#no but seriously why after two years do i finally have the urge to be creative 😭

[whatever-lmaoo]

Again I somehow had the urge to write something and I can’t lie I’m kind of excited!! I’ve never written anything suggestive before so I’m kinda nervous but I think it’s comin out decent 😍 it’s 4 in the morning so imma have to take a pause but hopefully I finish it by tonight at the latest😎

[evansbby]

𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: stepdad!Ari Levinson x bratty!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: STEPCEST, daddy kink, dark!Ari, non-con, dub-con, age gap (reader is in college, Ari is in his forties), extremely fucked up Ari, delusional!Ari, spanking, ROUGH spanking, ass eating, ass fingering, he is literally very obsessed with her ass, swearing, misogyny, spitting, manhandling, dirty talk, condescending dirty talk, Ari also babies her A LOT, 18+, minors dni.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You stay out past curfew and your stepdad punishes you.

𝐀/𝐍: Final warning that this is extremely fucked up. Dead dove don't eat and all that. You've been warned. Enjoy.

“Where were you last night?”

Ari’s voice is loud, carrying across his study out into the hallway where you stop with a start. His door is slightly ajar, and you can see him through the crack. Sat behind his desk, his usual half-empty glass of scotch in hand.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, “Out?”

“Out where?”

“I don’t need to tell you that.”

You didn’t. It’s not like Ari was your dad, although he very much tried to act like he was. He was your stepfather; your mother had married him last year. And in that time, Ari had made it clear that he was always going to be in charge. And you wouldn’t have cared if he bossed your mother around, but it was you who his attention fell on most of the time.

You were in college, and it was close enough that you were able to stay at home and commute. Well, stay at Ari’s home, since that’s where your mother had moved the two of you. And you should have realised back then – a man as powerful as Ari Levinson would only ever play by his own rules, and make sure you did too.

“You have an eleven ‘o’ clock curfew. I didn’t see you tucked in at eleven ‘o’ clock. In fact, you weren’t home well past midnight.” He takes a sip of his scotch, looking ever the ruggedly handsome man that every single woman you knew went crazy over. Seriously. Your mom, her friends, your friends. It’s like you were the only one who saw through his act. There was just something about him…

This time you do roll your eyes, “Well firstly, I don’t need to be tucked in like I’m some little schoolgirl. And second, I’m allowed to stay out as long as I like. Mom never had a problem with that, she trusts me.”

Ari’s deep blue eyes regard your carefully, and he sets his glass down before using his finger to beckon you closer. “Come here.”

“What? No, I have to go.”

“You don’t have to go anywhere without my permission, sweetheart. Now I won’t repeat myself.”

There was an edge to his tone, one you knew all too well. Ari Levinson was a dangerous man, but then again weren’t all businessmen dangerous? It’s not like he’d played nice all his life to become the millionaire he was now. But he never shared his work with you or your mom. No, Ari was very rigid in his rules. Work was for the men, and women were to look after the home and mind their business.

He had other rules too. A curfew for you, no swearing, no wearing revealing clothes – and that was just scraping the surface. You’d complained to your mother countless times: “He’s not my father, he can’t make me do any of this!” But your mother was blindly in love with Ari, and wouldn’t listen to a single negative thing about him. “We live under his roof, sweetheart. He pays for everything and we should be so grateful. The least you could do is follow his rules, he only wants what’s best for you!” It was a shame he didn’t love your mother back. You couldn’t imagine a powerful man like Ari Levinson loving anything.

You swallow and step into his office, clutching your coat tighter around your body. It was best not to waste time arguing with him, and the sooner he said whatever he had to say, the sooner you could leave. You had another party to go to tonight, and no one – not even Ari Levinson – was going to stop you.

“Close the door behind you.” Ari orders, leaning back on his leather chair and undoing the top button of his shirt.

“Why?”

“Close it.”

You do. There’s something about the way Ari speaks, the way his tone is so commanding without him even trying to make it seem that way. It compels you to listen, and so you stand there in his office, in front of his desk while he just looks at you. His eyes leisurely trailing up and down your body, so dark as he sips his scotch again.

“Look, Ari, I’m going out whether you like it or not, and–”

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

You almost sneer, “I’m not going to call you Dad.”

“Of course not. You’re too spoilt to address your elders with a bit of respect.” He leans forward, his eyes never leaving yours as he sets his scotch down and runs his hand through his unruly brown hair. It’s all glossy and rich, curling at the ends like he’s some kind of romantic movie hero. It was crazy how good looking he was, how charming he looked for someone who was so strict and stuck in his ways.

“You’re literally not my father.” You say, shifting from one heeled foot to the other. You’d had this argument with him almost daily for the past year.

“Oh yeah? Who else lets you live under their roof? Buys you whatever you want and gives you a monthly allowance on top of that?”

You sniff, “Never asked for any of that.”

A smile touches his rosy lips, but it’s a wolfish one. A predatory one. “And yet you have no problem spending my money, do you? On stupid, mindless things like that sorry excuse for a dress you’ve got on under that coat.”

You bite your lip, holding your coat tighter around your body. It was long, but the dress underneath was short. Sinfully short, skintight, red lace. What else were you supposed to wear to the club? Not that Ari had to know that that’s where you were going tonight – one of his rules was no clubs. But how did he know about your dress?

Ari chuckles, “I know all about your slutty little get up, sweetheart. Isn’t that why you had your bedroom door open earlier while you were changing into it?”

Your jaw drops, “You pervert, you–”

“Enough.” He raises his hand to silence you, and you hate that it works. Your heart’s drumming in your chest and you despise how much of an effect your stepfather has on you. How much he intimidates you, how much he scares you despite how hard you try to prove otherwise. “Come here.”

You swallow harshly, “I am here.”

“No. Come over here. Closer to daddy.”

You blanche. That was the thing about Ari. He didn’t even want you to call him Dad. No, he wanted you to call him daddy – like you were some stupid, helpless little girl.

Sometimes, he’d brush past you around the house, make sure to squeeze your hip or rest his hand on your back despite the fact that the hallways were big enough for about ten people. How he’d grab something for you from the top shelf, making sure to touch you in some way as he did it. And he’d whisper – sometimes even with your mother in the same room – “Daddy’s got it, sweetheart,” or, “let daddy help you, honey,” or “how’s daddy’s best girl today?”

And it horrified you that disgust wasn’t the only thing you felt when he said those things.

“I’m fine right where I am.” You hold your ground, trying not to shake or teeter in your sky-high heels. Your bare legs suddenly feel cold, your palms clammy.

Ari blinks, “come here or I’ll get up and drag you here myself. And we both know you don’t want that.”

You mull it over. Ari was a huge man. And huge was an understatement. You didn’t think men could be so big and imposing until you’d met him. He towered over everyone you knew, and he completely dwarfed you. Hell, even in your heels you’d be half the size of him. And he was also absolutely ripped. Shredded like he went to the gym regularly, and you knew he did because he had a gym at home, and he’d often walk around shirtless after a workout. All sweaty and tanned and glistening, and–

“I’m waiting.” His voice is clear and powerful, carrying across the study, ringing in your ears. You think over your limited options, wondering if you could possibly just make a break for it.

You’d tried running away from him only once before. During the early hours of the morning, when Ari had come to pick you up after a house party gone a bit too wild. You were still drunk, high, happy. And then he’d pulled up in his expensive car, a grim look on his face. You’d giggled and ran, but it only took him a few strides to catch up with you. He’d hoisted you over his shoulder like you were a sack of potatoes, like you weighed no more than a feather. And he’d thrown you in the back of his car and forbade you from ever going out again. Told you that if you did, he’d track you down and ground you for life. That there was no point in running, no point in hiding because he’d always track you down. Because he was your daddy and you were his little girl and he owned you.

That was when you’d realised just how insane Ari Levinson was. Insane with money and power and capable of anything with the world at his feet.

Heart beating madly in your ribcage, you take a deep breath and slowly walk over to him. Around his desk and right up in front of him. He turns his chair slightly, looking up at you from under those impossibly long lashes of his, his eyes flashing darkly as he takes you in. He grabs your hip and yanks you closer, and you stumble, almost falling on top of him before his strong arm steadies you, and you end up standing between his legs.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and you feel a strange sensation at the compliment. Almost like a spark within you that you try your best to ignore. His hand is still on your hip, rubbing up and down through the mink of your coat. “Where’s your mommy tonight?”

“Asleep.”

“So you were going to sneak out.”

“It’s hardly sneaking out when you’re an adult in college who doesn’t need permission to go out and see her friends.” You can’t help but quip, although your attention is on his hand as it continues to rub your hip. Why was he doing that?

He acts like he hasn’t heard you, his eyes continuing to drink you in as he strokes your hip, “It’s not good to give your mommy and daddy so much grief, sweetheart. You should stay at home like a good little girl.”

Grief?! As if. You don’t think a man like Ari could ever feel anything as raw and humane as grief. Especially over something as normal as you, a college-aged woman, living her life.

You shrug, trying to act as casual as possible, “I like going out.”

“Mm,” in a flash, he yanks your coat off your body, the slinky fur sliding down till it falls by your feet. The action is so sudden, and yet Ari remains nonchalant, “You like dressing up like a slut too.”

“This is what all the girls are wearing.”

“But you’re my girl.” He toys with the lacy hem of your dress, a frown touching his handsome face at how short it is. Hell, the dress hardly covers your butt, and you’d class it more as lingerie than a going out dress, but that was none of his business. “I can’t have you going out like this, baby. Nobody’s allowed to see you like this.”

“What if they already have?”

The slap comes out of nowhere, sharp, unforgiving and loud, and your ass blooms with pain. You cry out, unable to believe he’s just spanked you.

“If you were stupid enough to give yourself to one of those idiot college boys you hang out with, trust me, I would know.” Ari says quietly. And it’s not a sneer, nor is there any contempt in his tone. Just cold, hard, nonchalance – which chills you down to the bone.

“Y-You’re crazy,” oh, but you hate the way your voice shakes as you say it!

“I’m just looking out for you, baby girl. That’s what daddies are for. Hell, even your mommy wants me to be your daddy.”

“That’s because she doesn’t know–”

“She wants me to be responsible for you, to discipline you, to take care of you how I see fit. How could you go against what your mommy wants?” His hand meanders lower, stroking your hip bone before gliding over your bare thigh, and then up again but this time under your dress. He cups your ass, and you can’t believe he’s got the balls to do it so casually. And it’s bare, because your lacy little G-string wasn’t covering anything, and you both knew that.

“Ari, you need to stop,” you swallow thickly, “y-you’re going too far this time, you–”

He yanks you into his lap, his motions so precise that you end up perched on his knee before you even know what’s happening. Your dress rides up, exposing your upper thighs and that’s exactly where his eyes zero in. Those intense, navy blue eyes that flash as his tongue swipes over his lips. And that’s when you feel it. Hard. Underneath you.

“This is where you belong,” he says softly. But not in a sweet way. Each word drips with menace. Quiet menace and a hanging threat. “On your daddy’s lap like a good little girl. God, baby girl, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hold you in my lap like this.” He bounces you up and down, watching as your breasts bounce in your tight red dress. “Every day I see you skipping around wearing next to nothing, and that fucking body…” He pauses, inhaling deeply as his arm secures around you even tighter, “…that peachy little ass on full display when you’d go out in your slutty little outfits no matter how much I forbade you from wearing them.”

“M-Mom’s upstairs,” you warn him, pressing your hands against his chest in a bid to get away from him except he’s too strong as he holds you rigidly in place. You can hardly believe what’s coming out of his mouth right now, but you don’t want to stick around to find out more, despite the fact that your thighs seem to be pressing together off their own accord. “Mom’s upstairs and she could come down any second, and–”

“She wants us to be together,” Ari smiles, and again it’s that wicked, menacing smile of his that’s more of a smirk than a smile. “She wants me to be your daddy, to take care of you. She knows how out of hand you’re getting; she knows you need a man like me to put you back in your place.”

“What?!”

“Mm, baby girl. And I let you act like a whore long enough. I was lenient, you see. I was enamoured by you, and so I let you do what you wanted. But now it’s time to put my foot down before you get too out of hand.”

“You’re insane!” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Firstly, lenient?! In what universe was Ari ever lenient with you? He’d always been strict and up your ass about his dumb rules and traditional values. No going out, no drinking, no smoking, no hanging out with boys, no wearing revealing clothes. If that was him being lenient, then you didn’t want to know what he was capable of now.

“There you go again, talking back to me. It’s clear your mommy didn’t teach you any manners.” Ari fingers the lacy strap of your dress, pushing it down your shoulder and inhaling the perfumed bare skin he’s exposed. You’d lathered yourself in fragranced lotion, one that left glitter all over your body, and it reflects in his eyes as they continue raking over you, looking everywhere as if it’s his right to.

And he’d never gone this far before! Sure, he’d brush against you and hold you and whisper things to you, but he’d always teetered along that line, never crossed it. Now he seemed close to it, hell-bent on doing it. There’s a fire in his eyes that you don’t recognise, a lust that burns so bright it makes you look away lest you catch it and start feeling it too.

“And you know exactly what you’re doing to your daddy,” he continues, brushing your hair off your shoulder to expose the nape of your neck, and his huge hand grabs your throat lightly, almost casually. “You left your door open tonight so I could watch you slip on this slutty lingerie you call a dress. And that fucking peachy baby ass of yours, in those tiny, slutty panties…” Again, he inhales sharply, and you feel him shift subtly underneath you, his boner digging into you from below.

You try to ignore the lump in your throat and the beginnings of a fire in the depths of your stomach. “Nobody asked you to look, Ari. You’re a fucking creep and I’m gonna tell Mom you were spying on me.”

He smiles again, like your threat means nothing to him. And why would it? You’re half his age and at his mercy, the clothes on your body bought with his money, as is the makeup on your face. The furniture in your room, all your college textbooks… Hell, he paid your college fees. You were bound to him. He knew he owned you.

“You just earned yourself five extra smacks, baby girl.”

“Five extra what?”

“And you wanted me to look, sweetheart. You always want me to look,” Ari licks his lips, that predatory glint in his eye increasing tenfold. And he casually tweaks your nipple which is poking stiffly out from under the thin lace of your dress. You convulse, and he grins wolfishly, “That’s why you act like an attention-seeking whore, wear slutty clothes and prance around like you own the place. You’re crying out to be put back in your place, you need it.”

“All I need is for you to back off.” You stick your chin up, trying to be brave. But the older man only looks amused, and he strokes your hard nipple with just his thumb, the action sending sparks down to your core that you try your best to ignore.

“God, you’re fucking adorable,” he almost groans it, and his other hand tightens on your hip, grinding you down on his erection while you sit there frozen, “I can’t wait to fuck you in mine and mommy’s bed…”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” His salacious words act like a bucket of icy cold water, shocking you out of your trance. God, he was truly insane! You try to jump off of him, but his grip tightens around your stomach, pinning you down on him as you struggle.

“She won’t mind,” he whispers, licking the shell of your ear and sending electric currents down your body, “she wants us to bond, sweetheart. And I can’t think of a better daddy and baby girl bonding activity–”

“YOU’RE SICK!”

It’s when you really start struggling, when you bat and punch at his chest that he finally frowns. Not that it hurts him, but he doesn’t like the disrespect. That’s when he pushes down on your back, easily manoeuvring your body till he’s got you slung over his knee, your lacy dress riding up and your ass poking up into his face.

“You’re such a brat,” Ari’s lets his hand rest squarely on your ass, stroking it from on top of the red lace. You feel hot all over, heart beating out of your chest as you try to wrap your head around what exactly is happening right now. “But that’s okay, isn’t it sweetheart? One night with your daddy will set you straight. Then you’ll be the good little girl your mommy and I want you to be.”

“Let me go! Don’t you dare touch me, don’t you– OW!”

Ari’s huge hand cracks down on your ass like lightning, and your cry of pain echoes around his study, bouncing off the walls and ricocheting back into your ringing ears. Pain blooms across your backside, tears welling in your eyes – he’d hit you so hard.

“I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you were craving a good spanking,” Ari runs his hand over your ass, stroking the sizzling skin that’s still covered by the flimsy lace of your dress, “that you needed it, and you wanted me to give it to you.” Easily, he pushes the lace up, bunching your dress around your waist. He fingers your G-string, snapping it against your skin and making you cry out again, “You’re such a little slut…”

He rips your panties off, and you hear him inhale sharply, and you know he’s smelling them. And then his hand cracks down on your ass again, and again you cry out in pain because it’s your bare ass and it hurts, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“I watched you stumble into the house last night, well past your curfew,” he speaks so casually, despite his hand raining unforgiving spanks on your ass, “looking like a slutty, drunk little mess, your dress up and that cute bubble butt of yours poking out like you were trying to tease me. God, I wanted to take you over my knee then and there. But I knew you had to be sober for this. It’s the only way you’d learn.”

“Please, stop, it hurts, it–”

“And to think you were going to go out again, break my rules again,” he sneers, giving you a particularly hard smack that has you reeling, the tears streaking down your cheeks. “Stupid little girl, don’t you get it? I give you everything, every material fucking thing in the world you could ask for. And all I ask in return is for you to be a good little girl, a respectful little girl who stays at home and listens to her daddy. Is that so fucking hard?”

All you do is sob, and he yanks your hair, “I said, is that so fucking hard?”

“No!” You cry, wiggling around on his lap in a bid to get away from the unforgiving wrath of his palm, your mind quickly slipping into delirium, to that place where you’ll say anything just to get him to stop. “No, it’s not hard, okay?! PLEASE STOP!”

“No more going out,” smack after smack rains down on your ass, and the skin feels like it’s breaking, like it’s on fire, and he just grows harder, more excited underneath you. “No, baby girl. From now on, you’ll be good, won’t you? You’ll stay at home with me, let me take care of you.”

“Okay, fine! Just stop, just–”

“And daddy’s gonna take such good care of you,” he croons softly, and yet he sounds so fucking evil, “Daddy’s gonna feed you, change you, bathe you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? So much more than your goddamned parties.”

A strangled sound leaves your throat, white hot pain radiating off your poor ass as he manhandles you, spanking you like you’re some goddamned child being chastised. And you were a grown woman! A grown woman with a sick in the head stepfather who was hellbent on inflicting his torturous, fucked up discipline.

“Say it. Say you want daddy to bathe you. Say you’d like that, because you’re too much of a dumb baby to do it yourself,” he orders, sick pleasure in his tone at his own words. And he gives you the hardest slap yet, like a threat of what’s to come if you didn’t answer how he wanted you to.

