that hopes to see him today anyway, maybe because he's the only person who's actually kind to you here. Everyone else would just ignore you.

As you walk down the hallway to go back to your dorm, the faint sound of an unfamiliar melody stops you in your tracks. You do a double-take, is what you're hearing what you think you're hearing?

It is.

It's the piano.

Someone's playing the piano, and beautifully so. Such beautiful and delicate melodies played with such grace, you can't help but think to yourself, a complex piece like this must take days to learn how to play. Who's playing it? And what piece is this?

Thus, you follow the faint sound of the grand piano, hoping to find the talented person playing it. Besides, you're in no rush anyway.

After a few seconds of walking, you find yourself standing in front of a closed classroom door. The sound of the piano is still a bit hard to hear properly but you don't want to open the door and disturb the person playing so you press your ear against the door, trying to listen to the piano piece as discretely as you can.

Thank God the hallway is empty or else there'd be more weird rumours about me, you can't help but think to yourself while silently chuckling.

But all too quickly, like less than a minute or so, the melodies stop playing. You wait for a few seconds to see if they'd continue but instead, you hear the faint sound of footsteps coming closer to you. You barely have enough time to detach yourself from the door and look unsuspicious before the door suddenly opens and an annoyed looking Heeseung peeks out.

However, his expression quickly changes to a surprised one as he sees you standing there like a deer caught in headlights. Now with his eyes wide and his eyebrows raised, he opens the door a bit more as he looks at you. A moment of silence passes by until you awkwardly clear your throat to break the silence.

"Um, hi," you say to him, hoping that he's not annoyed at you for listening in on him.

"Ah… hi…" he shyly says. His left hand scratches the back of his head as his eyes move away from you, but only for a moment. "Sorry, I, uh… I thought you were... one of those people."

His tone is sharp and annoyed and he rolls his eyes as he says the last two words but then he looks at you again and gives you a smile that reaches his eyes.

You reply, "No, no. I'm sorry I… kinda listened in on you."

"Kinda?" He asks with a teasing tone, his smirk is evident.

You laugh in response. It's short but the lightheartedness of the laugh still manages to dissipate the awkwardness between you two. Heeseung leans against the door frame with a smile and softly says, "It's okay."

And then he pauses. It feels as if some words are meant to be spoken here, right at this moment, but there's only silence as he stares at you. A couple of seconds later, he continues, "Um… do you wanna come in?"

Hell yeah. You've never seen this room and you're curious.

It seems that your facial expressions tell him your answer loud and clear. He gives you a bigger smile, the kind of smile that one can't stop from appearing even if they tried, and takes your hand in his to pull you into the room with him. His hand feels slightly warmer than yours and something that surprises you is the fact that his hand feels like it fits you more than your own. It makes you feel strange... knowing that even your own hands, hands that were created to fit perfectly into each other…

All your life, you've always thought that there's no way someone else's hands would ever fit into yours as perfectly as yours do but as his hand holds yours, guiding you to take a seat in front of the grand piano, you think to yourself, maybe I was wrong.

Brushing your weird thoughts away, you pull your hand away from his and look around the room. It's a bit dark in here because the curtains are closed but you can still make out what's inside the medium shaped room; some bookcases at the wall, a whiteboard at the front, some musical instruments at the left side and this grand piano at the right. Other than that, it's pretty empty which makes it appear more spacious than it actually is.

After putting your sling bag down on the floor beside you, Heeseung, now sitting next to you, starts playing a different tune than before and you watch as his pretty hands gracefully move from one key to another, you listen to the unfamiliar yet beautiful piece of composition.

Soon, the music grows in pace and intensity, you can feel the composer's passion as it goes on. Then it slows down to a soft and romantic pace, somehow reminding you of the beauty of nature despite being in a dark room with none, and then a moment later, it grows again until it eventually comes to a really slow and soft tune that reminds you of the gentleness of a mother bird singing to its nestlings. As you listen to him play, you feel like you're being kept at the edge of your seat, following the music as if you're a leaf in a stream of water. It's exhilarating, really. You didn't know music could do such a thing.

By the time he finishes playing, you're in awe of his talent in playing the piano, fully knowing that playing such beautiful composition takes a lot of time and effort. Before you could compliment him, he's already speaking, "Do you like it? It's called Dreams of Love by Franz Liszt."

"Yeah," you say, a bit breathlessly, just now realising that you've been holding your breath. "Wow, you're so talented."

His laugh is soft in your ears. "Thank you."

Turning to him, you look him in the eyes and say, "I didn't know you could play piano so beautifully."

Your words make him blush a bit; a soft shade of pink dusts his ears and cheeks — it reminds you a bit of the intimate moment you shared with him a couple of days before. As he murmurs a shy thank you, it becomes a bit awkward between you two again. Heeseung starts fiddling with his fingers and he opens his mouth as if to speak but he closes it back after a second or two.

Eventually, he does speak but his voice is devoid of all lightheartedness from before and his face shows a sorrowful expression. "Look," he sighs and turns to look at you. "I should apologise for the… uh… well, the last time, um, you know." He then gives a frustrated groan, burying his face in his hands at his failed attempt to communicate his thoughts to you. "I'm sorry, I- We… we shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry."

You can only stare at him in disbelief. "What?" You say, your tone sounding a bit too harsh for both of your likings.

Truthfully, his words hurt you, more much than you'd like to admit. In a way, you kind of gave him a part of you, you showed him your vulnerability and you let him touch you in ways you'd never let strangers or even regular friends do... and now he tells you he regrets it. It hurts and you feel a bit embarrassed. You enjoyed your time with him but unfortunately, you guess he doesn't feel the same.

Suddenly, Heeseung realises that what he just said is probably the worst thing he could ever say to you. He quickly tries to take it back, "Wait- nonono, I meant-"

But you're already standing up to leave, not really wanting to hear whatever else he has to say. As you move, he gets up with you, his tone starting to sound desperate as he calls out to you. "No wait, please, please don't leave. I don't think you understand me."

And to think that I thought we could actually be friends.

You might sound a bit dramatic but you can't help what you feel. Now your relationship with him feels weird and awkward. You just want to quickly leave.

Right as you're in front of the door, he grabs your arm as a last attempt to stop you. Calling your name again, he pleads with you, "Please listen to me, it's not what you think. I-"

With wide eyes, his breath hitches as he stops himself from continuing, a bit mortified at what he almost blurt out. You only give him a confused look with an eyebrow raised. After a moment of just staring at each other in silence, he finally breathes out a worried sigh and surprisingly rests his head on your shoulder while intertwining his hand with yours. But what's more surprising is the fact that you don't have the heart to push him away.

What a weird person, you think. First he tells me he regrets having sex with me and now he does this.

"I'm sorry. I'm a mess when I'm with you," he murmurs, his face heating up at the confession.

As much as your heart beats faster at his words, you can't help but ask yourself, why? You're just a human. Heeseung can't possibly like you, could he? He has many other suitors that would be more than elated to be with him. Maybe he means that you just make him nervous — you wouldn't be surprised if you do since you make many people here nervous by just breathing.

Just as you're about to say something, you hear footsteps coming near you both, along with the sound of people talking... surprisingly about you. Although you're not new to people gossiping and spreading rumours about you, it does pique your curiosity; you've always wondered what people say about you behind your back.

On the first week, you heard people saying that you came from a rich family that had relations with the university's administrative staff or that a supernatural family adopted you or that you're not really human. Those were only the light rumours. Sometimes, when walking to class, you'd hear people say that you're working undercover for the human government, that you're only here to destroy the supernatural space and that everyone should be wary of you.

It makes you a bit sad, to be honest, because those words couldn't be further from the truth. However, you don't particularly blame them; humans haven't exactly been nice to the supernaturals, so you try to not take offence.

This time, however, the rumours are something else and it seems to involve not just you but someone else too.

"There's no way that happened," someone irritatedly says. If you could see them right now, there's no doubt in your mind that they'd be rolling their eyes.

"I'm just saying what everyone else is saying," another person says, their tone more nonchalant than the other’s.

"God, I swear, rumours are so dumb, like Heeseung and Y/N fucking in the dorms, really?" Your eyes go wide at the revelation, is that what everyone's talking about? But how did they know? And why is it a huge deal if I get laid? It doesn't make sense to you.

The same person continues, their voice growing louder as they walk closer to where you're standing, "This sounds as ridiculous as the time when everyone was saying that Jake fucked 100 people."

"Ah, but this one could actually be true," the other person thoughtfully says.

"What? Don't tell me you actually believe-"

"There are people who said they heard them," they say as a matter-of-factly, their voice now growing fainter as they pass by you but you can still hear the change of tone in their voice, now sounding more intrigued, "They say she edged him a couple of times and he wouldn't stop begging her to fuck him." Chuckling, they continue, "Must be a fun time."

Heeseung buries his head deeper into your shoulder as they say that, his hair tickles your neck a bit but you don't mind. Plus, you're more focused on their conversation, so much that you almost don't feel his hand tightening his hold on yours.

At the same time, you hear the former laugh and say, "You're so fucking weird."

Their conversation doesn't stop there but that's all you're able to hear, they're too far for you now. However, you're pretty sure Heeseung can still hear them — after all, his hearing is better than yours could ever be. But now that you know what everyone's talking about, you understand why he said what he said. He's surely not fond of the gossip about you two. You feel a bit sorry about it and despite knowing that it's not really your fault that people gossip about you, it doesn't really make you feel better.

A while later, Heeseung finally speaks again but he still doesn't move away from you and his voice sounds grim, a contrast to his usual demeanour, at least from what you've seen. "Sorry. It's my fault. I should've been more careful."

You try to look at him, a bit confused at what he's saying but he's hiding his face from you so you instead simply ask him, "Huh?"

He takes a deep breath as if trying to gather his confidence. Then, he pulls away from you and you're now able to see his face clearly. Ah, so that's why he was hiding.

With an obvious blushing face, he says, "It's not that I regret it, of course not, it's just that I think we should've done it elsewhere because obviously, people could hear and it was so stupid of me for not thinking about that." He gives out a frustrated sigh and continues, his voice soft and sad, "I guess I got carried away... I'm sorry."

Another moment of awkward silence as you try to make sense of what's going on. When you finally do, you can't help but question him, your voice almost as soft as his, "Why are you apologising?"

Giving you a surprised look, he pauses for a moment as he contemplates his answer. "D-doesn't the gossip bother you?"

He looks so sad that you just can't help but tenderly hold his face, making him look at you as you reassure him, "Heeseung, people always talk about me. It's nothing new. If anything, I should apologise since you got dragged into it."

Quickly objecting, he blurts out, "No, it's my fault! If I would've been more careful- if I haven't been thinking with my dick instead of my brain, this wouldn't have happened and you wouldn't have hated me and everything would've been fine and-"

You've never seen him look so distraught before. Seeing him being so uncharacteristically talkative worries you because despite knowing little of him, you do know one thing; he's not the type to word vomit, he always thinks things through before he speaks his mind and when he speaks, his words are fully thought-out. He may stutter here and there but they'd still seem thought-out and planned. Now, seeing him not able to do so and just desperately speaking, trying to convince you that he's at fault... it just doesn't sit right with you. How long had this issue been on his mind? And to what extent does he blame himself?

"Heeseung, calm down."

But he doesn't. He seems to be fully inside his mind, blurting out words as much as he can as if he's blurting out days' worth of worries. You're not sure what to do to calm him down but in a state of panic and with your hands already on his face, you pull him close and kiss him, hoping that the shock would be enough to stop him from overthinking.

Fortunately, it works. He gives a soft muffled sound as your lips touch his and then everything gets quiet. Still, he doesn't kiss you back, most likely too shocked at your actions. The kiss itself isn't long, you don't let it nor need it to be — you pull back a few seconds later. Looking into his almost teary eyes, you apologise for the sudden kiss, "Sorry, I didn't know-"

You're pretty sure he wasn't listening to you because now the tables have turned; now, he's kissing you and the kiss he gives you is way different than your attempt to get him to calm down — it's intense, messy, desperate and so intoxicating that you almost forgot to kiss him back.

When you do kiss him back, his actions only become more desperate. His hands constantly move; first from his sides to your shoulder, then to hold your face, then to your arm as he pushes you against the door, then to your waist, almost as if he's trying to make sure that you're really here. His lips never stop moving to press open-mouthed kisses to yours and as he does so, a small part of you can't help but feel like he's offering every part of him to you through the kiss, stealing your breath away in the process.

Eventually, you both pull away, needing to breathe. For a while, you both stare into each other's eyes. Heeseung rests his forehead against yours, his lips a bit swollen as he pants and his breath feels hot against your lips.

After a moment of intense silence, he speaks, his voice sounding a bit hoarse and it's as if he's talking to himself rather than to you. "You don't hate me."

You reply, "Of course not. How could I?" Gently caressing his cheek with your thumb, you whisper, "You're the only person here who's been kind to me."

Something in his eyes changes — you're unable to pinpoint exactly what it is but you don't ask either. He gulps, still breathing heavily, still looking into your eyes and then asks you with a soft wavering voice, "Why did you kiss me?"

It isn't his question that catches you by surprise but the look in his eyes that make him seem like he's expecting or hoping for a certain answer. If you were to look away, you could answer him honestly; "it was to help calm you down" but you can't look away, not when he's staring at you so intensely, not when he looks like he's begging you to say something specific as he waits for your answer. Your breath hitches as you think, unsure of what to say to him.

But it seems that you were silent for way too long. Breaking eye contact with you to look at the ground, Heeseung takes a step back and his hand rubs the back of his neck for a short moment.

"Did you only kiss me to shut me up?" He chuckles after he says that but the slight bitterness in his voice is evident.

"I'm sorry, I panicked. I was trying to calm you down," you eventually say.

He simply stares at you as if you just said the most absurd thing ever; eyes wide, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly open. After realising that you're actually serious, he grabs your hand and slowly brings it to rest on his chest, giving you the chance to pull your hand away at any moment if you wish. "Can you feel it?" He softly asks.

You know what he's talking about — his heartbeat right underneath your fingertips... but you can't feel it nor hear it. Thus, you replace your hand with your ear, resting your head on his chest as you try to at least hear his heartbeat.

Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump.

It's faint but you can hear it... and it's beating quite fast for a vampire. You've heard that vampires have a slower heart rate than everyone else's and right now, you'd say his heart is beating pretty fast, just slightly above an average human's. You can feel his breathing too, it's a bit laboured.

When you pull away to look back up at him, you're greeted by a blushing Heeseung who asks you with a small smile, "Get it?"

Is he trying to say that you make him nervous?

Shaking your head no at him, you're still a bit confused as to what he's trying to convey. At your response, he sighs, runs his hand through his hair and then whispers to you, "How am I supposed to calm down when you're kissing me?"

That's when the realisation hits you. "Oh..." you whisper, now getting it.

"Yeah..." he whispers back then lightly chuckles. Placing his hand on the door behind you a moment later, he leans into you and continues in a low voice, "You wanna know how you can calm me down?"

That low voice makes you feel weird things, you just can't resist entertaining him when he speaks like that. "What?" You ask, your voice also low.

"You can hug me." Raising an eyebrow at him, you hum for him to continue, a bit surprised at the answer. "I like hugs," he continues with a boyish smile.

"You want a hug?"

With the same smile, he softly says, "Yeah."

"If you say please, I'll give you one."

He wastes no time. "Please," he says with a bright smile and hopeful eyes.

How could you say no to him when he looks so cute? So you hug him, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your head on his shoulder. He immediately hugs you back, his grip on you a bit tight but you don't mind, not when he feels so warm and comforting.

After a long moment of just hugging each other, you can't help but playfully ask, "Are you calm now?"

"I don't know," he starts. "Maybe you can check my pulse to find out?"

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he says that. You're not sure what he's hoping to get out of it — maybe he just wants your hands on his neck... or maybe he just likes to tease you. Whatever it is, you can't help but roll your eyes.

Suddenly, a fun idea pops up inside your head and you nonchalantly reply, "Okay."

Grabbing his face with both of your hands, you pull his head back to look at his neck. As your hands move to make him look up, your eyes take in every millimetre of his neck, specifically the spaces underneath his jawline, trying to find a pulse. Fortunately, it doesn't take you a long time.

"W-wait wait wait wait-" He gasps as your tongue probes at his pulse, his hands now moving to grip your shoulders. You only did it to tease him — you like it when he's flustered, but surprisingly, you can actually feel his pulse underneath your tongue. Intrigued, you pause your actions to count his heart rate, as weird and funny as that sounds.

You're not really surprised when you feel it beating rapidly. After a few seconds, he gives out a shaky exhale and says, "Is this a normal thing humans do?"

You chuckle at his words and then quickly bite down on the spot. He gives out a choked moan in response and further tightens his grip on your shoulder. "Aw, is baby flustered?" You tease him, unable to help yourself.

He can only whine your name as your tongue starts swirling around the same spot.

"You're so responsive... I love it," you whisper to him, your voice making him shiver. "And to think, I'm only playing with your neck. Is it that sensitive?"

As you start sucking on the small bit of skin in between your teeth, his jaw moves in an attempt to answer you but you don't hear his voice at all — he doesn't speak, not even when you're done giving him a hickey, not even when you're done giving him three. Pulling back, you take a moment to admire the small bruises on his neck but as time goes by and nothing changes, you begin to realise something.

"Why aren't they disappearing?" You comment, a bit alarmed.

However, Heeseung doesn't seem that concerned. He shrugs it off and replies with half-lidded eyes, "Ah, it's fine, it'll go away eventually."

"Is that normal?" You ask, still a bit hesitant.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry."

Deciding to take his word for it, you continue leaving hickeys on his neck. He hums in approval, his breathing hot and heavy and you eventually lose count of how many you actually gave him. When you pull back to look at his neck again, it's already half-covered with small bruises; all of them still bright red.

Just the sight of it makes something inside you snap and you can't help but ask him, "You don't mind me touching you right, Hee baby?"

With his head a bit dizzy, Heeseung struggles a bit to speak, "N-no, you can... you can touch me all you want."

"I can touch you anywhere?" You smirk, already knowing what you're going to do to him.

"Anywhere you want," he softly replies.

At his words, your hands waste no time moving to his torso, touching every part of it from his shoulders, then to his collarbones, then to his chest. His breath hitches when your hands move across his nipples but you don't stop to play with them — you continue moving your hands down to his abdomen. As you do so, you ask him, "I can touch you here?"

"Mhmm." His eyes automatically close as he says that, wanting to focus on your hands touching his body.

Seeing him relaxed and full of anticipation at the same time only spurs you on and so, you move one of your hands to squeeze his ass. He gasps and jumps in response, not expecting that to happen.

"What about here?" Your teasing tone only seems to make him melt.

"Y-yeah," he breathlessly says as he rests his head on your shoulder, his hands now gripping your waist.

Further teasing him, you slowly move your hand from his ass to grip his dick through his pants. "Even here?" You ask him with a raised eyebrow.

He can't stop himself from moaning and pushing back into your hand at the contact. But before he could reply, you're already talking while feeling him up, "Wow, you're already kinda hard. Does this turn you on, hm? Being groped like a whore?"

Giving out another moan, he starts grinding into your hand as if to show you how turned on he is. He doesn't say anything but you can practically guess what he's thinking right inside his head; feel it, feel how hard you make me. You push your hand against his dick harder and he hisses in response. "You like that? Being my whore? Letting me play with your dick however I want, whenever I want?"

"Yes," he moans. "Just use me."

"Now, now. Where are your manners?" You ask as your other hand starts playing with his left nipple through his shirt.

At first, he stays quiet for a while, not wanting to answer you but as your fingers pinch his nipple, he jumps and squeaks out, "Please!"

"Please what?" You can feel his dick getting harder through his pants and just to tease him further, you play with his tip, pressing and swirling your thumb against it over and over again.

With a groan, he relents surprisingly quickly, "Please use me how-however you want. I really need your hands on me, please."

"I'm already touching you though?"

"No..." He trails off with a hiss. "Can I please take off my pants?"

As you feign thinking, he hurriedly continues, "Please, I need to feel your hands on my dick, please? I'll do whatever you want, I'm your whore. Just please touch me, it feels really good. I need it so much. Please."

"Needy today, huh?" It's a bit surprising, honestly, you were expecting him to give more of a fight based on the last time you hooked up, but nevertheless, he's still cute. Plus, it makes your job easier.

In response, he just hums, simply agreeing with whatever you're saying without a second thought. Satisfied with his pleas and answers, you tell him that he can take his pants off and he quickly does so, his movements hurried and sloppy, desperate to get it off as quick as he can. Once his pants are discarded on the floor like a metre away, you pull him into you by gripping his hips and then you pin him to the door right behind you.

Immediately, he leans against it and his hands go to grip your waist again but you quickly grab his wrists and pin them right beside his head. Leaning closer to his ear, you sternly tell him, "Keep your hands there, got it?"

He gulps and nods at your authoritative tone. You then take a good look at his dick since you didn't really get to last time — you notice that it's lanky, average girth, with a slight curve to the left and circumcised. It's also hard but that's already obvious. In a way, it suits him and you think it's pretty, just like him.

When you look back up at him, you can't help but smile at the shy expression he gives you. Whispering into his ear, you say, "You have such a pretty dick... but do you know how to use it?"

Biting his lip, he slowly shakes his head no. As your right hand go to unbutton his shirt, you continue, unable to mask the excitement in your voice, "Well that doesn't matter. I can always teach you how." You let your fingers brush along his shaft, your touch barely there as you continue, "And when you do learn, I might let you fuck me one day." The response he gives you is cute; he quickly nods his head and pleads with you. "Would you like that?"

"Yes," he gasps, trying his best to not buck his hips. "Please."

"Alright, baby." Finally deciding to give him what he wants and put him out of his misery, you spit on your hand and start stroking his dick. Your spit makes your hand move easily and after a few moments of stroking, he gives out a loud moan, throwing his head back when you suddenly squeeze his dick — hard.

"You want people to hear us again?" You teasingly comment.

He nods and replies, "Yes... wanna... let them know... how... good you make me... feel."

"How dirty." You can't stop your smile of fondness from appearing or the chuckle that comes right after.

"I'm... your whore... remember?" Despite being paired with gasps and moans, his remark still manages to come out playful.

"Go ahead then, baby." He whimpers as your hand starts stimulating his tip. "Let everyone know who's making you feel so good. Your voice is too pretty for you to be quiet anyway."

Your right hand finally finishes unbuttoning his shirt. Without wasting any second, you touch his bare skin, running your hand all over his torso. His body's response intrigues you; everywhere your fingers go, his skin beneath you twitches and you're just using your hands. Imagine using your mouth — luckily, you don't need to imagine since he's right there.

The sound of his moan is so loud this time that it almost echoes across the room if it weren't for the room having many carpets. And to think that all you did was lick his chest. Granted, you did pinch his nipple while tightly squeezing his balls as you do so but who cares? He's so fun to play with, you just want to keep him like this for hours... but unfortunately, you're pretty sure that class is about to start soon, which means many people walking through the hallways.

Thus, you pick up the pace, trying to get him to quickly reach his high. Your left hand quickly moves up and down his shaft, your right hand goes to fondle his balls and your mouth starts sucking on one of his nipples — you doubt he's going to last long since his body is so sensitive. And based on his constant moaning and twitching, you can tell that you're right.

As you continue, he suddenly speaks, "I... I can't get our first time out of my head. I-it's like- it's like you're... haunting me." He moans when you lightly bite down on his nipple, his hips accidentally bucking into your hand. "Every time I close my eyes... I remember it again... I see it vividly... and I... I want to do it again with you... Did you... put a love spell on me... or something?"

As he continues to talk, a small uneasy feeling makes itself known to you — the kind of feeling that makes you feel as if something is wrong. It makes you furrow your eyebrows in suspicion as to what it could possibly be... but as you look at the man in front of you, you quickly understand. Just one look at him and you can tell that he's not in his right state of mind and you're pretty sure that he's just blurting out whatever's coming to his mind at this time. You can't shake away the thought that whatever he's saying right now is too private. You don't believe you should hear this, at least, not right now.

Worrying that he might end up regretting whatever he's saying, you tell him, "Heeseung, I don't want to hear anything else come out of your mouth except those pretty sounds you make, okay?"

And just to be safe, you insert two of your fingers into his mouth. As your fingers press against his tongue, he hums in response, closing his mouth and then he starts sucking on them. His tongue swirls around your fingers as he looks at you with half-lidded eyes.