“Fine, okay?!” Your voice is shrill with fear, “I-I want you to…” your face screws up, hotness prickling your cheeks, “I want you to bathe me, take care of me...”

SMACK.

“Address me properly.”

“I WANT YOU TO BATHE ME, DADDY!” Shame erupts inside you, but so does relief when the spank you’re expecting never comes, and his hand rests on the curve of your ass instead.

“Of course you do, my helpless little girl.” He croons, switching from menacing to faux-sweet with the drop of a hat. “I always knew you needed me. You made it so obvious.”

“C-Can you please just stop now?” You hang your head, the energy depleting from your body, and all you can focus on is the pain in your ass. That, and the way his boner is poking dangerously close to your core. And you feel this strange urge to hump downwards, but you push it away as soon as it flits your mind.

“You have such a pretty ass, baby,” he ignores you, stroking your ass with that large, warm hand of his. “Sure, daddy just did a number on it, but that’s okay. A cute bubble butt like yours was made to be ruined, wasn’t it? Say it. Say it exactly how I just said it.”

You sniffle, ass on fire and thoughts disorientated enough that you obey without a single protest, “My… My cute bubble butt was made to be ruined.”

You expect him to let you go then, to laugh at you for being reduced to a sniffling mess. To taunt you because you and him both know your mother wouldn’t believe you if you told her what had just happened. He was perfect in her eyes, a knight in shining armour and that was all she ever wanted to see him as. Not the devil incarnate who’d spanked your ass raw for coming home later than the curfew he’d set for you.

Instead, you hear him inhale deeply, squeezing and fondling your ass cheeks, groping them to his heart’s desire, jiggling each cheek like it’s a toy made for his pleasure. And you almost lose yourself to the sensation, because why do you feel that need again? That need to grind down on his knee?

But then his hand moves lower, and his hand cups your cunt before you even realise that he’s crossed that line completely. That line a stepfather should never cross.

“Ari, n-no, don’t…” but why does your voice not even convince your own self?

“I’ll do what I please,” he says calmly, as if he’s conversing with you normally over a pot of coffee in the morning, as if he doesn’t have his big, warm hand cupping your bare pussy. “I own you, it’s only right that I show you what pleasure is. I’m sure you’ve never felt it before, not with those boys you hang around. And you took your punishment well, sweetheart. Daddy’s so proud of you, and I’m not all bad, you know.”

Before you can say another word, his strong arms lift you up and manhandle you till you’re bent over his oak desk, your ass poking up and at his mercy yet again as he stands up to his full height behind you. You yelp when he gives your ass another hard slap, as if he can’t help it.

“You’ve made a mess all over my pants, baby girl,” he pulls your hair, making you look back. And that’s when you see the dark wet spot on his pants. Oh no, no, no. That couldn’t have been you, could it?

And yet, yet you can feel that tell-tale wetness now trailing down your thighs. Were you… leaking? Is that how turned on you were right now? Despite the disgust you feel? And the contempt and hatred too?

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Ari puts on that faux-sweet voice again, and yet he still sounds menacing, predatory as he grips your ass cheeks so hard they hurt. “I know baby girls like you can’t help but have an accident every now and then. It’s a good thing daddy’s here to clean you up.”

Before you can even attempt to decipher what’s happening next, he grabs your hips and hoists your ass up even higher. Then he spreads your ass cheeks apart and your eyes almost bug out of your head when you feel his tongue, stiff and wet, like a stripe up your asshole.

“Oh, oh fuck!” You can’t help but moan. No one had ever, ever even touched you up there. Let alone lick you there, and oh god! Oh god, it felt so insane. Your cunt throbs at the feel of his wet tongue up there. Your stepfather was eating your ass.

“Taste so fucking sweet,” he murmurs, fingers pressing into the soft skin of your butt cheeks as he spreads them even further apart. He spits down on your puckered hole, making you tense up in anticipation. “I’ve been dreaming of eating your sexy little ass since the moment I saw you.”

“This is wrong…” and yet your words sound so faint, so far away. What feels close is his tongue, big and flat as he laps at your hole like a starved man. And you don’t know what possesses you but you know you have to start rocking your hips back into his face, and that’s when you feel him smirk against you.

“I knew you’d come around, baby girl. I knew you’d get off on me eating you back here. I bet none of your little boyfriends ever did this for you, huh?”

“N-No, oh-oh gosh, I-I–”

 He cups your cunt again, this time gathering your wetness and bringing it up to your asshole. And fuck, his finger makes you twitch as he rubs your wetness into your puckered hole before lapping it up with his tongue. And the whole time, obscene noises fill up his study, and your mother sleeps soundly upstairs while her husband violates your asshole and both of you are moaning now.

“Fucking sexy baby ass,” Ari mutters, practically tongue-fucking your hole like he hasn’t had a meal in days. And his stiff, wet tongue forces its way into your tight hole and you wail because it feels like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Now you’re grinding back into his face in earnest, and your poor, neglected cunt is dripping juices down on his desk, and–

Ari slaps your ass hard, the sound ringing across the room, and his beard scrapes against your hole, and it feels so sinfully good that you want to cry. How did it get to this? You hate him. You despise him. And yet…

It’s when he forces his thick pointer finger into your poor asshole that you scream in earnest, and all it earns you is another slap to your butt. And this itself makes your pussy clench, like your body is growing accustomed to his rough ways. Like your body is accepting his rough ways, liking his rough ways.

“D-Daddy,” you whimper voluntarily, because your body is betraying you and now so is your voice, “daddy please. Need to, n-need to…”

“Say it.” Ari’s voice drips with power and authority, “Say what you need.”

“Need to – nngh! – need to cum!”

He smirks, ��No one’s stopping you, baby girl. No one’s stopping you from getting off on your stepdaddy eating your tight, sexy ass.”

He pushes you down on his desk, till your stomach is flat against the hard oak. With your ass pinned down against the hard surface, he spreads your cheeks again – as far as they’d go. With renewed vigour, he starts licking up your ass again. And you twitch against his harsh tongue, which probes and licks you like you’re nothing more than his meal. And you gasp and whine and moan like a whore, thrusting back against him, needing to cum, just needing to cum and nothing else.

You squirt hard when he bites down on your ass cheek, bites down on it like a man possessed, like a man hell-bent on marking you as his property. And you’re sure he’s left a mark, you’re sure he’s drawn blood, and he fingers your tight asshole the whole time, milking your orgasm as your untouched cunt convulses and waves of shocking pleasure radiate through your body.

“That’s right, baby girl,” Ari licks at the spot where he’s bit you, sucking at the poor, broken skin to make the bruise even more prominent. “My special little girl, finally giving yourself to daddy. I’m so proud of you, baby. Fuck, so proud of my little girl.”

 You’re half lost in your delirium but you snap out of it when you feel something wet and hot splash on your ass. Spurts of it, coating your sore and bruised ass. His cum. You hadn’t even realised he was jacking off. Your stepdad, jacking off and dropping his load all over your sizzling ass after he’d just spanked you and ate you out back there.

Fuck.

“Next time, I’m finishing inside you,” Ari has the audacity to chuckle, despite the air feeling heavy around you as you come down from your high and collapse on his desk, all energy sapped out of your body.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a pitiful whimper. You feel a bunch of sensations, but you feel another spark of thrill when his finger swipes over your ass. And then he brings it to your lips, his finger coated with his cum that he’s gathered, and presses it into your mouth.

You don’t have the energy to fight him, and so you suck on his finger, like a good little girl you lap up his cum, swallow it while he smiles at you approvingly, and pats your head like you’re his little pet. Ruined and collapsed on his desk, your panties in his pocket and your poor dress hiked high around your waist. Completely at his mercy.

“I’ll run you a bath,” he says, picking you up and gathering you in his arms. You’re limp, too weak to argue. To fucked out to really register what’s just happened. “See, doesn’t it feel good to be taken care of by your daddy? All that partying isn’t good for you. Only daddy knows what’s good for you. But don’t worry. You’ll learn. Soon.”

A/N: THE END! OKAY WHAT DO WE THINK??? AHHHH this Ari is sooo fucked up omfg. But I'm kinda nervous posting this bc I haven't posted a full length fic in a while??? and idk... this just came to me. BUT WHAT DO WE THINK? Please, please do let me know! Feedback/comments/reblogs would mean the world to me! I JUST WANNA KNOW WHAT YALL THINK??? FAV PART??? ANYTHINGSS anyways byeee love u <3

[zh-lele]

12-7 ROOM (part two)

Surviving a week to Donghyuck's charms and jokes can't be so hard... Worst case scenario, you end up completely falling for your brother's best friend.

▪︎Pairing: brother's best friend!Hyuck x fem reader

▪︎Genres: poor attempt at rom com, fluff

▪︎Warnings: alcohol consumption, profanity, suggestive jokes, kissing, and some very light suggestive scenes.

▪︎Word count (part 2): 7721 words

playlist | extra content: mc's IG stories

Author's note: hi everyone :') sorry for being so absent and never posting the final part to 12-7 room. But hey, I finally got the motivation to do it. I've been also writing other things but I don't know when I'll finsih them or post them. Anyways, if you want to take a look, the other things I'm always working on are listed on my wips page. Once again, sorry for taking too long to post this and I hope someone can enjoy it anyway. Thank you so much for the love on part 1! Seriously, thank you. This isn't proof read so tell me if you find any mistakes, please and thank you. Enjoy!

Saturday, 08:37 p.m.

"I feel like we're betraying Mark."

"Why?"

"We're having a sleepover without him," you explain to Donghyuck while you extend your left hand to him, and he places his right hand over your palm, so you can continue painting his nails with a black polish. "You know, we're listening to Bruno Mars, eating watermelon–"

"Aren't we supposed to eat watermelon in the summer?" Donghyuck interrupts you to ask.

"Real watermelon enjoyers eat watermelon no matter what time of the year it is–Hyuck!" you scream after he makes a sudden move to grab a piece of fruit from the bowl and half his index finger ends up covered in black nail polish. "Stop moving your hand!"

"I'm sorry!"

He apologizes and stays still in front of your body, legs crossed and knees touching yours. Donghyuck is so close you can feel his breath in your hair, and even though you know it's impossible for him to hear your heart-rate increasing exponentially, you fear the closeness and the intimacy may give you away. Honestly, by this time you thought you might have figured it out: you had to either rethink your relationship and conclude that you were only going to be friends forever, or accept your feelings and confess to him, no matter what the outcome could be.

But you find yourself finishing Donghyuck's nails and looking up to him, who was–as more often as you thought–already looking at you. He smiles to you sweetly, no teeth on sight, and he looks ridiculous. Donghyuck is wearing a sheet mask with the form of a peach, yet you still find the sight in front of you incredibly endearing. The worst part about it is that you're looking as ridiculous as him, with the lemon-shaped sheet mask covering your face. You feel his thumb gently caress the back of your hand that he was still holding even long after you've finished. And as his soft features are illuminated by the warm dim lights of the lamp and the TV, as he holds your hand and looks at you as if you might be the prettiest lemon he has seen, you get that feeling again.

The comfort, the domesticity. The urge to be his companion, to share moments like this and many more. Every day.

Your phone buzzes as you set an alarm to take the masks off twenty minutes ago.

Donghyuck lets your hand go. He lets go of your heart too—but only for a second. He cradles your face, his soft fingertips pet your jaw, then your cheeks, and you can't hold his gaze anymore. You want to look down, drop your head before you start word-vomiting everything you're feeling and you've been feeling for him since the moment you met, since that first time he cooked ramen for you and you decided you wanted it to be your comfort food forever.

Donghyuck won't let you look down, though. He applies pressure with his fingers in the place where your neck and your jaw meet and with his thumbs on your cheeks. Your lips naturally pout under the pressure and you see it. Donghyuck. Your best friend. The guy you've liked forever now, looking at your lips for what you think it's been like the fourth time this weekend. And it's only been hours since the weekend started.

Is it really going to happen? Are you about to kiss Donghyuck right now? On the living room's couch on a saturday night in, under the dim lights, while Silk Sonic's Love's Train plays in the background and you're wearing fruit-shaped sheet masks?

It is fucking romantic.

Yet it never comes.

It doesn't happen.

Donghyuck just says: "It's time to take the masks off."

And you agree because, well, what the hell are you supposed to do? Just throw yourself all over him like you, maybe, have been imagining? Donghyuck takes your mask off your skin and you take his, that leaves his face looking the softest and smelling like sweet peaches. That definitely doesn't help your situation.

You're incredibly frustrated. Upset, even, like a kid who got denied his candy. (You wish Donghyuck was your candy.) You hate this sleepover now and even wish Mark was here to cock-block the entire situation. That would be less upsetting.

"And?" He asks once both of you have your masks off. "Do I look cuter now?"

Oh, so he's aware he's already incredibly cute.

You can't contain a smile. He's only centimeters away from you after he quickly moves back to look for his glasses. You feel the need to poke his cheeks that look as soft as marshmallows and smell like fucking peaches. Actually, you might feel the need to eat him.

But you don't dare say anything. Only trying to hide your smile looking down, as your face grows red, you let Donghyuck think of his own conclusions after your reaction.

Thing is, you're kind of a coward.

Donghyuck says it's time to netflix and chill, and you laugh because the statement is followed by a "Literally. Don't start thinking about something dirty."

He places himself on the mattress on the floor (the one you've been sleeping since you arrived), a bunch of pillows supporting his back, and makes room for you. He's cheeky enough to pat his stomach to tell you to lie there, between his legs and over his body. Just like that, as if you hadn't been melting before just by holding his hand in yours or having your knees touch. And now he wants you to lie on his stomach?

Are you really that close? If so, why isn't he your boyfriend yet?

You open your eyes wider and point a finger at yourself. "Me. Me?" Your voice comes out full of disbelief.

"Not you. Mark," he says with a roll of his eyes. "Of course it's you! Unless you don't want to lay together?"

"I mean…"

How do you make it sound not so desperate, not too obvious?

You just shrug and say, "Yeah, sure."

Aced it.

Donghyuck's body feels like the softest mattress you've ever laid on, like you could close your eyes and sleep trapped in his limbs forever. And because of the closeness, you can sense the vibrations of his voice traveling from his torso to your ears. His tone is quiet and gentle, talking about what to watch to no one in particular because, even though he's talking to you, you're too concentrated on opening your camera and capturing the moment in a video of the two of you.

"Look how cute," you say, moving your arm to his eye level to show him the video. "You talk in pout when you're really concentrated."

When you're conscious of the surroundings once again, you're sure you've replayed the video with a smile on your face like ten times.

"You should upload that."

"I've posted enough about you," you reply to his suggestion, going back and saving the video to your drafts. "People are gonna think you're my boyfriend or whatever…"

"Would that be so bad?" Donghyuck questions with his eyes fixed on the TV screen. When you move your head back to look up at him, he dares to connect eyes with you. "People thinking I'm your boyfriend?"

Sunday, 12:02 p.m.

Donghyuck had always been clingy.

Yet you didn't know he could be this clingy in the mornings.

Mark has been trying to get Donghyuck out of bed for like ten minutes now, but he won't get up. While your brother is pulling his arm out, Donghyuck pulls Mark's arm in, asking him to join him and sleep 'just a little more'.

Yes, your brother found you both sleeping on the mattress in the living room. No, you and Donghyuck were not clinging to each other (sadly). But Hyuck was for sure clinging to your brother now.

"Mark!" He protests in a sleepy tone. "What do you want if you won't come in?"

"We were supposed to have brunch together," your brother tells Donghyuck again, yet he must be too sleepy to process what's happening.

"I won't go." Donghyuck states and doesn't even open his eyes again. The living room is clear enough, as the winter sun has been hitting for hours now. But it isn't an impediment for him to curl up under the blankets like a burrito and go back to sleep.

Mark drops his shoulders and allows himself to sigh, finally defeated by his heavy-sleeper best friend. "I guess it's just you and me, y/n."

—

Fortunately for you, the weather has been amazing since you arrived in the city where your brother lives. Saturday was no different, with a clear blue sky above your heads despite it being winter, and the sun shining just the right amount to touch your skin and leave it warm. A little breeze messes with you and your brother's freshly dyed hair as you sit outside a coffee shop, brunch almost all devoured on the table. Mark hums to a familiar jazzy tune that plays all the way from inside the café.

And the atmosphere is beautifully calm. But you need to get something out of your chest. For once.

"So," you start and Mark moves eyes from his food to set them on you, expectant of your next words with a mouth full of pancakes and fruit. "I think I like Donghyuck."

Mark starts coughing after hearing you, and you wonder if it is because of the shock of your confession or because he really is that careless to get the food stuck in his throat.

"Yeah, I knew," he confirms once it's clear for him to speak again.

"The fuck you mean 'you knew'?"

"I mean, honestly, it's pretty obvious." Your brother can't hide a smile. He drops the fork to properly talk to you this time. "Like, you've always had some kind of thing… I don't know, I thought I had a special connection with Hyuck," he says pointing at himself, eyes wide with what could look like a little bit of shock. "But you two… You two are something else."

"Oh God," you cover your face in embarrassment even though after your brother's words there's no point in hiding anything anymore. "So you've been watching me acting like a fool in love around Donghyuck all this time, and you said nothing."

"I didn't say anything 'cuz I thought it had to come from you." He shrugs. "Wanted you to feel comfy enough to tell me, even though I had my suspicions, obviously."

"May I ask… Why," you hesitate a little before asking for a third-person perspective. "Why were you suspicious about it?"

"Dude, I don't know," a small laughter escapes him. "You just look like you'd be all over each other if you could."

You just groan in frustration hearing your brother saying you might have been way more obvious than you thought you were. Temperature rises to your cheeks coloring them a little red, and not because of the midday sun hitting right from above your head.

"And you can," Mark says, yet you don't get it, the tilting of your indicating he has to clarify. "Like, you can be all over each other. I don't know why nothing has happened between the two of you yet."

"'Cuz I don't know if he likes me?"

"How could you know if you don't try?"

Your gaze drops to your lap, and you realize you've been playing with the rings of your hands, taking them off and putting them on over and over, indicating the conversation is making you a little nervous.

Mark must notice, since he keeps talking. "Just tell him, dude. Best case scenario, he also likes you, you move out together and make me free from Donghyuck's ass."

The way he puts it makes you laugh, yet there's a slight weight to your eyes, as if tears could start falling down slowly at any time after holding your feelings in for so long. So you take a deep breath, blink a few times and look at the sun.