Your hand goes to abuse his tip, your thumb swirling the precum around and pressing down on it again and again while your other hand continues to keep his mouth busy. His body shakes at your actions and suddenly, he quickly pulls your hand away from his mouth to say something.

"I'm gonna cum, what if-"

"You can cum, Hee baby. Go on, cum for me. You can do that for me, right?" Your voice sounds so sweet that he just wants to do whatever you say.

"But it- it's gonna get messy..." he whines and trails off. Despite his worries, his hips start bucking uncontrollably into your hand, trying to catch his high anyway — he doesn't want to stop but a small part of his conscious brain still worries about how he'll clean up his mess.

"Don't worry, baby. We can clean it up," you reassure him. "Go on, be a good boy and cum for me. And keep your hands back up."

"Okay- I..." He puts his hands back up and sucks in a deep breath as he feels himself reaching his high. That conscious part of him from earlier disappears and now, he's almost chanting, "Thank you. Thank you thank you thank-"

The moment you start harshly sucking on his neck again, he's gone; with a loud and long moan, his hips thrust into your hand and streams of cum messily come out of him, getting all over your hand, onto your pants and even onto the floor. His body is shuddering and his eyes are rolled to the back of his head as your hand starts milking him for all he's got.

You coo at him, "Good boy, baby. Such a good boy for me."

"Please-" He squeaks, head thrown back against the door. You don't stop touching him though, not even when his streaks of cum stop coming out, not even when he starts uncontrollably trembling at every touch of your hand. One of your hands continues to quickly stroke his dick while the other fondles his balls, alternating from left and right. As you squeeze them, he gasps and whimpers your name.

"You're being such a good boy, baby... just taking whatever I give you." You start licking his chest, from his navel to his nipple. Heeseung shuts his eyes tight as his body continues to tremble against his will, his hands now in fists beside his head. As you play with his nipple, sucking on it and swirling your tongue around it, his back arches and he can't stop himself from thrusting in and out of your hand.

"You can cum for me one more time, right?"

He groans in response, nodding. "A-a... any... thiiing... f-for... y-you."

Letting go of his nipple to whisper in his ear, you say, "Right, you did say that you're my whore."

"Y-yes, yes, yes." He gasps.

So you continue touching and stimulating him until he cums again. Throughout it, he doesn't speak at all, only making pretty noises while his body trembles. It doesn't take long before he cums again. This time, it comes as a surprise — he didn't tell you that he's close. Perhaps he, himself didn't know that he was or maybe he wasn't paying attention, too busy being lost in his own bliss. Either way, based on his reaction, it seems that he's also surprised; he cums with a scream, his voice echoes throughout the room, his eyes tightly closed, and his hips stop moving but he's still trembling all over as another shot of his cum comes out of him.

So gorgeous.

You slow down your movements, not wanting to push him too much, until you eventually stop. Heeseung pants in front of you, looking helpless and blissed out.

"See, I knew you had it in you." As you slowly coax him back to reality, you slowly become aware of how uncomfortably wet your panties are. But you push that aside for now.

It takes him a moment to come back to reality and when he does, he still feels a bit dizzy. His hands go to grip your shoulder and waist for support and you hug him to soothe and comfort him, rubbing your hand on his back — the hand that's cleaner than the other. A moment later, he breathes out a soft thank you, feeling a bit spent.

"I'll... clean everything up," he breathlessly says while hugging you. You pat his head while his arms wrap themselves tightly around you.

"That's okay, baby. I have tissues in my bag. We'll clean it up together, yeah?"

He doesn't answer you and instead, asks for a kiss. Of course, you give it to him. How could you ever say no to this man? The kiss is unsurprisingly hot, heavy and messy, your tongues intertwine together just like your breaths. He moans into it and then pulls back to kiss your neck.

"Your turn?" He whispers into your neck, his breath hot against it. You close your eyes as he starts kissing and licking your neck, his tongue hot and wet swirling on a certain spot. You grab his shoulder as he continues, and then, a moment later, you feel his sharp fangs graze against your neck but before you could make sense of what's happening, he quickly pulls away, stopping himself.

"Sorry, can I-" He gives out a shaky breath. "I wanna... make you cum." He whispers out the last part. It was so soft that you almost didn’t hear it.

"You wanna make me cum?" You whisper back, your eyes still closed, now fully aware of the tension in between your legs.

"Yeah." His hands tenderly touch your body as he says that, going down from your shoulder to your breast and finally coming to rest on your waist.

"Sure."

He kisses you again but compared to your last few kisses, this one's short. Pulling away from you, he says, "We should- uh... change positions? Would it be easier for you?"

"Ah, yeah, okay." Despite your voice sounding nonchalant, your pussy throbs at the anticipation of finally getting the attention it craves. After you both change positions, with you now leaning against the wall and him in front of you, his hands go to unbutton your shirt and unhook your bra as he kisses you.

Gripping his hair, you pull him away from you — which earns you a moan. "Go fast, I think it's almost time for class."

"There's still tons of time," he reassures you. "Barely anyone has class in this building anyway. Don't worry."

Trying to reassure you, he gives you a smile and goes back to tenderly kissing your neck. It seems that there's a clash of wants — you just want to cum while he probably just wants to take his time with you. You're about to protest but his hands and mouth on your body make you change your mind, at least for now. With his hands kneading your breasts and his mouth slowly moving from your neck to your breasts, you give out a defeated sigh.

"Fine."

With a triumphant smile, he mumbles a thank you into your skin. His mouth is now sucking your left breast, his tongue swirling around your areola and the nub, making your pussy wetter by the second. The urge to touch your pussy grows as he continues his actions. One of his hands plays with your right breast while the other goes to unbutton your pants.

All of a sudden, he lightly bites down on your breast and you jump in response, unable to stop your moan from coming out. "Fuck, your mouth feels so good."

He moans too but his moan comes out muffled against your breast. After a while, your hand grips his hair and he hisses as you move his mouth to your other breast. "Keep going baby, you're doing so good. Such a good boy for me, aren't you?"

The praise only spurs him on, his movements now getting bolder. Wasting no time, he begins to kiss it and then lick it, until finally, he takes it into his mouth, harshly sucking on the mound. You hiss and arch your back in response. With your pants now on the ground, your legs start to feel cold but your core is still hot and wet, demanding attention.

Eventually, he finally moves on, leaving your breasts to kiss down to your navel. Every kiss he leaves you is tender yet hot against your skin, just like his hands on your body. Once he reaches your navel, he kneels down and as you let him put one of your legs over his shoulder, his face is now very close to your crotch. Even so, he still doesn't give your pussy any attention yet. Instead, he starts at your inner thighs, specifically the one on his shoulder, slowly licking up closer and closer to your heat as his hands continuously move up and down your thighs. He stops where your thigh meets your groin and starts taking a small bit of your skin into his mouth to suck and bite on it.

You let him leave a hickey there — it's not like you can't hide it anyway. After he's done, he pulls away to admire his mark on you with a small satisfied smile but just as you thought he'd finally start eating you out, he starts the same thing over again, except this time, on your other thigh. You groan, beginning to get frustrated.

He seems to find it amusing, given by the fact that you can feel him softly chuckling into your thigh as he kisses it. "Heeseung." Your stern yet breathless voice only makes him smirk.

"Hmm?"

"You're being a brat," you hiss at him.

Pulling away from your thigh, he looks up at you with a defiant smirk and coyly says, "I'm only taking my time."

But as he moves to continue his actions, your authoritative voice makes him pause and shiver. "Heeseung, I will literally slap you." You're in no mood to take things slow, you just want to cum. That's all you want — to finally release all this built-up tension in your pussy.

"Kinky," he mumbles with a pout. It's not because he doesn't like being slapped — it's actually something he's willing to try especially during sex as long as you like it, but he's just pouting because he didn't get to-

Giving a frustrated sigh, you say to him, "You can leave a hickey there after I cum, damn it."

His face lights up as you say that and his hand grips your thigh. "Promise?"

"Yes!" You hiss. "Now be a good boy and make me cum."

Wasting no time, he hums and nods at your command, moving his mouth to your clothed pussy. He buries his nose and mouth in your heat, you can't stop a moan from escaping at the contact. His mouth starts kissing you, over and over again as his nose bumps against your clit.

"Fuck," you mutter, your hands gripping his hair tighter as he starts licking a long strip. It's relieving honestly — your pussy finally getting the attention it so craves... but it's not enough. You want his mouth on you, without anything else in the way. Thus, you tell him to take it off and he hums, acknowledging your command... but after a while, your panties are still on and he hasn't made a move to remove it, he just keeps on slowly eating you out with a smirk. When you finally realise that he's doing this deliberately, you snap.

"Heeseung!" Your voice is louder than you expected. "Take them off, for fuck's sake." Then, as if your mouth is on auto-pilot, you continue, "Do you want me to fucking slap you, huh? Is that what you want? You want me to fucking snap, don't you? Want me to pin you down and fuck you till your brain doesn't work anymore?"

At your words, Heeseung feels a bit intimidated but he can't help but also feel turned on at the same time. He moans into you and as he pulls away to pull down your panties, you continue, "Finally starting to take me seriously, huh? You're such a fucking brat, I swear to God, Heeseung. You just want to get punished, don't you?"

"God, you're so wet," he moans into you when he finally buries his face into your pussy again, without your panties this time.

Finally feeling his mouth on your heat, you moan in relief, pushing his head closer to your pussy while leaning against the door. His tongue starts licking up all your juices while his nose continuously bumps against your clit. Then, he starts sucking it, causing you to arch your back. "Fuck. That's right baby, keep going," you say, your tone now way calmer than before.

He hums into you as he continues to eat you out just the way you like, swirling and pressing his tongue against your pussy, sucking it, slurping up all of your juices. Your free hand now goes to play with your breast, massaging it while stimulating your nipple at the same time. His cums smears on your breasts as you do so but you couldn't care less about being clean right now.

When he inserts his tongue into your core, you loudly moan, your hand squeezing your breast tightly. And as he continues, sliding his tongue in and out of you, your pussy starts tightening around it and you gasp, "Fuck, I'm getting close. Don't you dare stop, you little brat, you hear me? I know you're thinking about it."

Gripping his hair tightly, you grind his face into your pussy, using him like a toy as you keep up a steady rhythm. He doesn't mind, of course he doesn't. He did say that you can use him however you want. And to help you reach your high, his hand moves to stimulate your clit, rubbing it in circles.

Here it comes, the release you've been seeking; there's that familiar knot in your stomach and with the help of his mouth and hand, you finally reach your climax with a moan, cumming all over his face as you bask in your release. Heeseung continues eating you out throughout it, taking in all of your juices in his mouth, not letting a single drop escape. His movements grow slower as time goes by until he eventually stops and pulls away, only to leave that hickey he so wanted on your thigh.

By the time he's done, you've gained your consciousness back. Still breathing heavily, you caress his head and softly say, "Thanks."

He licks your thigh one last time and then gets up to kiss you, wrapping his arms around you in a hug while doing so. You let him, not really bothered by the taste of you in his mouth. But the kiss doesn't last long since you're still breathing heavily.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," you say after pulling away from him.

"It's okay," he says, resting his forehead against yours, his breathing also still heavy. Your hands move to cup his face and with a swipe of your thumb, you collect your cum on his face and feed it back to him. His lips part when your thumb touches them, and he obediently sucks it without protest.

"Good boy," you praise.

You pull your thumb away from his mouth. As his arms unwrap themselves from you, you lean against the door and give out a heavy sigh. Looking back at him, you say, "We should clean ourselves up and get dressed."

With a nod, he agrees, going to get the tissues from your bag that was by the piano. When he comes back with it, you both clean up the mess you both made; first, you both clean yourselves — although Heeseung prefers to clean you more with his mouth than with the tissues, then, you clean the floor and the door that still had streaks of his cum on them, and finally, you clean your clothes.

It's when he buttons up his shirt, you notice something strange.

"The hickeys are still there," you mention, now alarmed again.

Heeseung also gets alarmed, quickly taking out his phone to see himself but then chuckles a second later when he sees how he looks through the screen. "Damn, I looked fucked up," he mumbles.

His hand grazes the still bright red bruises on his neck and his eyebrows furrow at them when he doesn't see them healing. He turns to you and asks, "Did you drink something?"

"What?" You question as your hands are buttoning your shirt.

"Did you drink a potion or something today?" He asks, still looking at himself through the screen, his eyes looking slightly dark.

You pause your actions as you try to remember.

Potion...

Oh!

You remember now. It was during Tuesday's alchemy class where Heeseung unfortunately wasn't there. You remember that your lecturer taught the class about a new potion. Apparently, it's a consumption potion which means it only works if you consume it and he so kindly let you drink some of it after he finished explaining its properties. The colour of it was a very rich shade of blue and it smelled like the ocean... but the taste was... unpleasant, to say the least.

His voice rings across your mind, "So what it does is that it drastically slows down someone's regeneration ability, not yours but anyone you touch. Use with caution, alright. Don't be killing anyone. That's against the law."

"Oh... yeah, yeah I did. During alchemy class yesterday," you say, continuing to get dressed.

"Was it blue?" He puts his phone back in his pocket and continues buttoning his shirt.

"Yeah."

"Ah... no wonder."

You expect him to continue speaking but instead, he keeps quiet and simply tries to smooth out the wrinkles on his shirt. Eventually, you ask him a question that's on your mind, hoping that he's not annoyed or angry at you for leaving too many obvious hickeys on his neck. "But what are you gonna do?"

Please don't be angry at me.

"Oh, for these?" He shows you his neck, tapping the bruises on it. Then, with a smirk, he continues, "I'll keep them. Thanks."

"Are you sure?" You stare at him, surprised at his response.

Nodding, he reassures you, "Yeah, It's no problem. It'll go away eventually."

For the second time today, you decide to take his word for it. However, you can't help but wonder how long the potion's effect will last — maybe a couple of days? Hopefully not.

When you both finally finish making yourselves look presentable again, the comfortable silence you both share suddenly turns tense and awkward. You're unsure why but the reason makes itself known to you as you make your way to grab your bag.

Heeseung calls out your name. He sounds a bit nervous as he softly asks you, "What are we?"

Grabbing your bag, you think about it for a couple of seconds. "Hm, I guess... friends with benefits?"

"Oh..." He slowly nods, looking down at the floor.

"Unless you don't want that. This can be a one-time thing if you want."

"Nono, I-" He quickly says. "I just..." Taking a deep breath, he brings his head up to make eye contact with you and continues, his voice soft and a bit unsure, "I want something more..."

You look at him as soon as you hear that; he stands there, still near the door, with his posture straight and his face serious as he looks at you. "What?" You can't help but say.

Gathering all his courage, he nods to himself and continues, "I want to date you."

Surprise is the only word that describes how you feel right now. Never in a million years would you ever think that someone here actually likes you, much less want to date you. You've never even thought about dating a supernatural before either. And although you do like Heeseung... you're still unsure if you like him more than just a friend or not. Unsure of how to reply to his sudden confession, you end up just staring at him.

At your lack of response, his cheeks begin to turn pink again and says in a shaky voice, "If that's... a bit too much then it's alright." He gives you a reassuring smile, hoping that you don't feel pressured to reciprocate his feelings. "I don't mind just being friends with you."

"Heeseung, I'm sorry, I'm not too sure," you begin. "I mean, you're the only person who's been kind to me here. I'm not sure if I like you that way... and I wouldn't want you to fall in love with me, only for me to realise later that I never really liked you more than a friend in the first place."

Silence fills the air again as he takes in your words.

"Would you... give me a chance, at least?" He finally says. "Like at least let me take you on a date? Please?" As he looks at you with such cute and innocent eyes, you find yourself smiling at him. "I can show you the world if you want..." and ever so softly, he says his next sentence, "If you promise to show me yours."

His voice sounds melodious as he says that — you could hear the genuineness and hopefulness in his voice. And as you both stand there, just staring at each other, you begin to think to yourself; why not?

"Where would you take me?"

His face immediately lights up as you say that and you can't help but laugh at his cuteness.

"Anywhere you want," he replies with a bright smile, the kind of smile that could make the whole world stop and stare.

"Okay," you softly say, walking closer to him and giving him your hand.

For the first time in your life, you find yourself feeling excited about leaving your dorm, you find yourself anticipating to explore the world that you were so hesitant to get to know. It's as if your worries about laying low suddenly don't exist. And even though you're not really dating, you still can't stop the wide smile on your face as he meets you halfway, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers together.

"Thank you," he whispers, bringing your hand to his lips to place a soft kiss on it.

"Thank you," you reply.

"For what?" He looks at you with a smile, slightly confused at your words.

Many things — for being kind to you, for being your friend, for not judging you just because you're human, and honestly, many more. But what comes out of your mouth is a simple, "Not every human has the honour of having a potential vampire boyfriend."

His laugh is bright and rich, music to your ears. His eyes crinkle as he laughs and his smile is wide. Just the sight of him laughing wholeheartedly makes your heart feel full. When he finishes laughing, his demeanour changes a bit to a playful one, leaning closer to whisper in your ear with that low voice and that signature boyish smile, "I can be much more than a vampire boyfriend."

"I have no doubt about it," you say to him as you try to calm down your beating heart.

Grabbing your bag from you with his other hand, he says, "Let me walk you to your dorm."

"Okay."

As you both reach the door, you take a look back and scan the room, just to make sure that everything's as it should be. You look back at him when you're done; he has his hand on the door as he asks you, "Ready?"

Nodding at him, you let him open the door and walk you to your dorm, your hands entwine together the whole walk.

[restinslices]

I would love to request a fic of Ares x fem reader please? Maybe based of your post of being Ares favorite mortal lover and defending her or whatever idea you may have?

I think you and someone else requested this so COME GET YA’LL JUICE.

I made this sadder than it needed to be but it’s an illness at this point. Warning for a down bad Ares. Like, OOC type of down bad

Gods are typically very predictable when it comes to love.

It's usually temporary love and honestly a mortal is lucky if it lasts more than a month. They get together, have a baby then the god moves on before the baby is even born. It sounds heartless because it is, but that's just how it was when you were immortal. You got bored very quickly and chasing after mortals gave you something to do when life got too quiet.

That's what typically happens.

Sometimes though, the gods find very special mortals.

For Hermes, it was May. For Poseidon, it was Sally. For Ares, it was you.

Ares constantly watched over you and your child, even if you never knew. He couldn't be with you and he knew this, but that didn't mean he couldn't make sure you were ok and help out occasionally. Sometimes it'd be something as small as leaving you gifts to cheer you up, and sometimes it'd be something as big as delivering “bad luck” to your boss when he was being rude.

So imagine how upset he got when he watched your new partner continue to mistreat you.

Zeus made himself very clear.

Absolutely DO NOT commit any acts of violence against a particular mortal named Trent.

Ares thought about listening. Then Ares thought about the fact that he was willing to allow a war to happen between Zeus, Hades and Poseidon and he decided that since he's done a lot worse, a few felonies wouldn't be so bad in the grand scheme of things.

~~

The arguing made Ares pause before he could knock.

He heard your voice. “In my bed Trent?! Are you serious?!”.

The male groaned in annoyance, “If you can't accept that relationships have hiccups then maybe you don't actually care for me! I'll leave you alone right now if that's what you want! It's just fuck me, right?! After all I do?!”.

“What do you do?!”.

“I told you I had demons I was fighting!”

“Is the demon monogamy?”

He huffed and he swung the door open while going on and on about the so called demons he was fighting that you wouldn't understand, and if Ares had Hades powers, he'd send him some actual demons to worry about.

His eyes landed on Ares, “who are you?”.

You came into view right behind Trent and your eyes widened.

It was strange. Ares hardly paid attention to little details when it came to someone's appearance. After a while his eyes skimmed over people, and even if a mortal managed to catch his attention, he usually forgot what they looked like before the week ended. You were different though and if this is what Poseidon and Hermes felt then he understood why it was so hard for them to let their mortals go.

He wasn't necessarily an artistic guy but he could pick out the specific shade of your eyes, even if it was the most basic eye color. He memorized the shape of your hair and its color. He memorized certain mannerisms or habits you had, no matter how small. If someone blindfolded him, he was sure he'd still be able to find you just by hearing your laughter. He'd pat the area around him as he walk towards you and once he felt your hand in his, he'd know he was home. And sure, there was a mortal out there that had the same texture on their fingertips but he didn't care about them. He cared about you and even if you thought you weren't special, he would strongly disagree. Mortals didn't stay in his mind. You did. That meant something.

But Trent didn't seem to understand how special you were. He didn't understand that you were doing him a service just by standing near him and it made him angrier than he expected.

“This is Ares”, you said. It was embarrassing for him to admit how much he loved how his name sounded on your tongue, so he never admitted it. At least not out loud.

“Like the Zodiac Aries?”. He was going to correct him and make several snarky comments but you spoke before him.

“A-R-E-S. Ares. Like the God of War. Spirit of Battle. Mars for the Romans” you explained and the smirk that formed on his face further proved how down bad he was for you. The shit was embarrassing.

“I'm the father of her child” Ares added and Trent did not look pleased. He looked back and forth between the two of you and scoffed.

“You've been cheating on me, haven't you?”. He didn't even give you a chance to respond. “You're on my ass about what I did but you've already been whoring around. Just like I fucking thought”

“My kid is eight” you said simply. Ares hated that although you kept stepping back, he kept moving towards you. His shoulders were tall and proud, like he was trying to intimidate you into admitting something that wasn't true.

“I bet you're still sleeping with him or any other man that looks at you! I should've known better than to dedicate myself to a single mother. You're all just cheap sl-” his sentence was stopped abruptly when Ares grabbed onto his shoulder. At first Ares didn't realize how hard he was squeezing his shoulder, but once he noticed the sounds coming out of his mouth and saw his pathetic attempts to pry his hand off of him, Ares squeezed harder.

“She missed a very crucial part” his hand squeezed harder still and he pushed down, making the man hit his knees on the ground hard. “Ares, God of War. Spirit of Battle. Protector of Mistreated Women”, he glanced at you then looked back down at the man clenching his shoulder under him. “Have you been mistreating this woman?”.

Trent looked at you but all that did was fuel Ares’ with more rage. The nerve to treat you so cruelly for months then look to you for help. He yanked his shoulder towards him, earning a shout from him. “Don't look at her. Look at me”.

You placed your hand over his, “let him go”. You spoke softly as if you cared for this speck of dirt that probably wouldn't spit on you if you were on fire. Why? Why do this for him when there are millions of other men out there you could be with? Men that would treat you 100x better than Trent had. Men that would shower you with the praises you deserve and stand by you loyally and ask about your day and do whatever other bullshit mortals do that Ares would do with you if he weren't a god.

Trent had you but he didn't deserve you. Area didn't have you but he deserved you. The idea of Ares deserving something instead of just being given it was strange and foreign and even though gods couldn't get headaches, this is the closest he's felt to it.

“Let him go” you repeated slowly.

“I should get somewhere high before I do”.

“Hilarious” you said, although he wasn't joking. “You're gonna hurt him”. That was the plan. “I'm being serious, Ares. Let him go”.

“And then?”

“Then you leave”. But he stays? You were willing to let this man get away with all he's done within your months of dating and shoo the father of your child away?

“I should kill him anyway. He knows too much”.

He was right. Mortals that didn't have demigods weren't supposed to know about the gods existence, so technically killing him wouldn't be completely out of left field. Technically he somewhat had the right to. That's what his deluded mind was telling him anyway. And even if the man on his knees didn't know what he did now, he still deserved a form of punishment.

Your minds seemed to be linked, because you shook your head at him, like you were telling him “no. Don't do that”. You crouched down in front of Trent who was still desperately trying to free his shoulder. “You want him to let go don't you?”

“Well obviously!”. Ares didn't like the attitude and he was going to push down hard enough to dislocate his shoulder, but you put your hand back on top of his and shook your head again.

“He will. First you have to swear to something. Make an oath. Swear that you'll never come back here. Swear that you'll never talk to me again and you'll never mistreat another woman again. Swear on the River Styx. If you break this oath, something terrible will happen. Won't it Ares?”. You looked up at him, expecting an answer. Ares didn't know the answer though. He knew what happened to gods and demigods but regular average civilians? He assumed it was something bad, but he didn't know how bad. Since he didn't have a solid answer, he just voiced what he wanted to do.