The sun, shining in its maximum splendor in the middle of the sky. And you wonder what he's doing right now. Donghyuck, or Haechan, as his mother used to call him when he was little. Full Sun, because he's always so bright and energetic, like a happy virus (Mark would also call him a pain in the ass, but you see, it depends on who you ask.)

"Worst case scenario, you remain as good friends," Mark continues. "C'mon, you know him, he's not a dick. You just gotta try talking to him."

You gulp and nod at him, now trying to make eye contact with a subtle smile on your face. Another deep breath. "You're right. Donghyuck won't hurt me, no matter what the outcome is."

Monday, 01:43 a.m.

On Mark's phone...

Meanwhile at the livingroom...

"Hyuck–wait. Can't we go slower?!"

"Look at that!" Donghyuck screams pointing at the TV screen, after taking the airpod off his right ear. You do the same with the one you were using, and the music from the game stops playing in your head. "I got a perfect score!" And he continues to do a silly victory dance, moving his hips from side to side with his arms in the air.

You really don't want to be mad at Donghyuck right now.

"This is so unfair," you tell him, stepping out of the frame and leaving the remote on top of the game console. "You didn't tell me you were this good. And you know I can't dance at all."

"You're right," Donghyuck says sincerely, a hand on his chest, right in front of his heart and all. "I didn't tell you I'm a dancing god and took advantage of your poor dancing skills to win the Just Dance."

You really don't want to get mad at him, but sometimes he makes it pretty much impossible.

"You." A hand comes in contact with Donghyuck's arm. Your hand. "Dirty." Another slap. "Bastard." And another one. "I hate you so much!"

"Hey!" He protests rubbing his arm after you slapped it. "Lying is a sin."

"I'm not lying," you say. "I hate you. You put on the fastest choreo to follow."

Donghyuck follows you around to the kitchen and watches your every move. He's right behind you, his eyes following your motions when you fill a glass with water, when you gulp it down, when you clean it and leave it back on the counter. He's hot on your heels when you come back to the common area and take the inflatable mattress out to get ready to sleep. He's still following your moves carefully when you put on the sheets and when you lay on it with the remote of the TV in hand. He only takes his eyes off your body when the Netflix logo appears on the screen and he notices you're about to watch the show you two started together.

You know he's dying for a word from you.

"You don't mean it," he says, now free of all mocking tones.

"I don't mean what?"

"You don't hate me."

You're pretty sure Donghyuck doesn't need you to confirm that you weren't serious. Naturally, he has always shown himself as a very self-assured and friendly person; It's not normal that people don't like Donghyuck. However, when you meet his eyes, wide and expectant of your response, and perhaps wet with a little insecurity, you understand that things are not always what they seem.

"How could I ever hate you, Hyuck?" you tell him to extend a hand in his direction, inviting him to lay on your side on the mattress. 

Relief takes over his expression, and a wide smile is plastered on his face. He's quick to get comfortable (maybe too comfortable, not that you really mind) laying his head on your lap, and moving your left hand to his hair that looks like it's got longer over the days. You know he wants you to play with it—Donghyuck loves getting his hair played with. The fourth episode of My First First Love starts playing on the TV screen, and you hear Donghyuck sigh contentedly.

The subtle strokes at the hair on his nape get Donghyuck smiling again and exhaling deeper at your tranquil touch. And, not to be biased, but the colored lights coming from the TV highlight the softest, most beautiful face features you've seen in your life. In an act of courage, you move your fingertips from his hair, to his sharp jaw, to his cheekbones, gently caressing the warm skin.

Donghyuck moves his head on your lap until he's no longer watching TV. Neither are you. You're just staring at each other in silence. He's letting you stroke every part of skin until  the tip of your fingers make it to his lips. His plump pink lips that have been tempting you more and more the past days. And he places a kiss there. On the tip of your fingers.

You freeze and grow red. Then he places another kiss, and another, making it three the times you've felt Donghyuck's lips on your skin.

It may be driving you crazy.

He's careful with his movements, so careful it turns almost painful watching him. Donghyuck grabs your wrist and gets up to sit beside your spot on the mattress. Doesn't let go of your hand—instead,  he holds it tenderly, caresses the back of it with his thumb, then places another kiss there.

Four times you've felt Donghyuck's lips on your skin. Five. Six—he just placed a kiss on your palm. Wait, another on your wrist. That's seven kisses so far.

But it's not enough. Now you've felt his lips you want them everywhere, all the time. So when he gets your hand closer to keep kissing you there, you grab his face. Feel the skin there, of his jaw, of his neck, and it's really hot. You think you might even feel the rapid pace of his pulse when you press your fingers on his neck (but it could also be your own.) Lastly, you tangle your fingers in his hair that he has let grow during these weeks of winter break. You tug on it a little, just enough to let him know you want him close. Closer, please.

And Donghyuck sighs, more like he fucking moans.

You wonder if you should say something before moving forward. What about all the things you talked to Mark yesterday? Should you tell him about how you feel before kissing him? What does he want? And what would this be after you kiss?

The call of your name interrupts your torment of thoughts.

"Please," he begs in a whisper, eyes closed as your noses brush against each other. "I'll die if I don't kiss you right now."

A laugh comes out of you because he always has to be that exaggerated, but you decide to set all questions aside for a moment to just dive into him.

He starts off very gently, with his slightly parted lips pressing against yours. They are indeed as fleshy and soft as they look, and taste like a cherries lipbalm. Donghyuck repeatedly places small kisses on your lips until you open your mouth a little more, and he captures your lower lip, biting a bit there. It gets another little tug on his hair from you, a sigh of relief after tasting his mouth after years of longing, and everything becomes more needy.

Donghyuck grabs at both sides of your head to deepen the kiss, smashing lips together repeatedly and kissing you sloppily. When you allow him to, he pushes his tongue into your mouth and you push your body closer to his.

He grabs your wrist not neglecting your lips even a second, as if the both of you were magnetized, and places his palm on your waist inviting you to his lap. It makes you laugh out of nervousness, so Donghyuck opens his eyes to watch you straddle him and place yourself on top of him very carefully.

His touch travels from your waist to the sides of your torso, his right hand in a place that you're sure allows Donghyuck to feel your increased heart rate. Your hands cradle his neck, then tug at the hair of his nape as he observes you kind of mesmerized, inhaling deeply, smiling a little and wetting his lips before you're diving into each other once again.

You've lost count of the amount of times you've felt Donghyuck's sweet lips on you by now. But you're sure of one thing: you don't want it to be the last.

"In case you were still wondering," he breaks the kiss to talk to you. "I like you, kinda a lot."

His hair is slightly disheveled from all the pulling, his lips are shiny and swollen, and he looks a little agitated. In his incredibly dilated black pupils you can see the reflection of your smile.

"I also like you, Hyuck," you finally confess to him. "I like you like, a huge amount."

He lets out a sigh of relief, more like a scream, and you're quick to cover his mouth reminding him that your brother is supposed to be sleeping five meters away from you. Yet, you can't help but laugh at his reaction.

He presses your foreheads together as his hands caress your sides, from your knees, to your waist, and to your lower back. Both your thumbs stroke his cheeks gently before you move to place some smooches there, in each of Donghyuck's moles (that is all over his face.) You think of all the times you imagined doing exactly that and find it hard to believe there's a possibility you could have Donghyuck any time you want now.

You only have to talk it out and see how things could progress between the two of you in the future. In the meantime, you'll keep smooching the literal personification of the sun (that might be because he feels hot as fuck right now, or because his smile is bright as the sun, or maybe he could be both.)

(Still) Monday, 01:00 p.m.

Donghyuck has had his head over the clouds since last night. After a heavy make-out session with you and some cuddling, he went back to his shared bedroom to sleep at like four a.m., being the most quiet possible to not wake your brother up and maybe having him asking what the hell was Donghyuck doing with you in the living room until four in the morning. He can’t escape the knowing smile Mark gives him though, when he wakes up and sees Donghyuck already up and working at his desk.

Donghyuck pretends everything is normal, greeting Mark good morning as usual.

“Good morning, Melk.”

“You sound too happy,” Mark groans in response, still sitting on his bed only half awake.

Donghyuck checks the time on the corner of his computer; one p.m. during holidays is like eight a.m. to Mark. Your brother just sits there for a while and Donghyuck goes back to studying for amoment, until the silence of the room gets interrupted.

“Yo,” Mark calls to attract Donghyuck’s attention. “What you did last night was fucking nasty.”

“What–” Donghyuck tries asking, only to have Mark interrupting him.

“I heard you two going at it," he starts with a very serious expression that gets Donghyuck's blood completely drained from his face. What could've Mark possibly heard? "My sister was telling you to go slower and everything.'' Mark makes some gagging sounds to add to his point and Donghyuck grows as equally embarrassed and amused at your brother’s assumptions.

“You think we fucked?” Donghyuck asks in complete disbelief. An exaggerated nervous laugh follows the question. “With you in the house?” He points a finger at Mark.

“You didn’t?”

“Sorry to tell you what you heard was us playing Just Dance. The last choreo was too hard and y/n couldn’t follow it.”

Donghyuck watches his best friend rub the sleep off his eyes and get up from the bed while he denies with his head, looking kind of defeated. “You’re both the biggest losers I’ve ever known,” Mark says, referring to you and Donghyuck.

“Hey!” Donghyuck starts to defend himself, his eyes grow bigger as his brows go up, and the characteristic Donghyuck pout starts to show, like in every situation a discussion is involved. “It was fun! We had a good time, ask her.”

“Losers made for each other, I swear.” Mark emphasizes his point. “So you didn’t fuck.”

Donghyuck doesn't look up from his math notes to answer. There's no way in hell he's having this conversation looking at Mark in the face. “By now, I’m sure I might be a virgin again.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” Mark can’t contain a laugh, though. “That’s bad for your health. Get your dick wet already.”

“I’m just waiting for the right time with your sister.”

“Hey! You can’t joke like that anymore.” Donghyuck knows by Mark’s tone all the bickering has become dead-serious now. It has always been like this when it’s about you. First they joke a little about it, then Donghyuck reminds Mark how much he truly likes you, and lastly Mark tells Donghyuck to just confess to you already because he’s tired of hearing about it. “If you’re joking about my sister I’m gonna beat you up.” Mark reminds him.

“Sorry.” This time, Donghyuck is brave enough to face his best friend. It’s kind of hard for Donghyuck to believe it when Mark tells him he’s getting beated up, though, when Mark’s wearing the pajamas Johnny got him as a gift recently���some blue panty with a moose on the back that says ‘don’t moose with me’. “I’m not joking about her.”

“I know.” Mark covers the pajamas that distract his friend so much as he puts on his jeans. “You like each other so much it’s disgusting.”

Donghyuck can’t hide his smile after hearing that, and it reminds him of all the kisses you shared last night, which makes him grow red in the face. Nothing a little more bickering with your brother can’t hide.

“You’re sooo cruel to me, Markie.” Donghyuck tries to hug Mark before he’s leaving the room, but morning Mark has always been like a stray cat who doesn’t like affection (unless it comes from Yuta, which Donghyuck can’t comprehend very well but he supposes the japanese has something pretty magnetic.)

“Get off of me!”

“Only a lil’ kiss, pleaaase!”

They struggle at the door of the room and into the common area. Donghyuck with his lips millimeters from Mark's face while Mark tries with all his might to get away from Donghyuck, who can be like a tick. They're so caught up in their things neither of them has noticed you're there, observing the entire interaction.

“Why don’t you go and kiss y/n? I’m sure she’ll enjoy it,” you hear Mark say when he finally frees himself from Donghyuck.

It’s at this moment that you know you are hearing too much, so you clear your throat to let them know that you are there too. They both freeze after turning around and seeing you sitting at the kitchen island. Your brother Mark, the great opportunist and master at escaping from uncomfortable situations, greets you good morning and is off to work in a second, leaving you and Donghyuck alone in the apartment.

You watch Donghyuck get closer to where you’re sitting. He hasn’t changed from his sleeping shorts and the hoodie he was wearing last night–the same hoodie you pulled on as you kissed in the same mattress laying meters behind him. Yet you don’t know how to describe the sensation you’re feeling right now. After seeing the boy you like the most fighting your brother for a kiss, your stomach feels… weird? You know the kind of relationship they have–they’re best friends, they bicker and fight and make up all the time. They live based on Donghyuck love-bombing Mark and Mark denying the affection all the time. But they love each other in a brotherly way, it has always been like that.

It’s not like you expected Donghyuck to want to hug and kiss you and only you after what happened last night, but you kind of did expect it.

Were you jealous of Donghyuck’s best friend, your own brother Mark?

Donghyuck looks at you confused when you don't accept his hug right away. You stop his arms midway, and his eyes look defeated, full of worry. “Did something happen?”

You deny with your head. “I don’t know, that kind of felt weird,” you confess to him.

Donghyuck caresses your arms, feeling you relax from the defensive attitude from before, until he gets your hands together. “What felt weird?”

It’s ridiculous, you know it is and you’re embarrassed about what you’re about to say. Yet, you can’t help but:

“I think I got jealous,” you say and watch his brows furrowed together. “You know, when you were trying to kiss Mark…”

Donghyuck only bursts out laughing and hugs you tightly against his chest, leaving you no time to escape the sudden affection. He smells like fabric softener and feels comfortable like a pillow. And you hate that you love the way his laugh resonates through your entire body when he presses you to himself like that.

“You know I never want to kiss Mark seriously, right? That I only do it ‘cause I know he hates it,” he explains once he’s separated from you, still holding your hands in his and looking you in the eyes. “I don’t want to kiss anyone the way I want to kiss you.”

You look down hiding your smile, thinking he’s cute at first and processing his words then, which makes you laugh a little. Donghyuck realizes right away and starts to laugh too, leaving the seriousness behind.

“Was that too much?” He asks.

You nod in response. “But it’s good to know.”

“Good,” he says before planting a kiss on your cheek. He’s only millimeters away from your face when he speaks again. “No need to be jealous then.”

Donghyuck turns you around on the chair, so your back is pressing against the island and he can stand comfortably between your legs. He starts as he did last night, planting a kiss on your knuckles, then your wrist, but you don’t wanna waste any more time so you free yourself from his hands and start cradling his face. His lips look as tempting as always, maybe even more after you tasted them for the first time.

He notices your look so he gives you a lopsided, attractive smile that you desperately wanna rip off his face.

“How can you look this handsome in the morning?” You ask, admiring all his features.

“I mean, technically it’s past the morning.” he answers in a cocky tone.

“Shut up already.”

You don’t give him time to fight back as you’re sealing his lips with a kiss. It’s slow but deep, and his skin feels warm and soft under your fingertips, all the way from his sharp jaw to his cheekbones. When he bites your lip a little bit to get full access to your mouth, you worry about the breakfast you were having minutes ago, but Donghyuck doesn’t seem to mind:

“Mhmm,” he hums, breaking apart and licking his lips. “You taste like maple syrup.” And he steals another quick kiss from you.

“Yeah,” you say as you turn around to face the kitchen island again. “‘Cause you interrupted my breakfast.”

But despite you showing your back to him and trying to finish your food, Donghyuck won’t let you eat in peace. “Oh yeah,” he murmurs against the skin of your neck after he moves your hair to your left shoulder. He plants a soft kiss on your right side, sending shivers down your spine and making it hard to concentrate on your task. “I’m sooo sorry I interrupted you.” His tone is full of sarcasm as his kisses travel to your jaw and all the way down again. “And you hated it sooo much.”

The metallic sound of your fork falling off your hand and hitting the plate startles the both of you. Donghyuck stops sucking on your neck and you fall out of your trance. Your startled face might be somewhat funny, because Donghyuck starts giggling as you both realize you were enjoying his kisses a little too much.

“Let’s go on a date.”

“All of a sudden?”

He nods with a smile on his face. “It’s your last day here tomorrow. It’s not like we won’t see each other anymore but… I want to take you out before your last day here.”

“Okay,” you agree, matching his smile.

“Okay?” He asks once more and sighs contentedly when you nod your head yes. “I’ll go plan everything. Make sure you’re all mine this afternoon!” And he leaves the room after kissing your right cheek.

(The busiest) Monday, 07:37 p.m.

“Hyuck, come on, there’s seriously no way of winning with those machines.”

“Babe, just one more try. I wanna get something for you.”

Donghyuck has been fighting against a claw machine for what felt like half an hour now. Since none of you weren’t able to win any of the games you tried at the carnival, you really appreciate his determination to win a prize for you this way. Yet you arrived here at five p.m., and after two rounds of bumper cars, after testing your strength at Ring the Bell (and both of you failing embarrassingly), riding the teacups, getting scared to death in the haunted house, and going twice into the Ferris wheel (one time for the sightseeing and pics and another time for kissing at the top of it) your stomach growls with hunger.

“We could’ve paid dinner with all the money you spent on this machine-”

“Wait, I’m about to get it!”

“Let’s just go get dinner.”

“But I’m about to get it!”

And you see it forreal this time: the claw holding a big Pochacco plushie and it falling right into the hole.

“Hyuck, you got it!” You scream in disbelief, a big smile taking over your face (maybe because of the cute plushie or maybe because it meant you were finally going to have some food.)

You watch Donghyuck lose his arm through the hatch and get it back, this time with the stuffed animal in his hand. When he’s presenting it in front of you, the stuffed animal is so big that it blocks your view. You admire it for a second, and then take it into your arms to discover a Donghyuck wearing the biggest smile you've seen in a while. He’s all cozied up, his jacket and stuffed hat making him look like a real life teddy bear. Even so, the cold of the winter has caused the tip of his nose and his cheeks to turn red, somehow making him look even cuter.

“I got it for you!” He says, the excitement not leaving his body even for a second.

You can’t contain yourself and, as an impulse, grab him from the jacket with your free hand and pull forward until your lips are meeting his. Just a short peck as a way of saying thank you, I love it (you.)

Neither of you realizes the little crowd you've drawn around the machines, not until you hear the applause and cheering as you're breaking away from your kiss. You’ve never seen Donghyuck get shy when drawing people’s attention, so this might be your first time noticing him trying to hide under his hat and into your embrace. You laugh it off even when you're equally embarrassed, but thank him for the plushie and tell him to run away from there to get dinner.

—

“I think I’ve liked you from the start,” Donghyuck confesses all of a sudden.

Well, maybe not so all of a sudden. While you two were having your dinner, bottle of beer came after bottle of beer. At some point of the night, you thought it was a good idea to start having soju. Donghyuck said something like “it’s our last night together, we should celebrate and get wasted” to justify your decision. So it may be the full stomachs and the alcohol making you be honest with each other.