“If you break your oath, I'll find you. I'll tear your legs off so you can't run, then your arms so you can't crawl away. I'll give you medical attention so you don't die and I'll make your pathetic form into a punching bag for when I get bored and trust me, I get bored often”. Ares couldn't see how he looked but he knew he looked scary enough by the way the guy shuddered and looked away from him. He even started to cry, which Ares found ridiculous. He wasn't crying earlier. He was on top of the world thinking punishment wouldn't come and even now he wouldn't truly be punished.

The guy repeated everything you said in between disgusting sobs. He swore on the River Styx and Ares was sure he didn't even know what that truly meant. He just wanted to be let go. Ares didn't want to let go but after some more coaxing from you, he let go reluctantly. Trent ran out the house, still sobbing and holding onto his shoulder.

“Thanks for that” you said when you rose back to your feet, but it didn't sound like an actual thank you. You sounded annoyed. “He'll squeal but no one will believe him about being attacked by a god. He'll drive himself crazy or get himself sent somewhere. He'll always check for you behind him. Is that enough punishment for you?”. Ares wanted some sort of physical punishment right then and there, but he'd either deal with him when you weren't looking or decide this will do. Depended on his mood later on.

“Why'd you do that? Now he won't come back!”

“You made him swear never to come back”, but you didn't seem to like him pointing out that fact. You rolled your eyes,

“Yeah, because I knew you'd break him next time you saw him”. Good point, but why did you still want him around?

“You deserve better”

“And what's better? Someone like you? Someone who pops in from time to time? Someone our child hardly knows? If that's what I deserve, well… I guess I must not deserve much. Maybe I did something wrong in a past life”. Your words cut deep. They cut deep because you had a point. Ares put you in a terrible situation. A lonely one. He made you a single mother and although he didn't talk to mortals often, he was still able to pick up on how mortals felt about single mothers. The unnecessary shame that came with having a child but with no father, even if it wasn't their fault. A large chunk of the mistreated women he protected were single mothers themselves. There was an unnecessary amount of shame thrown onto their shoulders. They could've left a terribly abusive relationship, but all of it was still their fault. They were questioned why they couldn't just stick it out, because surely a child with no father was worse than a child with an abusive father who could “get better” if they just “stopped making problems”. He hated it. Now it was hitting him that he helped place this shame on your shoulders. He never said anything but he still decided to have a child with you even though he knew he'd never be able to stay. He wanted to say he made a mistake, but could it really be a mistake if it all meant he had you in his life even if it was only for fleeting moments?

“You don't need him” he got out finally but you had a counter.

“I need someone. I need someone here. I-I… listen I know Trent can be a handful but it's better to have a handful than nothing at all. You have no idea how lonely it gets and even with him it's still lonely because I can't talk to him about any of this stuff. Do you know how exhausting it is moving a child from school to school? Some schools won't even take her! Says she has disciplinary issues and I should do home schooling but how is that possible if I have to work so we don't end up on the streets?!” your voice got louder and if this was anyone else he'd make them apologize for raising their voice at a god. He didn't interrupt you though. Each word was like twisting a knife inside him and he figured that you should be able to decide when to pull it out.

“Other moms don't want their children anywhere near ours. They think she'll be a bad influence. Some of them aren't bold enough to say it, but I can tell what they're thinking! They treat her like some terrible disease their children will catch and I can't explain why she is the way she is! I can't say 'oh well her dad is a god and the monsters she draws are things she's seeing on the street and you can't see it but honestly she's in more danger than you’. I have to say 'they're just pictures. She's just creative!’ ” You began pacing and rubbing your hands together. “I'm alone and sometimes I don't wanna be alone. Having another adult here keeps the walls from closing in. Ugh. What type of mother am I? I can't explain any of this to my child and I can tell how alone she feels too. I think… I think I'm her only friend. She hears what people say about her. She thinks something is wrong with her. She thinks she's a burden. What eight year old thinks like this?”, You sat on the couch and put your head in your hands. “I'm a failure…”.

“Sad” wasn't the word Ares would use to describe how he felt. Maybe not even “sorrowful”. There had to be a better word to explain how he ached watching you fall apart. Ares wasn't good at personal talks, but he sat beside you and spoke

“You are not a failure”. It was simple, but he hoped it worked anyway.

You looked over at him with an expression he knew would be imprinted into his mind for eternity. “Then what am I?”.

He could go on and on about what you were and how much you meant, but he knew he didn't have much time. Zeus probably already knew he was here. He was nosey like that and he'd do anything to make sure everyone followed his lead. He wished he could tear him apart but Ares knew better than to voice any of the malicious thoughts he had or to try and harm him. Maybe a time would come, but it wasn't now.

“You're doing your best with the heavy burden I put on you”

“She's not a burden” you said quickly. “I'm just not sure what to do anymore. Everything I do seems like the wrong choice”. Ares wanted to approach a topic you seemed to despise but either he was predictable or that mind link was a real thing because next you said “No”.

“That camp-”

“Your family will mold her into what they want her to be and respectfully your family… uhh…” he got it. The gods didn't take kindly to insults and he wouldn't be surprised if you finished your sentence and then was magically turned into a pig.

“She needs to be a warrior. Camp will attempt to make her a warrior”. You didn't seem pleased.

He hated your stubbornness. He didn't watch other demigods as much, but even he knew their mortal mother's tended to die because of their own stubbornness. They'd refuse to send them to camp and when their child realized who they were and the monsters came running… well… there was a good chance everyday struggles wouldn't be a problem anymore.

“She'll realize at some point and you can't protect her”.

“I know” you admitted. The defeat was all over your face and in the heavy breath you took. You laid your head on his arm and intertwined your fingers together. “She's gone for tonight. She's staying with my mother down the street. She's the only one that takes her in sometimes. Can you stay over tonight?”.

“What are you suggesting?”

“You're the furthest thing from funny. I'm not having one of your kids again, are you insane?”. Although you said he wasn't funny, and he wasn't joking in the slightest, you both managed to laugh.

“Seriously, can you stay?”. The sky was clear and sunny but thunder rumbled.

If Ares was granted three wishes from a genie, he'd use all of them to watch Zeus die a horrible miserable death over and over again. What harm would one night do?

Well… a demigod could come out of one night but if Zeus didn't like it, he didn't have to watch.

He knew that argument wouldn't work and he didn't have to speak for you to know the answer. You scooted away from him and you took a sudden interest in the floor.

“I would if I could-”

“I know. I understand”. Another thing he hated about you. You were too understanding. He wanted you to scream at him. He wanted you to scream about how much you hated him and how he ruined you. He wanted you to swear at him and tell him to never step foot near you again. Anything that would make separating easier.

“Ares” you spoke, breaking the silence that filled the room. “If I agree to having her sent to camp, will you watch over her? Can you send one of those- what were they again? Oh! Satyrs. Can you send one of those and make sure they both get to camp safely?”

He didn't have to think. “Yes”.

“And claim her. Maybe not too soon though. I remember when I went to camp people got jealous when their parents would send them letters. I know my camp wasn't a god camp but you know what I mean. I just don't want her to catch unwanted attention”.

“Of course”

“Oh and one more thing. I know I'm asking for a lot but can you give me to the end of the school year. I don't know if she'll want to come back home or if it'll even be safe and-”

“You want time”. You didn't respond but he knew the answer. He knew how hard letting go would be for you and the thought that meeting you was a mistake crossed his mind again. You deserved to have a regular family and a regular husband that you had regular conversations with. Not this.

Thunder rumbled again.

“You have to go” you didn't sound like you wanted him to leave and he didn't want to leave either but he knew he had no choice. He stood up,

“I'll see you again. I promise”

“You've made enough promises, you don't have to do that. You can…” the words seemed like they burned to get out, “you can move on”.

He wanted to argue and say that he'd never truly move on from you. That you were the most memorable mortal he'd been with and he had no plans on leaving you be, but then he realized how selfish that was. Damming you to a life of sitting and waiting until he had time to see you. The thought of you sitting home alone waiting for any sign of him, signs that he wouldn't be able to give as often as you needed made him feel an immense amount of guilt.

“You make me an oath” he started, “I don't know what happens when mortals break an oath they make on the River Styx, so swear on anything that's important to you that you'll find a guy who deserves and appreciates you. Not another guy like before. Not some guy to fill in the empty space in here. I mean a man who will treat you right until you become just a memory”. Knowing he'd never be that man filled him with a burning sensation he couldn't quite explain. Some people would say “I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy” but Ares wasn't like that. He'd only wish this on his worst enemies. Not someone he got into an argument with, or someone he didn't like. Only the enemies that made him spit when he heard their name.

“I swear on our daughter” was all you said and it was all he needed to hear. He didn't give you a kiss or hug you goodbye. It'd make it too hard to leave. He just left. He closed the door behind him like nothing had happened and left you behind.

There was a small part of him that selfishly wanted you to break that oath because that'd mean he'd get to see you again, even if it was only to commit violence. The bigger part of him knew that was selfish. You needed to keep true to that oath, even if it would destroy him to watch you call someone else the love of your life eventually.

This could’ve been a heeheehaha jokey thing but I’m an asshole so here we are. I hope it’s clear that I write requests in the order I get them btw. This isn’t towards the anon, I’m just saying to everyone if a request is taking a hot minute I’m either ill, busy, or working on one that came before yours. I also try to do one requests a day to keep things spread out. Posting all the requests on one day will upset me and my homegirls.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

It isn't always easy (but how lucky I am to be known)

comfort came against my will - series masterlist here

pairing: dick grayson x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.1k

genre: fluff, emotional comfort

warnings: reader is vaguely mentally ill, dick is insecure but it's ok in the end

a/n: this can be read on its own. lil bit more about reader and what they do in life. I don't know if I write stories or just weird character studies anymore. whatever lemme know if you like it

"Are you sure you want to go to this, baby? Dick asks you gently as you stare at your reflection in your bathroom mirror, smoothing out your hair one final time.

"I don't really have a choice, babe. The gala is for my company - it looks bad if I don't show." You sigh before spinning around to face him, leaning against the counter and looking up at him, cupping his cheek in your palm and smoothing out the worry lines in his forehead with your thumb. "I'll be okay," you assure gently.

Dick sighs in defeat and presses a kiss to your cheek, content to go with you and keep an eye on you. It had been… one of those days. One of those times when your brain just doesn't work the way you want it to, when your own mental illnesses wrap around your throat and strangle you from the inside out. Most days, he finds himself impressed by the way you strong-arm your own psyche into bending to your will, but he knows it can't always happen. He just wishes the world would understand that, too.

Dick continues to think this as your car pulls up outside the gala, your door opening and you sliding out, him in tow. It mesmerizes him always, the mask you slip on, the way you smile and charm and stand tall in front of the never-ending flashes of cameras and pushing questions of reporters. He's always been impressed by it, but he finds himself even more swept off his feet now that he knows what's come before. It's difficult, sometimes, for him to put this image of you next to the one he'd seen this morning - the one of you with tear tracks down your cheeks and unable to get out of bed.

You turn briefly to him to make sure he's still close by, and although you both know the press will see it as nothing more than a second of love between a couple, Dick knows what you're doing. He knows that you're holding him to his word - making sure that he meant it when he said he'd be by your side the whole night. He doesn't mind that you're checking. He has no intentions of breaking his promise.

The night progresses normally, flutes of champagne being passed around and small talk floating through the air. You charm and dazzle and glide around the way you normally do, but the grip you keep on Dick's hand serves as a constant reminder that you're not okay. When you go to pull your hand away from his, he finds himself unconsciously holding it tighter, not wanting to let you go.

"I have to go up and speak," you speak quietly in his ear, nodding towards the raised stage and the microphone that sits ominously atop it. Dick knows how these things go - he's been to enough Wayne galas growing up and has accompanied you to enough of your own that he knows the host, at some point, has to go up and make a speech.

He just wishes, tonight, that it wasn't your company, and that it wasn't your speech.

But he kisses your hand gently before releasing it, letting you stray too far away from him, and his stomach twists with something akin to panic.

And the feeling doesn't go away as he watches you speak. You're as poised and clear as you always are, the epitome of a successful leader - and if he didn't know that something was wrong, not even he would ever be able to guess that you're struggling.

The panic in his gut, he finds… twists into something else. Doubt, maybe. Insecurity, probably. How well does he actually know you? If you can slip on masks this easily, who's to say you don't have more hidden underneath? 