“I know I’ve liked you from the start.”

“Aaall the guys knew too…” He slurs his words a little when speaking. “I wouldn't shut up about you.”

You can't hide your drunken, enamored smile when hearing him. But something makes a little noise inside your head. “All the guys knew?” You ask and he nods quickly. “Even Mark?”

“Even Mark,” Donghyuck confirms. “I mean, we always kind of had this joke going around that I was always waiting for you.” He pours himself another drink. “But we both knew it wasn't a joke.”

“Oh god.” You cover your face, embarrassed. “My own brother lied to me,” you say and Donghyuck makes a confused sound, which makes you keep explaining. “He pretended to know nothing about your feelings when I confessed to him that I liked you.”

“I asked him not to say anything.”

“Huh?”

“I wanted to tell you myself how much I like you.”

“Oh god,” it's all you can repeat right now, all these confessions and the alcohol making you grow hot everywhere. “It's so hot inside this restaurant,” you say as you take your jacket off.

Donghyuck knows the red on your cheeks isn't only because of the heat inside the place.

“I like you sooo much,” he says as he watches you giggle out of nervousness. Donghyuck calls your name and holds your hand over the table to try to get you to look at him, but you only giggle and hide your face with your other hand. “I'm in love with you!” 

“Okay, okay!” You're laughing by now, trying to cover his mouth to shut him up and not attract everyone's attention like you did at the carnival. “I'm in love with you too!”

“Good,” he says with an extremely pleased smile, that one that has always attracted you to him so much.

“Good?” you repeat and he nods.

Your phone screen lights up showing it's Mark calling you. You silently tell Donghyuck you're picking up and he lets go of your hand for you to do so.

“Yes?”

“Yo,” you hear Mark answer from the other side. “We're at Yuta's right now, we're working on some music with Taeil and TY so I think I'm just gonna crash here tonight.”

“Uhm, are you sure you don't wanna go back?” You ask and make eye contact with Donghyuck, who narrows his eyes and tilts his head to the side after your question. You only shrug to him as a response.

“Nah, I'll leave the apartment for the two of you so make good use of it.” Your brother answers convincingly.

“Okay, I'll see you in the morning.”

“All right bet, see you in the morning.” And he's quick to hang up.

You take the phone off your ear and look at it confused for a bit, until Donghyuck breaks the silence. “Everything all right with Mark?”

“Yeah,” you say as you put the phone down. “He said he's not going back home tonight.”

“Oh.”

You think of the words your brother said. “Leaving the apartment for the two of you,” and “making good use of it,” and it hits you. A little bit late, but it hits you.

“Oh…” you repeat, a surprised expression now taking over your face.

“Yeah, oh!” Donghyuck agrees. “We're having a real sleepover tonight!”

But by the excitement in Donghyuck's face, the one a little kid would show when told he's sleeping at a friend's, you aren't convinced he thought the same way you and Mark did.

(The last day at your brother's) Tuesday, 09:12 a.m.

The next morning, you wake up pretty confused. When you open your eyes, you're not sleeping at your usual spot. Your surroundings look very different from the living room where you've been sleeping every night. To your right, you spot Donghyuck's desk, filled with physics books, a pile of comics, and the typical empty Red Bull cans. The mattress also feels incredibly comfortable, soft but firm under you. But the most strange thing is the weight over your body, and a cologne you know very well and like very much flooding your senses. That's when you realize Donghyuck is laying all over you, stretched like a starfish.

You laugh and struggle to take your arms under him, and when you wrap them around the boy over you and squeeze, he starts to laugh too.

"Are the curtains open?" You ask in a voice still full of sleep.

He moves his head up to catch the smile on your face. "No?" 

"Then why is the sun so bright in my face?"

The smile spreads on his face and he plants a chaste kiss on your lips. "You're so fucking cheesy." And he kisses you again.

“Get off,” you try to move him from over your face and your body. “I haven’t washed my mouth.”

“I don’t care,” he says, finally moving and sitting at the side of his bed, where you’re still laying in. “I’m not missing a chance to kiss you.”

“You’re sooo fucking cheesy,” you repeat his words.

“And you like me sooo much.” Donghyuck moves to the nightstand and grabs an aspirin and a can of Red Bull and brings them to your mouth. “Take, it’ll make you feel better after all we had last night.”

You sit up a little on the bed to do what he told you, and once you've swallowed the aspirin you let yourself fall back against his pillow. Donghyuck is still sitting on the edge of the bed, exchanging glances with you and holding your hand lovingly. He's wearing the Michael Jackson t-shirt that he likes so much and he's wearing his messy hair, just as you left it after pulling, fixing and messing it up while you kissed him countless times the night before.

You’re leaving today, and it’s like all the feelings you’ve accumulated these past years are hitting right now, all at once.

“I wish I could wake up like this everyday.”

“Hungover?”

“No, not hungover,” you laugh at his question. “With you.”

He smiles and squeezes your hand reassuringly. “We’ll figure it out.”

You sit up in the bed and search for the energy drink on the nightstand. After a few drinks, you’ve figured the morning breath can’t be so bad, so you move to face him properly and grab his face for a real kiss. Donghyuck doesn’t take long to reciprocate and start caressing your entire body. He’s always the first one to take the kisses to other places, so you take the lead this time. You discovered last night that Donghyuck can’t resist the kisses on his neck. You start placing soft kisses, then some licks until you suck a little and he fails to suppress a moan. He laughs it off and calls your name.

“I want to ask something important,” he says, looking you dead-serious in the eyes now, all the jokes and the desire aside. After you nod in response, telling he has your attention, he takes a big breath of courage. “It may seem a little rushed, but after all we’ve shared these years and after this week we’ve spent together, I don’t want you to leave without asking you to go out with me.”

You feel the temperature increase throughout your skin. Is he finally asking you to…

“Be my girlfriend?” As if he knew you from inside and out, he finishes your thoughts out loud.

Temperature reaches your face as well as probably the biggest smile you’ve worn since you got here. You cradle his face, squeeze his cheeks with your hands until a pout is showing and you can’t help but laugh—out of nervousness but also out of happiness, from having the sun in your hands and all for yourself.

“Lee Donghyuck,” you start. “That’d make me the happiest in the world, in the universe.”

“You’re sooo cheesy!” He starts the bickering once again, yet he’s sealing your deal with a kiss on your smile and, of course, you’re returning the affection.

(Later that) Tuesday, 03:30 p.m.

You’re standing in the building’s hallway while your brother struggles to lock the door to the 12-7 apartment. Donghyuck is patiently holding your suitcase, waiting for Mark to be done. They’re going to accompany you to the bus stop that’s coming at four p.m. so you can finally go home to the rest of your family and your normal life—you’ll be back studying and working in a few days, after spending Christmas with the family and Donghyuck, who promised to be there to join the Christmas lunch at your home and—maybe, if he doesn’t chicken out—present himself as your boyfriend to your parents.

“We need to change the door lock before y/n moves in here,” Mark says after finally locking it.

“What?” Donghyuck and you ask in unison. “Moving here?”

“You’re not moving in with Donghyuck? I thought I’d finally be free from him,” your brother answers, kind of disappointed, but not as disappointed as Donghyuck after noticing how bad your brother wants him out.

“But where will you go?” You ask him.

“I made plans to share the floor with Yuta.” 

“That motherfucking japanese!” Donghyuck screams following Mark down the hallway, and you palm his back trying to reassure him, but your boyfriend won’t calm down. “I swear he wants to steal my best friend from me! He’s so jealous of my life!”

“What would he be jealous of, Donghyuck?” Your brother asks tiredly, and you know he’s rolling his eyes even if all you see is his back opening the building’s front door.

“Of our last-longing, incredibly unique friendship, of-fucking-course!” Donghyuck answers like it’s obvious.

“I’m pretty sure you just kept this friendship to get with my sister.”

“Mark?! That’s not true. I love you, man. Mark-Mark, come on!”

taglist: @matchahyuck @sundamariis @thesunsfullmoon @babyjenono @chenfleur @bettyschwallocksyee @sundhaelatte @injunier @justalildumpling @lanadreamie @dhyucktopia @143rachafm @minkyuncutie @bbh-kji @minhosprettywife

[mxtxfanatic]

Why Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli Matter

Even though their time as living characters in the narrative is short, Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli actually have a major influence on how Wei Wuxian chooses to go about his second life.

The comfort that Wei Wuxian couldn't express a desire for but that Jiang Yanli once tried to provide, anyways, without needing a request, he now seeks out in Lan Wangji:

No matter what [Jiang Yanli] said, Wei WuXian continued clinging to the tree, refusing to come down. Afraid that he’d hurt himself, Jiang YanLi put the lantern under the tree and extended her arms to catch him, too worried to leave. Thirty minutes later, Wei WuXian’s hands finally grew sore. He let go of the tree trunk and fell down. Jiang YanLi hurried to catch him, but Wei WuXian still landed with a slam.

—Chapt. 71: Departure, exr

The very instant he had wrapped his arms around the tree trunk, his eyes had warmed. Now, as he looked down, his vision was already blurry. Lan WangJi was standing underneath the tree, staring up at him. He was also clothed in white, but without a lantern. However, under the shower of the moonlight, his entire person was bright and clear, as if engulfed in a sheen of pure light. With his head slightly raised, he was watching Wei WuXian intently. With his gaze at the tree top, he took a few steps closer, as if wishing to extend his arms. Suddenly, Wei WuXian was overcome by a strange yet powerful urge. He wanted to fall down, just like that time many years ago. A voice in his heart said, ‘If he catches me, then I will’...... At the thought of the words ‘I will’, Wei WuXian let go. At the sight of him falling without a hint of a warning, Lan WangJi’s eyes widened. Instinctively, his body moved and the next moment Wei WuXian was in his arms, or, more correctly, in his embrace. ... He could not see Wei WuXian’s face. His face was out of Wei WuXian’s sight as well. But there was no need for Wei WuXian to see. With his eyes closed, he was engulfed in the soft, fresh scent of sandalwood that always lingered on Lan WangJi. Wei WuXian’s voice was hoarse, “Thanks.” He was never really afraid of falling. All these years, he’d fallen plenty. Of course, it still hurt everytime he fell. If there was someone who could catch him, then he couldn’t be happier.

—Chapt. 87: Core Part 9, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

Except Lan Wangji is both willing and capable of protecting Wei Wuxian where Jiang Yanli due to a variety of reasons was not. Because of this, Lan Wangji is able to carry on the torch that Jiang Yanli left behind from Wei Wuxian's first life into his second, such as when he begins to cook for Wei Wuxian.

As for Wen Qing, the lesson that Wei Wuxian learned from his unintentional big sister is so important that he both lives by it and endeavors to pass it on to his shizhi :

After a few steps, [Jin Ling] looked backward and said, “Why are you just standing there? Are you just going to wait for my uncle to come and get you? Let me tell you, don’t think that just because you rescued me, I’ll have some kind of deep gratitude toward you. Especially don’t hang your hopes on me telling you some mushy nonsense.” Defeated, Wei Wuxian strolled up. “You’re young. In your lifetime, there are two pieces of ‘mushy nonsense’ you will always have to utter sooner or later.” “What are they?” Jin Ling asked. “’Thank you,’ and ‘I’m sorry.’” Jin Ling scoffed. “I just won’t say them. What can anyone do about it?” “There will eventually be a day when you’ll say them with tears in your eyes,” Wei Wuxian said. Jin Ling made a derisive noise. Suddenly, Wei Wuxian said, “I’m sorry.” The boy stared blankly. “What?” “On Dafan Mountain, what I said to you. I’m sorry.” It hadn’t been the first time someone had jeered at Jin Ling for lacking a mother to raise him, but no one had ever apologized to him with such seriousness. He didn’t know exactly what the feeling was, but being slapped in the face with such an apology made his entire body prickle with unease.

—Chapt. 24: Malice II, fanyiyi

This scene preludes Jin Ling's softening, where he actually does begin to be more mindful of his words, how he speaks to others, and especially how he interacts with "Mo Xuanyu." The fact that no one had ever seriously apologized to Jin Ling allowed the boy to justify being rude and mean-spirited to others, but the fact that Wei Wuxian does and about something that people had mocked him for often without regret causes him to reevaluate this "uncle" as well as himself. This apology, though it may seem small, is what sparks the actual beginning of Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling's shishu-shizhi relationship, and none of it would have been possible had Wen Qing not torn down the wall of "what need not be spoken."

Because of these two women, Wei Wuxian is able to form closer bonds and live a more fulfilling life during his second chance, and through this, the legacy of his sisters lives on.

[kazbrekkerscrutches]

Aemond Targaryen - Love of My Life

Warnings: Aegon obviously, slight mention of alcohol, allusions to sexual harassment and violence, allusions to nightmare and self inflicted wounds OTHERWISE FLUFF FLUFF AND FLUFF

Words: 2.0k

SHE/HER PRONOUNS // 3rd PERSON VIEW

Summary: Aemond Targaryen didn’t seem like the loveliest person in Westeros but with Y/N, he would do anything to keep his betrothed happy and safe. He was the happiest with her, before and after marrying her.

**Valyrian translation after the imagine, below the --- line. Hope you enjoy and let me know your thoughts.**

Aemond Targaryen wasn’t kind to everyone. Especially to the ones who crossed him or even annoyed him. 

Aemond Targaryen was only kind to a few people, including Y/N. She meant everything to the silver haired prince.

They both had met each other as children, as they both grew up in King’s Landing. Aemond had seen her for the first time reading a book in the castle’s library. As a child, it was Aemond’s peaceful place and it quickly became theirs. They would often meet after dinner, spend the night reading and talking about plenty of things. He was himself when he was with her. He loved the way she liked him as a person, not as a prince or as an arse. He loved the way she would tell him about everything, only because she trusted him. She would come to him if something was wrong and even as children, they would never lie to each other.

Many years of harmony passed until Aemond lost his eye. He became more distant even though Y/N wanted to be there for him. He wouldn’t let anyone in, at least he tried to let her in, but it was terrifying for him. Her seeing him so destroyed, tainted, as a monster. Yet Y/N did not see him as all those things, she came to his bedroom every so often, talk like they were children again and he would lose himself in her. He would become a child again, a happy one, a kind one. He would get drunk on the sound of her laughter, and he knew that he only wanted her in his life.

Two years after his eye was gone, his mother started to propose women to him, to get him to choose one of them. To make them his betrothed, but he only wanted her. He only wanted Y/N.

“Mother, I will not marry any of those girls.” He dropped on the Queen.

“And why is that, Aemond?” Because I only want Y/N, mother. I want her to be my wife. He urged to say it. He had to. And he did.

“I want to marry lady Y/N.”

His mother looked at him. He looked back at her, all seriousness in his eye. She nodded and walked away. The day after, his mother told him what he could marry her.

He was the happiest man in all Westeros.

The minute she had stepped into his room for their daily encounter, he ran to her and pulled her into his arms.

He spun her around in the air and she giggled loudly. His hands were spalled on her waist and hers tangled in his long hair.

He finally set her down on the ground, the height difference making its way back.

“What have you eaten to make you this happy, my dear Aemond? Have you had a new saddle for Vaghar or something?” She walked deeper into his room to sit on the velvet seat, her beautiful dress promoting her beautiful body.

“I have wonderful news. But I need you to hear me first, no talking.” She nodded as he approached her, kneeling before her.

She looked at him with big innocent eyes.

“We have known each other since we were children, and I have loved every single moment with you, my lady. Tis the day where I am asking you, with my family blessing, to marry me. I have loved you since I saw you in the library. When this,” he said, touching his patched eye, “happened, I closed myself to everyone but you did not let me shut you out. You stayed and I realised then that all I wanted, in my whole existence, was you. I only want you; you are the only one for me. I love you, and I’ll never stop. I swear on the gods. I love you. Would you do me the honor of becoming mine forever?” He exhaled softly; his hands went to grab a small box from his lapel.

He opened the small box before the woman he loved. Her gaze shifted from his face to the beautiful ring, impaled with a blue sapphire decorating it.

“Aemond… I-I…” She was speechless. The expression on her face was unreadable.

He tried to pull away, thinking he made a fool of himself but she pulled his face to meet hers halfway. Their lips joined into sweet harmony and he pulled himself even more into her. His hands roamed on her body, finding their way to the low of her back, her legs spreading to let Aemond get closer.

She pulled away from his lips, her hands on his strong face.

“Yes, I’ll marry you, Aemond. I’d marry you today, I’d have married you if we were children and I’d marry you again any day. I love you, Aemond Targaryen, I always have and I always will.”

His eye was glassy, a huge grin on his face appeared. He pulled one of his hands away, removing the ring from its box and placing around her ring finger. It was perfect.

She smiled so brightly, Aemond kissed her again. He was in heaven and he will always be if he’s with her.

Their wedding happened only weeks after the proposal and Aemond was the happiest with her. She was his and it was everything he ever dreamed of.

One night, a couple of years after their union, she was known as the untouchable wife. Yet someone in his family did not respect the “untouchable” aspect.

She was at a celebration, as were all of Aemond’s family. Music was filling up the room, the banquet was filled with too many people to count. But she could feel the presence of her dear husband behind her. They were both sitting at the main table, he grabbed her hand that landed on her thigh and kissed it, intertwining his fingers as well.

He pulled away, standing up, telling her he’ll be right back. Before he could pull back, she told him that she will go up directly to their room, it was late and she was tired. He nodded, offered her a sweet smile, and kissed her forehead sweetly.

As she made her way up, she was met with Aegon, his brother. Aegon was known for his sense, or his lack of sense, for the word “no”.

“Hello, wife. How dare you look so fine this evening!” He reeked of wine and many other beverages.

“Aegon, I am not your wife. Please go back to the venue, I’m sure there’s more women interested in you.” I desperately wanted him to go away.

“Mhm, must you have mistaken me, lady Y/N, yet I don’t like that attitude of yours.” He suddenly gripped her wrist tightly, and she tried to get out of his reach.

“Let go Aegon. Let. Me. Go. Now.” She ordered yet he pulled her flush to his chest and she hated every second of it. He breathed her in, and she pulled even harder to get out of his reach. He gripped her waist and before she knew it, she was pinned to a wall with both of her hands pressed behind her back, hitting the brick wall.

As he pressed himself even closer to her, she punched him between his legs and slapped him down on the ground before running away to her chambers.

Time passed before Aemond returned to their room. Y/N was asleep when he came into the room. Her peaceful form decorating the bed, her hair draping the pillow. He reached to her side, sitting besides her. He placed a sweet kiss on her forehead before reaching his side of the bed.

They were both sleeping in no time before Y/N was stirring up in her sleep. Aemond, like the light sleeper that he is, woke up in a second. She was whimpering in her sleep, her head snapping from sides to sides. She was clawing at her wrist, which Aemond tried to get her to stop.

“Jorrāelagon, wake up. Come on”, he clasped lightly at the hand that was clawing the other. “Y/N, wake up, come on, wake up.” He shook her slightly, sitting up in the bed.

She woke up and jolted up with small cry, she tried to pull away from him, as if he had hurt her.

“It’s alright, issa jorrāelagon, you’re alright. You're safe.” She realised that it wasn’t Aegon. It was only him. Only Aemond, the boy who she had loved for so long.

She melted into sobs when he pulled her in his arms, her legs pulled over his, one arm around her waist and the other one cradling her head. Her head and heavy sobs laid on his chest, his face resting by her head.

“Did you have a nightmare, dōna mirre?” She nodded weakly. Her sobs resuming. He praised her with sweet word in her ear, he cradled her in his arms, assuring her that she was safe.

Her sobs calmed down and she found peace in his heartbeat.

He looked down at the sight of her wife, he saddens at her gaze, his heart breaking because something is troubling her.

The hand that was cradling her head softly pulled at the wrist she was hurting in her sleep. He saw, even in the dim darkness, that there were marks, not of her nails, but of a tight embrace.

“Who did this to you, my love? When did this happen?” He questioned her softly, not wanting to startle her.

“I don’t want you to be mad.” She responded lightly.

He pulled her chin, making her look up at him.

“Love, I won’t be mad, I promise. I just want to know the truth.” He brushed her hair out of her face.

“It was Aegon. He was drunk, like always, but I was walking up to go to our room and he called me his wife, and he pulled my wrist,” She sniffled, Aemond felt her breath accelerate.

“Breathe my love, take your time.” He purred. Aemond was boiling on the inside but he could never be harsh on her.

“He pushed me to the wall, started to press himself against me, and I punched him away. I ran as fast as I could. I thought he was going to run after me, Aemond, I was so scared.” She truthfully told Aemond, her tears seeping his night shirt.

“Oh, dōna mirre, I’m sorry he’s done this to you. I’ll handle him in the morning, and I promise you he won’t ever touch you again, nobody will.” He caressed her hair, calming her down. He kissed the palm of her hand, trailing kisses down to her inflamed wrist. She calmed down, leaning into his touch.

Aemond pulled her down with him, to lay together in the bed.

“Everything is going to be just fine, darling. Rest in my arms, you’re safe.”

She turned to be faced with his chest. She looked up to his figure, some strands of glittery hair falling on his face.

“I love you, valzȳrys. Thank you for always being here for me.”

“No need to thank me, that’s what I’m here for. I love you." He whispered in her ear, pulling her against him, kissing her forehead and the rest of her face sweetly. She fell asleep in his arms, as she always did.

He’d deal with Aegon in the morning, and everything will be alright.

She’ll be alright. She was with Aemond after all.

“Ao sagon se jorrāelagon hen issa glaeson.” He pressed one last kiss on the ring that laid upon his wife’s finger and went into a peaceful sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you like this imagine, I had a pleasure writing this. Here are the traduction in english for the Valyrian words.

Jorrāelagon: Love

issa jorrāelagon: my love

dōna mirre: sweet thing

valzȳrys: husband

Ao sagon se jorrāelagon hen issa glaeson: You are the love of my life

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

18:45 ー GOJOU SATORU. it's because you're the strongest that i have to stay with you; who's going to protect you otherwise?

"are you the strongest because you're gojou satoru?"

"or are you gojou satoru because you're the strongest?"

satoru never had the opportunity to answer suguru's question before he defected completely from their organization to pursue a pipe dream. but if gojou satoru had to answer the question, months later, he'd probably answer that it's the former.

he was born the strongest. his was a birth that shook the entire world all by virtue of his six eyes, the first user in centuries. there's no one else in the world like him.

he truly is the honored one. the one who is given the that are jobs too difficult for the weak and ordinary. the one many quietly scoff should handle everything at this point.

therefore, being strong is a given for him; limitless, the six eyes, all the bunk things he learned throughout his current three years at jujutsu tech. it's all pretty much been expected for him. there's nothing he can't do if he really put his mind to it. it's been that way since he was a kid.

nothing can touch him in senses literal and metaphorical. not unless he wants it to. he hasn't been touched by a foe since his run-in with the zenin reject.

that's why what he is experiencing presently is such an oddityー someone looking him over carefully for any signs of injury. "so you know this playing doctor thing is pretty pointless, right?"

"you're point?" you tell him as you continue to look over him carefully, gently moving his hands and arms before circling around him one last time. "and how are you feeling?"

"perfectly fine," he shrugs truthfully. the mission was light work, nothing special. special grade curses were standard for him by now.

you stand in front of him, finally nodding in approval, "alright, you can get the [first] stamp of approval then. you're all good."

"told ya."

"complain all you want," you place your hands on your hips, nose in the air with a petulant tone. "i'm always gonna check you over when you come back from assignments, mr. no one can touch me. and take these off," gently, you remove satoru's sunglasses from the bridge of his nose. delicately, you close them and rest them to hang on the collar of your shirt. "it's too dark to wear them. you'll trip."

you hold each other's glares for a brief moment before sporting a pair of matching grins. "welcome home," you tell satoru at last, not fighting it when he pulls you into a lazy hug.

it's nice being back. "glad to see someone missed me," maybe he might have missed you more though. you make a scoff of annoyance but you hug him back anyway. satoru's hold tightens. it crosses his mind for a moment the two of you should move in together after graduation. "it's too late to act like you didn't. i know, i know, my presence leaves a huge hole in your heart until i come back."

"says the one who calls me incessantly whenever i get assigned something," you cross your arms, grinning smugly.

"so you say," he shoos your words away. "but you're the one who was waiting for me to come back on the stairs. just accept the fact that you clearly missed me. extra arguments about any habits i might have are unnecessary," he holds his palm in front of your face just before you likely were about to remind him that he's the one who always waits for you to pop back up from missions on the school stairs like hachiko. "let's get back to the dorm, i'm starving."

you roll your eyes but you follow after him anyway while satoru slows his pace to match yours, hands swinging in the same orbit but separate.

"but seriously, you don't have to always check me over like that whenever i come back from a mission," satoru starts, holding back the urge to mess with the back of his head. maybe he should cut some of it off. "if anything, i should be the one checking you over." still, ever since august of second year, this has been your routine.

he comes back from a mission and you don't let him do anything fun unless you're 100% sure he's okay.

you reach over to hold his hand and give it a squeeze. satoru is the affectionate one between the two of you. even before you were friends and he merely enjoyed antagonizing you in his spare time in first year. he's never been hesitant to touch you.

first year it was poking your cheek or flicking your forehead.

second year he evolved to slinging his arm around your shoulders. august of second year was also when you shared a bed for the first time. the star plasma vessel went wrong in everyway possible and amanai and kuroi's bodies were stuffed in the jujutsu tech morgue. ascended, lost and empty, satoru found himself waiting in your bed until you got back to the dormitories.

when did he start associating you with safety? satoru isn't sure when that line began to blur, all he remembers is that your room is instinctively where his feet led him. in your room he stayed until you showed up again and in your room you let him be until the sun came up.

now in third year, affection was swapped between you both as easily as breathing. still, normally he was the one initiating it. it's nice when it's the other way around though.

"don't you remember what i told you last month?" you smile in the moonlight, swinging your hands between you both. "i'm gonna protect you, whatever way i can. that includes dealing with me looking you over for injuries even if it's very unlikely you're actually hurt. and i know the chance of us being paired up for missions is slim to none, but just know i don't care if you have your infinity. i'm your shield."

gojou satoru has never been told "i'll protect you" before.

but a week after you both turned 17, not only did you promise you'd never leave him, you told him that you'd protect him too.

your cursed technique has never been anything to brag about.

at least, maybe not until recent years. you called it 'rejection' but it ultimately just came down to your cursed energy solidifying into a shield. nothing satoru could really respect back when you were first years. saying he respected your technique the bulk of second year was a bit of a stretch too; second year was when he was toeing the line.

until recently, solo missions were never things you were sent on. you were back up meant to protect whatever combatant you were paired up with. satoru's never been one of them. why would he be when he's got his own shield?

how does one protect the strongest?

satoru doesn't need a knight. it's a fact everyone knows, hence why his assignments have been solo since third year. hence why even in second year he was never paired up with anyone whose abilities were defensive in nature.

yet despite that fact, it's been you and you alone who has ever told him ー gojou satoru ー "i'll protect you."

and you meant it.

"i meant what i said," satoru feels your thumb brush against the side of his hand. "you're stuck with me for the end of time. because if no one else is gonna look after you, i will."

"why?"

"because i want to."

"why do you want to?"

you both stop walking and your answer doesn't come as quickly as the rest. your eyes are a million miles away from where you're both standing in the middle of your too-large campus. it's not for the first time that satoru wishes he could read your mind. "you're someone very precious to me," you say at last with soft conviction. you're strong. first year satoru was dumb to think otherwise. yours is a quiet strength satoru still doesn't quite understand but he's happy to receive. "you already know that though."

"i didn't realize you liked me so much," satoru laughs dryly but his grip around your hand tightens. "better be careful, [first]. the people will start to talk. imagine what utahime will say."

"satoru," he looks at you again, really looks at you. your smile is expectant and comfortable as you look back. like what you're going to tell him is next is something he should be expecting and yet still you're so patient with him. "you know i'm in love with you, right?"

yeah.

first year you weren't much of anything besides classmates.

second year you were friends.

third year you're an unlabeled strangeness. you aren't lovers but you definitely aren't just friends, existing in a weird space between where neither of you say anything but it's obvious. it isn't like he's sharing a bed with shoko or nanami most of the week or holding their hands when he comes back to campus. he knows you're not caressing their heads every morning after you wake up, waiting until their fully cognizant before starting your day.

you love your friends. but satoru knows there's a tenderness reserved just for him the way his affection that lingers is reserved solely for you.

"'course i do," satoru finds himself chuckling humorlessly again. "about time you said it, though. no one wants to be rejected by the person they're in love with. what if i was misinterpreting all the signs?" there's no way he could have. still it was scary not knowing for sure. that if he did anything wrong you'd have backed away.

"you won't leave too, right?"

"it’s unfortunate to tell you but you’re pretty much stuck with me, satoru."

it's the promise he's most scared of you breaking and he never wants to be the cause of it.

"there's nothing to misinterpret," you playfully tug his hand to pull him closer to your side before leaning onto him. "i want to protect the one i'm in love with, that's all there is too it. you're worth protecting even if logic argues there's no point in me trying. i'm going to protect you and that's that."

"you're gonna protect me?" satoru whispers as dreamily as the first time he asked.

"yeah," you vow once again. "with all i've got; even if it's not enough."

it's enough. you're more than enough.

the winter winds brushing against the two of you warns that you should be heading inside.

satoru feels more than warm kissing you.

while this is technically part of the same universe as my last gojou fic 「i cherish you, halcyon days」 this can be read as a standalone as well. this takes place during the end of third year but before the start of the 4th year (jujutsu schooling lasts 4 years in canon)

but this how i always imagined the love confession would have gone

[hades-in-bloom]

Bitten Lips

a/n: happy Astarion brainrot—two silly blurbs for both Tav (#1, w/ Spawn A) and The Dark Urge (#2, w/ Ascended A) using the same keywords (see the title; like, also don’t ask how and why, pretty please). Summaries and additional warnings per blurb below. As always, proceed at your own risk. Minors DNI! Masterlist xoxo

spoilers for Act 3

warnings & contents [for both]: depictions of self-harm (non-suicidal); mentions of blood; the reader could be any gender; Tav/Durge could be any race or class; age gap (hard not to with a 200-years-old vampire); could’ve been a headcanon

[1] : lucky one

Spawn!Astarion Ancunin x Tav!Reader

summary [1]: Tav is nervous, and somehow it makes Astarion climb a wall.

+warnings & contents [1]: unadulterated comfort with a pinch of anxiety; silly bad habits driving Astarion insane; cheeky Tav

soundtrack [1]: måneskin — honey (are you coming?)

***

Astarion snaps when you bring wandering fingers to the bottom of your face again.

“Stop it,” the elf demands, mouth pressed into a thin line as he attempts to keep his frustration in check. You wince slightly, picking a string of dry skin from your wounded lips once more without realising the gravity of your actions.

“Sweet hells,” Astarion grumbles. “Why would you do it? It’s disgusting.” A bizarre mix of annoyance and worry is almost palpable in his well articulated voice. He’s seen worse sights, but you hurt yourself—that’s what he finds appalling.

As thin blood gushes out of a fresh rip on your lip, unadulterated guilt floods your essence instantly. You feel your cheeks heat up, and anxiety crooks your fingers, while you finally realize how sore your lips are since you kept violating them repeatedly in the past half an hour, agitated and a little bit overwhelmed. A prospective of turning into a mindflayer with no lips whatsoever soon down the line would make anyone nervous after all.

Astarion gives you a long stare, so you look away and mumble, “I’m sorry.” To be honest, you didn’t expect him to pick up on your silly bad habit; no one ever pays that much attention to it—there are always bigger problems to tend—but somehow he does notice.

Your tongue runs across your bottom lip, and you taste metal.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” The vampire frowns, his voice rising an octave. He frets, however hides the feelings behind a playful facade everyone’s been so used to. “Otherwise you’re ruining that pretty face of yours for no reason.”

He asks difficult questions, so you huff, unsure of what you’re supposed to say. You’ve never been great at talking about your feelings, bottling up your emotions deep down instead, where no one would ever think of rummaging.

“You didn’t expect me to always be a damned ray of sunshine, did you?” You revert your gaze to him reluctantly.

To be fair, usually you’ve smiled inappropriately often. If there were any expectations in this regard among the party members, you are the one to blame for it.

“Gods, no. Also, too much sun is bad for my health, so...” Astarion shrugs off your cynicism without a second thought. “You do you, lover.”

The pale elf’s stare lingers on you way too long for your liking, mildly unfounded uneasiness growing inside you. You want him to drop it; you want him not to care, when you don’t have answers for him. Of course, it’s too much to ask. You lose your patience at once, rolling your eyes in defeat.

“You won’t let it go,” you acknowledge, and his lips curl into a faint smile in response.

“I will if you stop doing that,” the pale elf retorts with a hint of desperate outrage as your finger innocently slides over your sore lip unwittingly, probing before the next torture.

You turn your obsession into advantage, and there’s a mischievous spark in your eyes. “I won’t be able to stop by myself.”

He catches up almost instantaneously, with his gaze fixated on your bloody, tortured lips now for all the wrong (or right?) reasons.

Astarion eliminates the distance between you two with a shameless smirk forming on his face—the smirk you knew quite well.

“Darling, aren’t you lucky,” his voice sings, and he wraps his arm around you, pulling your bodies close, leaning forward meaningfully. “I might just be willing to help you out.”

[2] : broken one

Ascended!Astarion Ancunin x Consort!Dark Urge!Reader

summary [2]: Astarion’s partner falls a victim of their dark urges once again.

+warnings & contents [2]: Durge is durging; mentions of murder; mild descriptions of death; unhinged kisses; implied power struggle?

soundtrack [2]: bella poarch — villain and dutch melrose — runrunrun

***

Tonight the palace giggles in your voice, and It can only mean one thing. Astarion hears what you did well before he steps into the bedroom, blood champing under the sole of his exquisitely made shoe. Right there, in the epicentre of massacre, your figure is hunched over maid’s body, now lifeless. Her head hangs limply from your lap, while your twitching fingers are sorting through strands of gore stained hair.

Astarion takes stock of the committed atrocity for one moment before he begins to approach. “What a mess,” he sighs, slightly wrinkling delicate features in annoyance, making his verdict. “Why, little love—this one is particularly sloppy.”

You have not come to senses yet to argue; there is a dreamy, unsettling smile on your face as you glance at your beloved glassy-eyed. Astarion smiles tenderly in return, his fingers gripping your chin to lift your head.

“Poor thing,” the man cooes a tad condescendingly, seizing the moment, when you are incapable of biting back.

Animalistic grunt escapes your throat, and you snarl, but the vampire lord holds you in place tightly. He covers your bleeding, bitten in heat of the urge lips with his own, fangs dragging over your sore skin, making you gasp, almost weep instead.

At other times headstrong and fierce, able to fight back against his caring tyranny, at this point you are exhausted. You cling to his embellished doublet with the last of your strength, pleading, surrendering yourself at his mercy.

“My lovely consort,” Astarion mutters with affection, satisfied with your obedience to the point of one’s disgust.

The pale elf kicks back maidservant’s body with his foot and picks you up in his arms, holding tight to his chest as he carries you to your shared bed. You can feel the urge leaving your body, taking your consciousness away with it.

“It’s going to be over soon, my love.” Astarion whispers soothingly, although you can’t hear him anymore. “It’s going to be over soon.”

[siriuslygay1981]

Click. Click. Clickclick-

Remus felt his agitation start to rise

Click. Clickcli-

His arm shoots out quickly and snatches the pen before he chucks it across the common room violently. He doesn't look up from his book even with the scandalized gasp and soft sound of the pen hitting the ground.

He turns the page and almost sighs in relief. His irritation slowly going away. Finally some peace and quiet.

Click.

His head whips to the side where Sirius holds another pen. He practically snarls as he slams his book shut, he looks at Sirius and crosses his arms.

"Sirius, for my sanity...what the fuck are you doing?" He hissss angrily

Sirius waves him off his finger drifting towards the back of the pen again. Remus latches onto his wrist and waits for Sirius to look at him. Sirius still looks out of it even as he slowly makes eye contact but he doesn't click the stupid pen again, so he counts it as a win.

"Spit it out or get rid of the pen." He gently takes the pen and shoves it in his robe pocket, now feeling concerned. What had Sirius so out of it?

"I just....do you think regulus has been seeing someone?" Sirius asks after a long period of silence. He stares at his hands and then to where Remus still holds him gently.

Remus let's go and sighs. He resists the urge to hex Sirius before taking a deep breath. He looks around the common room and doesn't see anyone who can take over this ridiculous conversation so he powers on. He shrugs nonchalantly, tries to figure out what he knows.

"why do you say that?"

Sirius shrugs and drums his fingers against the table in front of them. Remus twitches, his lips pursing together.