Dick tries to shake the thoughts from his head, reminds himself that he's your partner and you love him and you've never done anything to make him doubt that. But as you waltz off the stage and people clap and you flash commanding smiles toward people, he finds he can't banish his thoughts as easily as he could.

But then you're back by his side, gripping his hand in a way that makes him think you need him, and the night must go on. He pulls up his own mask, making polite conversation and flitting around like a socialite with you all night and he wonders if he's really any different from you. And then he wonders why he suddenly thinks that's a bad thing.

By the time the night ends and your driver pulls up and lets the two of you into your car, his face hurts from smiling and his feet ache from standing, but you squeeze his hand tightly before letting it go so that you can slide into the back seat and his stomach twists again as he slides in beside you, the door closing behind him.

But then… you change. He watches as you pull up the divider so that your driver can't see you, and then you exhale heavily, letting your shoulders drop and your eyes close as the formal pleasantness melts off your face. Your hand searches for his again and he takes it quickly, squeezing it to remind you that he's here, even if his head is spinning from the removal of his own mask.

"What are you thinking about?" You murmur, your eyes fluttering open to look at him with a flash of concern. Dick takes the hand that's not holding yours and cups your cheek gently, smoothing out the worry lines in your forehead with his thumb. 

"Just thinking about how much I love you," he murmurs back, and his heart thumps loudly in his chest as he remembers how true that statement is - how much he loves you and how honoured he feels that you take off your masks for him. He kisses your hand where it's interlocked with his own. "I'm just thinking about how lucky I am to be the one who gets to know you like this."

You smile lazily at him, a knowing look settling in your eyes. 

"Ah," you begin. "This isn't always easy, I know."

Dick exhales at your words, wondering how you always pin what he's feeling so easily. You bring your hand up to brush your thumb along the apple of his cheek. 

"I'm the lucky one, Dick. I should be thanking you for wanting to know me like this."

Dick smiles at your words, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him in the back of the car. "We're both lucky to have found each other, I guess," He murmurs into your hair, pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

"Yea," you smile. "I guess we are."

[heliza24]

Daniel, Armand, and Keats???

Ok so the incredibly grainy footage of the new teaser has me spiraling! Devils minion on screen! But even more exciting, is Armand describing himself as “easeful death”, presumably to Daniel. Ok Rolin Jones, listen up. I don’t know a ton of literature by heart by I WAS a depressed and then chronically ill teen and early twenties person, who identified maybe a little too hard with romantic poet John Keats. Some of his poems are permanently tattooed on my brain. So I see what the writers are doing here. “easeful death” is from Ode to a Nightingale. The full line is: “Darkling I listen; and, for many a time/I have been half in love with easeful Death”. I mean. Come on.

I reread the poem after watching the trailer last night, and it’s actually SUCH a clever reference. It could practically be written by Daniel about Armand. We already know the writers room is familiar with and willing to reference other classic poets (Emily Dickinson absolutely is a vampire) so I think this is 100% intentional.

The narrator of the poem is tired of the difficulties of life and is longing for death; he speaks to the nightingale as a kind of immortal figure who is free from all cares. He is able to momentarily accompany the nightingale, at least mentally, as it flies and forget all troubles, but must come back to earth by the end of the poem. It’s pretty easy to read this as Daniel talking about Armand.

In fact, the first thing the speaker longs for is not death or the nightingale, but wine to take his mental pain away.

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been

         Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,

Tasting of Flora and the country green,

         Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!

O for a beaker full of the warm South,

         Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,

                With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,

                        And purple-stained mouth;

         That I might drink, and leave the world unseen

And we know that Daniel was numbing himself with drugs when he first met Louis and Armand. In fact the voiceover in the trailer almost feels like a pitch to Daniel; Armand is saying “I’m better than the best drug you’ve ever had”, effectively.

The speaker is determined to forget what the lucky nightingale (or Armand) “hast never known”:

The weariness, the fever, and the fret

         Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;

Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,

         Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;

                Where but to think is to be full of sorrow

The nightingale doesn’t know about the trials of living and aging, just like Armand. The speaker wants to forget about the inevitable “palsy shakes” that arrive with age. which could easily be a reference to what we now diagnose as Parkinson’s Disease.

At this point in the poem, the speaker tells the nightingale that he will join him in forgetting life not with the help of “Bacchus and his pards” (wine) but with “posey” (poetry). Which makes me think of Daniel using his writing to get closer to the vampires.

The fact that the speaker calls the nightingale “Darkling”! I mean what a perfect name for Armand. In fact I think this whole section is just perfectly about a vampire if you want it to be:

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time

         I have been half in love with easeful Death,

Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,

         To take into the air my quiet breath;

                Now more than ever seems it rich to die,

         To cease upon the midnight with no pain,

                While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad

                        In such an ecstasy!

         Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—

                   To thy high requiem become a sod.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!

         No hungry generations tread thee down;

The voice I hear this passing night was heard

         In ancient days by emperor and clown

Armand was not born for death; he’s seen many an emperor and clown and in fact been both (leader of the coven, pretending to be Rashid). There’s also an emphasis on the nightingale’s song. I don’t know if Armand will be a musician at all in the show, but he and the coven are definitely performers.

In the last stanza, the speaker comes back to himself. He knows that he does not get to escape the burden of life for the ease of death, or at least not yet. It makes me wonder if Daniel will eventually turn down the gift at some point in the devils minion timeline. We know that he rejects Louis' mocking offer to give him the gift in the Dubai timeline.

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell

         To toll me back from thee to my sole self!

Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well

         As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf.

Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades

         Past the near meadows, over the still stream,

                Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep

                        In the next valley-glades:

         Was it a vision, or a waking dream?

                Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?

The last line and the confusion about whether the time spent with the nightingale is a dream or not makes me think of Daniel waking up from the dream of Polynesian Mary’s.

In summary, Rolin Jones what the fuckkkkk. I’m so so excited about this season and all the Armand/Daniel content we’re about to get.

Oh also, as a bonus, if you want to hear Ben Whishaw recite the entire poem, and you definitely do, here you go:

[ifimdreaming]

loved the story you wrote about johnny, could you maybe write something more. maybe about getting married or something domestic?

blurb!

i love you more

john marino x reader || fluff

summary: you are feeling super anxious at yuors and johns engagemtn dinner (cw: anxiety!)

authors note: this isnt exactly what was requested but i felt like it fits johns personality sm

word count: 0.8k

-

“Ok! Ok everyone!” your best friend says as she begins standing up from the dinner table, clinking her glass with a fork as everyone silences.

“I just want to say a quick cheers to the most adorable couple ever! and congratulations on their engagement, i am sincerely so so excited for the both of them and i cannot wait to celebrate their love with them on their wedding day! cheers!” she says smiling at you and john, and you begin to turn red with all the attention on you before everyone begins to clap, finally downing the champagne from their glasses. 

It was not your idea to have an engagement party in the first place but john was so excited when your sister brought up the idea of hosting a dinner that you just couldnt say no to him. you hated having so much attention on yourself, but at the same time, its good practice for your actual wedding day.

there seemed to be a lot more people here who you didnt know very well. which you were not expecting. but your sister did plan this party in its entirety, down to the guest list. And although you were grateful for that, you definitely would be the one approving the guest list for your wedding day.

the napkin that lays on your lap begins to slip to the side because of how much you are bouncing your legs up and down unknowingly.

“you doing ok?” john whispers as he picks your napkin up before it falls, 

 you were doing so well at the beginning of the night that you didn't even notice how much your anxiousness progressed until john points it out.

“I think i just need a moment, ill be right back.” 

“do you want me to come with you?” he places a hand sofly against your back, standing up with you

“Its alright, ill only be a minute” you say trying not to worry him to much, but deep down you couldnt wait for the party to be over 

you made your way upstairs to your childhood bedroom and laid on the bed feeling so much relief just being inthe quiet room by yourself.

 In this moment you were so thankful your mom and sister planned this dinner at your parents house. Your mind was racing with anxious thoughts, and having the freedom to just lie down in your old bed gave you so much comfort.

a knock on the door pulls you out of your thoughts, “hunny? Can i come in?” john says softly and you are so thankful that its him at the door

“yep, come on in” you say as you sit up, your legs hanging off the end of the bed.

“hi my love. how are you?” he shuts the door behind him and makes his towards you, crouching in between your legs as he places his hands on your thighs, slowly moving his hands along them.

“Im ok.” 

“i told everyone we’re heading out soon, so your family is starting on the dishes. and i think some people are starting to leave” he says and you smile with relief.

you hated to be the one to tell everyone you were leaving, even if it was getting late you felt bad having to kick everyone out. but john knew exactly how to take care of you. Its so relieving to not have to apologize for or hide your anxiety from him, unlike previous relationships youve been in.

“thank you johnny. c-can we go back to your place?” 

“yeah of course” he says as he leans up and places a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“anything you want baby” he says after pulling away for a moment and stroking his thumb over your face. He is always extra gentle with you when you felt anxious. It made you feel so lucky to have him.

“thanks johnny” you repeat and he just stares at you. A soft giggle leaving his mouth.

“why are you staring at me?”

“i cannot wait to marry you baby.” he starts and you roll your eyes at his cheesiness. 

“cant wait to take you home with me every single night and take care of you every single day.” he says as he plays with th engagement ring on your finger, making you smile at the thought of finally living in the same house together. and having him by your side in moments like this forever.

“Me too jj. I love you so much”

“I love you moreee” he says as you place your hands on his shoulders, giving him a peck on the lips.

he moves his hands from your legs over onto the bed, bracing himself as he pushes you down on the bed with his face against yours. 

you giggle into the kiss and he just attacks you with kisses all over your face, making your laughter grow and your anxiousness finally let up.

-

-

[themultifandomgal]

Hey sweetheart =)

I LOVE your wonderful writing and wanted to thank you for making me happy with your stories. Such a safe place is so important to escape the cruel reality sometimes. I have a request for you and really hope you're up for writing it. Please let me know if you like it. It's a protective Kelly Severide x fem! Oc or reader fic. Kelly has a new neighbor and he's instantly taken aback from this young beautiful woman. Unfortunately she suffers from a heart failure and because of that she's often dizzy and nauseous (maybe Kelly finds her one day nearly passed out on her doorstep and since that day they're getting closer. Worried Kelly... I'm desperate for it :D) after a while she gets to know the whole firehouse which instantly loves the shy girl. She even helps Herman with the Bookkeeping of Molly's. Kelly and the whole team always has an eye on her and helps when she's feeling miserable because auf her heart disease. Her life could be perfect, when there wasn't danger lurking around the corner. She's running from her stalking ex and he seemed to find her. Harassing her with messages and calls on her phone. Her friends from 51 notice her change, the jumpiness and her pale appearance but she brushes it off. One day at Kelly's (they are definitely growing closer even shared a kiss) he "accidentally" reads a text message (because he got suspicious days ago because her mobile is constantly getting messages) from her stalker, but Kelly assumes that she's seeing another man. He confronts her and says some nasty things totally in shock she can't defend herself and he kicks her out. Super dizzy she because of the stress and her alleviated heart rate she stumbles in her apartment, nearly in panic that she lost Kelly. The next day Herman worries that she's more than one hour late, because she wanted to help him at Molly's with the books. He calls Kelly and Kelly, even brooding and full of anger he checks on her. She doesn't opens the door and worried sick he uses his spare keys (he finds her on her bathroom floor on the brink of unconsciousness. She was there the whole night throwing up. With a racing heart and struggling with breathlessness he brings her in his apartment, calling Will in panic....)

Will she reveal her secret, are they come clean with theit feelings for each other? Incoming happy end 🙏🥺

Sorry for this long shit. Couldn't hold my horses. HOPEFULLY it's a content you would like to write about. I'm a sucker for sick fics and protective Kelly with angst, drama and fluff.

Well, send you my best wishes ❤️

Kelly Severide- I’m Here To Stay Pt1

Sorry this took so long for me to write but I hope you enjoyed this one as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Kelly Severide gets ready to leave the firehouse  after a long day at work

"Spoken to the new neighbour yet?" Capp smiles wiggling his eyebrows throwing his bag over his shoulder

"Shut up" Kelly crosses his arms

"So that's a no then. Well you never know you might be lucky to tonight"

For the last 2 weeks now Kelly has been giving his new neighbour a small wave and smile, but has yet to introduce himself to her. He finds her rather attractive, but what's weird is normally Kelly has no problem going up to a pretty girl, but YN? YN seems different, there's something about her that makes Kelly loose all of his words. Once his co-workers found this out a week ago, they have done nothing but torture him.

Now YN wasn't unaware of how attractive her neighbour is. He was her type to a tea, but seeing him coming home in his firemen uniform made her shy, to shy to go up and say hi. Not only that but why would she want to bother her new neighbour with her illness? She's already talking to doctors at Chicago med about having a heart valve replacement. Capp was right. That evening Kelly saw YN sat with her head in her hands. He slowly makes his way over to the woman

"Hi, erm are you ok?" YN looks up at Kelly

"Oh erm yeah don't worry. Just had a dizzy spell don't worry"

"Let me help you inside"

"Oh no don't worry I'm fine" YN slowly gets up but starts to sway

"Yeah your not right. Let me help you" giving in YN gives Kelly her keys. He guides her into her house and into the living room and sits her down "let me get you a drink. Where do you keep your glasses?"

"Cupboard above the bread bin, but you really don't need to...." before YN can finish her sentence Kelly has left the room and making his way to the kitchen. He soon returns with a glass full of juice "found some orange squash, thought you could do with a bit of sugar"

"Thank you" YN takes the glass off Kelly

"We've not formally met one another yet. I'm Kelly by the way"

"I'm YN" YN and Kelly shake hands. YN then takes a large gulp of her juice and starts to feel better

"How are you feeling now?" Kelly asks, concern still laced in his voice

"Much better thank you"

That evening the pair spent many hours talking and getting to know one another. A friendship quickly blossomed between the two. After a week Kelly couldn't stop talking about his beautiful, kind and funny neighbour. The rest of the firehouse all knew that his friendship was blossoming into more, even if the pair couldn't yet see it.

YN actually told Kelly about her heart condition fairly early on in their friendship, having this feeling that she can just trust him. Kelly of course has to make sure his new friend is ok, he will text her everyday asking how she is, and now YN will message Kelly by her own accord if she's struggling that day.

Kelly sits at the table with a plate full of food in front of him when he gets a text off YN letting him know she isn't feeling very well today. Kelly sighs putting his sandwich down

"What's up with your face?" Leslie asks sitting opposite Kelly

"Just YN isn't feeling very well today"

"You care a lot about her don't you?"

"We're friends"

"Hmm keep telling yourself that Severide. You care like how a boyfriend would care. Why don't you go and pick her up. Bring her here for the day. That way you can stop worrying about her"

"You think Chief would allow that?" Kelly raises a brow at his best friend who shrugs

"Go ask him" and so Kelly does just that.

At first Boden laughs thinking Kelly was joking, but once he realises how serious he's being, Boden can't do anything but say yes letting YN spend the day at the firehouse, especially after Kelly told him that YN has a heart condition.

That day was spent with YN in Kelly's office, catching up on last nights sleep and Kelly looking after her. Over time YN got closer to Kelly telling him everything about her. About her ex who was to clingy (like obsessive) and how she's trying to stay hidden from him. Of course Kelly took this as his role to keep her safe and look after her.

[iriel3000]

Hurry, She Needs You

Summary: Natasha becomes ill from what they think is food poisoning. Tony and Bruce try to care for her until Clint arrives home from a deep cover mission. Part 1 of 6

Whumptober Day 1: Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Natasha whump, light whump, eventual happy ending

“OK, I made my speech. I'm ready to leave." Tony Stark loosened his silk, Ferragamo tie and unbuttoned the top of his white dress shirt.

"Photo op with the Board of Directors and then we can go." His sultry companion tossed her long red hair over her shoulder, surveying the room.

New York’s finest came out for the city’s annual Public Works Charity Auction. Natasha had agreed to accompany Tony while Pepper was at the Clean Energy Conference in Chicago.

"Really?" He asked, eyes lighting up. "Pepper always makes me stay and schmoose."

"Do you want me to act like your wife tonight?" Natasha arched an eyebrow and toyed with her empty rocks glass.

"That's a loaded question, Agent Romanov." He smirked and signaled for another drink.

“If anything,” Tony lowered his voice, “I need you to use your skills on Aldrich Killian. There are whispers he’s experimenting with biologicals and I want to know what he’s up to.”

“Maybe the next party. I’m tasked to only one crazy billionaire tonight.”

"Aren't I the lucky one?” Stark raked his eyes over her elegant figure.

Natasha wore a simple yet sexy little black dress with a diamond necklace, earrings and a plain black band on her right ring finger. He joked that the ring had a hidden needle full of poison inside.

“Aldrich couldn’t handle you in that dress tonight, anyway.” That got a smirk out of her. “Speaking of simps, where’s Barton?”

Her face softened, becoming almost wistful.

“Too far.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark.” A waiter interrupted and held out a short glass with clear liquid, another sat on a small tray. “Compliments of Mr. Killian.”

Tony looked across the room at Aldrich then turned away from his top competitor and rolled his eyes.

Natasha accepted both, thanked the young man and downed the first drink in one gulp. She held up the second and toasted to Killian in thanks.

“He doesn’t look pleased that I drank his expensive liquor.”

“I'm sure he wanted to see me choke on it.”

“Bitter finish,” she scrunched her nose, “I did you a favor.”

The host of the evening announced a silent auction would begin in ten minutes.

“Romanov, get us out of here.”

“Follow me.” Natasha stood but quickly put a hand to her forehead.

“You okay?” Tony jumped to her side when she swooned and grabbed for the edge of the table.

Tony laced his arm through hers. She giggled.

“Wait. Are you drunk?”

"No.” Natasha yanked her arm free, wobbling a little as she did so.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" He’d seen Natasha drink way more than tonight but never slur or stumble.

"Funny. Do you want to leave? Or do you want me to announce that the after party is at your house?” She turned towards the podium.

“No, no.” He stopped her. “No more jokes. Get us out of here.”

On the ride home, Natasha was quiet. Tony kept from commenting on the fine sheen of sweat glistening over her face and neck or how she kept her eyes closed, making little noises with every turn of the car.

He had his own private entrance to his penthouse but offered to ride up with Nat.

“I’m fine.” She clipped and fumbled into the elevator.

Tony hovered until the number to her floor stopped and started back down. The doors opened.

The empty compartment should have made him feel better, but it didn't.

Stark wandered down to his basement lab and poured a scotch, contemplating on how to check on his favorite bodyguard without her knowing he was checking on her.

Hey. he texted. Does William Tell know we went on a date?

Waiting for a reply, Tony flipped on the news and opened his new software system, an advanced A. I. program he’d been working on for the Tower.

Glancing at his phone, he frowned. No response yet. He tried again.

Breakfast in the morning? Happy wants to go over the new security install with you.

His knee bounced impatiently waiting for a response.

At the five minute mark, Tony called for Jarvis.

“Jarvis, security override, Stark616. What is the status of Agent Romanov?”

“Agent Romanov’s heart rate and blood pressure are abnormal. Vitals indicate she is unconscious, sir.”

Tony raced to the elevator.

“Agent Romanov is in Agent Barton’s quarters, the master bathroom.”

Tony would’ve enjoyed that little piece of information any other time, right now, he needed to know Nat was okay.

Rushing through Clint’s apartment, Tony burst into the bathroom.

“Oh my God, Natasha.” She was unconscious on the floor. “Nat, wake up! Jarvis, call Bruce!”

tbc...entire story will be posted below after part 6

Hurry, She Needs You

[mollyrocker]

Seeing your warriors x mlp au makes me wonder... if normal cats are non Clan cats (kittypets, loners, rogues, etc) and clan cats may be the equivalent to earth ponies/pegasus/unicorns... what happens with Rusty/Firepaw or just any non Clan cat who joins a Clan? Do they stay the same? :0

Same thing about other groups like The Sisters for example!

Ok so i saw this few days ago and now ill answer

So for a while, Rusty/Firepaw is a regular cat and is one of the rare cases where this magical cat race takes in a regular, they don't make themselves very seen or known which is why it's rare and Firepaw ended up getting lots of backlash, not because hes only a housepet-- but because he had no wings nor magic.. he was just a cat getting involved with their society.

After proving to get his cutiemark and earning his name, the respect from his clanmates began to grow and eventually after Bluestar dies from wendigo attacks or wtv, Fireheart suddenly gets the overwhelming power of BOTH wings and a horn thrusted into him during his ceremony.

Firestar happened to be a lucky noodle the first time, because he is the only regular cat that goes from being regular to an Alicorn,,, any other cat that joins is kept in the camp for a majority since i.. dont think it'll be safe for just a regular cat.

Maybe it becomes more survivable for regular cats after the 4 clans moved into new territories, maybe Firestar helped with finding a more sustainable place for the magic cats, winged cats and normal cats.

[disappointing-my-kid]

Im sorry I think I heard someone say angel Luigi? Like oddly born with wings? Learns to hid them? Magic? Maybe some sort of creature that latched on to baby Mario’s cries as a child? Shifted to match him but has the wings? Maximum Ride vibes? Hmmmmm. Trigun vibes? Maybe a lil bit of both!

Ok hear me out. But I warn you this isnt my typical post. Im tired and cold so it’s a mess but maybe ill clean it up later. Who knows.

Mario’s family was super freaked out at first but accepted it cause of how much it helped Mario. Like maybe he was sickly as a baby but this odd creature who looks like him is helping. Doctors told him he was gonna die. Now it’s a miracle. So they just raise Luigi too. Well guarded family secret. Maybe thats why Mario is so protective of his brother. Their mother believes Luigi an angel sent to save her lil baby boy. Their father thinks him a demon who will one day eat their little boy. Why else would it be helping if not for it’s next meal he claims. Luigi has no idea why he was sent here. Never a good enough reason for their father. Maybe their mother and Mario are the only two who really accept Luigi, rest of family share the fathers pov.

Idk how to tie this into bowuigi but just let me think of the middle part for now think of the end game!

Bowser finds an injured winged Luigi. Slap that man in a bird cage. Oops thats Luigi’s biggest fear. (Did you papa traumatise you Luigi or was it just me) anyway mans having a horrible time at all the bird puns. Yoikes hes heard those before get creative Bowser smh. Oops did he say that outloud? Well now Bowser is pissed. Someone is lucky their so pretty up in that cage. Oops did he say that outloud? Well now Luigi is blushing. GET THIS MAN SOME SKIPPY CLOTHING AND A GOLDEN CAGE NOW! Well now Luigi is mortified and horrified. Hes just a decoration now. Or a pet! Awww maybe they can give him a little collar. Oh how humiliating. Whats he got left now? Probably no more tears at this point. Hey Bowsers new pet doesn’t look so good. Oops someone stopped eating. Maybe actually be nice idk man you killing Luigi from the inside. Look at those soulless eyes. You did that Bowser you happy?

Cut to Bowser trying to bring some life back to Luigi. Awww hes making sure hes ok. Getting him food. An actual bed? A room? Who said the beast doesn’t have a heart? This is how Luigi remembers the story. Though he doesn’t understand why Bowser had a change. Of course Bowser saw the soulless eyes of someone begging for death and realised he done fucked up. Of course he never thought he would have greenie over this long anyway. Wheres that red pain in his side. It’s been ages? (Oops Mario is injured and thats why Luigi had his wings out. From protecting his brother. Maybe ill put Mario in a coma for sillies)

Anyway ever so slowly Luigi gets some pep back in his step. Though hes clearly more reserved. The kids (yes plural) helped. But Bowser can see the longing in Luigi’s eyes. The way the man just looks to the sky like an old friend. They had just started really getting along too. But if you love something set it free right? So he does. And Luigi doesn’t even hesitate. The moment he is uncollared (yea baby thats last to go lmao) and outside. The moment Bowser tells him to go he just takes off. As fast has those beautiful wings can take him. Can I get an F in the chat for Bowser and his broken heart.

Luigi is frantic to see how his brother is. Consumed with worry almost his whole stay in Bowsers castle. He could feel their link, their bond, and knew his brother needed him. Of course once he reaches Mario and grasps his hand Mario wakes up. Awww brotherly love (and nothing else ya goobers) is a magical sight. Literally Luigi is glowing and has wings. Neat says princess Peach.