"Just..a feeling. He'd tell me if he was, wouldn't he?" He murmurs. He suddenly stills and whips his head towards Remus

"are you dating my brother!?"

It's such an absurd question, such a stupid silly thing to ask. Remus bursts into laughter, his stomach aches, he can barely breathe. By the time he's in tears he sees Sirius' put out look so he tries to calm down and take this seriously.

"Siri- Sirius please- what are you on about-" he shakes his head and wipes the tears from his eyes still grinning

"Lord no...no I'm not- what don't give me that look!" He exclaims

Sirius glowers at him and pouts, swiftly turning his body away from Remus in a childish way of saying 'im mad at you'.

"Did you want me to say yes!? Pads what is your problem?"

He turns towards Sirius with a raised eyebrow

"You said it as if he was gross! I thought you were best friends!"

Remus gaped at Sirius for a moment before pinching the bridge of his nose

"Pads...I can't believe I have to say this-" he takes a deep breath and exhales harshly

"I'm not attracted to your brother but he's still attractive...objectively."

Sirius scowls deeper and huffs

Remus thinks about jumping off the astronomy tower.

"now what's the problem?"

"Well...it's just weird you said he's attractive. He's younger than you and he's my brother!"

Remus' eye twitches

"One he's only a year younger and two he's of age- no wait- you were mad I didn't think he was attractive and now your mad I said he is?"

"Yes! Maybe I'll just go see prongs! He'd never be so terrible to me!"

Oh how wrong he was. Remus almost snorted, he watched as Sirius stomped out of the common room with fond eyes. He was irritated for sure but he was also highly amused.

Pulling out the map he quickly searches for James's name. He isn't surprised to see him far too close to one regulus black. Rolling his eyes he searches for Sirius and immediately chokes on a laugh

"Oh boy...that's not good."

[reqxxyt]

pls write a part 2 for the ethan fic ahh!! its so good

secrets out

pairings: ethan e. x f!reader

summary: after a late night, you and ethan, whom you've used to hate, grow closer, feelings blossoming once again but you tell yourself you can't risk breaking the friendship for a silly thing like your heart leaping every time he passes your thoughts.

warning: rushed ending, cheesy asf, cussing, a bit anti-climactic, maybe a bit frustrating (??), mentions of alcohol consumption

masterlist requests are open (pls be patient)

[unedited] wc: 3.6k

part one.

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Laughter echoed through the empty halls, stumbling footsteps as the two messed around, freshman nostalgia coursing through their smiles. It didn’t matter that the two hadn’t talked in nearly two years, rounding the start of the spring semester, all that did was the energy radiating between the two. A strange rhythm of the steps mixed with the buzzing of smiles brought comfort to both parties. 

“C’mon, you seriously didn’t know?” Ethan finally got out through his fit of laughter, easiness in the flow of conversation. You shook your head fighting the urge to laugh again, you blamed the alcohol, ignoring the factor that by now the two of you had been sober, only taking a few sips a couple of hours ago. 

“No, why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, just having discovered that the mysterious guy you had been texting the past few weeks turned out to be the boy you unknowingly kept blushing over the past hour. It turned out to be pretty anti-climactic, so apologies for not including it, but to summarize:

“I remember when you called me drunk out of your mind, professing your love to me” he continued to laugh but yours quickly died down, smile faltering soon after. Before this, you two were talking about all favorable previous times but this one made you stop in your tracks.

“What?” you swore you could feel your heart drop, trying to think back to all the times in freshman year drunk but quickly ran to the result of 0 times. The laughter had stopped, Ethan looked confused and you looked nearly ready to faint. 

“You called me. We’ve been texting,” he said, looking hesitant now, but you only kept raking your thoughts, going through everything until it finally hit your brain, almost embarrassingly slow, must be the alcohol. 

“Holy shit it's you” you blurted out with wide eyes. Of course, it was him. Him. Ethan. The universe either hates you or loves you at times and you couldn’t decide which emotion it was at the moment, whether this was a good or bad thing, all you knew was that your head was banging and the world kept spinning around you. 

He blinked, realization hitting him “You didn’t know?”

“I thought you didn’t either?” you could pull out your phone right now and show him all the texts that implied he didn’t know about you either, completely forgetting that on the day of the drunk dial, he had interpreted your voice the second he picked up. 

“I thought you were playing around” The two of you now stood in the hallway, looking dumbfounded at each other. 

“Why would I do that?” you silently exclaim, it was midnight and you didn’t want to wake any grumpy students. 

Yeah, fun times. You speak of it like it was years ago and not 10 minutes ago, you two laughed it off because, of course, it was him. The mysterious guy spoke the same and had the same teasing tone he would reserve for you and you only, you could now practically look back at the texts and see Ethan’s smile through them. It was so obvious. And you decided then it was a good thing. 

“Maybe you aren’t the smartest person I know” The laughter quieted down once again and by this point, you were engulfed in his scent, distance no longer in the same room as you found your room number. You shoved him playfully at his tease, only a side of his smile curved upwards and you suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

The silence as you two were standing outside your door felt like the two of you were secluded from the world, just gazing at each other for quiet moments until your lips parting sent the two of you out of your world. You forgot how strange that was, it wasn’t a common nor rare thing that occurred; it was strange but not… weird. 

“Will I see you more often now?” his voice was soft, almost gentle, never breaking eye contact with you and you wondered how that was possible because when you went to reply, your eyes looked down, 

“Yeah, if you’re up for it” Your head couldn’t wrap around the idea that he wanted to continue to have a friendship and go back to the way things were before you completely shut him off. You looked back up at him and you swore that you never witnessed anyone's eyes twinkle, always found it ridiculous how eyes were described in that manner, but here you are seeing his eyes glisten under the dim lighting of the hallway, crinkle under the pressure of his smile.

“‘Course I am” The response was casual but you two knew the excitement boiling down from this. You nodded, a large smile threatening to spill but you contained yourself, as the two of you departed, shutting the door behind him before resting your back against it, really getting a chance to listen to your heart make its nostalgic rhythm. 

But you couldn’t ruin it. 

Not now, not when you’ve already established a friendship with him. So you dug your feelings deep and hoped they never resurfaced. 

Easier said than done y/n. 

— the next day

“Are you serious?” Isabella barged in once again. One of these days you’ll sneak out your apartment keys from her bags but knowing that it wouldn’t do anything for her to get them back you flopped your head back into pillows, ready for another deep slumber you were rudely taken out of. “Y/n, this isn’t funny. Get up”

“What?” your voice came out muffled and you swore you could feel drool pooling on the edge of your pillow, dry drool on your chin. You rubbed your eyes, discovering the excess mascara and you groaned remembering how you nearly passed out last night after being dropped off. 

Ethan. Memories of last night flashed back and you nearly let out a giggle right there and then as you turned to your back. 

“Why didn’t you mention Ethan walking you back to your apartment last night?” she hit you with a pillow, frustration growing bursting your bubble of giddiness and you groaned once again. 

“You were with Mark,” you said shortly, looking over at her to observe her reaction and she only scowled, acting as if it wasn’t an excuse. “You wouldn’t have seen my text until afterward and seeing how you’re here in last night's clothes at” You look at the clock “7:00, you just left his place”

Her blush resurfaces, shoving a pillow at you for the 3rd time. A question quickly settled in your half-asleep brain.

“How’d you find out anyway?” you sit up, finally taking in most of your surroundings, those involving scattered papers and clothes you kept telling yourself you’d eventually get to. Isabella, without saying anything, pulls out her phone to scatter the evidence and shows you the doorbell camera catching the two of you. Instantly, you could feel your face heat up, realizing just how fawned you appeared over him. 

“Ew is that what I looked like?” you cringed, never wanting that video to resurface, wondering how you even set it off. Your hair had become frizzy—stupid midnight humid air—, your makeup slightly smudged, much worse now but at least you weren’t in front of the boy you once liked. 

“Shut up, you look fine” Isabella stood up, her hand tightening around her phone. You can’t help but smile, memories resurfacing as you tumbled to her before you loudly gasped, remembering the knowledge you gained last night. 

“Isa Isa Isa Isa” You jumped out of bed, wide awake now, repeating her name and she only grew confused, able to tell your growing excitement and grew excited with you but wasn’t sure why. 

“What what what” Her smile grew and you suddenly calmed down, taking a deep breath. “You can’t leave me hanging, what?!”

“Ethan is the guy I’ve been texting,” you say, breathless now from all the jumping around like teenage girls. Isabella shrieked and you had to take a step back before she shoved you away, it was her way of showing excitement, “No, this is terrible” You shoved her lightly and she furrowed her brows now, growing confused. 

“If you don’t stop with your overthinking. He likes you! You like him, what’s the problem now?” she was frustrated now, and if you were being honest you were too but you promised yourself last night you wouldn’t risk hurting the friendship again. 

She waited for your response but you only shrunk, knowing how stupid it would sound. “I don’t want to…” you couldn’t finish your sentence, afraid if you put it out into the universe, it will only entice it to make it occur. 

But she understood, seeing your conflicted expression, whispering a simple “okay”, she was the last person to judge her overcomplicated relationship but she couldn’t help but still feel a pang of frustration for her friend. 

Not leaving her so easily on the subject of last night, you asked her how it went and her smile grew, going on to ramble about how well it went and you smiled with her, sharing excitement and forgetting about your complications of last night, even if was just for a few minutes. You two shared a rested day, using the excuse to clean up your room and settle back down after the day, reaching for your phone that held minimal notifications. 

(user) liked your most recent post. 

Mom: are you coming this weekend or next?

But one stood out among the others, a text from Etham –  having just changed his contact – asking if you were free next weekend. You briefly looked through your calendar in hopes you had nothing planned to have an excuse to hang out with him and luckily you didn’t, just minimal studying. 

I am, why?

Way to make me ask you directly, y/n. 

Do you want to hang out this weekend?

You find yourself smiling at the texts, feeling a certain flutter blossom before you clear your throat, attempting to regain composure. 

I would love to :) 

I’ll pick you up at 6 then

You shut off your phone after that, a smile slowly stretching out again. You felt like a teenager again talking to her first crush and you couldn’t decide whether or not you hated it but the smile remained minimal this time. 

The week went by, no spottings of Ethan, and you found yourself blaming the campus for its size. The two of you would constantly check in on each other for the most random things, however, finding any excuse to talk to one another, and by the end of the week, you accepted the way your heart leaped at the sound of his text arriving. But still, you told yourself you wouldn’t act on it. Not anytime soon at least.

Isa took the last bit and ran with it, still believing the two of you had a shot no matter the number of times you tried to shoot the idea down. 

“Where are you two going anyway?” she asks, staying over on Friday night. The two of you tried being roommates again sophomore year but it complicated the friendship, spewing over the stupidest things so while you two don’t live together anymore, she constantly stays over. 

You shrug, looking over your closet, sighing once more at the minimal options, “he’s so cruel, he said he wanted it to be a surprise”. Isa smiled at your frustration, finding it adorable how you kept insisting it wasn’t a date but treated it the same. 

“The worst” she mocked, a smile stitched to her features, you could see it even with your back turned to her simply by her tone. Isa no longer tried to argue that you two were undeniably attracted to each other but rather leaned back and began to treat it like a soap opera. 

You tilt your head, giving the closet another angle, hoping something will pop out like it was made for this non-date that is very much a friendly hangout. Definitely. You finally decided on an outfit, one that accommodated most temperatures, not expecting much out of tomorrow. 

6 in the afternoon the following day arrived quicker than you had wanted, still fixing up your hair before you heard a knock. Soft curses as you hurry to put on your shoes, grabbing your phone before you open the front door, letting out a breath. 

“I forgot how punctual you are,” you said and he chuckled, finding it comical how you thought that because everyone else experienced the complete opposite. You locked your door behind you and looked back at him, really analyzing his outfit in order to gather an idea of where he’ll be taking you. 

He wore his navy blue long-sleeve, usually reserved for practice, and black sweatpants. You can’t help but furrow your brows, confused, asking “Did you get back from practice?”

Not wanting to ruin the surprise and not exactly lying, he just nodded, “something like that” should’ve been the first sign but your half-dazed state from rushing on getting ready didn’t notice it. 

“Can I at least get a hint?” You ask, rubbing your palms against your jeans, realizing just how much lotion you had put on, definetly no other reason. He shook his head, not giving in and you sighed. 

“It isn’t a far walk, maybe a block,” he said and you ran through all the different places that could be, stumped at the knowledge. A side of his mouth quirked up, already guessing what your mind was running through, “Don’t start guessing, just let me lead” 

“Right, that helps,” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes and he laughs, the sound echoing the hallway. He knew how much of a leader you were so allowing anyone to lead the way usually ended with you being anxious the entire time. A lack of trust did that. 

Yet, you allowed him to anyway, following his steps, your head not rushing at the ideas anymore, just trying to enjoy the moment as the field cleared, not as many students present, most having already left for spring break and you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter from being secluded with him. You thought you had grown accustomed to it, all those times alone in the library finishing up the project or studying, but that seemed to deem itself impossible. 

Not long after, you two arrived and you only realized once Ethan stopped in his tracks. 

“The ice rink?” you ask, a quirk of an eyebrow, intrigued but confused and Ethan just turned to you, a smile that had you feeling a bit nervous, your stomach flipping. 

“You said you always wanted to learn” he grabbed your hand before you could argue and while you wanted to pull toward the opposite direction, the contact between the two of you had distracted you enough to follow him. 

“You remember that?” You ask, surprised at his memory from freshman year when he was talking about hockey and you shared your admiration for skating, saying how you wished you had learned when you were younger. You weren’t threatening to pull away anymore but that didn’t stop Ethan from keeping a hold of your hand, instead intertwining them and you felt your stomach erupt butterflies. 

“I remember everything you say” his simple words had you feeling warm all over, you were only glad he was the one in front and hadn’t turned to you for a while. You press your other hand to your cheeks, trying to cool them down which only works minimally while he is busy on getting the door unlocked. 

“Is this even allowed?” you can’t help but ask, the risk of getting caught still making you hesitant but he only tugged you inside and let go of your hand, swinging it back to your side. 

“Don't worry, I told them I was just going to practice by myself after the team's practice” he shrugged as if lying wasn’t such a terrible thing. You eyed him, giving in once more as I followed him. “I rented skates for you. Remember, I’ll be here. Don’t feel too scared and if you feel like you’ll fall either way, squat”

“Right” you nodded, your heart pounding as you sat on one of the chairs, tying your skates. He briefly checked them before giving you the thumbs up, entering the ice rink first. “Ethan, I don’t know if this is a”

“Don’t finish that thought, y/n. Trust me” he had his hand reached out to you, patiently waiting for you to take it and you looked down at the skates, praying to anyone who would hear that you wouldn’t end up in the emergency room over this. His voice turned gentle, “Hey. I got you, remember?”

Your eyes found his again, laying down your fears, and stepped on the ice with your hand on top of his. You tried taking your first step but nearly slipped, Ethan’s arm coming around your back, his hand burning a hole through your shirt, feeling his tight hold on your waist. 

He gave you a small smile “I got you” he repeated, his hand tightening around yours and you pulled yourself away from his waist hold, standing beside him now. “If you need to grip on the walls, don’t hesitate to, okay?”

You only nodded, feeling your face heat up as you looked down at the ice beneath your blades. Breathing in deeply, trying so hard to calm down the rapid rhythm of your heart. 

“Let’s start with marching,” he said softly and you looked at him, time standing still for a moment before his lips curved in that familiar comforting smile, his feet moved slowly, making smaller steps, accommodating for your own and you followed, at times losing your balance but the second you began to wobble, his hands found you, helping you steady yourself. 

The two of you made small conversation, still focused on your steps before they soon turned to small gliding, a smile stained on your face as you realized that you were skating. Not the best but you still were on ice without falling face-first. Ethan remained at your pace, small glides as his hand never left yours, feeling your nerves dissipate as his encouraging demeanor turned more of pride for your small achievements on the ice. 

He admired you for silent moments while you looked down, admiring how your legs moved at ease. His smile dropped a fraction, his heart thundering at how you looked, a cute smile on your features, imagining how he would do anything to keep it there. Under the rink lights, you were out of your comfort zone and he had never found you so beautiful. So outstanding, persistent, and determined. You could’ve stopped at any point when you fell the couple of times you did but instead, you stood back up and tried harder than before. 

“What is it?” your voice was soft, he shook his head, realizing just how long he had been staring at you for, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink and you’d be lying if you thought you didn’t notice. After all, he held the same effect on you. 

“It’s nothing” he brushed it off, instinctively loosening his hand from yours, excusing it as letting you glide on your own. Your hand balled into a fist while he stretched out before putting it in his pocket. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “I don’t want to be your friend, y/n”

Your heart felt like it had stopped just then. Hearing those words nearly cracked your heart, you swore you heard it. “Oh… yeah. I get that” A frown tugged at your lips. Of course, he wouldn’t want to be friends with you. You had stupidly broken this friendship for the dumbest reason years ago, it would make sense how he wouldn’t forgive you for that. He stood a couple of feet from you now, silent as you said what you guessed would be your final words to him “I guess I’ll get going now”

“Y/n,” he said your name before you could even turn around and you stayed in your spot. “I didn’t mean I don’t want to be your friend. I meant I don’t want to just be your friend.”

You lost all words that you had practiced, telling him how you understood but instead, your lips parted and closed like a gaping fish. “What are you saying…” you asked but you knew damn well what he meant, you just refused to believe the idea that he’d like you as anything more than a friend. 

“I heard about how you… didn’t want to tell me how you felt because you thought somehow that it would ruin our chances of being friends again.” he stood now only a foot away, his jaw clenched, looking down at you. “You couldn’t have been more wrong.”

And if it wasn’t for him pulling you into a kiss that massacred all thoughts, you might’ve interrogated him about how he had found out. His hands cradled your face, while yours wrapped themselves slowly to his wrists, wanting to keep his touch where you swore they belonged. 

You never thought you’d be sharing a kiss in the middle of an ice rink with your freshman friend, that you promised yourself you’d never fall for. Easier said than done, y/n. Easier said than done. 

You later found out who exactly told him. Isa confessed and while you threatened to drop your friendship with her if she ever thought of doing that again, you told the story like it was engraved into your memories, secretly thanking her for the last couple of weeks. 

[not-poignant]

Hello, I was wondering if you have any tips for how to start getting into writing?? I’ve always wanted to write the stories in my head down but I struggle with writing and am not very good in general haha. When I read your books I get so filled with inspiration but feel like it’s too late for me to start ( even though logically I know I’m still quite young, but being in my final year of university feels like I’m running on quicksand ).

When reading Falling Falling Stars for the first time, it was like being shown a new type of love, being shown that has changed me as a person, which is why I’m reaching out.

Thank you for your time and for sharing your wonderful stories.

Hi anon!

People can learn how to write - especially for themselves - at any age. In fact sometimes it's easier to start when you're a bit older, when you've read and experienced a lot more stories and have an idea of the kind of things you enjoy reading.

It's important mostly to just be patient and gentle with yourself. You don't have to sit down and write a contained story, free yourself from the idea that you have to write a chronological/sequential complete story when you get started.

Start with the things you want to see most. Say there's a show where you just want two characters to hook up. Write a page of that. Not even the reason why, just...start with what you're imagining.

At first it might not be exactly what you're hoping for. There will be lines you like, and dialogue you think 'oh yeah this is kind of what I wanted' etc. that's okay. Think of it like...when people start out in art, it's not what they imagined yet, but that doesn't mean it's bad! It's a 'sketch.' It's good to do lots of writing sketches too.

If you find you enjoy writing things that you've always imagined and wish you could read, practice other things too! You can look around your environment and write 'how would I describe where I'm sitting if I loved this place more than anywhere else in the world' and then write 'how would I describe where I'm sitting to an alien' or 'how would I describe how this place smells, or looks, or sounds (practice listening for the sounds outside too, it can be meditative!), or feels to the touch.'

You can do those 'sketches' anywhere - in cafes, in restaurants, on public transport, on your notes app at a friend's place, at a family dinner after everyone's eaten and you're just chilling.

And then often without thinking about it, you will use those skills to breathe more life into the things you want to see most in your writing. Instead of just a one page hook up, you might write four pages where you describe the bedroom, how things feel, what the 'mood' is etc.

All you need is an urge to see certain things in the world and wanting to write them down. Put down random lines of dialogue. If you imagine two characters arguing, or hugging, or making up, write down somewhere quickly: 'These two characters hugging' to inspire you later. Maybe something specific about it makes you happy. 'They're hugging but this one is grabbing the other one's jumper/sweater really tightly.'

Writing for me is a sequence of moments, and while I write chronologically / sequentially now, I didn't used to! I gave myself permission to write scenes because I found it freeing, because if nothing else, then I have a scene of something I always wanted to see in the world. Maybe I do nothing more than just read and enjoy it sometimes, well, that's what I wanted - to write something I wanted to see in the world!

Anyone can do that, anon, and age is seriously no barrier to that. Writing creatively is one of those things that, like wine, tends to age/get better with time, whether you're practicing it or not. Learning more about the world, other people, ourselves, and the things in it, reading more, watching more film and TV, that actually enriches our imaginative landscape, and that's what fuels writing (even if you don't have an 'imagination' in the classic sense).

Writing creatively isn't about writing 'books' - anyone can sit down and write a moment, and you can too. And if you don't like looking at a blank page, just put down a sentence. Even a sentence from another story that inspires you.

My favourite writing advice to defeat a blank page because it always makes me laugh is:

Write the worst sentence you possibly can. Like, go out of your way and make it bad and silly.

'What a dumb brown rug.'

There, you no longer have a blank page! And you can definitely write a better sentence than that!

'He hated that rug, the colour reminded him of mud, and it didn't suit the room at all.'

'He rubbed his shoes on the brown rug, locking his hands together, twisting his fingers and hoping no one noticed him.'

But you know, 'what a dumb brown rug' is fun too. :D

And ultimately, you just have to try and have some fun with it <333

[impuls1veworm]

IT FINALLY CLICKS.

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚ prompt — “hello may i request reader and mikey being painfully oblivious with each other? anyone could see that both of them like each other BUT them?”

— Mikey x Reader

You and Mikey had actually met through an ex of yours. He was a good friend of your ex, and so you knew who Mikey was, though you had never actually talked to him. So, when you ran into him at a café a year after you and your ex split up, you were surprised when he approached you. Truthfully, you weren’t expecting much from the conversation, but as the two of you sat in that secluded booth catching up on life, you learned that Mikey was genuinely nice to talk to.

Three hours had passed before you realized how late it had gotten. Mikey apologized for holding you, and wrote his phone number on a napkin, telling you to text or call him any time. You tried to resist the urge to text him immediately, but only an hour after parting ways you were already messaging him.

Over the course of the next year you began falling for him, little at a time. You tried and tried to tell yourself what you felt for him was strictly platonic, as you didn’t want to give your hopes up and embarrass yourself by admitting to him how you truly felt. Mikey was just being a good friend to you, nothing more, you were sure of it.

Every time he walked you home from work, every time he had dinner with you, every time you asked to try his food and he let you, you fell a little harder for him. Everyone from mutual friends to his sister all asked you the same thing: when are you two going to get together? You always gave the same response; you truly did not think Mikey felt the same as you.

Until tonight.

Emma, Mikey’s little sister, invited him over to her house to have dinner with her new-formed family. Emma and her husband, Draken, were far from surprised when you walked through the door with him. They welcomed you both with open arms and Mikey made himself comfortable with Draken in the living room, while you followed Emma to the kitchen. You offered to help her, but she shooed you away, telling you that you're a guest and not to worry about helping her finish up.

The two of you were chatting and catching up about what you’d both been up to, when Emma got quiet. “What is it?” You asked, not sure why she suddenly went silent. She put her wooden spoon down, and walked over to where you sat. Sitting in the seat next to you, she faced you, and said as seriously as she could, “Mikey likes you, you know?”

“What? No he doesn’t,” You said, giving her an awkward laugh. Maybe Emma had bumped her head earlier today, and was now delusional. “(Y/N)…he picks you up from work everyday, he shares his food with you, he invites you to FAMILY dinners,” she stressed, “what other friends is he doing that for?”.

As you thought about it you realized Mikey truly didn’t do that for anyone else. Everyone else molded their days around him, as he did what he wished. You opened your mouth to reply to Emma when Draken walked in with Mikey trailing behind him talking loudly about how hungry he was. Emma quickly got up from her seat and busied herself with the final touches on dinner.

You wanted to confront Mikey about how you felt, but you wanted to be alone. It felt wrong to mention it with anyone else around.

The two of you were standing in front of your apartment, telling each other goodnight, when you decided to just admit to Mikey how you felt. Put all your cards on the table. So, as Mikey gave you a hug before parting ways, you quietly said, “I like you too, Mikey.”

Mikey froze and began to pull away, and for a second you almost regretted your decision, but as he pulled away and your eyes met his, Mikey cupped your cheeks and kissed you. Your heart thumped against in your chest in pure happiness, as love flooded your veins. You felt like a school girl being handed her first valentine by her crush.

As the two of you parted, Mikey’s hand stayed planted on your cheeks, as he eyed your face looking for the right words to say. Your hands came up and removed them from your face; you slid your plans against his as you threaded your fingers through his, holding his hands as you let your intertwined hands fall by your sides.

“Stay with me tonight.”

[fairydollsteps]

Do you Love me?

Synopsis: “Please take me, please. I am all yours to tame and destroy. Ruin me if you have to for your own pleasure. Shackle me under your mercy. I do not care how much I will bleed. If it means you won’t look at other men but me. Just me only, my beloved.”

“For that, I will do anything for you.“

Just Aegon Targaryen II on his knees, being absolutely pathetic, begging and lovesick for you. 

Note/ Warnings: Fluff to Angst, Age gap (reader is 4 years older than Aegon), childhood love troupe ish, Aegon’s major insecurities and his shitty childhood. Mommy issues lmao. unrequited love, Aegon sad boy hour he is depressed, he is obsessed in love for reader. reader is kinda mean, she don’t entirely love aegon like how aegon loves her. Very OOC Aegon, he is actually a sweet person if only alicent is nicer or if otto die earlier 

let’s just say aemond didn’t kill lucerys to keep this peaceful

Author’s note: hiiii i am finally alive and motivated to write again! so in this fic is just aegon suffering lmao. idk i like to see him in his absolutely worst in his already horrendous life. is just nice to see him pathetic lmao. and also too many fic of reader crying because of aegon so why not the roles switched instead? Also you are the princess of a royal family like the Hightower family/house. I made it up so you are House Glairsviw. Also everything is messy so it might suck, pls bear with me. Anyway, enjoy!

“Do you love me, Y/N?”

Aegon Targaryen II, heir to the Iron Throne, now the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms stands before you. You, in your finest gown simply stared at him in silence. Both of you are facing at each other at the castle garden, away from the booming celebration of Aegon’s coronation.Of course you know how much Aegon adores you with his whole heart. You know. You know from the beginning. The puppy love didn’t fade away as you though from childhood. 

You remember when 7-year-old Aegon would always follow you around like a puppy in Dragonstone. Your house is friendly and in good terms with House Targaryen, benefitting each houses with your house’s fortune and their power. Therefore, you and your family always visit the Targaryens and stayed there. This delighted young Aegon as he gets to be with you often.

Your impeccable beauty allures him even to this day, your kind act is what fuels his love for you. You are older than him, so you have the urges and the responsibility to care for this little kid. As you two grow up together, you will always see him as a little boy who need bandages when he scrap his knee. But to Aegon, you are an angel to his eyes.

His life is already miserable enough even at a young age, his mother berating and his father ignoring his existence. His damn grandfather, Otto Hightower is a nightmare that won’t give him a break, pressuring and reminding him he is to be the future king of Westeros. So is his mother who make sure he won’t forget. Just standing with them suffocates him. So, to meet you is a blessing in disguise.

 With you, he is able breathe freely. With you, he smiles with glee to know that someone is waiting for him with biscuits and tea after his sword training. With you, he sleeps peacefully after you read him his favorite storybook. With you, he allow himself to cry his heart out and find comfort in your arms after a hellish hours of his mother’s lambast. With you, he is able to find meaning and hope in his dejecting life. 

You also remember when he gives you a bouquet of your favorite flowers on your birthday. Chrysanthemum. Then, he declares with a boast that he want to marry you, right here and right now. He was 12 years old and you were 16 at that time. You simply giggled softly, amused at his little puppy love. 

“Marry you? Maybe when you are taller than me and strong enough to carry me, I will marry you,” you said as a joke, not taking Aegon’s proposal seriously. You kissed his forehead as a gratitude for his gift. Is a completely platonic and normal thing between you and Aegon when he did something nice and pleasing for you. But is more than ‘normal’ for Aegon.

This marriage proposal thing from Aegon is not a one time thing. Throughout your childhood and your adolescents years,  Aegon has propose to you more than you count. “I will marry Y/N if I find a pretty flower for her,” Aegon when he was 8 years old. “Will you marry me if I beat my brother in a sword match?” Aegon no. “ Y/N, can I marry you when the sun rise?” Oh Aegon, you silly.

You will always find excuses and divert his proposal playfully. Saying no will break his poor heart. This is just a temporary fantasies of his and a puppy love that will surely dissolve when he is older, right?

Right?

Oh dear, if only you know how wrong you are. Aegon is utterly consumed with desire for you. And you know it. You know he loves you but you don’t know how long he will. And he still loves you in his adulthood.  The sight befall you further verify your certainty. Aegon, regal with his kingly attire except without his crown and robes, under the moonlight, holding a single pink chrysanthemum. He still remembers after all these years.

“Do you love me?” he asked.

You want to let out a laugh but stay composed. If only he knew, then maybe his poor heart won’t be broken again.

“Really Aegon? Is that what you have to say after all these years?” you said heartily. You drop all your formalities to the king. You know he wouldn't care. Aegon frowns, knowing your tricks. Yet, he still holds a soft and longing gaze at you. 

Yes, you have have not seen each other for 6 years. You simply stop seeing Aegon for 6 years. Your house still visit the House Targaryen but is rarely. But you were nowhere at sight when your family arrived. 

“I just got busy, Aegon. Very busy. The duty of the head of my house at a young age is no easy task ever since my father is gravely sick. I hope you understand,” you said after looking at his face of whys, ignoring his previous propose. 

“My deepest condolences,” he said apologetically, gently rubbing the stem of the chrysanthemum “ Thank you. My house is doing well under my command,”

There’s a beat of  awkward silence. After 6 years, so many things have changed. You are the mighty head of your house. Aegon finally king to the Iron Throne. “You promised me that we will send each other letters before you left,” Aegon said, breaking the silence. “We did,” 

“Only for a few months. Your letters become lesser and lesser as days passed. I know that you are busy but is like you vanish and just-,” Aegon clenched his jaws before he finish. Not wanting to accept what he thought it is.

“-is like you just left and abandoned me in the dark,”

The silence returns in the garden and the two silhouettes standing before each other under tension. Every second of stillness kills Aegon. Say something Y/n. Reassure him and his doubts just like you did when you were young. Hug him like in the past. Y/N please. Aegon silently beg.

But you just stand there, blank-faced and keeping the distance between yourself and Aegon. You didn’t come to him or softly smile at him like before. You just stood where you are and watch Aegon slowly descend to his doubts. “Y/N, you couldn’t-I mean, Why? Why did you stop? I know you are busy but 6 years without a single letter? Not even once?” he asks desperately. 

“I just don’t find the need for you,” you said without a hesitant. “I no longer find you as my top priority, so I just stop,” Aegon stares at you wide-eyed. There’s no point lying to him. He should know already but is in denial. He is still clinging on the past and expecting the oh so sweet Y/N to return to the past. 

Aegon looks like he can’t stop spiraling like mad but quickly compose himself with a solution. “If is like that then, we can reconnect our connection like before with our fathers. Then, we can meet up meet up and-,” “That won’t do, Aegon,” you cut him off cruelly. Now he is trying to rebuild everything with some political bullshits. You should be sent to the guillotine for cutting the king but he lets you.

“Aegon, you have other more and capable houses and I have my own other houses that will help and benefits me. I do no need your help,” you said, cold-heartly. You don’t even put to the effort to  Oh Aegon, you are still a fool even as an adult.

What you just say slowly made a tear of his heart. What you just implied is that you don’t need him, or if you even want him. Aegon is desperate. The more you reject him, the more desperate and hurt he is. Aegon can’t accept it. He can’t lose you. You are the only good thing in his life. And his only good thing is turning its back on him. 

Do you really-? Are you really going to just-? Like this? Y/N please no. Don’t. Don’t do this to me. Aegon beg through his troubled, sorrowed eyes as he walk towards you hastily.

He grabs your hand with his unoccupied hand, urgently but weakly, forcing you too look at him in the eyes. There is so many unspoken words through his eyes. You could see his stress, his denial and his passionate love for you. All his love for you that is meant to be crushed by you. 

Aegon silently pray to find at least a single look of adoration meant for him from you. He pray to know that you are just denying and hesitant to love him. A hope that what you just say is just a lie. But he find nothing. Just nothing. There is no love and the look of adoration. You just look at him uncaring. Like he is a nobody.

You are no longer the girl he knew from the past. The girl he knew always smile at him warmly and treat with affections he never have. 

“Do you love me?” Aegon asks. A question that you always dodge and pissing Aegon off. You could feel his eyes on you, begging to answer it and stop treating him like some kind of toy. You could feel his breath touching your cheeks softly. His lips quivering from the tension and the close contact.

Aegon passed the chrysanthemum to your hand and hold it with both of hand. As if is a way to convince you to change your mind with your favorite flower. But you have already decided you decision. As it feels like eternity, you finally answer.

“No,”

.....

The silence was deafening. Aegon couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t registered what you just say. You could feel his hands on you slightly shaking.

“No?”

“I’m sorry, Aegon. I don’t love you how you love me. I’m sorry. I just feel nothing for you,” 

“Oh,”

“Oh,”

Before you could slip away from his grasp, Aegon stop you. “Aegon please-” “Why, Y/N?” “Aegon please you have to understand-,” “No please don’t do this to me Y/N. I can’t just lose you like this. Please don’t leave me,”. Now he is able to break down. His heart is crushing at every second with you. His grip on you become tight but not enough to hurt you He can’t do something to chase you away even though you are already leaving her.

Aegon is holding your hand tightly, begging you to stay with him. He can’t breathe properly with the panic and heartbreak in his chest. He could feel his eyes becoming wet but force himself to hold it. Oh fuck, he feels so damn embarrassed for being so pathetic to you but he can’t stop the hurt. Because it actually fucking hurts so bad that he feels like his heart is bleeding.

Is like the universe is against him and could do nothing about it. The universe decided to have mercy on him for having a horrible home by giving him a girl that could care and love him. And for the first time in live, he was happy. Then suddenly, the universe took her away and isolate him from her for 6 years. Then when he finally meet her, she no longer love and treat him like a ghost. 

What kind of a fucked up fate he was given?

“Aegon, please let me go,” “No, I can’t Y/N. I love you, I am utterly devoted to you please!” Aegon cried out with no shame. 

“Please take me, please. I am all yours to tame and destroy. Ruin me if you have to for your own pleasure. Shackle me under your mercy. I do not care how much I will bleed. If it means you won’t look at other men but me. Just me only, my beloved. I have never felt this devoted to any women but you. You are the only person I want to admired at and dance with at the ballroom,” 

“Aegon...”

“We could get married, I could make you Queen of the Seven Kingdoms! I could make you my queen. I will get the finest dresses and the most brilliant jewelry just for you. I will have the whole world on their knees for you if I have to. So do I,”

Aegon declares with his whole heart. Some drops of tears manage to fell. His cheek flushed and he is still holding your hand with the pink chrysanthemum. He is a mess. He knows he look stupid and ridiculous but he is fighting every chance, hoping and praying to Gods that you change your mind and choose to grow old with him.

His violet orbs continue to violent beg for your heart to own him. “Please, Y/N. I belong to you. My heart is full of you. Everything is better with you. Everything has been better since you,” 

 He should have knows better. He should be mad at himself for falling so deep that could his inevitable heartbreak. Your silence and your pity look is enough to tell but he is still trying and holding the end of the string of hope.

[fuckingfinwions]

Feanor finds about about Maedhros and Maglor from this omegaverse fic

Maedhros and Maglor keep spending time together since Maglor matured, and their family isn't suspicious. After the first blowjob, Maedhros and Maglor compromised on Maedhros jerking off on Maglor's face for a week to prove he wanted to be an omega and not just a chance to touch Maedhros. Then more blowjobs, then when Maglor finally got his first heat he spent it locked in his own bedroom.