Maybe once he is sure his brother is oi he can feel love sick about Bowser. And misses the kids. Now it’s Mario’s turn to see the longing look in Luigi’s eyes. Mario’s turn ti tell Luigi it’s ok to just go. Though he better tell his brother whats going on when he gets back. But maybe since im such a kind god ill make it painful for Luigi to show his wings. Like painful when they sprout. So he just walks to Bowsers castle. Who is probably smad. Lmao hes sad and mad. Though word filtered in of Mario being in a coma and he figured thats why Luigi needed to go. Anyway hes probably relieved to see Luigi back. So relieved he can feel mad about not even getting a goodbye. Oopsies. But they will make it. Im sure of it.

Ok I know this post is a mess but man I had to get this idea out of my head. I wanna draw it. And I just might.

[tunashei]

First Impressions of Animorphs!

I'm listening to the Animorphs series while I work, through Animorphs Aloud - a fan made reading of the series. Here are my first impressions/random thoughts about them! Spoilers below if you haven't read them.

Book 12: The Reaction

Been a while since I've done one of these right? I confess, this one I forgot about in my drafts folder. Opps. And the next one.

So in this book we're going to have some hetero romance! Prepare for me to not be able to relate to any of this. How cute can a guy be, really?

Rachel has faster reactions than a crocodile! Impressive. I'm sure it being life or death helps though. I think a small crocodile is the largest animal I could take in a fight (on land)

Morph a crocodile to protect dumb kid who fell into enclosure :D

Proceed to try and eat the kid yourself D:

Curious as to why she felt sick when acquiring the crocodile, maybe there is a limit on how many morphs you can have? But does Rachel even have the most morphs? I have not been keeping track

The word cute is starting to lose all meaning. Please! A different adjective!

Uh oh uncontrollable morphing. That could get very bad. Already almost crushing your family members, wouldn't be an Animorphs book without a horrifying scenario being presented!

Ha I appreciate Rachel pointing out that avoiding a worse outcome in a bad situation does not exactly make you feel lucky

Was proud that Rachel is actually telling somebody what was wrong but now she wants to hide it from Jake. What are the odds she'll end up doing a mission and morphing out of control? Ah Rachel, I guess it's in character for you

I don't think I have ever gotten room service. Is it good? Should I add that to my bucket list?

Chapman you are an idiot. Or were you thinking 'oh god they've started fursuiting at school'

I guess these books are set quite close together but I do wonder why they don't spend more time just running around acquiring as many animals as possible. Assuming there isn't a limit. That's what I'd do if I could shapeshift, have a whole roster of animals for any occasion. Would mess up the books pacing though to be fair

Ok what if this weird morphing Rachel's going through is literally like the morphing equivalent of an illness? She's just got an alien cold

Me rolling my eyes at this Jeremy Jascon McCole and they they hit me with '<His favorite color is crimson,> Cassie said. <It’s so cool. He didn’t just say “red.” He said “crimson.”> I'm SCREAMING I SAID THE EXACT SAME THING AS A KID TO LOOK COOLER

I LOVE seeing new Visser morphs. Spear throwing fish is awesome, and plausible! Although not sure how the spears go from being on it's back to in it's mouth

Huh I sort of guessed right? The morphing problem is an allergy, that's kind of like an illness. Now she has to vomit an entire crocodile. Infinite crocodile glitch

Cassie is going to morph Rachel. Very interesting! I did wonder if they'd explore this side of morphing when we saw Ax morph a human, and also Jake at one point, but thought maybe it'd stay exclusive to him. I hope they might continue to use this ability, there's so much you could do with it

What's with a bunch of these predator animals going into instant hunting I-must-eat mode the second they're morphed? You'd think they'd want to take stock of their surroundings first. Especially if they're confused in a new environment, the first instinct is safety, not food

This crocodile escaping from her skin is gnarly

MARCO WAS THAT ATTEMPTED MURDER

Well that was a very chaotical ending. (Is that a word? It should be). Pretty enjoyable, and actually got a lot of laughs out of me!

[crows-home]

Do you sometimes wonder if Maria had oldest daughter síndrome ™ and what was going through her head while they were haunting down his little baby brother who she never was able to protect and knows how poorly he is treated by everyone else but her ?

hooooo boy ok. i have so many thoughts about Maria Robotnik anon. You're lucky i have free time right now to ramble.

THIS ENDED UP SO MUCH LONGER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD SORRY LMAOOOO

Maria is somewhat of a blank slate, no? at least, she was in the beginning. Her main purpose was "tragic backstory." and there's something to be said about girls/women in media and their only roles being support for the male characters and their arcs. but those are big conversations that other people are more verbose in digging into. also i'm sleepy.

Maria, to me, has always been a blank slate. If not, she's always been the "perfect, proper, glass child." Poor Maria, so soft-spoken, so kind, but sick. She died sacrificing herself, don't you feel bad for her?

i don't think Maria has eldest daughter syndrome. It's something adjacent, though. It's a suppression of emotions, especially negative ones, that can be seen as eldest daughter syndrome. It's the expectations that have been put on her, by herself, to be kind, be courteous, be good.

Because Maria has a terminal illness, perhaps since she was born. The people in her life care about her so much, her grandfather takes her to space because it lessens her condition, there is a massive project going on to save her life!!

Maria doesn't get to be sad. She doesn't get to be angry. She can't show any of these emotions, can't scream and cry about how unfair all this is, can't speak out against people talking like they've already lost her when she's right fucking here. She can't be "difficult". Because her family has given so much to her, for her. They're so sad when they look at her, she can tell. So, I think, Maria puts this pressure on herself. To smile and be happy and positive, so as to not worry or bother anyone.

Children do that, when they perceive themselves to be a burden. It doesn't matter if they're explicitly told that or not. Maybe the adults in their life tell them "God, taking care of you is so expensive. Do you know how much better things would be if you weren't here?" Or maybe their family is loving, but at the end of the day, they see their parents struggling to pay bills, struggling to put food on the table, and wonder "Is it because of me? Am I weighing them down?"

So they become what I like to call "low-maintenance." Never taking more than is needed, because they're hyper aware of the resources they're taking. They make sure to stay happy and agreeable, because they don't want to cause trouble or bother anyone.

In my head, this is where Maria was at. She was happy, sure! No doubt, she loved her family and her grandfather and she loved Earth so much, so desperately did she want to be a part of it.

But she could never talk about the ugly bits. About her anger and frustration and even the depressing thoughts.

I think she started to with Shadow.

Here's her little brother, this little guy that was born from a test tube to be her cure, but has a soul all his own. Who she could talk to about these tough things.

"I sometimes wonder why I was created," Shadow might say.

And Maria, her soul aching, understands.

They come to their own conclusions, on the ARK, about who they are. Shadow is treated like an experiment, a pet, a thing, rarely ever with respect. By most, except for Maria. Maria looks at Shadow and sees family.

With Shadow, she can be moody. She can be snappy. Shadow can be silly and as unserious as he wants without constantly being under the proverbial magnifying glass. They are siblings, that's what they do!!! They don't have to put up this front like they do in front of other people. They don't have to be perfect when they're around each other.

"I feel guilty," Maria might say. Her voice might quiver and shake, like she's admitting something damning. "For existing, sometimes."

Shadow, absolutely floored by the admission that his sister is not always happiness and sunshine, understands.

I love headcanons and aus where Maria is allowed to be just a Weird Little Girl or really get into what she might have been into (goth, macabre, art, etc.) It gives her depth. It gives her life.

So I imagine all this, all the ways this young girl kept herself amicable and calm and pleasant, because she's so afraid of being anything but. Then I imagine all of it coming away when she's with her brother.

Then I imagine her running down the hall, grabbing his hand as the alarms blare. She is filled with love and hope for a world that she was never sure she would get to see. But by God, Shadow will see it. I imagine that there was always the possibility of death looming over her life, and the bullet just sealed it. I imagine the guilt that she feels when she pushes the button that sends him down. I imagine the fear and sadness she feels at the thought of him being alone, ultimately knowing there's nothing she can do. But hoping it was enough.

[pumpkinsy0]

Headconnos about

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The gang + the Shepards & Buck in a snowball fight!

Darry would make hot chocolate for everyone "since he is the mature one"

Tim and Dally would use ice instead of snow on eachother lol

Johnny,pony and curly would probably build a snowman or snow angels

Buck would probably join in on Dally and Tim (or maybe stop them/why not both lol)

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That's really what I can think of...if you have more that's perfect! I would love to see what you come up with I love your headconnons!

Its fine if you don't like the ideas I put down, I just thought they would be funny :D 🍀

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TAKE YOUR TIME, THANK YOU! 🌸

MY BAD IM ANSWERING THIS LATE I KEPT FORGETTING TO BUT YEA HCS OK LETS GO

•lets just say that this winter in tulsa it snowed a lot bc of like idk global warming or somethin, it rlly doesnt snow THAT much in tulsa from what i remember

•darry and angela r inside bc they absolutely hate the cold

•tbh it probably started off so innoccent like pony and johnny were just throwing snow at each other, curly saw and chucked snow at pony, pony through snow back but curly ducked and it missed and hit steve and it absolutely snowballed from there

•theres entire teams being built of this shit, whos on whos team is up to u its rlly not THAT important, all u need to know is that its getting absolutely insane out there, theres forts built, man even the snowballs r getting a bit much bc y did a snowball get thrown at curly and it had pebbles inside

•that shit stung like it had splash damage ill tell u that much, so despite much of curlys protest, pony, curly, and johnny just quietly snuck off to do whatever

•they did build a snowman but it took a while bc curly was just trying to make the biggest snowball for the bottom section and that was a whole issue in and of itself

•and boy oh boy were they lucky they left when they did bc while they were doing that tim said “did u know that 15 americans die every year from icicle related incidents” and just smacked dally in the head w an icicle

•after that they were just wrestling in the snow, buck pulled up bc he had to give tim something, saw them n just,,,stared

•soda, two bit, and steve were right there w him and asked if they should do something and buck just went “nonono let them have this”

•meanwhile angela and darry were inside making hot chocolate bc it is getting somehow even colder, darry was just actually making it meanwhile angela was decorating them bc shes just a festive gyal

•day ended w everyone damn near getting frostbite and or hypothermia but hey they got hot chocolate and theyre doin a ok rn🤞🏽🤞🏽

[reigenismyhusband]

Sorry it took me so long to get back to you with an ask for this, but 3, 7 and 8 for the s/i ask game

-@woof-ships

https://www.tumblr.com/huntinglove/750959724458065920?source=share

(In case you need the link btw, i know its been a couple days)

it is totally fine!!! stuff happens no worriess !! :DD thank you!!! ask game is here !! and as a treat bc i already answered all these for ace (three, three and seven, eight) i decided to answer these for my stardew farmer s/i!! i havent posted anything about them yet but shane is on my mind today....i hope thats ok!!!!

for a small intro on them...tbh theyre just a stardew farmer thats Me lol i think i named them kiwi, they/them! i havent thought about them in a while but i love shane sm <3333 they are kissssiiiiiing 3 – Have you ever imagined any episodes or segments of your F/O’s source starring your S/I? If so, what did they get up to?

oooo yes! this is a bit tricky with stardew but i like to think about kiwi completeing the community center and helping shane after he loses his job!! i think itd send him into a spiral, and i like to think kiwi is there to help him out!!! 7 – Within canon, is your S/I considered a hero, villain, anti-hero or a regular citizen? How does this affect their day to day life and their relationship with your F/O?

the town definitely sees them as a mix of a hero/just some guy! they definitely helped save the town by driving out jojamart, but they are also the weirdo that digs in the trash and comes up to them just to shove their favorite gift in their face haha. shane sees them as the person who helped pull him out of the worst depressive spiral in his life - so in his eyes, theyre the biggest hero of them all. shane also loves kiwis weird habits like waking up at 6 am and coming home beat up from the mines (even if hes concerned and tries to get them to be more careful)

8 – How lucky is your S/I? Are they always finding themselves in complicated situations or danger? Or do they magically get themselves out of anything scot-free?

Oh Boy. as with the canon of stardew, this varies greatly day to day! sometimes kiwi is super lucky and other times they find themselves in the mines facing down hoardes of enemies and getting beat up lol. they always seem to make out okay in the end - even getting super injured and ending up at the doctors, they always end up okay the next day. they bounce back quick!

thank you so much for the ask!!!! sorry its about kiwi but i hope thats okay! maybe ill make a dedicated tag and post for them lol. rn mob psycho is too much in my brain haha