Maedhros and Maglor kept fucking afterwards. Never sharing a heat of course so Maglor avoids pregnancy; never bonding. But Maglor pinned to the bed beneath his strong big brother, or Maedhros laying back and letting Maglor swallow him down, or Maedhros fondling Maglor's cock (decent size) and balls (tiny, Maglor swears they've always been so, but surely the healer would have known he's no alpha by the sight of them.)

Maedhros and Maglor had been lying on the bed talking, and are now kissing. Clothes are on for now, and Maglor will get up and lock the door if that's about to change. Besides, neither of their little brothers are home.

Feanor opens the door, looking for Maglor for a question about resonance of metal compared to musical effect - would a silver trumpet make any sense? How about platinum?

Maedhros and Maglor are very obviously not platonic. The hand Maglor has on Maedhros's thigh is possessive enough, but the way their legs are twined together, and Maedhros's hand on Maglor's crotch, are more damning.

Maglor stutters and tries to think of an explanation.

Feanor: "Is this what it looks like?"

Maedhros lifted his chin. "Yes. Maglor and I are in a relationship."

"When did this start, at the spring festival?" Maglor had sung an ode to the glory of the house of Finwe with three verses for Maedhros, and only two for Finwe himself.

"It's been years, do you need an exact date?"

"No. But why haven't you mentioned it in all this time?"

"It's incest; I assumed you would disapprove."

Maglor nodded.

"I am withholding judgement. The fact that you have made no acts or symbols of permanency after years is unsettling, and worries me."

"Any symbol might be seen by others could not be used."

"Does that mean you have your own private wedding rings and vows?"

"Well, not as such."

"You should take your romances seriously and treat your partners kindly. All the more so when it's your brother that you already love."

"I want this too, and our relationship is as much my decision as it is Maedhros's!" Maglor protested.

"And is it serious, or are you just using each other to satisfy bodily urges until you find your mates? Is Maedhros just someone with a convenient knot?"

"No, it is serious! I love him."

"I love Maglor as well, and will defend him from any accusations."

"Well then, demonstrate to me that this is serious."

"Certainly, but how?"

"You should approach the parents of the person you wish to court. And after a suitable period, you can then marry and bond."

"We already know we love each other, and I am ready to bond as soon as you give approval."

"Ah, but I have not yet. Nor have you asked permission to court."

"Very well then. May I court Maglor?"

"Yes, if it is proper courting. Meaning that from now until your wedding, you will behave appropriately for those who are not yet wed. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"But why?" Maglor asked. "You can't very well preserve either of our virginity for the wedding night at this point."

"Proper behavior is it's own virtue. Additionally, you two claim to have been lovers for years, and I have no reason to doubt that. I have no reason to believe though that you will desire a relationship built on mutual understanding and trust, without letting every conversation devolve into lust."

"That's a poor opinion of your own sons."

"I would be delighted to find out it is false! For now though, you will have a chaperone very time you two are alone."

Maedhros said, "Seriously? We can keep to our words not to fuck, and are not teenagers who will get carried away in the moment."

"You have been lying to me for years about your relationship; I cannot trust that."

"Who can even be chaperone? I don't think any of us want the city to know Maglor and I are committing incest."

"Indeed. Your brothers, or I, or your mother will do. You may also go on group outings with friends who don't know the truth, provided you stay in public the whole time."

"That's a rather limited pool, and Caranthir is barely twenty."

"You should have though of what activities you wished to discuss in front of who before you began this relationship. Be glad I am not forbidding you from seeing each other entirely for a year before the wedding."

"Yes father."

"Good. Maglor, come with me, I had a question for you about the musical virtues of silver."

"Right now?"

"I said that you two need a chaperone, did I not? I am going back to my workshop, so you cannot stay in Maedhros's bed with him!"

"Yes father."

[yanderederee]

Aftermath…

July 21st, 2004

..T….nt…amitt….damnit…damn…damnit..daMniT DAMNIT DAMNIT DAMNIT

Chifuyu didn’t have the heart to stop him. Chifuyu has always been the one to rest a hand on Baji’s shoulder and stop him when he was being reckless.

However, this time, if Chifuyu were to even try to touch Baji, there was a guarantee that same arm would get bent.

Chifuyu couldn’t stop Baji’s assault on the subway tiles. “Damnit!!” Baji screamed once again. It was amazing how his voice hadn’t given up, going at this same pace for almost 11 hours now.

“Damnit!!” Baji yelled, finally losing vigor. Chifuyu ran to his side, helping his captain to his knees when he couldn’t take the overwhelming dig in his chest.

Baji was a victim too. He’d been forced into things no man ever should have to experience. Let alone a 13 year old kid, with what felt like the weight of the world on his back.

Baji couldn’t control the sobs that took him over in violent tremors. Chifuyu held Baji’s weak form, while they began to cry together.

“Damnit… I ..” Baji croaked out. Chifuyu held on tight, coursing his friend to talk.

Please, just talk to me. I know I can’t help. But please. Let me hurt for you.

“I couldn’t… I tried…” he sighed, blurry vision making out the wrappings on his arms, meant to heal the cuts and burns underneath. The blood that still stained them, because he kept opening the damn things wide open. Chifuyu doesn’t think it’s on purpose. Baji knows it is.

“Why… why does shit like this happen, to good fucking people!” Baji’s rage was slowly on the incline again. His temper may have been bad before, but the severe concussion and trauma he’d been forced to endure, he was uncontrollable.

“She didn’t do anything! Stayed out of toman, never skipped her dumb fucking curfew… S-she…” he bawled. Rage gave way to pain once again, and Chifuyu shook when he held tighter.

Baji almost whispered what came next, sending shivers down Chifuyu’s back.

“I couldn’t understand it before.. wanting to kill someone so badly. So seriously…” he evened out his tone and became stone. “But damnit..Chifuyu-“ he tried to keep the tough face, but as if immediately being brought back to earth, his walls crumbled all over again.

“None of it’s her fault, you’re right.” Chifuyu agreed, quickly following up. “We know who’s to blamed Baji. It’s okay.”

“We’ll get out revenge.”

It had only been two weeks since Toman and Yotsuya Kaiden fought .

…

July 11th, 2004

“…. I thought… we’d get …the chance…” you said softly, between hiccups you held back so harshly. “I had.. so much planned for…”

It was Tanabata after all. And it was long ruined.

“… I know.” Baji spoke into your hair. Ever since muscle in his body was sore, and shaking. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, cradling your head with his one good arm.

“Don’t worry baby, the gods will hear your prayers. I promise you that every god who ..” he paused, pulling away, and firmly cradling with all the softness there was left in him. “I promise, I will make the gods and humans alike, who let this happen. I will ..”

“I’ll make sure that every single one of your wishes come true.” He nuzzled his forehead against yours, uncontrollably letting tears flood past.

You could see Baji’s pupils become uneven, eyelids blinking over and over.. he was going to lose conciousness. “Baji-”

“Keisuke.” His voice broke once, hurt at the usage of his last name. “Pl..lease..” he closing his eyes when he held back a sob. “Please let me still be your Kei.”

…

Baji passed out immediately after those words, sobs racking him in and out of slumber, even still.

There was nothing more you wished to do than to cradle his broken form into you. It was so natural to follow those urges ever since you two agreed on dating.

But you couldn’t disturb him with the equally violent panic attacks what ripped through you without warning.

Nauseous, you felt hands wondering areas they never should have. Disgusted, scared—- you fell out of the hospital bed trying so hard to make it to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, Chifuyu is stunned into tears when he finds your unconscious form collapsed on the floor, a pool of vomit only feet away.

“Oh god,” stunned when obversing the scene in front of him, he was horrified to actually catch your flickering gaze. Very in and out of consciousness. “Y/n, hey, it’s okay.” Chifuyu encouraged. He sat you up, and folded your knees under his grip, gently carrying you around the accidently and into the bathroom.

“Here,” he sat you by the toilet, discarding his hoodie, and rolled up his sleeves. “Only think about staying sat up against the wall.” He instructed, laying the back of his hand over your forehead.

“Doing great,” he smiled at you brilliantly when you managed to keep his gaze for longer than three seconds. “Take your tim-” he started, until another violent wave of nausea keeled you over the edge of the toilet suddenly.

Holding back a pitiful string of tears, Chifuyu bit his lip and pulled strands of hair from your face. “Let it out,” he kept going, adding considerable pressure into the small circles he rubbed into your back.

Chifuyu sat with you as you lethargically came back in and out of conciousness. Crying some seconds about how awful everything felt, dozing off peacefully into his chest, to worrying about Baji. This cycle repeated from the morning when he first came to check on you, til the nurses released him of his role, and shooed him out. He made sure they kept his hoodie for you to hold onto. Just in case.

“Why didn’t you call for a nurse earlier dumbass?!” Baji kicked Chifuyu’s waiting room chair harshly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about it!” Chifuyu admitted bashful. “I just.. I couldn’t leave.” He shrugged, painfully.

“You’re a good guy, Chifuyu…” Baji said, his head felt like it was spinning while he cradled into his busted hands. “Thank you.. for staying by her.”

“I’m sticking by you too, yaknow.” Chifuyu shoved Baji softly. Baji gave Chifuyu a look over, before smiling. “Thanks…”

Baji would absolutely never in a million’s years admit just how terribly he was struggling. But being a good person, he couldn’t hide it for shit. Not this time.

“‘Kids just go round hitting eachother over the side of the hair for fun these days?”

…

“I just can’t believe the things these kids are getting themselves into anymore!”

…

“Ms Baji, this is serious.. he’s looking at a 3 month healing window, just from a glance…”

…

So much annoying chatter. His head was splitting open so damn bad, he honestly couldn’t really remember any for the next few days, if you’d asked him. Just a few core memories to get by.

He felt pathetic, the dizzy spells that took him down, out from his own feet. He was almost thankful that school was finally out for the semester, since remembering anything was difficult, but above all else, Nothing. Felt. Normal.

While recovering, there were so many times he would excuse himself to hide into a bathroom stall, and let whatever uncontrollable urge take over.

He felt so unlike himself at every given opportunity, uncomfortable in the way his friends and family alike would look at him.

Don’t look at me like that.

He wanted to snap back. And unfortunately, he did.

His sense of irritability spiking and diminishing quicker than a conversation could be held.

He’d get frustrated at the littlest of mistakes.

Baji couldn’t stand the look of pity everyone gave him when he slipped or slurred a word.

Yet, out of every person, he made dead honest effort to push pash every single symptom down, if only for a few minutes or hours.

Just to enjoy the feeling of comforting you.

Baji cries alone to himself more than ever, but he made, forced you into pinky promising him that should you ever, ever, ever, need him ever, for any reason. He would escape his hospital room and force his way into yours.

To be here with you, now. It’s past midnight, quiet and dark, easy on his dissipating headache. Baji heard you wake up with a gurgled, terrified scream.

The same scream that ripped him wide open in the first place.

Bolted, Baji came to witness your sweat stained hospital gown clinging to you while you were gathering your bearings, upright in the bed and panting, hyperventilating.

You held eachother the entire night, sharing sniffles, and tighter squeezes.

“How are you feeling?” You asked him, leaning against his chest, while he lay his back in your hospital bed.

“Nothin’ to worry about,” he gave you a reassuring smile. “I’m already halfway healed.”

You stare into him deeper, and knowing you were about to call his bluff, he looked away and chuckled. “Yeah, I’m hangin in there.” He answered honestly.

“But.. I’m seriously more worried about you,” he gently touched, his bad arm tucked into your side as you carefully considered it while cuddling into him closer.

As bad of a liar as you may be to him, you always made sure to wear this obvious mask of serenity. You rolled your eyes, as though being used to hearing this now.

“I’m not going to force it out of you,” Baji rested his forehead against the dip of your temple. “I have no idea what kind of things go on inside your head. Wish I did,” he chuckled shifting to kiss your cheekbone. “… you’re smart. I trust you…” he shifted your absent gaze, dewing up when he made deep eye contact.

“I trust you to talk to me,” he whispered again. “I’ll be anything you need, forever.”

“So when you’re ready, I’m here…”

[traincat]

got the sudden urge to re-read 'work song' this weekend after years of not really being into spideytorch anymore. the fic is still incredible, it's reminding me why i used to love them, but it got me wondering -- was there ever any canon fallout from sue, reed, and the kids being gone like that? i had already stopped reading the comics at that point.

It's funny, I've been thinking of Work Song recently too. I obviously like to get into the guts of canon in a lot of my fic, but Work Song was really an exercise in getting into the emotional fallout that comics tend not to deal with -- for both good and bad reasons. (I think the modern lack of dealing with pretty much any emotional fallout is bad, but also if you have a serial story you have to keep a certain amount of action going. Idk, complicated thoughts about pacing and sacrifices made for genre standards and the shifting of those standards from decade to decade, etc., etc.)

And the answer to whether the fallout is ever addressed in 616 canon is... kind of no? I think there were attempts made -- both Zdarsky in his Two-in-One series and Bendis, somewhat, in Infamous Iron Man were sort of digging into things, albeit notably before Reed and Sue were actually back. (Both of those series deal HEAVILY with their absence, though.) But both of those series were also cut short, and they have finales I'm not quite satisfied with, which in this case is the fault of neither author. I think Zdarsky tried with his final two issues of Two-in-One especially, especially the one that focuses on Johnny and Sue, but just didn't have the space to address the issue of Reed and Sue essentially leaving Johnny and Ben with the gravitas and nuance that it deserved. And given that Johnny is, you know, flat out suicidal over this issue in the first ten issues of Two-in-One, that's a problem. (IIM also has a disappointing final two issues, but it focuses much more on Ben and Doom than on Johnny. Hell of a setup, wish it didn't feature the biggest copout resolution of all time.) And again I don't think this is either writer's fault -- they were both clearly trying to do something interesting and emotional, and 2n1 had a really good set up and character work. It just wasn't given the space to stick any kind of landing before everything had to be wrapped up in a tidy little bow so Slott could write some mystifyingly bad stories. (I don't believe Slott ever seriously addresses the fallout, but I could be wrong. I skimmed the back half of that run hard.)

And also I think this was something of a foundational problem that sprung from Reed and Sue and the kids going missing not as an actual story point but as a hissy fit over film rights. There was never any solid plan in action for where they were or what they were doing or what Ben and Johnny fought over that caused Ben to leave for space and Johnny to spiral out of control -- it was all just "this is happening now because we canceled the Fantastic Four comic because we want the film rights." It's very hard to build a story on shaky ground like that when you've got multiple writers, all who seemed to have slightly different takes, and apparently no one on an editorial level actually managing all of that to make sure there was a cohesive story in place. Even if the reader doesn't have that information, there should be some kind of established story for the writers to follow, and it kind of seemed like there just wasn't. (I say "kind of seemed" because obviously I wasn't there and I don't know for sure, but also like, we know for sure that there wasn't. By reading the comics it was very clear that there wasn't.) It's frustrating to think about it now because it could have been some really great storytelling, and instead it was addressed just barely and then kind of rushed along. And I feel similarly about Superior Spider-Man's fallout, except they keep resurrecting that concept every two years and kicking it around like it has anything interesting left in it.

[weirdkpopgirl]

Bearable | Haechan Imagine #2

Title: Bearable

Genre: Friends to Lovers, Slight Angst, Fluff

Warnings: mentions of insecurities (what else is new?)

Word Count: 705

Author's Note: I honestly have no idea what I was thinking while writing this. This is just a feeling I get often, and I had the sudden urge to put it into words. Am I selfish for subtly writing about myself in basically all of my stories? Yes, and that probably makes me a bad writer. So I'm sorry if it's bad lol.

─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─

Haechan silently observed you sitting beside him on the sofa. The clock read nine p.m., as the second movie of the night played on the television. Even though your eyes were glued to the screen, he could tell something was distracting you.

He knew by the way you were chewing on your lips and the way your fingers subconsciously dug into your palms. It only took one look at your nervous composure for Haechan to know that your mind was far away from whatever was happening in the movie.

“You’re going to tear off your skin if you keep doing that.” He scolded lightly, drawing your attention to him in slight alarm.

You looked down in guilt when he opened your hand to see the red indents from your nails. Your brain scrambled with something to say as he softly rubbed your palm. The stinging slowly began to fade.

“Care to share what’s on your mind?” Haechan asked, glancing up at you.

The softness in his eyes made you instantly tear up. You knew staying up all night with your best friend was a bad idea. All your senses seemed to shut off after 8:30, leaving you completely vulnerable.

“I just…” You started to say, looking away to blink back tears. “Seeing the couple in the film…just makes me sad.”

He half-chuckled at your cuteness, “Why does it make you sad?” 

Haechan was the only person who saw this side of you. Not the (Y/n) who was always smiling in front of their friends, pretending as if her life wasn’t falling apart. Not the (Y/n) who casually belittled herself in conversations laced with sarcasm and dark humor. No, Haechan saw the (Y/n) who had a weak and sensitive heart. 

“I really want to experience a love like theirs,” You said, breath shaky. “But I’m afraid it’ll never happen to me.”

“Why?”

“I mean, just look at me Hyuck. I’m a mess.” The bitter smile that appeared across your face made his heart crack. You spoke with such certainty.

“Seriously, I can’t think of one reason why you like me,” You sniffed.

Haechan was slightly taken aback by what you said. After four years of keeping it in, he finally confessed his feelings for you a few weeks ago. He made it clear that he didn’t expect an answer from you right away and would wait. Since then, the two of you went on and acted like it never happened. He didn’t expect you to bring the confession up now.

After a few moments, Haechan spoke up. “You may not like your hair or your body. You may not like the mole on your nose that you hide with your glasses. You may not like the stories you pour your heart and soul into. You may turn down any compliment that someone gives you.”

You met his eyes which also became watery. Just thinking about how poorly you saw yourself made Haechan’s heart hurt. That was how much he cared about you.

“But when I look at you,” He continued. “All I see is a smart and beautiful girl who doesn’t realize how strong she is. I love everything that you don’t like about yourself.”

His other hand reached over to catch the tears that streamed down your cheeks. 

“I love you, (Y/n). And I’ll happily spend the rest of my life giving you the love you deserve if you’ll let me.” 

His words were so warm and promising. There was no one in the world like Lee Donghyuck.

“I love you too,” You said through tears. It felt so good to say that out loud, after holding back because of your insecurities.

Immediately after that sentence, Haechan kissed you ever so gently. With one hand in your hair and the other around your waist, pulling you close to him. His touch gradually allowed the troublesome thoughts to temporarily fade away. You knew that they would come back another day. But all the darkness in your life was bearable as long as you had Haechan by your side.

─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─